“Fuck it, I can’t do this!”

Arthanis’s voice rang out, a mix of frustration and exhaustion as the weight of his situation finally sank in. He wasn’t fighting to win—he knew that much. He was fighting to survive, to learn, to adapt. That was the real key to closing the power gap between him and the relentless master standing before him.

He crashed to the ground, the impact sending up a cloud of dust as his body trembled from sheer fatigue. His lungs burned, gasping for air, every muscle screaming from the brutal two-hour beating he’d endured. For two hours, Vaendalle hadn’t even bothered to unsheathe his sword, casually parrying every strike with nothing but a sheathed blade and a taunting smile.

Vaendalle stood over him, casting a shadow over Arthanis's fallen form. The old master’s smirk was as sharp as the blade he had never drawn. "Had enough, boy? Look at you—barely standing, nothing but a bloody mess. You should count yourself lucky I didn’t use the sharp end of this sword. Why don’t you just admit defeat and save yourself further humiliation?"

Gritting his teeth, Arthanis forced himself to rise, though his body screamed in protest. His legs wobbled beneath him, threatening to give out, but his will refused to let them. He couldn’t let them. He gripped the wooden sword tighter, glaring up at Vaendalle, defiance burning bright in his eyes despite his battered state.

“You’re right,” Arthanis managed through labored breaths. “You’re right about a lot of things. I’m a mess. You’re faster, stronger, and far more skilled than I’ll probably ever be. But you’re wrong about one thing.”

Vaendalle raised an eyebrow, amused by the boy’s stubbornness. “Oh? Enlighten me, lad. What am I wrong about?”

Arthanis’s grip on the sword tightened as he stood straighter, his body protesting every movement but his resolve growing stronger. His voice, though weak, was filled with a fierce determination. “I swore I’d hit you with my sword—even if it’s just once. And I don’t break my promises.”

Vaendalle’s laugh echoed through the training grounds, loud and mocking, as if the very idea amused him. “You’ve got spirit, I’ll give you that. But lad, you didn’t say when you’d hit me, did you? A year from now? A decade? A lifetime? I’ve fought more battles than you could even comprehend, and in this world, age doesn’t mean weakness. Especially for a soldier who’s survived wars longer than you’ve been alive.”

The weight of Vaendalle’s words hit harder than any physical blow. He’s right. The oath I made is hollow. I didn’t set terms or a time limit. I’m chasing something I may never achieve. And in the meantime, I’m wasting valuable time I can’t afford to lose.

Why am I so fixated on this? Arthanis thought bitterly. I don’t have time for pride. Survival is what matters.

His mind raced, the cold reality of his situation sinking in. His curse—the countdown—was always looming. He didn’t have the luxury to engage in battles just for the sake of proving a point. Each moment spent here was another moment closer to death unless he hunted, killed, and devoured monsters to extend his life. The stronger the foe, the more time he gained.

Mire, show me my status condition.

[─ Status Condition: Life until 22:44:39 downtime.]

The numbers blinked ominously before his eyes, each second ticking away. He couldn’t waste time in a losing battle. He needed to kill to live.

A heavy sigh escaped Arthanis’s lips as he felt the weight of his choices bearing down on him. Slowly, he let the wooden sword fall from his grip. The weapon hit the ground with a dull thud, followed by his wooden dagger beside it. His posture relaxed, though his mind was far from calm.

“You’re right,” Arthanis said, his voice steady but laced with resignation. “I give up.”

Vaendalle blinked, genuine surprise flashing across his face. "That’s the spirit, lad—Wait. What?" His voice rose with confusion. "You’re giving up? Just like that?"

Arthanis nodded, standing straight despite the pain. "Yes. I need to rest. If I keep pushing myself now, it’s just wasted effort. I’ve learned a lot tonight, but I can’t continue. I need to recover and train again before I challenge you."

Vaendalle’s eyes narrowed, suspicion creeping into his voice. "You’re not trying to trick me into a trap again, are you?"

"No tricks this time," Arthanis replied, raising his hands in mock surrender. "I’m serious."

Vaendalle didn’t lower his guard. "That’s the fourth time you’ve said that tonight," he muttered, glancing at the discarded weapons. "Your sword’s on the ground, but this feels like a ruse…"

"I swear, I’ve truly given up," Arthanis insisted, exasperation in his tone.

Vaendalle studied him for a long moment, still on edge, but then sighed in frustration, accepting the surrender with a grudging nod. "Fine, fine. I suppose you’ve earned a break."

But as Arthanis moved slightly, a reflexive startle crossed his face, and that was all it took to trigger Vaendalle’s instincts. Without hesitation, the old master charged forward, body slamming Arthanis to the ground with the force of a freight train.

"Wait! Wait! Stop!" Arthanis yelled, wincing as the impact sent fresh waves of pain shooting through his back.

Vaendalle stood over him, shaking his head. "You think you can fool me with your half-hearted surrender, boy? I’ve seen this trick a hundred times before."

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Arthanis groaned, clutching his back. "I wasn’t tricking you! I was joking because you looked so tense after I gave up!"

Vaendalle snorted. "That’s what you get for messing with me during training." He extended a hand to help Arthanis to his feet, still chuckling to himself.

Arthanis grumbled as he took the offered hand, rising slowly. His body ached in ways he hadn’t thought possible, and yet, despite the pain, he couldn’t help but feel a strange sense of relief. This torment is over—for now.

Vaendalle watched him with a critical eye, his expression softening slightly. "You’ve improved, you know," he said, patting Arthanis on the shoulder. "You’re rough around the edges, but I’ve seen flashes of something in you. You’ve got potential. Showed me some clever tricks tonight too. If not for my experience, you might’ve landed a hit."

Arthanis’s eyes widened with hope, a glimmer of pride warming his chest. "Really?"

Vaendalle paused for dramatic effect, then broke into a grin. "Of course not, kiddo! Hahaha!"

The laugh reverberated through the training grounds, leaving Arthanis standing there, speechless and slightly dumbfounded. He muttered under his breath, watching the old man walk away, his broad shoulders and powerful frame belying his age. Damn it, old man. One of these days…

As Vaendalle disappeared into the shadows of the night, Arthanis couldn’t help but feel both respect and frustration welling up within him. Vaendalle was a beast, an immovable force, but the lessons he imparted were invaluable. Every bruise, every failure, was pushing Arthanis closer to the strength he would need to survive this world.

But survival comes first, he reminded himself. Vaendalle can wait. The monsters lurking in the dark can’t.

Arthanis glanced up at the sky, the moon casting a pale glow over the village, and took a deep breath. Tomorrow, he would return to the forest—back to the hunt, back to the monsters that would either feed his life force or end it.

For now, though, rest was the only battle he would concede.

“How can he be so strong and fast at his age? It doesn’t make sense.” Arthanis clenched his fists as he walked, replaying the fight in his mind. For two hours, I shadowed his every move, yet I couldn’t catch him—not even once. He had a counter for everything I threw at him, and somehow, he got stronger, faster as the battle went on. His frustration gnawed at him. Is this the difference between ordinary beings and the Awakened? It’s incredible…

Suddenly, a voice cut through his thoughts, startling him.

[No, Master. You are mistaken.]

“Mistaken? About what?” Arthanis muttered, his voice low.

[You are not an ordinary being, Master. You are a Dhampir. You possess unique genetic abilities called「Daywalker」and「Nightcrawler」. While in the day, your 「Daywalker」ability allows you to walk under the sun unscathed, this is the night—when your genetic ability「Nightcrawler」activates. You are already a half-monster, Master.]

Arthanis’s eyes widened, the revelation sending a shiver through him. “「Nightcrawler」? Mire, show me the description.”

[「Nightcrawler」: A genetic ability that enhances the user’s physical capabilities at night. At level 1, the user experiences increased strength, speed, and regeneration after sunset.]

“Ah… the moonlight…” Arthanis lifted his head, his gaze drawn upward to the brilliant, silvery glow of the moon. Its light bathed the village in an ethereal glow, casting long shadows that danced in the cool night breeze. He looked down at his arms, watching in silent awe as one of the cuts on his skin, a remnant of his earlier battle, slowly knitted itself back together under the soft radiance of the moon.

"So, that’s why I could keep up with him for so long." He flexed his fingers, feeling the renewed energy coursing through his body. "The moonlight… it’s healing me. Boosting my strength. I’m not as drained as I thought."

A plan began to form in his mind. “I still have plenty of energy left. If my body is regenerating this fast under the moon, then I should take advantage of it.” He glanced toward the distant treeline, the forest beckoning him. There’s no time to waste. I need to feed—to hunt.

Without hesitation, Arthanis turned on his heel, sprinting back toward the house. The wind rushed past him, the moonlight fueling every step. He felt lighter, faster, as if the shadows themselves carried him forward. In mere moments, he reached the familiar wooden structure and scaled the stairs to the second floor.

As he approached, he noticed Vaendalle’s door ajar. He peeked inside, curiosity getting the better of him. Vaendalle sat cross-legged on his bed, eyes closed, his breath steady and slow. His face was serene, almost otherworldly in its calmness.

Is he meditating? Arthanis wondered, his eyes lingering on the old man’s peaceful expression. Is that how the Awakened restore their essence?

The sight gave Arthanis pause. There was something about the way Vaendalle sat, utterly still, that demanded respect. He felt a flicker of admiration, but now wasn’t the time to dwell on it. He turned away silently, careful not to disturb the old man, and slipped into his own room.

He moved with purpose, donning his hunting gear—dark leathers that would allow him to blend into the shadows, a pair of daggers strapped to his sides, and a small satchel filled with supplies. His heart thrummed with excitement as he fastened his weapons, checking them one last time. The thrill of the hunt gripped him, his Dhampir blood stirring with anticipation. The forest awaited, teeming with creatures he could hunt—creatures whose essence he could devour to extend his own life.

I’m ready, he thought, a smirk curling at the corner of his lips.

The village was quiet as Arthanis strode through the darkened streets. The sounds of crickets chirping filled the night air, and the occasional bark of a dog echoed in the distance. The cool wind brushed against his face, carrying the scent of damp earth and pine from the nearby forest. His senses felt sharper, more attuned to the stillness of the night.

As he approached the village gate, the familiar figure of Lein, the guard, came into view.

“Halt—Oh, it’s you again,” Lein groaned, rolling his eyes. “What do you want this time?”

Arthanis’s expression was calm, almost indifferent. “I’m going to the forest.”

“For what?” Lein asked, his tone mocking. “Another one of your ‘adventures’?”

“As usual,” Arthanis replied curtly, ignoring the sarcasm.

Lein clicked his tongue in irritation. “Fine, go on. But don’t come crying back when things go south.”

As Arthanis passed through the gate, he could feel Lein’s eyes on his back, and he couldn’t help but wonder if the guard’s bitterness still stemmed from the previous Arthanis—the one who had made threats and trouble in the village. But he didn’t dwell on it for long. His mind was already on the hunt.

“Hey!” Lein called out suddenly, his voice cutting through the night. “Come back if it gets dangerous, you hear me?”

Arthanis raised a hand in acknowledgment but didn’t bother turning around. The forest loomed ahead of him, dark and alive, whispering promises of danger and opportunity.

The moment he stepped into the shadows of the trees, the air around him seemed to change. The village’s safety was behind him now. Ahead, the forest stretched out like an endless maze of possibilities—and threats.

He felt the energy of the moonlight pulse through him again, his body almost vibrating with the night’s power. Every breath he took felt rich with life, and the familiar thrill of the hunt surged through his veins.

“Let the hunt begin."