Stark jolted awake, drenched in cold sweat. His breath came in gasps as he clutched his shoulder—Thankfully, it was still intact. He quickly scanned his surroundings and realized he was back in the cave, lying in his room.

Yet, he couldn’t shake off the uncanny feeling from his fight with the Guki. His hands still trembled as memories of the battle still fresh in his mind.

“What was that?” he muttered in an unsteady tone. He couldn’t understand the sudden surge of power and blood lust that over took him during the fight.

Is it related to that black figure?

His suspicions deepened. He knew his nightmares weren’t normal, but he didn’t anticipate such a radical change in himself. The encounter with that entity had to be some sort of a trigger.

Like the black figure said, the answer lies beyond the Immortal Divide.

A sharp pain shot through his head, breaking his thoughts.

“This again!” he hissed, gritting his teeth.

He tried to push himself up, but his body refused to cooperate. He collapsed back onto the cold mattress, unable to muster any strength to stand up properly.

Even clenching his fists felt impossible—his entire body was numb and out of his control.

“Don’t move, child.”

Krul’s calm voice filled the room as he entered, carrying a bowl of stew. “You’re still recovering.”

Stark glanced at him, noticing the subtle change in his appearance. Krul wasn’t wearing his usual attire. Instead, he wore a dark tunic resembling leather armor, complete with shoulder pads. His long hair was tied back in a neat ponytail, giving him a much sharper look.

“Why can’t I muster any strength?” Stark asked frustratingly.

“It’s because you’ve been asleep for the past three days,” Krul replied.

Stark’s stomach growled in the middle of their conversation.

Krul smirked and handed him a bowl of stew along with a wooden spoon.

“Eat,” he instructed.

Stark took a few spoonfuls, savoring the warmth as it soothed his empty stomach. It did taste oddly funny at times.

Once he finished, he turned to Krul awkwardly.

Without warning, Krul gently smacked him on the head.

“Don’t ever do that in a battle,” he scolded.

“Fine… I won’t do it,” Stark muttered with a pout.

Krul’s expression turned serious. “There’s no need to risk your life like that. This time, I was there to save you,” he said firmly “But what if I wasn’t? You would have bled to death.”

Stark lowered his gaze. “Yes…”

“Know your place,” Krul continued. “Running away from a stronger opponent isn’t shameful.”

“But isn’t that cowardice?” Stark asked, frowning. “The Hero Dalius wouldn’t do that.”

Krul let out a chuckle. “Cowardice? A warrior is shaped by both victory and defeat. And death, Stark… death is the ultimate form of cowardice for a warrior.”

“And about Dalius, He ran away many times when faced with an enemy he couldn’t defeat,” Krul said

The way Krul spoke of Dalius was casual, as if he had known the legendary hero personally.

Stark’s mouth fell open. “Wait….What? But”

Krul simply smiled, ruffling Stark’s hair. “Being afraid isn’t a weakness. Learn from your fears, and they will guide you.”

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.

Stark just nodded.

“The Hero Dalius once said that It was my fear that brought me this far.”

“How do you know that?” Stark asked curiously as he witnessed a tinge of nostalgia in Krul’s voice.

“I just heard some stories over the years, Child.” Krul got up to leave. “Take rest today, you will recover by tomorrow.”

“Wait..how are you sure?”

“Medicine.” Krul smirked. “I mixed it in the stew.”

“That’s why it tasted funny…” Stark mumbled.

Time passed, and Stark recovered quickly. Taking Krul’s advice to heart, he did his best not to recklessly risk his life.

A few days later, Stark successfully subdued a Guki, defeating it with only minor scratches. He had learned to use his agility to his advantage.

He observed that the Guki took a few seconds to come to a complete stop after a full sprint. Stark capitalized on this brief moment, focusing all his senses on predicting its movement. Unlike the Stilo, which was more durable, the Guki had a fragile body, relying on its poison and speed to overwhelm its prey.

However, defeating a Guki in daylight wasn’t a remarkable feat. They were nocturnal hunters, and true victory meant facing one in its own hunting grounds—at night.

Fighting a Guki at night was a suicidal mission, but Stark saw it as a wall to overcome on his path to greater strength.

His first night time battle with the Guki was hell on earth. He had never experienced such excruciating pain as the beast’s venom spread through his body, hissing and eating away at his flesh. His legs went numb, his muscles lost all strength, and he became easy prey.

Krul saved him just in time, healing his wounds swiftly.

I’m relying on my eyes too much…

Realizing this weakness, Stark decided that he needed to sense the Guki with more than just sight. He trained himself to detect the beast based on sound, touch, and even its blood lust.

On the second night, he managed to wound the Guki before falling to the poison again.

This time, however, he noticed something crucial—the Guki struggled to change direction at high speeds. Just as it needed time to stop, its momentum made it difficult to turn mid-attack.

This flaw meant that by studying its attack patterns, he could use its own speed against it.

If he swung his blade precisely in the opposite direction of the Guki attacks. It had no way to dodge it. The beast would run itself into his attack and he could guarantee a successful strike.

Stark focused on exploiting the beast’s flaw. He relied on his senses, predicting its movements and striking precisely at its legs to limit its attacks. As its agility and acceleration dwindled, the beast’s range of movement narrowed, making it easier to track.

Dodging the Guki’s poison claws was another challenge. A single scratch would leave him writhing in pain, the affected limb useless for the rest of the fight. He could anticipate its attacks, but his body lagged behind his instincts, reacting a fraction too late.

But time changed that.

Stark got used to dodging and his battle senses, reflexes got much quicker and efficient. For the first time he also managed to take down a Guki at night.

A wave of bliss crashed over him. The sheer sense of achievement was overwhelming. Stark was on top of the world. The time and effort it took to take down a single desert Guki was excruciatingly long and it was worth every second.

“You did well,” Krul praised.

Stark let out a breathless laugh, exhaustion washing over him.

“Finally, your basics are solid.”

“Basics?”

“The foundation of martial arts and swordsmanship has been laid,” Krul remarked.

Throughout his training, Stark experimented with different swords, switching from a longsword to an arming sword before finally settling on a broadsword. It felt natural in his grip, as if made for him.

Its basket hilt protected his hands, allowing for precise cuts and thrusts at flexible angles. The blade itself was sharp and pointed, and its versatility let him wield an offhand weapon like a dagger or a wooden shield.

Krul noticed Stark’s serious expression. “Something on your mind, child?”

“Um… yeah.” Stark hesitated before meeting Krul’s gaze. “What’s the next stage of training?”

“The next level, huh…” Krul scratched his chin thoughtfully. “Nothing I can teach you. As I said before, I’m a mage, not a swordsman. Learning from me could cause irreparable flaws in your technique.”

Stark sighed, looking dejected. “Right…”

“But…” Krul smirked. “There is something you can do to improve.”

“And that is?”

“Fight stronger monsters. The more you battle, the sharper your instincts will become.”

Stark nodded, agreeing to fight stronger monsters in the future. As they headed back to the cave, he felt oddly at home there. Krul had given him more than he could have ever imagined back at the slave camp.

He often wondered why Krul had taken him under his wing. And now, he wanted to ask about the Immortal Divide—the name mentioned by the creature in his dreams.

After reaching the cave, Stark settled down. He turned to Krul, who was in the middle of unstrapping the daggers from his chest piece.

“By the way… Teacher.”

For the first time, Stark referred to Krul as his teacher. After all He was the first person to teach him how to fight. He not only learned martial arts but also was taught to read and write in Kastari.

Krul’s eyes widened for a moment before he smiled—warmly, unlike his usual cold smirk.

“Do you know about the Immortal Divide?” Stark asked.

Krul thought for a moment. “Yes, I do.”

So it’s real?!! Huh!!! Stark thought.

“Where is it?” he stammered, his voice rising in pitch.

Krul was taken aback for a moment. “Hmm… It is in the n—”

Before he could finish, a golden light erupted from Stark’s chest, from the exact spot where his slave mark had been.

It burned, shining so intensely that both of them were momentarily blinded.

“What the—“ He cursed aloud.

Stark barely had time to react before he heard Krul shout.

“GET BEHIND ME RIGHT NOW.”

Stark stumbled towards Krul just as the cave shuddered violently. A ray of light shot towards the cave with a shrill noise and the rocks beside him disintegrated.

An instant later, the cave exploded into a sea of flames.