Extract from the -{ Tome of Light }- the divine scripture of the Church of Light.
"When darkness threatens to encroach, fear not, for my light shall banish all shadows. Embrace the inevitability of my luminous reign, where doubt and disbelief wither in the brilliance of my eternal flame." (The Inevitability of Light - 1:4)
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Asher's muscles trembled as he pushed himself to his feet, his legs quivering beneath him. An eerie silence had descended upon the forest, broken only by the ragged breathing of the fallen beast. The hunter, his face a mask of grim satisfaction, slid his bow onto his back with practiced ease. He approached the mangled creature sprawled across the blood-stained rock, each step deliberate and cautious.
Following in the hunter's wake, Asher's eyes widened at the sight before him. The once-mighty Firemane Liger lay in ruins, its fearsome flames extinguished beneath a layer of glittering frost. Half of its body was simply... gone as if cleaved away by some impossible force. Yet somehow, impossibly, the creature still clung to life. Its chest heaved with shallow, labored breaths that sent puffs of steam into the chilly air.
As they drew near, the Liger's gaze locked onto them. Those eyes, once blazing with predatory hunger, now held only pain and a silent plea. The hunter reached into his dimensional ring, withdrawing a wicked black machete that seemed to drink in the surrounding light. He extended it towards Asher, handle first.
"Go on, boy," the hunter's gruff voice carried a weight of expectation. "End it. This is your baptism of blood."
Their eyes met, and Asher felt the weight of the moment settle upon his shoulders. He took a deep breath, his mind racing through anatomy lessons, searching for the precise location of the beast's heart. To his surprise, he felt no revulsion at the task before him, only a strange mix of nerves and... something else. A twinge of regret, not at the act itself, but at not being the one to bring down such a magnificent creature.
Asher pushed the thought aside, chiding himself for such arrogance. He gripped the machete tightly, its unfamiliar weight settling into his palm. The Liger's eyes, pools of fading crimson, seemed to bore into his very soul. Steeling himself, Asher aligned the blade with where he believed the heart to be.
The sword slid in with shocking ease as if the Liger's hide was no more substantial than parchment. Asher watched, transfixed, as the last flicker of life drained from those massive eyes. The beast's final exhale ghosted across his face, carrying the acrid scent of smoke and something indefinably wild.
In that moment, a translucent blue window materialized before Asher's eyes, its text glowing softly:
[ Conditions have been fulfilled. Gained the title 'Conqueror of the Mighty' ]
Asher blinked, momentarily disoriented by this new facet of the mysterious system. The hunter's words from the previous night echoed in his mind, cautioning discretion. With effort, he kept his face neutral, resisting the urge to share this development.
Seizing a quiet moment, Asher discreetly accessed his status window:
[ Name: Asher Whitlock ]
[ Race: Human ] [ unawakened ]
[ Skills: Beginner Sword Mastery L.v 1, Beginner Knife Mastery L.v 1, Beginner Close-Combat Mastery L.v 1 ]
[ Quest: 2 active quests ]
[ Titles: Seeded Trainee *, Conqueror of the Mighty ]
His eyebrows rose fractionally at the sight of not one, but two titles. Curiosity piqued, he delved deeper:
[ Title: 'Seeded Trainee' (Temporary)
* During the tutorial period increase the speed of learning skills by 50%. ]
The first seemed straightforward enough, a boon for his current training. But the second...
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[ Title: 'Conqueror of the Mighty'
* Gain increased resistance to bloodlust and fear against opponents stronger than oneself.
* Gain a 5% buff to each physical stat when fighting opponents stronger than oneself. ]
Asher's mind raced with the implications, a mixture of excitement and trepidation coursing through him.
"You okay, kid?" The hunter's voice cut through his reverie, tinged with a hint of concern.
Asher startled, blinking rapidly. "H-huh? Oh, I was just... a bit overwhelmed."
The hunter's weathered face softened slightly. "Hmm, don't worry. I was overwhelmed as well when I had my first kill."
"Y-yeah," Asher mumbled, grateful for the ready-made excuse.
With businesslike efficiency, the hunter set about harvesting useful parts from the Liger's corpse. Asher watched, fascinated, as crystalline claws and teeth were carefully extracted, each seeming to hold a trapped flame within. The hunter's movements were practiced, almost ritualistic, as he opened the beast's abdomen and retrieved a small, perfectly smooth marble. Within its crystalline depths, a tiny flame danced and flickered.
As the hunter cleaned his tools, he began to lecture, his voice taking on a professorial tone. "Unlike humanoids, wild beasts without good bloodlines can not cultivate using pneuma in a normal environment and awaken. Most wild beasts that do awaken either accumulate pneuma through constant battle and kills or stumble upon naturally formed spiritual herbs and zones with higher pneuma density."
The hunter's eyes scanned the surrounding area, a hint of disappointment crossing his features. "Sometimes stronger beasts like this one guard areas with growing spiritual herbs. Always worth checking after a hunt – you might find a pleasant surprise."
Finding nothing of note, he continued his impromptu lesson. "Humanoids with potential can cultivate and gradually awaken. There are other methods, but don't be tempted to directly consume high-pneuma spiritual herbs like beasts do. If you accidentally eat a pneuma fruit beyond that which your body can handle and digest then – you'd likely explode from the uncontrolled pneuma."
Satisfied that they'd gleaned all they could from the Liger, the hunter gestured for Asher to follow. Their path now had a specific destination in mind – an area the hunter claimed would be ideal for honing Asher's combat skills, populated by unawakened beasts more suited to his current abilities.
As they entered this new territory, Asher's senses heightened, searching for potential prey. He spotted a promising target, his muscles tensing in anticipation. Before he could act, however, the hunter's iron grip clamped down on his shoulder, yanking him into the concealment of nearby bushes.
The hunter's hand covered Asher's mouth, his voice a tense whisper against Asher's ear. "It seems some unwelcomed guests have arrived."
Asher's eyes darted wildly, straining to spot the perceived threat. The hunter slowly released his hold, seemingly satisfied that Asher understood the need for silence. From a hidden pocket, he produced a delicate bracelet, pressing it into Asher's palm.
"Take this," the hunter murmured, his face etched with concern. "It's a protective bracelet. It can shield you for a time. There are unidentified intruders ahead. I'll investigate their intentions. If you see an opening, run. Don't look back."
For the first time since meeting him, Asher saw genuine worry in the hunter's eyes. It sent a chill down his spine more effectively than any beast they'd encountered. Wordlessly, Asher nodded, clasping the bracelet tightly.
The hunter rose, stepping out from their hiding place with deliberate calm. Almost immediately, a figure materialized several meters away. Asher blinked, unsure if his eyes were playing tricks on him. It was as if the newcomer was wrapped in a veil of distorted air, only becoming fully visible as the hunter approached.
The implications of such power made Asher's breath catch in his throat. But what truly shocked him was the hunter's reaction. As recognition dawned on his face, the air around him seemed to thicken and darken. An aura of pure, undiluted bloodlust erupted from the hunter, making the Firemane Liger's ferocity pale in comparison.
Tendrils of what looked like congealed blood, infused with swirling pneuma, writhed around the hunter's form. Wisps of acrid smoke leaked from the corners of his mouth, and his eyes blazed with an inhuman fury. Despite the summer warmth, Asher felt ice creep through his veins. He silently thanked whatever power had granted him the 'Conqueror of the Mighty' title – without it, he was certain this display alone would have rendered him unconscious.
The hunter advanced, exchanging terse words with the cloaked figure. Their conversation, while too quiet for Asher to discern, ended with a bone-chilling roar from the hunter. In a blur of motion too fast for Asher to follow, the hunter vanished, reappearing atop the figure's head. The ground beneath them cratered from the impact, spider-web cracks radiating outward.
Before the hunter could press his advantage, the air shimmered. Multiple figures, clad in identical attire to the first, materialized on the battlefield. They launched themselves at the hunter in perfect unison.
What followed defied Asher's comprehension. The very fabric of reality seemed to warp and tear as elemental forces clashed. The sky rained down curtains of multicolored pneuma, each hue carrying its own destructive signature. Agonized screams mingled with furious battle cries, creating a hellish cacophony. Flashes of pneuma-infused attacks lit up the forest like a barrage of fireworks, each impact sending shockwaves Asher could feel in his bones.
The sheer magnitude of power being unleashed made Asher feel as if he stood at the heart of a raging storm. Every instinct screamed at him to flee. Remembering the hunter's words, he scrambled to his feet and ran, his heart pounding a frantic rhythm in his chest.
He had barely covered a few meters when an invisible force slammed into his back with the force of a speeding truck. A deafening explosion tore through the air, the concussive blast sending Asher tumbling head over heels. His world went white, every sense overwhelmed by the raw power unleashed behind him.
Disoriented and gasping for breath, Asher struggled to regain his bearings. As the ringing in his ears subsided, a new sound cut through the chaos – a low, menacing growl coming from his left. Turning his head, ignoring the protesting muscles in his neck, Asher's blood ran cold.
A massive red-furred wolf stood mere feet away, its hackles raised and lips pulled back to reveal gleaming fangs. Its eyes, filled with primal hunger, locked onto Asher's prone form. Time seemed to slow as the wolf tensed, preparing to pounce.
Adrenaline surged through Asher's veins like liquid fire. His hand scrabbled desperately at his belt, fingers seeking the reassuring grip of his knife. But he was too slow, too clumsy in his panic.
The wolf launched itself forward, a blur of crimson fur and snapping jaws. Asher could feel its hot breath on his face, smell the rank odor of its previous kills. Those razor-sharp fangs inched closer to his exposed throat, promising a swift and brutal end.
In that moment, as death quite literally stared him in the face, Asher's racing thoughts centered on a single, desperate hope – that the protective bracelet gifted by the hunter would prove to be more than a simple trinket.