I woke up laughing.
Not a small laugh. Not a "good morning" laugh. No. This was a full-body, chest-shaking laughter.
I didn't even mind the mud and debris around me.
And then I looked down at myself.
I returned in the body of Yuda, The King of Oma.
I remembered how he died like a terrible flashback.
He died after being sliced open, left bleeding made brain dead—Zefar style.
And now…I was living in his fully healed body.
Slayer magic was perfect. A whole new body now mine.
I sat up, stretched my arms, and flexed my new fingers. "Ohhh, yeah. This is what I'm talking about! Hello, world! It's me! The Hunter, upgraded and unleashed!"
I threw a fist in the air and spun like a maniac. "Wooooo! Yuda, my old friend, you've been a terrible roommate, but damn, you make a nice new body!"
I rolled in the mud, just because I could. Because hell, why not? Everything hurt—no, everything felt alive.
Memories crashed in like a wave. Zefar's knife. The slow drip of blood. Fear, pain, darkness. My last thoughts… gone. Mine again.
I sprang to my feet. "Ohhhh, let's go find my brothers! The Summoned!" I yelled, louder than the forest deserved. Branches whipped my face, mud spattered my chest, and I loved every second of it.
And then I saw them.
Blades out. Eyes wide. Faces frozen in that "holy crap Yuda's alive" look.
"Ohhh, boys! Put those things down!" I yelled, grinning ear to ear. "It's me! Hunter! You remember me, right? The one who talks too much and makes your lives worth living?"
Blades twitched. One of them narrowed his eyes. "Prove it," he said.
"Prove it?" I clutched my chest in mock offense. "Oh, buddy. You're asking me to prove it? That's cute."
I raised a finger and rattled off names like bullets: "Varek, Salen, Myro, Drane, Haxis!"
The moment the last name left my lips, the tension snapped like a rope. Blades clattered to the mud. Hugs, punches to shoulders, backslaps, laughing—the battlefield echoed with our chaos.
"You made it! You're here! You're a Summoned!"
"Brothers… for… life!" someone roared.
I threw my head back and laughed, the sound bouncing off broken walls. "Hell yes! This is everything! This… this is why I live! THIS is why I fight! I've been waiting my whole damn life for this!"
I soaked it in. The mud, the blood, the chaos, the laughter. Heaven on a battlefield. Until—
Zefar.
I froze. Heart thumped like a drum. I'd forgotten about him. The King of Slayers. The reason we existed. Alone with a True Slayer, somewhere in that cursed forest.
I straightened. "Mount up!" I barked, adrenaline spiking, sass and cockiness back in full swing. "We ride, boys! Follow me! Into the hell forest, rain, mud, death and all!"
Four hundred Summoned roared. Horses screamed, hooves smashed into mud. Blades gleamed. And me? Smiling like a madman at the storm ahead.
The forest swallowed us. Trees closed in, mist curling, dripping, dark and oppressive. Every snapping twig, every rustle of leaf made my skin tingle. I thrived on it. Thrived on the danger.
Then we reached the clearing. Rose's grave. And there he was.
Oma. Ten years old. Hands on a shovel. Silent. Radiating danger. True Slayer. Apex's son. And… the air around him felt wrong. Hungry. Predatory. Cold.
"Where's the King?" one of the Summoned demanded. "What has this kid done?"
Oma didn't flinch. Didn't blink. Didn't even breathe, maybe. Just stood there, rage oozing from his tiny frame.
"Hey! Kid! Answer us! Things are getting messy!"
He exhaled. Water vapor spiraled from his mouth. And then… words.
"You stand in the face of royalty. Shut up. And listen."
A finger to his lips. Shush.
And then—the forest answered. Growls. Thousands. Wolves, snakes, ravens. Apex's predators, all waiting, circling. Hungry. Watching. Listening.
My stomach dropped. Four hundred Summoned, and this kid could wipe them all out with a single gesture.
My grin faltered. Heart thumped. Fear—fear I hadn't felt since facing Zefar—crept in.
And then he disappeared.
Not ran. Not hid. Disappeared.
Then—he appeared behind me. Mist swirling, horses rearing, Summoned scrambling.
"I am Oma," he said. Voice low, lethal, impossible. "Prince of the Kingdom of Liberty. Son of the fallen Apex. Heir of Rose. The boy who will kill Zefar. Answer my next questions wisely. Your lives… depend on it."
He said,
"You must be the one they call Hunter. Why are you wearing my uncle's face?"
I froze. Guts twisted. Heart thumping like it wanted out. Second only to Zefar. Second only to...
The King Of Slayers.
One step. One bad word. One wrong breath … and this kid would end me, and every Summoned here.
We would all die no matter how hard we fought.
I swallowed. Nothing came out. Silence.
And then—Zefar's voice pierced my mind
"Hunter don't say anything stupid. The kid's angry because I killed myself.You must escort him to Babel.
He added,
"Don't worry he doesn't know you're the Slayer who killed Apex. You must convince him to follow you.
Keep him safe. I don't want him hurt. Fail, and you will know torment worse than death."
I exhaled. Shaking. Hands tightening. New body, new face, new life—but the weight of this impossible mission pressed down like a hammer.
I looked at Oma. Ten years old. Cold as ice. Fierce as fire. True Slayer incarnate. And I realized: getting out of this forest alive?
Yeah it wasn't happening.
We weren't leaving without blood. Not without chaos. Not without a miracle.
I forced my grin back. Just a little. "Alright, Hunter. Let's see if we can survive this little apocalypse together."
Mist swirled. Predators circled, hundreds of eyes glowing in the darkness. Four hundred Summoned tightened their grips on their blades, horses snorting, mud flying.
And me? terrified but ready.
I just came back.
And I wasn't going back.
I was going to try what I had never done before: diplomacy.
Well—here goes nothing.