Alex knelt beside the Nightshade Striker's corpse, chest still heaving. The forest was quiet now, save for the faint rustle of leaves in the night breeze. His dagger, slick with blood, trembled slightly as he sliced into the beast's chest. "Come on, you bastard, give me something good," he muttered, prying open its chest. A faint glow pulsed within—a mana core, small but dense, radiating a smoky, shadow-like aura.
He grinned, pocketing it. "That's at least fifty sliver coins at the market. Maybe sixty if I haggle."
Pain flared in his ribs as he stood, forcing a wince. He pressed a hand to his side, feeling the wet warmth of blood through his torn shirt. "Gonna need more than a bandage for this," he grumbled.
Standing up was difficult.
He glanced back at the corpse, still oozing faint mana. The scent of blood was thick in the air—too thick.
"Can't stay here," he muttered. "Every predator within a mile is probably licking its lips already."
"But there's still a lot of stuff that can be sold, too bad I don't have the time"
With a reluctant sigh, he limped away from the clearing.
Alex's mind and body wandered, flicking between memories of the fight and silent calculations. That beast was a low tier 3 mana beasts , and it nearly gutted him. If he hadn't reacted with instinct, if his body hadn't moved just right...
"Not good," he mumbled, stumbling over a root. "Too many what-ifs."
"Almost died" he chuckled but the vibrations spark a searing pain in his broken rib, making me wince."Again" he couldn't help but add.
Thinking back to the feeling he felt he wondered
Why did it feel so good? The rush, the edge of death—it was like the world finally made sense when he was fighting. Back in the mansion, despite all the brutal training his been put through none of it have ever been a threat to his life, it couldn't compared to real world were you could basically feel the cold killing bringing shivers to the spine. In there he was protected heck except for his awakening he hasn't met anyone else aside from vonn and his parents. Despite being a precious and valuable descendent the fact is his still protected. But out here, though? Out here, he felt alive. Like his is finally living his second life the way it should be.
He doesn't know when this addiction to danger started, it wasn't there in his past life or maybe it's was always there but was never able to show itself as he had never been the target of a kill before.
He shook his head dismissing the thought and focusing on getting to somewhere safe.
About an hour passed—maybe more. He didn't bother counting. The ache in his side had become a steady burn, and his breath came shallow. He finally spotted a tree with thick, low branches—one he could climb without too much strain.
He leaned on the trunk, took a breath, and began to ascend.
It wasn't elegant. His ribs screamed in protest, and more than once he nearly slipped, but he made it—nestling himself in a broad fork of the tree high above the ground. Thick leaves above. Bark firm beneath him.
Safe. Safer, at least.
"Wait!! I could have just blinked" he facepalmed himself.
"Hoooo..."
Alex exhaled shakily, pulling his tattered cloak tighter around him. The forest below was a canvas of muted shadow, silent but alive. Distant howls echoed in the dark—far, but not far enough.
"Lesson learned," he murmured, eyes half-lidded. "No more wandering at night."
With one last breath, he settled into the crook of the tree, letting the pain dull into background noise. His thoughts slowed. As he began drawing in mana to ease his recovery. The night passing with no further events.
---------
As the first light of dawn filtered through the canopy, Alex stirred.
His eyes opened slowly, and he let out a breath he didn't realize he'd been holding. The aches were still there, but duller now.
He uncurled from his perch with a stiff groan and checked his injuries. The worst of the bleeding had stopped. His ribs were still cracked—he could feel the tightness with every breath—but nothing felt fatal.
"About… eighty percent?" he muttered, flexing his fingers and testing his balance on the branch. "Not great. But not terrible too."
I really need to up my fighting experience with beasts. Fighting humans and fighting beasts are very different,something that someone clearly forgot to mention".
****
Somewhere in the walker estate elder vonn was seen guiding a group of youngstars when he sneezed.
"Is someone cursing me behind. Humph... It must be that brat, wonder were the head sent him too" either way that no longer my business".
"Hey relax your hips don't be like my stick" he tapped the youngstar with a stick.
****
With one final check of his gear, Alex pushed off the branch and landed with a light thud, bending his knees to absorb the impact. A jolt of pain lanced through his side, but he didn't flinch this time.
He dusted off his cloak and began walking again—this time toward a distant plume of smoke he'd spotted during a brief break in the treetops earlier. Probably a camp. Or maybe a bandits camp.Either way, it was a step closer to shelter and maybe a proper healer.
But monsters didn't care for your plans.
His journey back through the forest was interrupted—three times, to be exact.
The first was a limber, spiked-backed lizard that tried to ambush him from a canopy branch. Alex blinked behind it mid-lunge, then drove his dagger into its skull with a sharp twist. Its core was weak—a tier 1 beasts barely worth ten sliver coins—but its hide looked valuable.
The second was a pair of scavenger dogs with bloated eyes and messy fur. They fought dirty—gnashing teeth and erratic movements—but Alex moved faster, leaning on precision over power. His ribs screamed, but he didn't stop until they lay still.
The third was a mid-tier 2 avian(bird) beast, all talons and shrieks. That one nearly clipped him before he drew just enough mana to condense a shard of space around his hand and hurl it like a dart. The bird spiraled to the ground, twitching. Another core. More hide. More blood on his clothes.
By the time midday approached, Alex's cloak was crusted, and he reeked of iron and sweat—but his ring was packed. Three mana cores. Several beast parts. He even managed to salvage a few claws and bones that looked like they'd fetch a price.
"Money is never a bad thing," he muttered under his breath, readjusting the strap. "even worth risking my life for." he chuckled.
His steps quickened.
As he pressed forward weaving between trees with the fluid silence of someone who had begun to truly begun to master the forest.
Reaching close he pace slowed. Heart thudding—not from the pain, but from anticipation. The scent of burning wood carried something else beneath it: cooked meat, stew or is it porrage.
His stomach growled in anticipation as the savory aroma wafted through the air, making his mouth water and his heart throb with hunger. The scent of food in the distance was like a siren's call, drawing him in with promises of satisfaction and delight,Come to think of it he hasn't eaten for a while now.
He crouched low behind a thick root and peered through a break in the underbrush.
A clearing opened up just beyond the trees.
It wasn't a camp. It was a staging ground.
Five large tents formed a rough circle, and two wagons—one broken, one intact—rested near a spit-roast boar. A handful of figures moved about lazily, weapons strapped to their backs or lying within easy reach. A makeshift banner was staked in the ground nearby—tattered, but clearly bearing a skull wrapped in chains. Bandits.
And not the weak kind.
Alex's eyes narrowed. Even from a distance, he could feel it—that slight pressure in the air, the unnatural tension of condensed mana.
"Three... maybe four are at Tier 3," he whispered to himself, sensing the aura they balantly release. The one near the fire had the ease of someone used to violence, and the one by the wagon had eyes that never stopped moving. "The rest are Tier 2. That's too many."
He backed up a step, ready to turn away—but then his eyes caught something.
A cage.
Half-covered by a tarp, many chained people near the back of the camp. Inside, mostly unmoving likely some dead, Hard to tell their condition from this distance.
He clenched his jaw. "Figures," he muttered. "Of course it's not a bandit camp without hostage or slaves."
Every instinct told him to leave. He wasn't at full strength, and they had numbers. But he hesitated.
During his hesitation he locked eyes with someone.