The forest trembled.
A low, guttural howl echoed through the mist, rippling through the dense canopy of Mistfire Ridge. The warm glow of Singh's newly obtained yellow spirit ring flickered slightly, as if disturbed by the sudden chill in the air. The fire-born lynx had fallen moments ago, its energy still settling into Singh's veins. But now the warmth was fading—replaced by a creeping coldness that crawled beneath his skin.
The kunai pulsed again.
"Did you hear that?" Singh asked, slowly rising to his feet, one hand gripping his side where the lynx's final swipe had grazed him. His breathing was still ragged from the strain of absorbing the ring, but his instincts screamed that rest was no longer an option.
"I did," Lian Rou replied, spear already in her hands, eyes narrowed. "That wasn't any ordinary spirit beast. It was too... intentional."
Faen was silent, but his gaze had turned toward the northeast slope, the direction from which the howl had come. His hand casually rested near the ring at his waist. "Something is approaching. Something drawn to your other spirit."
Singh's breath caught. The Silent Kunai had remained dormant for most of the journey. It barely reacted even when the lotus ignited in the presence of the lynx. But now, it was... awake.
He could feel it in the back of his mind, like a second pair of eyes opening. It didn't scream or surge like the lotus. It whispered. Cold and calculating. There was a rhythm to its pulse—like a heartbeat in reverse.
The ground beneath them vibrated.
"Move!" Faen ordered.
They leapt aside just as the earth exploded. A black blur erupted from below—fur, claws, and smoke. It landed with a crunch, cracking stone beneath its paws. It stood nearly as tall as Singh, lean and angular like a wolf—but its eyes were blank, pure white. Its body shimmered like liquid shadow.
"A Nightveil Stalker," Lian said, her voice almost reverent. "Seven hundred years old, at least."
Singh's gaze locked with the beast's. The kunai spirit pulsed again, and this time, Singh understood. The blade didn't hunger for light. It craved silence. Precision. Assassination.
This was the spirit ring it desired.
"I'll face it," he said, stepping forward.
"You're exhausted," Faen warned. "Your body just absorbed one ring. You're not meant to—"
"I have to," Singh cut him off. "It's calling to the kunai. If I don't take this now... I don't know when I'll find another fit."
Faen didn't like it, but he nodded slowly. "Very well. Lian and I will interfere only if necessary."
Singh drew a deep breath. He willed the kunai to appear. It materialized silently in his left hand, cool and solid. Unlike the lotus, the kunai didn't glow. It drank light.
The Nightveil Stalker circled him, soundless, its eyes glowing faintly. It tested his reaction, probing.
Then it vanished.
Singh barely dodged, rolling to the side as claws slashed past his shoulder. He countered with a swipe of the kunai, but it sliced only air. The beast was fast—too fast.
Think, he told himself. Not power. Precision.
He closed his eyes briefly. Listened. Let the kunai guide him.
The next attack came from behind. But this time, he didn't move fully—he ducked just enough to twist and stab upward. The blade sank into shadowy fur. The beast shrieked, its voice like broken glass.
It leapt back, blood sizzling into mist.
Singh pressed the advantage. He struck with short, precise thrusts—not wide swings. The kunai adapted to his hand, becoming an extension of his thoughts. It was cold, clinical, and deadly.
After several tense minutes, the stalker slowed. It bled from multiple wounds now. Singh panted hard, legs trembling.
He feinted a stumble.
The beast lunged.
He twisted low and drove the kunai into its throat.
Silence.
It collapsed, twitching once, then lay still.
The kunai pulsed with satisfaction.
Singh fell to one knee, sweat pouring from his brow.
"Now," Faen said urgently. "Before it decays—absorb it."
Singh reached forward again. The dark mist from the stalker's body began coiling around his palm, sinking into his skin. This absorption was different. The first had felt like fire threading through nerves. This one felt like sinking into ice—each moment a cold tug on his soul.
He gritted his teeth, but didn't scream.
The second yellow ring formed around the Silent Kunai, casting a faint grey glow beneath it.
He collapsed.
Lian was the first to reach him, checking his pulse. "He's alive. Just unconscious."
Faen exhaled slowly. "Two spirits. Two rings. And he survived both in one day."
He looked down at the boy passed out in the grass.
"Prince Singh..." Faen murmured. "Just who are you?"