The bear-like beast opened it's mouth and had a primal, guttural roar but it didn't shake Lin Kai. It resonated in the very air, a wave of raw power that should have driven him back, yet he stood his ground.
The twin blades in his hands felt like extensions of his will, their edges gleaming in the faint, hazy morning light filtering through the canopy. His mind, however, was a battlefield.
A frantic voice, cold and insistent, was hammering against his skull, a primal instinct born from the countless battles he had already fought. Kill it. Kill it now. Be ruthless. Power requires sacrifice.
This internal command was a constant companion, a ghost of the life he was forced to live, where every creature was either a threat or a resource.
The beast before him was a valuable one, its powerful hide, its bones, its very essence—all of it could be refined into elixirs or forged into stronger equipment and most importantly he have chance to evolve in First Order.
This is a simple, brutal equation. Kill the beast, take the reward, grow stronger. He had done it countless times before without a second thought, his hands moving with practiced, deadly efficiency. The roar came again, less of a threat and more of a desperate, wounded cry.
His blades, named Whispers and Shadows, seemed to hum with anticipation. He took a single, definitive step forward, then another, the soft thud of his boots on the damp earth the only sound apart from the beast's low whimpering.
The beast was massive, a hulking monument of muscle and fur, but it was wounded, its side slick with a dark, oily ichor. It was an easy kill. He raised his blades, crossing them over his chest in a prepared stance, the tips pointed at the beast's heart.
His mind was screaming the mantra. Ruthless. Power. Ruthless. Power. He was so focused on this singular goal that the world around him seemed to blur into a tunnel of grim purpose.
But as he moved in for the final, clean slash, something gave him pause. His gaze, once so narrowly focused on the kill, widened. The beast, with a wounded groan, slumped slightly, its massive head turning away from him to rest near a small, whimpering mound of fur.
The cub. It was cowering close to its mother, a tiny, terrified creature. The mother beast, its own body trembling from exertion and pain, looked at Lin Kai.
The fierce, feral glare was gone, replaced by an expression so raw and human-like in its sorrow that it physically stopped him in his tracks. Her eyes, filled with a deep, ancient pain, seemed to plead with him to spare her child.
And the cub. The little one was not just scared. It was full of an explosive fury, its tiny eyes blazing with a fierce, protective defiance. It was glaring at Lin Kai, a heavy, silent accusation in its unblinking stare, daring him to come closer.
But it did not act. It did not charge or shriek. It obeyed its mother's silent command, its body rigid with rage, but it stayed put.
The scene struck Lin Kai with a force more potent than any physical blow. A sudden, jarring image, erupted in his mind. He saw his own mother, Lin Mei, her face a mask of fierce, protective love, standing in front of him, shielding him from a world that is trying to tear him apart.
He can remember her hands, calloused but gentle, her eyes, filled with a strength that could move mountains. She had been the only one who had ever truly stood between him and the darkness.
He felt a sharp, phantom pain in his chest, a ghost of the emptiness he lived with every day. She is not here now. Her protective gaze, her fierce love—it's all a memory now, a distant prayer to keep her safe and he could only offer to a sky that never answered.
Lin Kai bit down hard on his bottom lip, the coppery taste of blood instantly flooding his mouth. The pain was a grounding force, a way to break the feverish mantra that still echoed in his mind. He could not. He simply could not. He couldn't kill the mother and leave the cub.
The little one, so full of fury, would surely be devoured by corrupted creatures without the beast's protection. In this brutal, merciless world, a child without a mother was a sentence of certain death. He felt a kinship he couldn't explain. The fierce loyalty, the pleading eyes, the quiet rage of the child—it's all too familiar.
He slowly lowered his blades and, with a subtle movement that spoke of deep internal turmoil, returned them to their sheathes. They slid silently into place, a quiet truce.
He gave the beast a slight bow of his head, a gesture of respect and understanding that it could never comprehend. "I'm leaving," he said, his voice a low rumble. "Don't come after me for revenge. Your child needs you."
He turned his back on them and began his walk back, the guilt a lead weight in his gut. The beast, stunned and bewildered by his unexpected retreat, watched him go.
Its confused gaze was replaced by a look of what almost seemed like gratitude, an emotion Lin Kai didn't see. The beast couldn't understand human words, but perhaps it understood the quiet mercy.
A strange feeling settled in his mind. He was no longer thinking like a reaper, a hunter of power. He was thinking like a man. As he walked, his thoughts strayed.
What would happen to this beast and its cub? He knew the area was teeming with corrupted creatures, drawn by the scent of blood. The thought made his stomach churn. He could not leave them to be devoured.
He decided to clear the area, to give the beast a fighting chance. It isn't about power or a bounty; it is an act of quiet redemption. He began to stalk through the trees, a phantom in the early morning light.
The corrupted creatures were a grotesque mockery of life, shambling horrors with gaping maws and twisted limbs. They were a mix of low- and mid-level ones, easy prey for him.
His twin blades sang their grim song, their edges slicing through flesh and bone with a sickening ease. He can feel his is energy being replenished from killing.
He moved with a brutal, silent grace, a dance of death. One by one, he dispatched them, each kill a quiet act of defiance against the very mantra that had so recently controlled him.
He was a death reaper now, but not for power. He was clearing a path for a mother and her child. After what felt like an eternity, he paused. The silence was deafening. He had cleared the perimeter.
He looked around, the area now strangely serene, devoid of the monstrous life that had haunted it just moments before.
He heard the familiar chime in his mind, the primal decree's voice, as dispassionate and cold as ever:
"Souls reclaimed: 23"
A decent haul. He shrugged, thinking that it wasn't enough for a First Order, but it was enough to buy a few moments of peace for the beast. He took one last glance back at the spot where the beast rested, a silent blessing in his heart. Good luck to you, he thought.
His journey back to the school was uneventful. He walked with the rising sun casting a long, lonely shadow behind him.
He felt the weight of the morning on his shoulders, a strange mixture of regret and relief. When he finally reached the school, the day was beginning to stir. Students were emerging from their tents and dorms, stretching and yawning, ready for the day's training.
Lin Kai saw Jing Yu, his best friend, practicing with his great axe. His face lit up when he saw Lin Kai. "Lin Kai! Good morning! Where were you? You just disappeared this morning. I was getting worried," Jing Yu said, his voice a mix of relief and concern.
Lin Kai smiled faintly. "Morning, Jing Yu. Just went for a walk. Needed to clear my head." He sat down on a nearby rock, and Jing Yu came over, his axe resting on his shoulder.
"A walk? In the outer circle? You're crazy, man," Jing Yu laughed, but the concern in his eyes was still there. "You could have at least woken me up. You know I get all tense when you go off alone."
Lin Kai told him a condensed version of his encounter with the beast. He talked about the bear, the fight, and how he let it go. He didn't mention the internal turmoil or the specific thought of his mother. That was his private pain.
Jing Yu listened intently, his expression shifting from surprise to awe. "You let it go? A beast that strong? Are you insane?" he asked, not as an accusation, but as a genuine question.
"It had a cub," Lin Kai said simply, the image of the little beast glaring at him still fresh in his mind. "It reminded me of... something."
"Oh," Jing Yu said, the tone of his voice softening in understanding. "Well, that's... that's big of you, man. Not many people would do that. Especially not after the trouble we've all been through."
The conversation continued with other team members joining them. Lin Kai and Jing Yu talked, and others listened in, asking questions here and there, curious about Lin Kai's strange morning adventure.
They talked about their own small encounters, the new training exercises, and what they would eat for breakfast. The simple, normal chatter was a welcome balm to Lin Kai's wounded spirit.
He felt a sense of belonging with them, a feeling that had been lost for a long time. They were his new family, his pack. He wasn't entirely alone anymore.
Lin Kai looked up at the sky, the sun now high above the trees, and he felt a strange sense of peace. He had chosen mercy over power, compassion over ruthlessness.
He had no idea what the consequences would be, whether his decision would haunt him or save him. But for now, he was content. The path forward was still unclear, but at least he knew what kind of man he wanted to be.
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Author's Note:
Haah, so tired. My novel got rejected, I really can't think anything for now what to do as the work that i have poured over this for a month is now tastes bitter and feeling worthless. Don't know what to do now? Should i continue or drop? I need time my dear readers, i will mention u if i decide something.