The Iron Fang Guild's hunting grounds stretched beyond the western ridge,
a dense expanse of crimson grass, ancient trees, and the faint scent of blood.
Nazeku adjusted the dark gauntlet strapped to his right arm. It was an old, worn thing, more patchwork than weapon. The leather was cracked, the steel dull. But it fit perfectly, like an extension of him.
"A sword can break," he murmured quietly, flexing his fingers.
"But the body... must not."
He stood among a group of young warriors, new recruits, loud and overconfident.
The guild instructor, a broad man with a scarred jaw, paced before them.
"Listen up, rookies! Your task's simple, a D-rank hunt. You'll enter the ridge, kill or capture any beast, and return with proof. Don't wander too deep, or you'll die. Understood?"
"Yes, sir!"
Nazeku said nothing, just tightened his gauntlet straps and stared toward the treeline.
The hunt began.
They moved in a loose formation, blades and spears gleaming faintly with aura. Nazeku stayed at the rear, quiet, observant.
The forest whispered around them, distant growls, rustling leaves, the scent of wild energy.
"Hey, you," one of the recruits called back to him. "You planning to just stroll behind us all day?"
Nazeku didn't answer. His eyes were scanning the ground, claw marks, broken roots, faint aura residue.
"Tch, another coward," another voice mocked.
"Probably never even killed a rabbit."
Nazeku stopped walking.
"You're stepping into its territory," he said flatly.
"What?"
"The beast. It's been circling us for the last minute."
The others froze.
A faint rumble shook the ground. Then, from the shadows, a beast lunged,
a Feral Tuskhound, its fur bristling with aura, eyes glowing red.
The recruits panicked.
Swords clashed, spears swung wildly, all chaos in.
Nazeku moved differently.
He exhaled once, calm. His aura spread subtly across his body, a thin invisible shell of focus.
The beast lunged again.
He stepped forward, not back.
His left hand grabbed the beast's lower jaw; his right, wrapped in the gauntlet, slammed into its throat.
A crack echoed through the clearing.
The Tuskhound stumbled, choking, its aura flaring erratically. Nazeku pivoted, twisting his body, and drove a final punch into its skull.
Silence followed.
The beast collapsed.
The other recruits stared, wide-eyed.
"What the… how did he"
"He killed it barehanded!"
Nazeku shook the blood off his gauntlet, his breathing steady.
"No. I used my body."
He turned to walk away, but the instructor arrived just in time to see the aftermath. His eyes darted from the dead beast to Nazeku.
"You. Name."
"Nazeku," he replied.
"And where did you learn to fight like that?"
Nazeku looked at him evenly.
"I didn't. I just hit harder than it did."
The instructor stared for a moment, then smirked.
"You've got guts, boy. Maybe even talent. Keep it up."
The recruits whispered among themselves, their earlier mockery replaced with unease.
But Nazeku didn't care. He wasn't here to impress.
He was testing himself.
As he crouched beside the fallen beast, he placed his hand on its chest, feeling the faint pulse of fading energy. The dragon's will stirred within him again, faintly responding to the beast's aura.
"Consume it," the dragon's voice whispered.
"Take what is yours."
Nazeku froze.
His gauntlet faintly vibrated, heat coursing up his arm.
He clenched his fist, resisting.
"No," he hissed quietly. "Not yet."
He forced the will back down, burying it deep. The sensation faded, leaving him drenched in cold sweat.
"Too soon," he muttered. "If I lose control here…"
He looked around. None of the others had noticed.
Good.
He stood and began walking back toward the ridge, leaving the others to drag the beast's corpse.
By sunset, the guild compound was buzzing with talk.
"That orphan kid, killed a Tuskhound alone."
"No weapon, they said. Just his fists."
Nazeku sat quietly in the far corner, eating his meal in silence.
The whispers didn't matter. Not yet.
In the reflection of his bowl's surface, he saw it, for an instant, his left eye flickering red again.
"It's growing stronger," he muttered.
"And I still don't know what you want."
The dragon's voice rumbled faintly in the depths of his mind.
"Survive. Grow. Then, you will know."
Nazeku's lips curled into a faint, cold smile.
"Then I'll do just that."