"Hah… hah… ha…"
Zephyr's breath came out in ragged intervals, each exhale heavier than the last. His chest rose and fell violently, yet somehow—through sheer will alone—he managed to remain standing.
His left arm, however, hung limply at his side.
The injury was impossible to ignore. Deep, vicious gashes carved across his shoulder, flesh torn open as blood flowed relentlessly, staining both his clothing and the earth beneath him. Strangely, the pain had not yet fully registered—his body still numbed by the intensity of battle.
And yet, despite his battered state…
A grin stretched across his face.
Wide. Unrestrained. Almost feral.
Yes...he was delighted,satisfied.He had slain a beast.
Though the battle had not been entirely fair, the Bloodfang Wolf had already been grievously wounded, victory was still victory. A kill is still a kill. For Zephyr, it marked progress, however small.
And that alone was enough,but the euphoria was fleeting.
"ARGGHH—!! It hurts!!"The delayed agony struck like a tidal wave.
Zephyr cried out, his voice echoing through the forest as the pain finally took hold. His legs trembled as he staggered toward a nearby tree, pressing his back against its rough bark for support.
He needed to rest.
More importantly, he needed to stop the bleeding.
If left unchecked, the wound would drain his strength rapidly rendering him vulnerable in a place where weakness meant death. Yet he had no choice. Sacrifice was inevitable on the path to power. He understood that much.
"Hey… Maw… can you help me with this?" he asked, his voice strained.
He did not expect an answer.
Maw had always been selective almost infuriatingly so. In moments where Zephyr sought shortcuts, easy solutions, or guidance during combat, Maw would often remain silent.
Not out of indifference,but out of principle.Reliance bred weakness.
And Maw refused to let Zephyr become dependent on anything but himself.
Zephyr knew this well. To carve one's own path unyielding, unassisted was both the shortest and the most arduous route to greatness.
Still… there were moments when even the strongest needed direction.
And to his surprise—
"Use a very small amount of hellfire to cauterize the wound. It will hurt… but it will stop the bleeding."Maw's voice echoed calmly within his mind.
Zephyr blinked.
"…Hellfire," he murmured.The name was fitting.
Even recalling the black flames he had used earlier sent a chill down his spine.
That power had annihilated the mountain boar so completely that not even a scream had escaped it. It was destruction in its purest form.
To use such a force… on himself?
He hesitated. For a brief moment, doubt crept in.But only for a moment.
Gritting his teeth, Zephyr raised his uninjured hand. A faint flicker emerged—barely more than a spark. A minuscule fragment of black flame danced upon his palm.
Carefully—hesitantly—he pressed it against his wound.
Regret came instantly.
"ARRRRGGGHHHH—!!!"A scream tore from his throat, raw and unrestrained.
It was not merely pain...it was agony beyond comprehension. It felt as though his very essence was being burned away, as if the flames sought not only his flesh but his soul itself.
Tears streamed down his face uncontrollably. His body convulsed, his composure shattered entirely. Snot, saliva,every trace of dignity vanished as he endured the torment.
In that moment, Zephyr understood.
This was hell.
Even this tiny fragment of hellfire carried a destructive intensity that defied reason. If such a minuscule amount could inflict this level of suffering…
What had the mountain boar experienced?
The thought alone was enough to unsettle him.
But there was no turning back.
He clenched his teeth, forcing himself to endure. To scream was inevitable but to give up was not.
Time seemed to stretch endlessly.Then, gradually…The pain subsided, though thats only his thoughts...
Zephyr collapsed slightly against the tree, his body trembling. His arm now blackened and charred—hung uselessly at his side.
But the bleeding had stopped.
A small victory.
"That… hurt like hell, Maw…" Zephyr muttered hoarsely.
Though the decision had been his own, he could not help but vent his frustration.
"Heh. But it worked, didn't it?" A faint chuckle echoed in response
Zephyr could practically feel Maw's amusement. If Maw had a physical form, he was certain it would be grinning mockingly.
"…Yeah," Zephyr admitted reluctantly.
He pushed himself upright, scanning his surroundings with heightened caution. The scent of blood—combined with his earlier scream—could easily attract other predators.
He could not afford to let his guard down.
"The pain you felt," Maw continued, his tone shifting slightly, "is proof that you are growing stronger. Remember that."
Zephyr nodded silently.
Then...the talisman stirred once more.
A faint vibration pulsed from within him, followed by the familiar glow. Lines of text began to etch themselves across its surface.
Zephyr's eyes lit up with anticipation.
After all… this was something he had earned.
Name: Zephyr
Score: 20 points
Hunted Beasts:
– Normal Beast: Mountain Boar
– Elite Beast: Bloodfang Wolf
Ranking: 60 / 105
"…Whoa."He stared at the numbers in disbelief.
From near the bottom…
To the middle.
That was no small leap.
"Heh… hehehe… I'm actually doing pretty well!" Zephyr laughed, unable to contain his excitement. For once, he allowed himself a moment of pride.
Why not?
He had fought for it and he had bled for it.
"You might die before you even realize it."Maw's voice cut through his celebration like a blade.
A warning.Overconfidence was a silent killer.
"Come on! Can't you support me for once?" Zephyr shot back, exasperated.
"I'm just a nobody, alright? Moments like this don't happen to me often!"
The contrast between his words and tone was almost comical.
Maw merely shook—well, if his spherical form could even be said to "shake."
Meanwhile, within the observation chamber—Commander Chris allowed a faint smile to form.
"…Zephyr."His voice was low, thoughtful.The sudden rise in ranking had caught his attention. Moving from near last place to the middle in such a short span was no trivial feat.
With a gesture, he summoned a recording.
Moments later, the footage of Zephyr's battle against the Bloodfang Wolf appeared before him.
Chris watched in silence.
Every movement,every hesitation,every decision.
When it ended, he leaned back slightly, his expression one of quiet approval.
"The grit in his eyes… his determination… commendable."
Yet even as he acknowledged Zephyr's progress, the disparity among the participants remained evident.
At the very top stood the heir of the Draconis Clan.
A true monster.
In less than two hours, he had already amassed 200 points—slaying beasts with effortless dominance.
Behind him, the heir of the DeepDweller Clan held second place with 150 points, followed closely by the Wingveil Clan heir at 140.
Even the top ten competitors hovered around 60 points.
A testament to the difficulty of the trial.
Encounters were rare while victories, even rarer.
Most Wisper candidates were undoubtedly talented—trained from a young age, hardened through relentless discipline. Yet this training camp laid bare their limitations.
To compete at the level of the Draconis Clan heir was an entirely different matter.
Thus, Zephyr's progress stood out.
Because every point he earned—
Was paid for in blood.
And for someone like him…
Each point was not just a number.
It was a triumph.