When the last beast in each group fell, its body dissolved into ripples that merged into the surrounding air. Max absorbed the faint residue of their spatial energy, feeling the structure of space become clearer within his mind. Each battle sharpened his control. Each kill left him a fraction closer to understanding the flow of the world around him.
He began to enjoy the rhythm of it. The hunt, the flash of light, the stillness afterward—it became a strange kind of training. He walked further and further, cutting down every beast that appeared before him. Whenever the forest trembled with distortion, Max followed the tremor until it ended in another skirmish. The repetition honed his instincts until the movements of the beasts became predictable, almost musical.
Half a month passed in this way.
