The undergrowth began to shake.
Branches parted.
Figures emerged.
Small.
Crooked.
Green-skinned goblins crept forward first, jagged blades in hand, yellow eyes gleaming with greedy curiosity.
Behind them, translucent slimes oozed over roots and stones, their gelatinous bodies quivering as they absorbed stray mana from the air.
A pair of horned wolves stepped into view next—lean, muscular, breath steaming faintly despite the morning warmth.
Then—
A low growl.
From deeper within the trees, two hellhounds stalked out, dark fur bristling, faint embers flickering at the corners of their mouths.
More shapes lingered in the shadows.
But none of them—
Were impressive.
Aldric stared.
Then burst out laughing.
"You've got to be kidding me."
He gestured broadly at the gathering creatures.
"This is what you dragged out?"
The goblins hissed defensively.
One slime bumped into another and absorbed part of it with a wet slurp.
Aldric shook his head.
"Goblins. Hellhounds. Horned wolves."
He pointed at a wobbling mass of translucent jelly that bumped into a tree and slowly redirected itself.
"Even slimes? Those are barely considered monsters."
One slime oozed forward harmlessly.
Aldric looked at the cultist in open disbelief.
"They don't even have magic crystals," he continued. "They're allowed into city streets to keep them clean. You see them in gutters more often than dungeons."
A horned wolf growled low.
Aldric smirked.
"This is pathetic."
The cultist flushed.
"I amplified only a moderate signature. Stronger fluctuations would—"
"Would what?" Aldric cut in. "Attract a slightly bigger slime?"
A horned wolf snarled, lowering into a crouch.
The hellhounds' eyes burned brighter.
The goblins began circling cautiously.
Draven stood still.
Completely still.
Watching.
The cultist swallowed.
"They responded quickly. That suggests this region is low-density territory. Stronger entities may not inhabit this forest."
Aldric scoffed.
"Or you just can't pull anything worthwhile."
A goblin lunged suddenly.
It didn't get close.
The goblin never finished its leap.
An arrow split the air—
Clean.
Precise.
It pierced straight through the goblin's skull and nailed it to the trunk behind it.
The forest went silent for half a breath.
Draven was already drawing another arrow.
No chant.
No mana surge.
Only the natural tension of the bowstring and the faint built-in enchantment humming within the weapon.
He did not use his own mana.
He didn't need to.
"Keep pulling them," Draven said calmly.
The cultist snapped upright.
"Yes, my lord."
He extended both hands, etching a thin disturbance into the air—just enough fluctuation to provoke territorial instinct.
Not strong.
Just irritating.
Like tapping a hive.
Two more goblins shrieked and rushed forward.
Draven released.
Thwip.
One arrow split mid-flight through sheer force, the enchanted shaft fragmenting into twin projectiles.
Both goblins dropped before their blades cleared their shoulders.
A horned wolf lunged next—
Draven stepped aside without looking.
The arrow in his hand vanished into the wolf's eye socket at point-blank range.
It collapsed mid-stride.
Aldric watched, unimpressed.
"Show off."
A hellhound burst from the left, jaws wide, embers flaring as it snapped toward Draven's throat.
Draven didn't draw.
Didn't channel.
Didn't step back.
He swung.
A single punch.
No mana.
Just physical force.
His fist connected with the hellhound's skull.
The crack echoed.
The beast left the ground entirely, flipping once before slamming into a tree hard enough to splinter bark. It dropped in a limp heap, embers extinguished.
Silence.
Then the second hellhound charged.
Draven had already drawn again.
Release.
The arrow tore through its open mouth and exited the back of its neck, pinning it to the earth.
The slimes oozed closer.
Slow.
Wobbling.
Absorbing stray mana from the disturbance.
Draven didn't even glance at them.
Another arrow flew.
A goblin fell.
Another—
A horned wolf dropped mid-snarl.
The slimes continued creeping forward.
Harmless.
Mindless.
One brushed against Draven's boot.
It sizzled faintly from residual enchantment and recoiled.
He ignored it.
Thwip.
A goblin attempting to flank from behind crumpled.
The cultist maintained small pulses, sweat forming at his temples.
More minor beasts rustled deeper in the trees.
Nothing significant.
Draven's expression remained unchanged.
This wasn't battle.
It was pruning.
Another arrow flew.
Another body fell.
Aldric leaned against a tree, arms folded.
"You're not even using mana. That would make this finish faster."
Draven released again.
Two more beasts dropped.
He didn't reply.
The remaining goblins hesitated.
Curiosity replaced by fear.
One turned to run.
An arrow took it between the shoulders before it made three steps.
The forest slowly quieted.
Leaves settled.
The slimes stopped advancing, instinctively avoiding the scent of blood.
Draven lowered the bow slightly.
Corpses lay scattered across the clearing.
He glanced at the cultist.
"Again."
The cultist straightened despite fatigue.
"Yes, my lord."
Another controlled fluctuation rippled outward.
Draven nocked another arrow.
If they were low-rank beasts—
They would serve as practice.
And warm-up.
The fluctuation rolled outward again.
Subtle.
Provocative.
The forest answered.
Shrieks erupted from the trees as another cluster of goblins burst forward, more reckless than the last. A pair of horned wolves flanked from opposite sides.
Draven inhaled once.
Exhaled.
Three arrows rested between his fingers.
Release.
The first goblin dropped.
A second arrow curved slightly mid-flight—guided by the bow's enchantment—and buried itself in a wolf's throat.
The third struck a goblin climbing a tree for advantage.
Bodies fell in staggered rhythm.
The remaining wolf lunged.
Draven stepped into it.
Not away.
His hand caught its horn mid-charge.
Momentum shattered.
The ground cracked beneath his heel as he twisted.
Bone snapped.
He flung the corpse aside like debris.
Another wave of slimes oozed forward, drawn by blood and lingering mana.
They clustered around fallen bodies, beginning to dissolve flesh.
Draven watched for half a second.
Then fired.
Each arrow punched through gelatinous mass and pinned the creatures to trees and rocks, rupturing their cores.
Clear fluid spilled across roots.
The cultist's breathing grew heavier.
"I can increase the amplitude," he offered carefully.
Draven loosed another arrow without looking.
"No."
Aldric smirked.
"Finally figured out your limits?"
The cultist ignored him.
A deeper growl rolled from the far side of the clearing.
Not loud.
But heavier.
Branches shifted.
A larger horned wolf stepped out—scarred, thicker fur, eyes faintly glowing with mana.
At least D-tier.
Still unimpressive.
Aldric tilted his head.
"Finally. Something that won't die from a stiff breeze."
The wolf circled.
Assessing.
Draven lowered the bow slightly.
The wolf lunged—
Faster than the others.
Draven sidestepped and fired at near point-blank range.
The arrow struck its shoulder—but didn't fully penetrate.
It twisted mid-air, claws grazing his sleeve.
Aldric raised a brow.
"Oh?"
Draven's expression didn't change.
He dropped the bow.
The wolf landed, turned—
And met Draven's hand clamping around its jaw.
One upward motion.
One downward strike.
Its skull split against the earth with a sickening crack.
Silence.
Draven stood over the corpse, examining the slight tear in his sleeve.
Annoyance flickered.
Brief.
He picked up his bow.
"Again."
The cultist swallowed.
"My lord… this region may soon be depleted."
Draven nocked another arrow.