The second night passed without incident.
Sheltered beneath a massive tree, Eryon rested soundly, his body slowly mending under the warmth of the lingering sun's energy. By the time the first light of dawn touched the Verdant Wilds, he was already on his feet, his golden eyes sharp with purpose.
The third and final day had arrived.
Today, he had one goal: to defeat a Rank Three beast alone.
Eryon moved deeper into the forest than ever before, where the trees grew thicker and the air heavier. Silence reigned here, broken only by the occasional distant roar or the rustle of unseen predators.
Hours of cautious searching finally led him to a clearing beside a murky swamp.
There, half-submerged in the water, was a monstrous crocodile—its body easily stretching four meters, armored in dark green scales that shimmered like stone.
A Rank Three creature.
Eryon tightened his grip on his dagger, steadying his breath. Then, with a battle cry, he launched his attack.
The fight was brutal from the outset. The crocodile thrashed and lunged with terrifying speed, its massive jaws snapping inches from Eryon's body. He dodged, rolled, and struck wherever he could, his blade barely scratching the creature's armored hide.
Minutes passed, the battle locked in a deadly stalemate.
But slowly, imperceptibly, Eryon's body began to change once again.
The sun overhead bathed the clearing in golden light, and Eryon, fighting beneath its gaze, unconsciously drew in its power. A faint red hue began to shimmer around him, growing steadily brighter with each passing second.
His muscles tightened. His strikes grew heavier. His movements, sharper.
The crocodile, sensing the shift, grew more aggressive. It slammed its tail into the ground with bone-cracking force, sending shockwaves through the earth. Eryon narrowly avoided being crushed multiple times, sweat pouring down his face.
Then, in a moment of distraction, it happened.
The beast lunged and caught him in its massive jaws.
Agony lanced through Eryon's body as the creature's teeth sank into his side, lifting him from the ground.
Pain blurred his vision, but somewhere deep within—beyond the fear, beyond the agony—something ancient stirred.
The fire he had unknowingly accumulated surged forth.
With a primal roar, Eryon thrust both hands forward, and streams of crimson flames erupted from his palms. The fire poured into the crocodile's mouth, burning through its throat and into its core.
The beast convulsed violently, its body thrashing as smoke and the stench of burning flesh filled the air.
Eryon barely registered the sound of the creature collapsing.
His vision dimmed.
And then, darkness claimed him.