Morning came, the first light slipping past the curtains of Leon's room. He woke early, his mind steady, his body humming with energy that refused to stay idle.
After a quick bath, he dressed himself in a simple black robe. Yet on him, it looked anything but simple. The fabric clung to his refined, lean build, his sharp jawline and obsidian eyes giving him a presence that could no longer be mistaken for a village boy. Handsome, composed, dangerous — the robe only emphasized what his trials had carved him into.
From the corner of the room, his eyes fell on the black katana. He lifted it with both hands, the cold weight settling against his palm like it had always belonged there. Without hesitation, he tied it to his waist. The blade was an Ancient Grade weapon, its aura so faintly oppressive it could make seasoned cultivators kneel… yet Leon, still unaware of its true value, treated it as nothing more than a sword.
Descending the stairs, he found the house quiet. His parents still slept peacefully. On the kitchen table, he left a small note for his mother: I'll be out. Don't worry. With that, he stepped into the cool dawn air.
Stoneford stirred faintly in the distance, smoke from early fires rising in lazy trails. Though called a village, in the Tranqueassia Empire its size and reach were more akin to a town, a bustling settlement surrounded by walls and fertile farmland.
But Leon did not linger. His path led south — toward the forests.
The forest was vast, ancient trees stretching toward the heavens, their trunks gnarled and roots twisting like serpents. The villagers rarely set foot beyond its edge. Tales of beasts prowling within were enough to keep them away.
On the surface, the outskirts only held low-ranked spirit beasts — prey Leon had long since learned to cut down with ease. But deeper within… stronger creatures ruled, some in the late stages of the Warrior realm, others even reaching the beginnings of the General rank. Those beasts rarely left their territories, but their mere existence was enough to make Stoneford wary.
Leon's steps carried him swiftly beneath the canopy, the sun's light dimming as the shadows thickened. It took him little more than an hour to push deep into the forest, his movements sharp and instinctive.
Along the way, low-ranked beasts lunged at him from the underbrush. He dispatched them without effort, his blade flashing with clean precision. Carcasses littered his trail — wolves, boars, and clawed lizards, their blood marking his path like a crimson thread leading into the heart of the wilderness.
He moved with the calm assurance of experience. Beasts were nothing new to him. Even in his past life, he had butchered them to survive. Every strike, every dodge, carried the weight of countless battles burned into his body.
Few in Stoneford ever dared cross the forest's boundary. And when they did — in search of herbs or rare materials — it was always under the guard of the village's highest-ranked cultivators. Alone, it was suicide.
But Leon walked deeper, blade steady at his side, his obsidian eyes gleaming faintly under the shadows. To him, this was no suicide. This was a proving ground.
Not long into the deeper forest, Leon's sharp senses caught a shift in the air — a predator's aura, thick and oppressive.
From the shadows between the trees, a massive form emerged. Its body was broad and muscled, fur a burning crimson shade that shimmered faintly in the dark. Its claws were long, curved like blades, and its fangs gleamed wet as it growled low, eyes burning with bloodlust.
A Crimson Fang Tiger.
Leon had read about it in his father's records countless times. A peak Warrior-ranked beast, known for its savagery and speed. A creature strong enough that, under normal circumstances, not a single person in Stoneford could face it alone.
The tiger bared its fangs, a low rumble echoing like cruel laughter as it prowled closer. But Leon only narrowed his eyes. Its movements, while fast and lethal, seemed sluggish to him — as though the beast was moving through water.
So this is the difference…
His body shifted, his foot sliding forward, his weight balanced perfectly. With a single breath, he stepped — and vanished.
The first stage of his movement technique, fully attained, carried him like a shadow across the beast's blind side. The black katana at his waist hissed free in one smooth motion, its edge glowing faintly as spirit energy coursed along the blade.
SHHHK—!
The strike was clean, absolute. The Crimson Fang Tiger froze mid-step, its eyes widening in disbelief. A moment later, its massive body split neatly down the center, crashing to the ground in two halves.
Blood steamed in the cool air. From the sundered chest of the beast rolled something small — a glowing, circular orb.
Leon's eyes flickered. A Spirit Beast Core.
The core pulsed faintly red, saturated with the beast's essence. In his father's books, he had read that such cores were the crystallized life energy of spirit beasts — rare treasures used in alchemy, forging, or even cultivation itself. To villages, they were wealth beyond measure.
Leon crouched, picking it up carefully. The warmth throbbed in his palm, the energy within humming like a living heartbeat.
So this is a core… proof of a true hunt.
Sliding it into his pouch, he stood and exhaled calmly. His gaze swept the bloody carcass, but his expression remained steady.
"That was a peak Warrior beast… and I killed it in a single strike." His lips curved slightly, confidence flashing in his obsidian eyes. Looks like my battle strength really has grown. I can fight two ranks above me with ease… no, even an early-stage General wouldn't be beyond my reach.
The forest was silent around him, broken only by the drip of blood from his blade. Leon sheathed the katana in one smooth motion, his figure composed, but his heart thrummed with a rising hunger.
This was only the beginning.
Deeper into the forest, the shadows grew thicker, the air heavier with the stench of blood and beast musk. Leon pressed forward, and soon enough, another predator lunged from the underbrush — a second Crimson Fang Tiger, its crimson fur bristling as it pounced.
Steel hissed.
One clean strike later, its head rolled, the massive body slumping lifelessly to the ground. Leon exhaled slowly, waiting for the telltale glimmer… but nothing fell from the beast's corpse.
"...Tch. Empty."
He clicked his tongue and cursed under his breath, wiping the blood from his blade.
The next hunt was the same. Another tiger. Another clean kill. And again, the body dissolved into silence without leaving a core behind.
"Fuck—this one's also empty." His voice was sharp with frustration, though his steps didn't falter.
It wasn't surprising. His father's books had warned him — the cores of low-ranked beasts rarely formed at all. For every handful of beasts slain, only one or two might yield a true Spirit Beast Core.
Still, luck hadn't abandoned him entirely. In two hours of hunting, Leon had already harvested three glowing red cores. For anyone else, that alone would have been a fortune.
But for Leon, whose ambitions stretched far beyond Stoneford, it wasn't enough.
He crouched beneath the shade of a towering tree, letting his body still. His robe was stained faintly with blood, his breath steady, though a sheen of sweat clung to his skin. He held one of the cores in his palm, the faint glow painting his features red.
"Three cores… in two hours. Not bad," he muttered, though his tone was more weary than satisfied. His obsidian eyes narrowed, reflecting the glimmer. But I'll need much more than this to grow.
After a short rest, he rose once more, tightening the black katana at his waist. His body moved like a shadow between the trees, steps soundless, aura sharp.
The forest beckoned him deeper.
After another half hour of trekking through the dense forest, Leon's steps halted.
A suffocating chill pressed against his skin, mist curling faintly along the forest floor. From between the trees lumbered a hulking figure — its massive white body gleaming like ice under the faint light, dark blue stripes running down its shoulders and across its broad chest. Its breath fogged the air in heavy bursts, every exhale carrying a wave of killing intent.
A Frosthide Bear.
Leon's eyes narrowed immediately. His father's records had mentioned it — a First Stage General-ranked beast, infamous for its brutal strength and frost-laden aura. The leap from Warrior to General wasn't a step, it was a chasm — and he could feel it now in the suffocating weight radiating from the beast's body.
The Frosthide Bear's cold eyes locked on him, and with a roar that shook the trees, it lunged.
Leon blurred aside, the first stage of his movement technique pulling him just out of reach. But even so, the ground shattered where the bear's claws struck, gouging trenches into the earth. The sheer force rattled through his bones.
"Tch… it's fast."
He drew his blade in a single motion. The katana hummed faintly with spirit energy as he slashed across the beast's flank. Sparks and frost burst out — but to his surprise, the strike barely carved a shallow line through the thick white fur.
The Frosthide Bear roared, spinning and sweeping its massive paw. Leon raised his blade, catching the blow, but the impact sent him skidding back several paces, boots tearing through the soil. His arms trembled slightly from the weight.
So this is the power gap…
The bear charged again, jaws snapping. Leon's obsidian eyes sharpened. He slid low under its strike, his body flickering with the movement technique, and spun behind it. His katana slashed again — this time infused with more spirit energy, black light tracing along the edge.
The blade bit deeper. Blood sprayed, staining the bear's white fur crimson. The beast bellowed in rage, but Leon didn't relent.
He stepped in close, his movements fluid, almost instinctive. Ducking under another paw strike, he pivoted, raising the katana high before bringing it down in a clean arc — a strike heavy and sharp enough to crack the frost-laden hide.
The bear staggered, roaring in fury, but its movements had slowed.
Leon's breath steadied. His obsidian eyes flashed cold. He surged forward, blade glowing faintly as he drew every ounce of his strength into a final slash.
SHHHK—!
The katana cleaved through the beast's neck. For a heartbeat, the Frosthide Bear froze mid-roar. Then its massive body collapsed, shaking the ground as blood pooled beneath it.
Leon stood over it, chest rising and falling with steady breaths. His robe was torn in a few places, a shallow scratch along his arm burning faintly with frost — but otherwise, he stood unbroken.
The corpse shuddered once, and then a faint glow rolled free from its chest — a Spirit Beast Core, white and blue, throbbing with icy energy.
Leon bent down, lifting it carefully. The core pulsed against his palm, far colder and heavier than the ones from the Crimson Fang Tigers.
A thin smile tugged at his lips.
"So… I can kill a General beast after all."
Leon was still steadying his breath, the weight of the Frosthide Bear's corpse lingering in the silence of the forest.
Then—
"You idiot… master… clean me first!"
A young girl's voice rang out, sharp and impatient, echoing inside his ear.
Author's Note :
Beasts = Ranks (ง •̀_•́)ง
Humans = Realms (°•∆•°)
Example:
Crimson Fang Tiger → Spirit Warrior Rank (╯°□°)╯
Leon → Spirit Warrior Realm (⌐■_■)