The morning sun spilled over the village rooftops, bathing the dirt paths in warm golden light and casting long, shifting shadows that danced across the ground. Hunnt's small figure darted along the familiar trails, sprinting in tight circles around the village. Every stride strengthened his legs, every breath sharpened his lungs, and every drop of sweat forged endurance, power, and resolve.
He paused briefly, panting, and bent over a puddle of water to examine his reflection. His small frame, once fragile and unsteady, now showed lean, taut muscles that flexed with each movement. Even his height had increased slightly over the past months — subtle, but enough for him to feel stronger, more capable, more alive.
Hunnt tore off a piece of bread from the loaf he had brought, gobbled it down, and already planned his next run. Villagers passing by laughed softly, shaking their heads in fond amusement at the tiny whirlwind of energy.
"Running again, Hunnt?" called one of the villagers, a teasing smile lighting her face.
Breathless, sweat running in rivulets down his brow, Hunnt nodded with a grin. "Yes… I have to get stronger. Every day counts!"
---
Flashback:
One evening, Hunnt had devoured a massive plate of stew, bread, and roasted vegetables in a single sitting, earning wide-eyed stares from Grandma Mel and Grandpa Dom.
"The boy must be hungry," Grandpa Dom had said, laughter rumbling through his chest. "Your cooking must have improved, dear. Hahaha."
Mel merely smiled, pride and affection shining in her eyes.
End flashback
---
Hunnt continued his rounds, alternating sprints with push-ups, pull-ups from low branches, squats, and lunges. Every motion tested his body in new ways, and with each repetition, his muscles, joints, and tendons adapted — subtly, almost imperceptibly, yet undeniably. There was a rhythm to his training now, a flow that carried him forward even as fatigue crept in, whispering for him to stop.
He paused at a tree, fists clenched, and threw a flurry of strikes against the rough bark. Punch after punch, he felt the vibration climb his arms, the recoil sinking into his shoulders and core. He adjusted angles, leaned into his strikes, shifted weight — the tiniest details of movement — learning the hidden mechanics of force, balance, and precision.
I can feel it… my body is responding faster than normal… stronger… sharper…
Months had passed since Rio and his hunting party left the village. Hunnt sometimes let his thoughts wander, wondering about the distant lands, the monsters they had faced, and the skills he might someday need to survive on his own.
I'll ask Grandpa Dom when I get a chance… but for now, I need to focus on me… my fists… my body.
He sprinted across a clearing, rolled expertly over uneven earth, and landed in a crouch, fists ready. Every muscle in his small body moved with a surprising fluidity, as if each sinew and tendon had memorized the motions independently. Sweat stung his eyes, yet he barely noticed — exhilaration carried him forward.
Hunnt paused again, leaning against a tree to catch his breath. His gaze drifted toward the horizon, toward the forest's edge where the unknown awaited — the monsters, the hunters, and the adventures he had yet to face. Though fear flickered briefly in his chest, it was tempered by excitement and a growing sense of confidence.
Step by step… day by day… I'll get stronger. I have to… I want to survive… and one day… I'll be a hunter.
He clenched his fists once more, feeling the raw power coursing through his arms and core. The mysterious force that had quietly aided him in the past months — subtle, unseen, but undeniable — hummed in rhythm with his heartbeat. His fists were no longer just tools; they were extensions of himself, capable of shaping his destiny.
By late afternoon, Hunnt slowed his pace, chest heaving, sweat soaking through his tunic. He leaned against the rough bark of a sturdy tree, taking in the village that had become his sanctuary. The path ahead was long, the challenges unknown, but his foundation had been laid. He had discovered the weapon that belonged to him — his own body, his own fists — and with that, he felt ready to step further into a world that had once seemed so vast, frightening, and unknowable.
Tomorrow… tomorrow I will train harder. I will refine every motion, every strike, until my fists are stronger than any weapon… stronger than any obstacle. This is only the beginning.