The sky had darkened by early morning, clouds churning in violent swirls above the village. Rain poured down in sheets, drumming against rooftops and turning the dirt paths into muddy streams. Hunnt pressed his small hands against the windowpane, staring at the storm outside.
"No training today…" he muttered, a small frown creasing his brow. His body yearned to move, to push, to grow stronger, but the rain made the usual circuits and exercises impossible.
His eyes roamed the room, landing on a stack of books tucked into the corner of the small hut. Dust motes danced in the faint light as he carefully pulled one down. The cover read History of the Village of Ravenshire, and another nearby journal had sketches of monstrous creatures, their anatomy and behavior meticulously recorded.
Hunnt's curiosity flared. He opened the first book, scanning the text. Words that would have once taken him long minutes to decipher now flowed smoothly. The information sank into his mind almost effortlessly — names of families, village landmarks, old traditions, and important events in Ravenshire's history.
Grandma Mel peeked from the kitchen doorway, her hands pausing on the wooden counter as she caught sight of him.
"I… I didn't know you know how to read!" she exclaimed, astonishment in her voice.
Hunnt looked up, slightly embarrassed but proud. "Ah… yea," he muttered, eyes flicking back to the pages.
Mel stepped closer, quietly picking up one of the other books. She noticed sketches of strange creatures — sharp claws, spiked tails, intricate patterns on scales. Her breath caught.
"This… this is a journal… it belonged to your father when he was alive," she said softly, her voice tinged with emotion. "He was one of the best hunters. You can continue reading, dear. I'll cook some food while you study."
Hunnt nodded, his small fingers tracing the drawings and notes. He absorbed every detail about the monsters — their movement, behavior, attacks, and weaknesses. But he didn't stop at reading.
He closed his eyes and imagined himself facing the creatures. The Velocidrome, the Jagras, even the large, imposing Great Jagras from the outskirts — all danced vividly in his mind. He envisioned dodging their attacks, striking at weak points, and countering their movements. Each simulated swing, thrust, and maneuver flowed naturally, almost instinctively.
Step, pivot, strike… block… counter! he whispered to himself, visualizing the fight with each page he read.
The more he imagined, the more his body seemed to respond. Tiny sparks of energy surged through his small frame. Reflexes sharpened, intuition deepened. Hunnt felt a strange harmony between his mind and muscles.
He opened his eyes and grinned. I can learn… faster… I can see how the hunters fight, how monsters move… and I can master it in my own way.
The storm outside no longer felt like a hindrance. It was a backdrop, a rhythm to match his thoughts. Hunnt flipped the pages to the next creature, tracing every scar, every bite mark, every detail recorded by his father. He simulated another encounter in his mind, adjusting angles, testing timing, and anticipating attacks before they happened.
By the time the smell of food drifted from the kitchen, Hunnt had mentally fought through several battles, each one leaving a faint spark of confidence in his chest. The storm may have trapped him indoors, but his mind had traveled through forests, caves, and battlegrounds, learning, adapting, and growing stronger.
Step by step… page by page… thought by thought… I'll grow stronger. With my mind, with my body… I'll survive. I'll become a hunter, just like Father.