Days turned into weeks, and the scars of his last battle finally faded. His body had recovered, but his spirit was restless. The city's streets, though lively, felt too narrow, too safe. The gauntlets—his companions—had changed since the breakthrough. To understand them, he needed to step beyond walls, back into the wild where true danger lived.
With a hood drawn low, he slipped out of the city gates at dawn. The guards barely spared him a glance; hunters came and went every day. But unlike the others, he walked alone.
The forest outside stretched vast and silent, dew clinging to leaves. Mana in the air felt thicker here, drawn by the presence of higher-ranked beasts. It didn't take long before the sound of claws scraping bark reached his ears. Direhounds. Their glowing eyes blinked between trees—six of them, each radiating levels far above twenty. Perfect opponents.
"So, boss," the calm gauntlet murmured, "today's test run begins."
"Hehe, finally! Let's see how much cooler we've gotten!" the cheeky one chimed, almost buzzing with excitement.
He slid into stance, and the gauntlets shifted, forming twin blades along his arms. The direhounds lunged first, snarling. Steel clashed against fangs, his body moving on instinct. But the difference was clear—these monsters were faster, harder, more vicious than anything he'd fought before.
The first slash caught one across the ribs, but the wound was shallow. He clicked his tongue. "Not enough bite."
Without hesitation, he willed the gauntlet to flare. Fire coated the blade, and with a second strike he carved deep, flames erupting through flesh. The hound shrieked before collapsing, but his arms already felt the drain.
He fought on, shifting to ice, then lightning, the gauntlets bending and reshaping with every swing. A hammer to crush. A crossbow to puncture. A tonfa to block. His enemies fell, but each transformation devoured mana, each coating left his chest heaving harder.
Within minutes, sweat slicked his skin, his vision blurring. The pack circled, and he realized it—he couldn't keep this pace.
"Boss, you're draining yourself too fast," the calm gauntlet warned.
"Or," the cheeky one cut in, "you just need to be smarter about it."
He exhaled sharply. They were right.
The next direhound pounced, fangs wide. He slashed—at the last instant, the blade flared red-hot, elemental fire coating it just as it cut into the hound's throat. Flesh seared, bone parted clean. No wasted effort, no long drain.
His eyes sharpened. "That's better."
Another beast lunged. This time he waited, coiled like a spring. As the blade reached its chest, lightning sparked along the edge, exploding through its heart in a single flash. The creature convulsed, dead before it hit the ground.
Strike after strike, he refined it. Elemental coatings ignited only when the edge neared flesh. A flicker of fire to burn arteries. A breath of ice to freeze joints. A snap of lightning to still the heart. Seconds, not minutes. Drops of mana, not torrents.
The gauntlets pulsed with approval.
"Now you're thinking like us," the calm voice said.
"Hah! He's finally catching on! Took you long enough!" the cheeky one teased.
Blood steamed in the grass. The last direhound staggered, then fell. He stood in silence, chest rising and falling, surrounded by corpses. But this time, he wasn't collapsing from exhaustion. His mana reserves held steady. His body trembled, but with the thrill of victory—not the edge of death.
He stared at the gauntlets, a faint smile tugging his lips. "Yeah… this will work."
The gauntlets glowed faintly, warmth spreading up his arms.
"It's not just the gauntlets that evolved, boss," the calm one said softly.
"It's you," the cheeky one added with a laugh. "Guess we're unstoppable now, huh?"
He looked toward the dark forest ahead. Stronger monsters waited. Stronger battles. Stronger truths. And for the first time, he felt ready to face them.