The courtyard was quiet, but somehow not right. Oban could sense the weight of something evil hanging just behind the fog. His heart was racing, every muscle coiled, prepared.
A form stepped from behind the mist. Immense, crystalline, wings spread wide. Its red eyes blazed. The Night Beast had arrived.
Oban froze, chest tightening. The monster let loose a roar—a crashing, rolling one that shook the ground beneath his feet. His stomach heaved, fear and hunger roiling in his gut. He swallowed hard, forcing himself to be calm.
"Oban! Go!" Mira shouted by his side, sword clenched. "Don't just stand there!"
He jerked back to reality. The creature charged. Its claws scraped against the ground with a blinding shriek. Oban rolled to the side, slamming into the cold stone floor. A jolt of agony arced through his arm and ribs, but he pushed it aside. Survival did not come after comfort.
I can't die here. Not yet.
He rolled back to his feet. The creature's rhythm was a pattern—one swing and wait. Oban had to find that moment. He charged, slamming a chunk of jagged stone into the creature's wing. Black blood sprayed across his arm. The Night Beast screamed but stumbled barely at all. It charged again, faster this time.
Mira charged, hacking at its leg. The beast howled with pain, yet its eyes never left Oban. Movement was slower now, muscle screaming, blood pumping. Hunger rose up inside him—the ravenous hunger that reminded him he lived, and now, a hunter too.
Think, respond, strike. Fight not merely.
Oban jumped onto the creature's back, gripping its scales. The weight almost pushed him off, but he dug his fingers deep in and held firm. A jagged piece of rock rested in his hands, and he thrust it into its shoulder. The Night Beast thrashed, flailing wildly, and hurled him across the courtyard. Ache radiated across his chest as he fell to the ground, wind knocked out of his lungs.
Then came the sound unlike any other—a shrieking hum that sliced through the air. The Night Beast stiffened in mid-swing, ears flapping in confusion. Oban blinked into the fog.
Amrin.
She stepped out into the open, aura glinting faintly, arms raised high. The hum grew louder, vibrating in the air itself, low and monstrous. The Night Beast shook, thrashing as the sound seemed to tear through it from within.
"Oban! Strike!" Amrin roared.
Heart racing, Oban didn't have time to think. He grabbed the shard and rammed it into the chest of the beast. The creature wailed with a shriek high in pitch, wings beating, all movement jerky and hectic. The thrum vibrated through the bones within Oban, slicing through his body, and he seized the moment to thrust the shard deeper.
The monster slammed down onto the stone, convulsing, and then at last went still. Black ichor and dust coated the courtyard. Oban dropped to his knees, gasping. His vision swam, his muscles shaking with fatigue and adrenaline.
Mira walked over to him, cleaning her sword. "Not bad," she said. "You didn't just manage to get out alive—you actually got hits in while it was distracted. That's an improvement.
Amrin's steps were noiseless as she came up to him, the hum fading in the distance. "You did that well. Faster than I expected. Don't think that's enough, though. That was a Night Beast. There are stronger ones. You need to practice. Master your instincts, your hunger, your body—everything matters."
Oban swallowed hard, gasping. "I… I never experienced anything like that. That was… terrifying.".
Good, Amrin said, voice steady but firm. "Fear keeps you alive. Let it guide you, not master you. Remember this feeling. Use it."
Oban looked down at the dead Night Beast. It twitched once, and then lay completely still. The courtyard was quiet again, only their breathing remaining. Fatigue or not, Oban felt different. Sharper. Faster. More alert.
A soft glow stood beside him—the System. Sleek, modern, minimalist.
System:
Blood Energy: +25
Instincts Heightened: True
Observed Ally Power: Sound Wave
Skill Suggestion: Crimson Devour (restore energy from enemy blood)
Oban's chest tightened. Crimson Devour… draw strength from blood… The idea unsettled him, but the thought of growing stronger was irresistible.
Mira shook her head with a small smile. "You'll get used to it. First few times feel strange. But this is survival. You'll adapt."
Amrin had lifted his hand, creases still present in the air. "Next time, you won't be relying solely on brute strength. Watch. Learn. Move. Strike when the time is right. You're big and strong, but strength won't save you."
Oban nodded, trembling legs. "I… I understand. I'll do better.".
The fog curled through the courtyard, writhing like a living entity. Shadows moved. Oban could feel more movement outside the walls—more Night Beasts, more threats. The Dark Dimension was infinite, and hunters prowled all corners.
I will be ready.
Mira put away her sword, looking at the imposing, never-ending walls of the castle. "This castle does not pardon errors. Each battle matters."
Amrin's eyes unclenched, but her voice was hard. "Together, we practice. I'll test you, you test yourself. The Dark Dimension is vast. You have to be powerful to survive. That's all there is."
Oban clenched his fists, his blood still pumping in his system. "I… I will get stronger. Whatever the price."
Moonlight pierced the mist, throwing long, shifting shadows. The castle continued on and on, towers extending on and on into night. The Night Beast was defeated, but Oban knew—only just begun.
Somewhere out there, beyond the walls, there were other hunters, and they caught his scent, they caught his power. He could feel them, faint hum in the air.
Oban took a deep breath, and he could feel his pulse, his muscles, his instincts all awaken.
I will live. I will grow. I will conquer every threat that this world can give me.
And in the shadows of the castle, there lay darkness, preluding the next threat to him.