Julian continued his relentless hunting across the Stormspire Range, slaying beasts, collecting their cores, and absorbing their power repeatedly. Over the course of the year, he had grown stronger, both in body and in skill. Now eighteen, his black hair had grown longer, falling in unruly strands around his face, and a faint beard had begun to form along his jawline.
Throughout the year, Julian had honed his control over mana, expanding his capacity and refining his senses. His awareness, reflexes, and abilities improved steadily, making him more formidable with each passing day. Yet, as he surveyed the harsh peaks of the Stormspire Range, he knew his time there was coming to an end. His missions were far from over—he had to continue onward and report back to Lord Mondric.
Meanwhile, in a distant fortress, Lord Mondric sat upon his throne, draped in a black cloak that seemed to swallow the light around him. He rested his head on his hand, eyes fixed on a kneeling servant before him. It was not Gambel, but another aide—Afred. The young man had sharp brown eyes and sleek black hair, his features striking and composed.
"My lord," Afred said, his head bowed in respect, "it's time for you to begin your plan." His voice carried a mixture of urgency and reverence.
Mondric's gaze lifted slowly. "And why do you think I will, Afred?" he asked, his tone calm but measured.
Afred did not hesitate. "Lord, there is no better time. Beyond these walls, the alliances are preparing for a grand competition. Once it begins, it will be the perfect moment to strike." His voice rose with conviction, tinged with an almost pleading intensity.
Mondric's eyes narrowed slightly as he regarded him. After a moment of thought, he let out a slow sigh. "You may be right. I cannot postpone this any longer." A stern seriousness settled across his face. "Gather all followers. We begin now."
A broad smile broke across Afred's face. "At once, my lord," he replied, rising swiftly before leaving Mondric alone. The lord sat back, a faint tension lingering in his chest. He tilted his gaze toward the ceiling of the darkened hall, letting out a deep sigh as shadows danced across the stone above him.
Far to the north, Harris sat at a sturdy wooden table, a smile on his face. He had grown taller and more confident, the edges of adolescence giving way to the presence of a capable young man. Around him, four companions—two men and two women, all roughly his age—sat chatting and laughing, sharing stories and camaraderie. They were either his followers or allies he had cultivated to aid him in strengthening his position in the north.
Meanwhile, Capel and Noel continued their endeavors in the Slink Region, following the path over the sea. Leading a team of hunters, they tracked and eliminated beasts, selling cores and other resources to sustain themselves. Capel had grown taller and more imposing, his green eyes striking against the dark backdrop of his black hair. Noel, too, had matured—the contours of her face had sharpened, lending her an impressive and distinctly feminine presence that commanded attention.
The world was changing, and its young hunters were evolving with it, each forging their path through a realm filled with danger, opportunity, and the inexorable march of fate.