Chapter 28 – Quiet Resolve
Whoosh… whoosh… whoosh…
Six silhouettes threaded through the forest.
They moved with unearthly speed, but to them it was nothing more than a stroll. Branches bent under their steps without breaking. Leaves drifted in their wake yet never stirred. Even the beasts of the forest failed to notice their passing.
Each leader traveled differently. The elf woman slipped through the canopy, her form flickering like a ripple of wind and light. The werewolf leapt across the ground, armor gleaming faintly with every motion, each stride carrying him dozens of meters. The vampire clung to shadows, his body dissolving into streaks of darkness between trees. The merfolk glided soundlessly, her figure almost translucent, faint waves of moisture trailing behind her like mist.
The human, Austin, simply walked—yet every step seemed precise, grounded, the earth itself yielding before his presence.
And then there was the zombie. Unlike the others, she made no attempt to blend into the forest. Her green armor glimmered faintly, mask hiding her face. The weight of her arrogance clung to her like an aura, daring the world to notice her.
As they pressed deeper, faint energies began to shimmer around their forms—wards, cloaks, techniques. One by one their auras dimmed, their presence fading until they were no longer there at all. Sight, sound, scent—vanished.
When the wind brushed the branches, there was no sign that the six had just passed through.
They encountered people from the different races, humans, vampires, werewolves, elves even a couple zombies. The only race they had yet to encounter being the merfolks. Every other races came here to hunt.
That's right. Although the forest was dangerous, it was also filled with all kinds of beasts. So to the truly strong, it was the best place to hunt.
Silent, unseen, they continued forward. Stopping to observe whenever they encountered something new. Whether from beast or other people they encountered in the forest.
Their purpose after all, was not to fight.
Their purpose was to watch.
——————
Right now, Seth stood motionless. His back straight, both hands gripping the black blade raised high.
His eyes were closed. Breath steady.
Then—his lids snapped open.
Shhhk!
The One Sword cut through the air in a silent arc. Seth's body moved without hesitation, pivoting into a sharp thrust. His foot slammed the ground, cracks spreading in the dirt. An upward sweep followed, clean and precise, before he twisted and carried the momentum into a diagonal slash that tore through the air.
Each strike flowed seamlessly into the next. There was no pause, no hesitation—only the smooth rhythm of motion born from instinct and refinement.
He had grown sharper. Faster. Deadlier.
For minutes he moved, the world narrowing to the gleam of the blade and the thud of his footfalls. Then, with one final slash, Seth stilled. His chest rose and fell in silence.
Slowly, he exhaled. The sword sank to his side before vanishing in a shimmer of light.
He held the empty pose for a breath longer, then lowered himself to the fire crackling behind him. A thick leg of some unknown beast roasted above the flames, its fat sizzling and dripping into the embers with faint crackles. Seth rotated it once, the savory scent rising.
It had been thirteen days since he began this retreat.
At first, training was a distraction. Something to fill the silence, to dull the ache of his half-healed body. But now… now he had grown addicted. Each day he trained, movements carved deeper into muscle and memory.
The ground bore proof of his persistence. Scattered fissures from misplaced strength cracked the dirt, testimony to how often he lost himself in practice.
Much of his pain had already faded. His ribs no longer stabbed with every breath. His broken arm responded when he willed it. He could have returned to full hunting today, but he chose otherwise. Two weeks, he told himself. Two weeks to let his body mend fully, to sharpen his edge. Only two days left.
Seth summoned his system screen. The golden sparks shimmered into view.
NAME: Seth
TRAIT(S): Weapon Mastery [+]
CORE: Initiate — Level eight
SATURATION: 50%
STATS—
Physique: 19.0 [+]
Spirit: 13.0 [+]
ITEMS—
Soul Weapon: Sword
SP: 85.0
He studied the numbers, lips curling faintly. Hunting in the condition he had set for himself had been slow, mostly level twos and threes wandering too close. But even that had added up. Progress wasn't as fast as before, but progress all the same.
He leaned back, pulling the meat from the fire. The skin crackled under his teeth, juices spilling across his tongue as he chewed in silence.
With him almost healed, he was ready to go back to hunting. In fact, in the boredom of the past two weeks, he had thought of the perfect place to hunt.
The Waterhouse.
The thought came sharp. That place crawled with beasts. It would be dangerous, yes, but also perfect. Exactly what he needed if he wanted to push his growth further.
As long as he was careful.
The fire popped, casting sparks into the air. Seth swallowed his last bite, eyes narrowing against the flicker of light.
tomorrow, his retreat would end.
And the hunt would begin anew.