Chapter 9 – Echoes of the Hunt
The forest screamed with wind and blood.
Auron stood with his dagger raised, its blade dark and slick under the moonlight.
Every breath burned his lungs. Each heartbeat thudded against his ribs like the echo of a distant drum. Across the clearing, Asad Al stood motionless, a mountain of muscle wrapped in white fur, his crimson eyes gleaming like dying embers in a storm.
Lucian was on one knee behind him, clutching his wounded arm. His breath came in ragged bursts. "We will survive," he said through gritted teeth.
Auron's eyes never left the beastman. "We won't run."
Asad tilted his head slightly, studying the boy with the calm curiosity of a predator who had already decided the outcome. "You know who stands before you, yet you draw your blade. Why?"
Auron's voice was low, cold, and hollow. "Because running won't bring the dead back."
Asad smiled. It was the kind of smile that didn't reach the eyes. "Then I will honor your stupid courage with a painful death."
He moved.
The ground cracked beneath his feet. The giant's figure blurred through the snow like a shadow given speed. Auron barely saw the axe before it fell.
He leapt sideways, the weapon smashing into the ground beside him with a thunderous crack. Shards of ice shot up like razors, slicing his cheek open.
Lucian tried to respond, summoning a flare of mana between his palms. The air ignited with sparks, but before the spell could take form, Asad's returning swing sent a shockwave that shattered the glyph into useless ash.
"Stay down!" Auron barked. "He'll kill you first!"
Lucian's expression twisted between pride and fear. "Then what should I do? Watch you die alone?"
The beastman turned toward their voices. His aura spread like a suffocating tide, heavy and cold. "Such bright defiance," Asad said quietly. "It almost makes me regret this."
He raised his axe again. The light of the fire bent toward it, drawn like breath to a void.
Then Auron's bracelet pulsed.
A dull throb of golden light flickered beneath his sleeve. It wasn't pain this time but something ancient and alive.
The air shifted. His heartbeat began to synchronize with another rhythm, one deeper and older than his own. His body trembled as if something vast was stirring within him, something that remembered war and fire and kings long buried.
Asad's eyes narrowed. "What are you doing, boy?"
Auron did not answer. He moved before the words could form.
Their blades met in a burst of sparks and light. The sound was deafening, metal screaming against metal, power against power.
For the first time, Asad was pushed back, his boots grinding trenches into the snow. His eyes flared with surprise and something close to excitement.
Lucian stared, disbelieving. "That's not possible… he's matching him."
Golden light began to creep across Auron's arm, weaving veins of brilliance beneath his skin. His dagger shimmered, resonating with the glow from the bracelet.
Asad's laughter rumbled low in his chest. "A god's blessing, is it? No wonder you killed asher."
He charged again, and Auron met him head-on. Sparks flared with every strike. The rhythm of their duel was chaotic yet measured, violent yet beautiful.
Each time the axe fell, Auron moved just enough to survive, just enough to strike back. It wasn't skill alone guiding him anymore. It was something else. Something inside him.
The forest groaned under the pressure of their battle. Snow lifted in spirals, trees splintered, and the sky above seemed to pulse with their fury.
Lucian forced himself upright, his vision blurry. He could barely track the movements. "He's adapting with every hit. His body's learning on its own."
Asad's next strike hit harder, sending Auron skidding backward. His back slammed into the broken remains of a wagon. Pain flared through his body, but he gritted his teeth and rose again.
"You're strong, boy," Asad said, stalking forward. "But strength without understanding and order is chaos."
He raised his axe high, its shadow cutting across Auron's chest. "And that chaos will be your end today."
Auron's hand tightened around his weapon. Godfrey's voice drifted through his memory like wind through dying embers.
You're not fighting the world, boy. You're fighting yourself. Win there first.
He inhaled, letting the breath steady his heartbeat. The light from the bracelet flared again, flooding his vision with gold.
When he spoke, his voice carried calm certainty. "Then let's end the chaos."
He lunged.
The snow ignited with light. Behind him, for a heartbeat, the faint outline of a lion roared into existence, its mane a crown of radiant flame. Asad's expression faltered, his instincts screaming danger.
Their weapons met. A shockwave tore through the clearing. The snow evaporated into mist, trees bending under the pressure. For the first time, Asad stumbled backward, blood splattering from a cut across his chest.
Auron fell to one knee, panting, the golden glow dimming to a faint pulse. He could feel his strength slipping away. The light inside him burned like a dying star.
Asad spat blood, his grin returning, sharper than before. "So the cub can bite."
He looked to the horizon suddenly. Distant horns echoed through the trees, faint but growing louder. The rhythmic clash of armor followed soon after.
Lucian's eyes widened in disbelief. "That's… my family's knights!"
Asad's grin twisted into something almost amused. "It seems the gods favor you tonight."
He gestured for the surviving beastmen to retreat. "Fall back. The hunt is over."
The Dire Wolves melted into the dark treeline, their red eyes vanishing one by one. Asad turned once before leaving. "Grow stronger, boy. When next we meet, I'll see what you truly are."
Then he was gone.
The silence that followed felt heavier than the fight itself.
Lucian sank to the ground beside Auron, clutching his shoulder. "You… went toe to toe with him. You stood against him. That's impossible."
Auron didn't answer. His gaze lingered on the fading glow of his bracelet. The lion's emblem pulsed once, faint and steady, like a heart still beating beneath stone.
"What are you?" Lucian whispered.
Auron's fingers brushed the metal, and for a moment, he thought he could still hear it—a distant roar buried in his blood, echoing in the space between his heartbeats.
It was not power that frightened him.
It was the realization that, for those few moments, the power had not obeyed him.
It had used him.
And deep in the forest, the echo of the lion's roar lingered, carried away on the wind.