*"Do you think you will lose to a measly fraction of a Rank 3 monster's brute will?"*
*"I can handle it, Sir."*
The words he had spoken with such seriousness now echoed mockingly in Alan's mind. He had been too proud, too focused on not looking weak next to Ethan, who had seemed to understand everything his master and Gwain were talking about. He hadn't even known what "Will" truly was.
*I should have asked... I should have asked...!*
***THUD!***
"Ow! 'Stupid'.. 'beast'!!" Gritting his teeth, he pushed his tired body and kept running.
The Lightning Qilin was a lookalike of a terrifying demon-wolf and warhorse armed with two pitch black horns.
It slammed into him again, and although it couldn't use long-range attacks in this mental arena, its sheer speed and burly body were more than enough. Each brutal impact bruised his body and sent a paralyzing jolt of lightning through his system.
The forest of trees was the only thing restricting its speed so far, allowing him to maneuver and dodge the beast's horns, but he was rapidly running out of cover. At first, one of the horns got him on his palm, but after he ran the Qilin into the trees, getting the horns stuck within it, it avoided using its horns in the forest, but the crashes were enough to leave him injured, coupled with lightning ravaging his internal organs with each hit.
"Ughh.. The bleeding doesn't look like it's stopping," he grunted, clutching his left hand, which had a clean, round hole punched straight through the palm by a previous horn strike.
He kept running without slowing down; his movements were frantic and random, using the trees as shields. When he saw it: a single tree with a branch lower than the others. It was still quite high, but it looked like his only chance. A glance behind showed the Qilin had been momentarily slowed by its last charge, giving him a precious few seconds of distance.
He had an idea that was quite desperate, but he needed time to think and breathe. He needed a boost to reach that branch, and the only source of propulsion he could think of was the Qilin itself.
Changing his direction quickly, he ran toward the branch and past it, then spun around to face the charging beast before sprinting towards it. "Come on... " Alan whispered as he hoped he wouldn't be skewered to death.
His plan hinged on two possibilities: first was that the Qilin would use its body to slam him again and not its horns; second, that the resulting lightning shock wouldn't knock him unconscious again. Through repeated blows, he'd found his body was slowly adapting, reducing the stun duration from paralyzing to a two-second rattling of his organs that left him spitting blood, but still, he never stopped moving.
As the Qilin closed in, Alan jumped, curling into a ball to present a smaller target while focusing his strength in his legs.
The lightning Qilin was a veteran of countless battles all its life. The strange maneuver made it gather its available Will, a force imbued with the properties of lightning, and focused it into its head—the very spot Alan planned to use as a stepping stone.
Since awakening in this strange place, the Qilin had smelled a bloodline within Alan that promised evolution if it could consume it. Denied its full arsenal of bloodline abilities and its vast reserves of Will in this strange place, it relied on physical might enhanced by a thin, crackling layer of it's will of lightning around its body.
To its fury, the human's resistance was increasing, suppressing the effect of its lightning Will. To the lightning Qilin, this only made the hunt more thrilling.
The moment his foot connected with the top of the Lightning Qilin's head, Alan's face contorted in pure agony. A torrent of electricity wracked his body, shaking his organs and seizing his muscles mid-leap. Instead of a powerful jump, he was sent tumbling through the air like a rag doll.
As he fell, a deep numbness spread through him, a prelude to the silence of his consciousness. *This is it?* The thought echoed, a dozen times in his final moments. His life, all fifteen years of it, flashed before his eyes in a single, dizzying instant.
Returning to the brink of total darkness, he saw it: the Qilin was smirking at him, mocking him at his dying breath.
A spark of raw, undiluted anger ignited within him. This beast had tortured him—piercing his hand, electrocuting him, and now mocking him. The anger flared, burning through the numbness. He bit down hard on his tongue, the sharp, coppery taste of blood and pain cutting through the paralyzing shock, granting him a sliver of clarity.
With that clarity came a new sensation, as if his body were gently wrapped in a thin, responsive energy. He had no time to question it at this moment, focusing solely on the Qilin, he twisted mid-air, positioning himself to land on all fours. As he braced for a bone-shattering impact, he *wished* he could reinforce his arms and legs. Instantly, the mysterious energy flowed into his limbs.
The landing was not the brutal crash he expected. It was soft, almost effortless, as if the distance he'd fallen was negligible. He stood with his wrecked body, taking a fighting stance.
Seeing the shock on the Qilin's face as it prepared to charge again made Alan smile—a bloody, evil grimace through the pain. He held his ground, knowing he likely had only one shot at this .
The Qilin's shock turned to incandescent rage. Its prey had not only survived a full power attack of its lightning Will but was now standing defiantly, mocking its weakness. This time, it lowered its head, aiming its wicked horns to impale Alan's "weak" body once and for all.
Alan watched the charge, his body coiled. He only moved at the very last second; he *jumped*. The explosive power took even him by surprise; the enhancements from this mysterious energy in his arms and legs were far greater than he'd realized. His leap carried him high, revealing the thick tree trunk directly behind where he had been standing.
The Qilin, committed to its furious charge, had no time to stop. ***CRACK!***
Its horns, driven with all its might, slammed deep into the unyielding tree trunk, embedding themselves firmly. The beast was trapped, its most powerful weapon suddenly rendered useless, its massive body writhing in stunned frustration.
Alan's desperate leap carried him seven feet into the air—far higher than he had planned. His original strategy had been far more reckless: to use the Qilin's own body as a stepping stone, guiding its horns into the tree while enduring the inevitable, potentially fatal, shock. He was already dying; it was a final, suicidal act.
But the Qilin's furious charge did the work for him. Its horns slammed deep into the unyielding tree trunk with a sickening CRACK, embedding themselves firmly. The beast was trapped.
As gravity began to pull Alan down, he saw his chance. He shifted his weight, perfecting his balance in mid-air, and drove both feet down like twin hammers onto the base of the Qilin's skull, right where the horns met the bone.
The impact was met with a bellow of pure agony from the beast. Alan landed, bracing for the retaliation of its Lightning will... but it never came. The Qilin's Will was utterly depleted from its last all-out attack.
Seeing his opening, Alan didn't hesitate. He coiled his legs and jumped again, aiming for the same vulnerable spot.
The Qilin saw him coming. It thrashed violently, its powerful body shaking the very tree, but its horns were lodged deep. It was utterly helpless.
***CRACK!***
The sound was sickening. One horn snapped at the middle, the other broke off at the base, taking a chunk of the Qilin's skull with it. Alan hit the floor and scrambled, snatching up the larger of the two broken horns.
He leaped onto the back of the wailing Qilin, which was now blinded by its own blood. The beast bucked violently, but the strange energy surging through Alan granted him the strength to lock his legs and hold on. He drove the sharp, broken horn deep into the gaping wound where the skull was exposed.
The horn met no resistance, sinking in to the hilt. The Qilin did not go down. Instead, in a final, desperate act of survival, it began to gather the last remnants of its lightning Will. It had been unwilling to drain itself so completely, but with a horn embedded in its brain, instinct took over.
Alan felt the energy gathering—and this time it was a familiar sensation similar to the force currently boosting his own body. On pure instinct, he *willed* the energy wrapping his limbs to shift, forming a protective barrier around his entire body.
The Qilin's final, self-destructive discharge erupted into a storm of lightning arcs around its body, but it washed over Alan harmlessly, deflected by his own Will. Seizing the moment, he slammed his fist down on the base of the horn, driving it deeper.
The Qilin's violent thrashing ceased instantly. It collapsed, dead, and Alan tumbled with it to the ground; the last of his adrenaline was utterly spent. He couldn't even move to avoid being pinned by the massive corpse.
But the weight he expected never came. He opened his eyes, expecting to see the beast. Instead, he found himself enveloped in a swirling, yellow mist shot through with arcs of lightning. The mist seeped into his skin slowly, and he felt his body healing from within. The hole in his palm was knitting itself shut, his bruises faded, and his exhaustion was being soothed. He was too tired to question it, so he closed his eyes and surrendered to the process.
When he opened them again minutes later, he was back in the drum. The red liquid was gone, replaced by a layer of black, tar-like residue stuck to his skin—the impurities expelled from his body during the awakening.
He looked around and saw Gwain standing with his arms folded, his attention fixed on the other side of the room.
"Uh... Senior Gwain?"
Gwain didn't turn. "Use the bath first," he said, pointing to a door. "We can talk after."
Alan nodded, even though Gwain couldn't see him. He stole one last glance across the room. The scene there was anything but calm. His master, Kaelen, was muttering commands, moving rapidly around the blue magic circle where Ethan sat.
Ethan's body was currently deathly white, as if frozen solid. The only sign of life was the faint plume of frigid steam that escaped his lips and nostrils with each breath he took.