Chapter 8: Smell of Grass, Smell of Fire

  The food's aroma was extraordinary, teasing the senses to the brink of overflow. Tenderly stewed azure-boar meat accompanied by a rich, savory gravy was looking irresistibly delicious. And the scent of freshly baked bread filled the room. Offering an unforgettable crunch with lush tenderness inside when crunched open. The smells wafting from the oven permeated the wooden kitchen and were just mouthwatering, creating a soft ambiance of sheer midday delight.

  Drake was sitting at the table silently, drowning in his thoughts. This was his day. The first solo hunt of a young man. He had used all the knowledge and tricks his father taught him. Yet it was quite a challenge for the boy.

  Over and over, he reflected on his encounter, replaying it dozens of times in his mind, making sure he did not skip a beat. It was pure luck to stumble upon the azure boar so close to the town’s vicinity. There was not much reason to dwell on it that much as he did. All in all, it was a good fight and a great experience.

  And a luxurious meal after a day's work was the prime reward. Even at this age, he already knew that not everyone was fortunate enough to have a full stomach. Especially if you’re a common citizen.

  The delight played on his features. Tomorrow he would receive a decent amount of coin by selling the materials of the said azure boar. Not only were their tusks particularly valuable, used by mages and scholars as magical reagents. But their tough leather covered in small azurite stone crystals was popular in fashion or home decoration for the nobles.

  “That was indeed quite fortunate to stumble upon such a worthy prey. I’m so proud of you, my boy!” His father stated, a twinkle in his eye as he spoke through his long, bushy beard, which bristled with pride.

  “Indeed, father. It was so exciting. The thrill of the hunt was addictive. I used that sneaky tactic you taught me. Luring the boar right into an area dense with towering trees. Turning the landscape into my advantage and striking from above was so much fun!” Exclaimed the young lad, his face alight with enthusiasm.

  “Ha-ha! A hunter must always be cunning, indeed. You are smart beyond your years, my son! One day, you shall become a quite remarkable hunter, perhaps even the finest in all the land, better than me.” The broad-framed man replied as he gave the young boy a hearty pat on the shoulder. A loud laughter echoed through the kitchen.

  “Thanks, Dad. Hunting game brings me so much joy. But don’t you think I’m ready? I’m eager for the chance to confront real monsters. Wasn’t this as near as it gets?” The boy inquired with enthusiasm, his emerald eyes lighting with anticipation.

  His mother immediately interjected with a frowning face. She threw a response with the sharp tone.

  “Drake, how many times did we already discuss it?! You have to lay those thoughts to rest, finally. Please, you know that we want only the best for you. Sadly, you don’t have what is required to become an adventurer. The tests never lie. The magical aptitude you possess is just too low. You don’t have any special skills as a warrior either. There is no way they can accept you. The bar is set for a reason.”

  “Don’t dwell on that, Drake,” his father chimed in with a soothing voice as he saw the look on the young boy’s face.

  “We love you no matter what. You are still strong, stronger than most of your age. But alas, real monsters and beasts are different altogether. Even the fiercest bear pales in comparison to even the most primitive low-rank monsters that adventurers have to face. You’ve read your bestiaries. They possess intelligence, skills, and spells. Things that you cannot simply conquer through basic physical strength and prowess. Adventurers are an entirely different level.” He waved for his wife to tone it down a little while supporting her warning with a serious enough expression.

  The slender blonde woman put the bowl on the table and gracefully took her seat, lightly kissing her husband on the cheek. The bearded man smiled in response. Drake was still looking sad with his shoulders saggy.

  “You don’t have to get discouraged,” his father continued, even softer now. “Those are life’s hard lessons. And you have your journey full of discoveries ahead. Just look at this bountiful meal we’ve been blessed with today, all thanks to your efforts!” The big man winked, grabbing a fork.

  His mother’s eyes sparkled joyfully as she gently tousled the boy’s wild, pitch-black hair, easing the tension within Drake's heart as a warm, caring smile graced her lips.

  While the comforting felt good, the mind of the young boy was ever plagued by constant contemplation.

  Well, yeah, that's not so bad. Maybe I will have a chance in the future. And… Being a hunter is not that bad. Tis a respectable and sustainable profession. So why do I feel so down? This is so frustrating. Why did I have to be born without any special abilities?! I'm strong and healthy. He looked down on his fit body.

  And I have such a loving family. Still, I can't rely on them for my whole life. I have to find my way moving forward. I have to learn what I’m truly worth!

  All those heavy thoughts felt suffocating, messing up the great atmosphere. But he could not simply let go of the most sacred dreams he had from early childhood. So he decided to try to convince them one more time.

  “I understand what you’re saying. But it might just be too early to cast the idea aside. Wouldn't you agree it is still possible? Some folks even awaken their special abilities much later in their life. There is a fair chance that I’m just one of those late bloomers, you know. So I could unleash my full potential when the time is right!” Despite him understanding all his shortcomings, the earnestness in the young boy’s voice rang with sincerity and conviction.

  His father once again smiled, as he sighed slightly, impressed by the dedication.

  “Son, I really understand how you feel. But, this once. Heed your mother’s wisdom. I know that this must be extremely difficult. Just don’t think like we are standing in the way of your dreams. It’s just that the world is merciless and unbending in its own way.” He looked right into the boy’s emerald eyes with a fatherly comprehension and empathy.

  The man took a deep breath and continued. “As a family, we find ourselves truly blessed. We have a sturdy roof over our heads and plenty of good food. We are immensely fortunate. You are not just anyone. To us, you are indeed extraordinary, the best. But let’s be direct: the truth always bites hardest. Our whims and dreams can break. They bend under the harsh reality. At your age, it’s time to start accepting this,” his father tried to articulate everything carefully, maintaining his wise and authoritative demeanor.

  “Oh, well. I will try to keep that in mind. Thank you, Father!” Drake lowered his head, intensely looking at his plate. The food was starting to get cold.

  Noticing the boy was getting upset, the mother said. “Come here, give your mother a hug, my precious boy.” She put him firmly into a warm embrace. Strangely, he felt his worries fading away.

  They sat there at the table, having a wonderful family time with the most outstanding dinner for quite a while.

  The boy was born as the son of a hunter and an apothecary. Young and eager, Drake spent his days immersed in the toils of their homestead, rigorously training under his father’s watchful eye to embrace the hunter's path.

  Their home stood on the very edge of Vellos, a sturdy wooden structure cradled by the wilderness, surrounded by fields dedicated to crops and medicinal herbs. This allowed his mother, Catherine, to establish a modest stall in town, where she peddled her potions and salves. Though she lacked the mage's spark to become an alchemist and conjure powerful brews, her creations as an apothecary maintained a humble yet steady income, a lifeline to their household.

  Balgron, his father, was the pride of the region, a hunter of renowned stature. Once a formidable lumberjack, he had transitioned to the new profession upon meeting his beloved wife.

  Whispers in the town spoke of his overwhelming strength, suggesting he could have easily qualified as a D-rank adventurer had he chosen the route. Yet Balgron found fulfillment in a life dedicated to his family and intertwined with nature.

  There were some books in their wooden sanctuary, even though not many and very specific. As the pages of his mother's apothecary manuals or his father’s bestiaries offered the majority of his learning.

  It was here, within those yellowed texts, that the boy gained a firm grasp of basic first aid and the art of remedy creation. Skills that proved indispensable for a hunter out in the wilds. Or for a certain boy getting injured all the time.

  Drake loved this place. Close enough to Vellos that thrummed with vibrant life. A famed city nestled at the eastern frontier of the Carleen Empire.

  The streets of this town always buzzed with a tapestry of sounds. The shouts of traders, the laughter of wayward souls. Its imposing brick walls and the watchful gaze of the Grododberth Knights Corps offered reassurance, always prepared to fight off any threats lurking ever so close.

  Twon’s architecture was a harmonious blend of Carleen tradition and practical, formidable defense. With cobblestone lanes lined with lively taverns, enticing shops, and cozy lodgings, welcoming weary travelers and intrepid adventurers alike. The atmosphere crackled with anticipation and a touch of danger. Each day held the promise of another adventure.

  Drake thoughtfully enjoyed how this largest border city served as a bustling crossroads for merchants and adventurers alike. There were so many interesting people to meet across its streets or simply hear a story or two. Which he did more than once.

  To the northeast of the town, closer to their home, was the Gleaming Forest. A place with tall trees filled with game and weak to medium-grade monsters. Beyond which the Borok Mountain range loomed as a natural border of the Empire, separating its territories from the dreadful, chaotic, and volatile Land of the Beast.

  But the young boy always knew that the true heartbeat of Vellos pulsed from its very core. The massive headquarters of one of the Empire’s mightiest Adventurer's Company branches. Here, heroes from across the continent congregated, setting out on treacherous quests that promised glory and treasure.

  Wandering through the vibrant streets always filled Drake’s mind with all those dreams and visions. As visionaries of epic strength and courage thronged every corner. Legendary adventurers, noble knights, esteemed scholars, and potent mages. The sheer density of greatness within the squares often outshone the number of fingers on both of the person’s hands.

  And it was little wonder that the fourteen-year-old boy harbored aspirations of becoming an adventurer himself. How could he not, surrounded by tales of legendary exploits and heroic feats? Living in a town steeped in adventure ignited a fire within him, and even during the tranquil moments spent hunting alongside his father, he envisioned himself as a valiant and formidable explorer, embarking on those dangerous tasks.

  But one thing was to envision. Turning said dreams into reality was fundamentally different. At the age of twelve, the weight of realization descended upon him. Back then he went to the Adventurer's Company for their annual assessment test for the young talents.

  And just like that, all of his aspirations were destroyed with one single conclusion: “Unfit!”.

  He was deemed entirely unsuitable for the adventurer's life. No magical aptitude of even a basic level, no ability, no special skills or traits. Moreover, he did not even have any traces of aura that marked natural-born warriors.

  At that early age, Drake found himself below the benchmarks that even an E-rank adventurer must surpass. He tried his best to earn at least a spot at their training facility. Which was the last chance, the promise of potential.

  That worked, but only for a short period. His well-built frame and sheer strength well beyond his age were considered. That was far from the exceptional talent the Company sought, but they allowed him enough time to prove himself.

  Three months, six months, and nearly a year passed as he visited the instructors and trained. Yet, nothing changed. His growth was slow and below even average. Thus he remained a boy of forgotten ambition, destined to be known only as the son of a famous hunter, grappling with the specter of shattered dreams.

  The hardest slap of life one could receive. Still he tried. He made immense efforts. Something that most people are just afraid to do at all. The young man was told that he could still be very proud.

  As he relived those memories within the dimly lit room, Drake slowly turned the pages of the book lying in his bed. The picture of the legendary Party of Athora in its full glory was depicted with an astonishingly detailed illustration.

  The most renowned group of five adventurers from ancient history, the times during the early days of the Adventurers Company. And they were the ones who determined its growth and rise to glory. The growth and influence of the Company affected not only itself but the Carleen Empire as a whole.

  Looking at that picture, the boy smiled and then sighed silently, brushing over with his fingers. Sadness and bitterness lingered in his thoughts.

  Thoughts about that he could never be close to reaching such heights, not even a tiny fraction. No matter how hard he tried. Yet, threads of hope and conviction lingered inside his heart, refusing to leave, no matter what.

  Tomorrow… It's the day! I will go there. No other way. I have to do it, one final chance, one last try. The preparations are complete. I'm sorry, Mother, Father. I'm not ready to give up, not yet. After this, if it fails, I’ll put it to rest for good. This is the decision I made long ago. I will never know it was meant to be without trying.

  I WILL DO IT! Tomorrow… The young boy clutched his fist, looking into the ceiling.

  Buried deep within his thoughts, the Drake slowly faded into sleep. While the five legendary heroes continued to observe him from the page.

  Clutching the book in his hand that softly fell over his chest, clouds of dreams filled his restless conscience.

  At the break of dawn, Drake Antos exchanged fleeting goodbyes with his parents. Stowed away his daily rations and embarked on what was meant to be another ordinary hunt. Yet unbeknownst to them, the boy had no intention of following the expected route.

  Today was the day of his plan for a self-orchestrated test. He wondered if he would emerge as the person he had always dreamed of becoming. Or would he forever resign himself to the confines that life has imposed upon him?

  With an unwavering focus, he locked in on his goal. There was no room for hesitation or retreat in his mind. That was made up long ago. Yet this time there was no room for error or second tries, just one final test.

  The hours of navigating the well-trodden main trail passed instantly, as he rushed on his way. Drake finally reached the fringes of his sought-after destination.

  An ancient forest stretched out before him, a sprawling woodland pulsating with wildlife, ancient mysteries, and monsters. Monumental trees, some of which were over two centuries old, soared toward the sky, their immense trunks appearing to graze the heavens.

  The underbrush was a wonderland of diverse flora, filled with unique species flourishing in the dappled sunlight that filtered through the lush, green canopy. Tucked within the Gleaming Forest’s embrace lay marshlands and crystal-clear ponds. Looking like inviting oases amidst the wilderness’ dangerous beauty.

  Leaning against the Borok Mountain Range, which accentuated its isolation, it was renowned as a prime hunting ground. The forest was a tapestry of somewhat fragile, elusive creatures and fierce beasts alike.

  In its farthest reaches, hidden trails wove a secret pathway, allowing the curious to traverse from the rugged heights right into the belly of the beast itself.

  Drake was familiar with the more accessible hunting grounds on the forest's outskirts, yet the heart of the forest remained uncharted territory for him. The only exception was that one time when he and his father had tracked a wounded deer-griffin getting perilously close to the mountain range.

  Their pursuit came to an abrupt halt when they stumbled upon the lair of a hawk-beak-vollibear. An infamously strong predator, fierce and unyielding. Undoubtedly, an aggressive territorial beast. Their species was a titan among creatures. Deemed fit only to be faced by at least D-rank adventurers or higher. Standing as a cold reminder of nature's unforgiving power.

  Yet that very cave was his ultimate destination.

  But there had to be a certain degree of madness that pushed a young kid who decided to face such a monster on his own. It was the sense of urgency of every passing day, the calling from within him to find his creed. The boy was locked on, deadly fixed on the path.

  But the idea was not born on its own. It came into his mind when, in one of the bestiaries, he read a peculiar comment. The author mentioned that numerous survivors noted certain changes in them. Changes that allowed them to overcome and avoid the imminent death.

  In his book, Fulhurm, the famed adventurer's archivist, speculated. That extreme, death-threatening situations often have the potential to open hidden, or rather dormant, talents within an individual’s nature. It would allow them to tap into their hidden potential to the fullest during those periods of extreme and imminent danger. And the primal fear during such encounters could be the secret to unlocking this.

  And that was how the young boy devised a plan befitting of a true lunatic. I've hunted enough, but either with dad at my side or with opponents that were far too weak or dumb to pose a real threat. Even the azure boar was no more than a scary pest you could overcome by basic intelligence. It simply lacked the understanding and acted on pure instincts. But this, this will be different…

  Drake already stood before the entrance. Poised in his custom-crafted light leather brigantine. The soft sheen of the material provided both the required sturdiness and flexibility. Embossed vambraces hugged his forearms, while sturdy, high leather boots encased his feet, allowing him proper flexibility that a hunter required.

  Any extra weight would only hinder his movements. So the boy only took a few leather bandoliers and a small backpack. Aside from his trusty weapons of choice.

  One final breath, and he stepped through the entrance. The cool dampness enveloped him. He grasped his double-edged axe tightly, its handle grounding him against the tide of anxiety boiling within.

  He paused, feeling the gravity of his place heavily descending on him, slowly applying the pressure with each step. Now, he was diving into the abyss, and there would be no retreat. This time he would face the beast all alone.

  The reality settled in: no help to shield him, no calls for aid echoing in this dark place. Should he fall, it would certainly mean death. Fear gnawed at his insides, twisting like a snake at his stomach. His knees were trembling at the terrible thoughts that threatened to overwhelm him.

  Yet, deep within him, a flicker of unyielding resolve was still burning. A stubborn ember urging him to move forward. Trembling but advancing, he pressed down on his fear and boldly leaped into the darkness with another long stride.

  Yet the further he ventured, the more a foul stench of death and decay intruded into his nostrils. The boy looked around. Scattered bones, remnants of animals, monsters, and even unfortunate humans. All of that littered the ground, painting a gruesome portrait of past victims of the beast.

  A few carcasses were still oozing with a sickening rot, which only added to the dreadful, oppressive atmosphere, thickening the damp air even more. It now felt like a shroud.

  He took each step cautiously. The boy moved stealthily, sidestepping stones and jagged bones, determined to navigate around without making noise.

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  Oh, shit. I'm trembling like a tree during a storm wind. Breathing is hard. I may end up collapsing. Focus, keep the focus! Drake tried to take hold of himself.

  Damn, when I’m finally here, I'm not that sure anymore. So many doubts. But I have to believe in myself. All the additional training I have done will surely pay off. I just have to keep pushing. I don’t want to be just a shadow. There are so many guys who are already strong adventurers at this age. They enroll in the Royal Academy or take on the special adventurer's courses at the Company. I can’t just envy them and do nothing. He reminded himself.

  With another slow breath, the cold air filled his lungs. As he closed his eyes, he followed up with another deep one to bring full concentration, clearing his mind.

  While he continued to push forward deeper and deeper into the cave. The sharp black stones started poking from all around, with menacing protrusions on the ground.

  Occasionally he stumbled upon small pockets of clear water made by natural erosion as condensed droplets of water were falling from above, eating off the same spot. Despite everything, nature was still fascinating to the curious young man.

  Currently, Drake was completely enveloped in the cave’s shadowy embrace. Soon enough the luminescent mushrooms began to illuminate his path. This was the cave's true heart, a realm never touched by the warm sun’s embrace. It was here, in this unyielding darkness, that these peculiar fungi thrived.

  He eagerly plucked a handful, tucking them into his pouch. There is no need to pass on such an opportunity. Selling them among the local alchemists would earn me some pocket change for at least a month.

  Unexpectedly, the surrounding space around the young man shrank. The path became so narrow that he now had to squeeze through, ducking and twisting just to be able to move. Scratching his exposed skin and armor with the sharp stones more than once.

  But just as he began to doubt this pass, a vast cavern loomed ahead, opening up before him like a grand hall.

  Now, standing at the precipice of an eight-height drop, Drake gazed into the immense expanse below. Above him, a moss-laden crevice spilled beams of sunlight into the gloom through a few cracks in the massive cave’s temple.

  The boy took a moment to be enveloped in the strange tranquility of the space. Scanning the place with his eyes, he suddenly stopped as his heart sank.

  Right where the sunlight kissed the ground lay a colossal beast deep in slumber. The creature soaked in warmth, layers of white fur splashed with mottled brown. Enormous claws, gleaming like sharpened polished steel, rested ominously against its massive paws.

  Its visage resembled that of a massive bear, but with a formidable black beak that took the place of its mouth. This picture sent shivers down his spine and freezing cold running through his veins.

  There was no mistaking it: this was a hawk-beak volibear, and quite a big one. An apex predator, fully matured and undoubtedly the owner of this place and surrounding territory. A stark purple scar marred its face, hinting at past territorial skirmishes, alongside a patch of fur missing atop its skull, revealing the dark purple of the exposed skin.

  Those markings of battle were proof of strength and survival, for in this savage world, only the strong prevailed to see another day. As they left only remnants of the weak in their wake. One thing was crystal clear: this creature had fought and triumphed, and the chances of it having done so more than once were high.

  Oddly, Drake found that the creature’s fearsome presence did little to rattle his nerves now. Instead, pumping his veins was the burning blood, igniting a thrill he had never known as his heart was bouncing in his chest.

  Every breath he took now shared the same air as this deadly beast, a being that had likely claimed the lives of countless humans too. Curiosity and exhilaration danced within him, urging him closer to the uncharted depths, inviting, calling, and pulling him in.

  He carefully took a few vials from his bandolier and drank the yellow and green substances he had meticulously prepared in advance. His parents did not notice, since he’s been doing his medicines and remedies for hunting trips ever since he was twelve. But those were quite different from his standard ones. I hope this will work. The effects should be enough, supposedly. He felt power surging through his body and mind.

  “Only when confronting an adversary far stronger than yourself can you truly picture your place in the tomorrow world to come. Fear not, for the bravest souls fight to the final breath only to see the light of victory at the end of their lifelong journey!” Drake murmured to himself a beloved passage from the “Myth of a Thousand Storms,” the words echoing softly while falling on the ground.

  Without another moment of hesitation, leaning his hand on the edge, he plunged down, surrendering to the unknown. The impact was pounding as he struck the ground, but his instincts were sharp. He rolled over his shoulder, deftly dissipating the violent force of his abrupt stop.

  He immediately sprang to his feet, at the ready. But his eyes were wide with shock. The creature was already looming close over him. Towering, balanced precariously on its paws.

  Its mighty roar reverberated like thunder through the massive cave. A sound was terrifying and haunting. Saliva dripped from its gaping beak, splattering against Drake's face. The filthy stench reminiscent of decay urged him to vomit.

  As he expertly juggled his axe in one hand, diverting the creature’s attention, Drake retrieved a small bottle of oil from the leather pouch strapped to his belt with his free hand.

  With a swift motion, he hurled it beneath the monstrous creature. A thick, black, mucous-like substance splattered across the cave's stone floor. The beast rose on its powerful legs, now three times higher than the boy.

  It swung the razor-sharp claws at him. Instinctively, Drake ducked and darted to the side, very narrowly evading the deadly slash.

  That was far too close. I could feel the cold hissing close to my face. Doubts about whether his potion-enhanced reflexes would hold up under such pressure raced in his mind. Still, he firmly rooted the belief in all that training that he had done in secret from his parents watchful eyes.

  For the last two years, he has been acquiring certain technique manuals as he saved all his pocket money. Those he stored under wooden boards in the attic. There was no way it was all useless.

  Bringing more distance between him and the beast, he pulled out a small black ball with a fuse. One of the bombs he created using the seeds of the amber sunflower. With a flick of his fingers, he ignited the fuse and, summoning all his strength, hurled it at the frenzied Volibear.

  Dark orange flames enveloped its fur, and the black tar caught fire, creating a fireblaze of chaos. Enraged by the sudden inferno, the beast swung its claws in wild arcs, desperation fueling its ferocity.

  Drake stood firm, blocking the few strikes with his axe as the clanging symphony of metal reverberated through the cave. He would love to be able to dodge them instead but managed to do so only a few times. The reflexes were not enough, and his strength was barely holding on against the powerful strikes. His hands throbbed with the pain each time he took them head-on, straight on the axe.

  Despite his youth, he still possessed a robust, muscular physique, and his agility rivaled that of some seasoned soldiers who had devoted their lives to honing their skills. He was much stronger than an average person but nowhere near close to even mediocre adventurers. That’s why he came up with the idea of enhancement potions, despite the dangers.

  The burning beast was coming at him over and over again. But with precise movements, Drake countered a few more blows. Ducking low, he slashed at the beast's exposed underbelly, then jerked aside just in time to deliver an overhand strike and avoid the countering claw.

  A surge of triumph coursed through the young boy as blood began to ooze from a deep gash on the creature. For a fleeting moment, it hesitated, caught off guard by the sheer audacity of its rival and flames obstructing its vision.

  Drake patiently waited. Dancing around, he expected the fire to do the job, eating enough of the monster’s health. Yet he saw that the effects of the fire were nearly wearing off, and it obviously did not do nearly enough harm.

  Damn, so it has to be taken down only the old-fashioned way. Hopefully it is hurt enough. The boy took out the last small yellow vial from a bandolier and drank it in one gulp. His pupils dilated, veins expanded, and his heart started racing much faster. The surge of pure energy filled his body.

  The last one. Basic reaction potion I made from the yellow dragonfruit. It should buy me a few more minutes of better reaction speed and enhanced reflexes. But the beast is not yet fighting me at full strength due to fire and smoke. And smartly it does not overextend itself even when so agitated.

  With the additional potion effects, Drake’s legs felt as light as a feather as he danced around his foe, now effortlessly dodging nearly every strike aimed at him. Occasionally, he would raise his defenses to block an attack, but this was his moment to seize the advantage.

  The boy’s full arsenal was on display. As he slashed and cut at the beast's paws. Next, he deftly closed the distance before dashing towards its left leg to exploit any weakness.

  Each time the claws tried to find their mark, Drake avoided them at the last moment and planted his axe over the extended paw. More and more small and medium wounds covered the mighty Volibear. More blood was gushing through its wounds. Yet fighting the burning football was hard. More than once, Drake burned his fingers and hands, nearly losing the grip of his axe.

  The battle was a grueling war of attrition. The boy could feel his stamina waning, but there was no time to rest. He pushed onward, cycling through movements, taxing his body further until his hands cried out in pain. He felt as the calluses popped one by one on his palm as he tried to maintain the steady grip over the hand.

  As the steel itself now bore the marks of their clash, showing signs of wear. A multitude of dents adorned the steel where it met the beast's vicious claws. The creature was bleeding profusely from its paws, and Drake had even managed to land a few more strikes to its softer stomach, opening deep gashes.

  Yet, he could feel the limits of his endurance weighing him down, realizing the effects of all the potions would wear off soon and the inevitable kickback would hinder him hard.

  The fire had died down entirely, as it only managed to leave a few patch marks and tarnish the creature’s fur. Drake had to find an opening. The boy had to reach its neck somehow.

  His mind raced as he scanned his surroundings, each second feeling like an eternity. Sweat poured down from his forehead past his brows, obscuring his vision as it dripped onto the ground. Small pools already formed beneath his feet, and despite the low temperature in the cave, he felt like he was in the crater of a volcano.

  The beast was now locked on, not giving the young boy a moment of respite. It lunged forward with renewed ferocity, its claws transforming into lethal stabbing spears. Just as it struck, Drake bent backward and leaped off a large rock to his right. The creature adjusted in the mid-strike, changing the direction, and landed an overhead assault, shattering the stone into a cloud of debris, sending sharp fragments flying everywhere and into its eyes.

  With fierce determination, Drake charged forward, seizing a small rock and hurling it directly into the Volibear's face. He closed the distance immediately, moving as low to the ground as possible, propelled by energy, and leaped towards its neck.

  The axe was about to hit the unprotected spot, the exposed jugular. But in a surprising twist, the beast jerked its head, catching his axe with an ear-splitting screech as metal grated against its beak, the sound echoing in the stony expanse and the boy’s ears, making him flinch.

  He thought that he was ready. He had immersed himself in every detail about the creature, poring over bestiaries and eagerly absorbing tales from seasoned adventurers who had dared to face the beast. Each story painted a clear picture, igniting his determination as he devised the entire plan.

  Even this is nothing! I’m not yet done! Drake released his grip on the axe, his fingers now grasping the creature's thick, long fur, as he held on to it like a lifeline over the cliff.

  With his other hand, he deftly unsheathed his hidden dagger and drove it with all his strength into the vulnerable spot at the base of the beast's beak, targeting the main artery.

  Hot, black blood erupted from the wound like a dam bursting. Letting forth with such force that jerked his hand and dagger away. Losing his grip on the fur, the boy was thrown back.

  Drake collided hard on the stony ground, landing painfully on his back with a loud grunt as the air left his lungs. Grasping, the boy stumbled to his feet. He was not ready, as the wounded beast struck with lethal ferocity, its paws slicing through the air and sending the boy hurling further across the cave.

  A wave of agony engulfed him as his back once again collided with the jagged rocks, this time with much more force. Each sharp edge digging deep into his flesh. In a single moment he was shattered like glass, and the world around him dimmed as his vision swirled in a haze of darkness.

  He sensed the suffocating weight on his chest. Breathing had become nearly impossible. His lungs convulsed, likely due to a multitude of broken ribs. A spasm of pain erupted in his throat as he coughed, blood spilling forth, painting the floor crimson red.

  The beast was nearby, its roars frenzied and ragged, as if the very life was being choked out of it. Struggling against the agony, Drake attempted to rise, but his body betrayed him, dropping to his knees. His right arm hung limply at his side, a useless appendage that refused to heed any of his commands.

  He wiped his other hand over his face, making sure it was still in one piece. Blood flowed from his wounds in a relentless cascade, each heartbeat pumping it outside.

  Waves of pain throbbed through his entire frame as the disorienting fog clouded his senses. Through the haze, his vision wavered, but he could still make out the hulking figure approaching him, looming larger with each passing moment.

  At that very moment he accepted his fate. This was the end of the line for him.

  Strangely, instead of fear, he felt at peace. His heart was heavy, but his head was cool. Mom, Dad, I'm sorry. For being the fool. Hopefully your favorite fool! His thoughts were getting sluggish.

  I have tried, and it does not matter that I failed. I’m sorry that you will not see me grow and that I can't tell you this. But nonetheless, I loved it a lot—this world, our family, our home. I just wished that I had been born more… Talented… Still, I did my best. Farewell… The boy was choking on his blood as he raised his head.

  Drake Antos locked his piercing emerald gaze on the beast before him, a look of defiance etching his features as the creature’s metal claws scraped across his face.

  The sharp, oozing pain sliced through him as the cold claw opened a gashing wound on his cheek. He was there, ready to die, but die trying, die standing, not crawling. Were his last thoughts.

  But before he could lose consciousness, something strange occurred. It seemed as if time itself had stopped entirely. And amidst the agonizing pain, he sensed something stirring within.

  A mysterious surge of energy welled up inside him, as if he stood on the edge of a mountain with gushing cold winds trying to swirl him away. While an electrifying buzzing sensation traveled through his body, a shimmering blue light enveloped his frame, radiating with a dancing glow.

  What is happening to me?! Is this mana?! An aura? It did not make any sense to him. He could not fathom or control anything that happened. As if it had a will of its own.

  Before he could fully grasp the nature of change, a deafening bang reverberated through the cave, filling the air with a crackling energy.

  A colossal bolt of lightning arced down from above, striking the beast with relentless fury. The creature’s fur was set ablaze. The current on impact traveled through it. Volibear was seared to a crisp, paralyzed in place.

  As the smoke billowed around, the once-mighty predator collapsed to the ground, its power reduced to ashes. The acrid smell of charred fur mingled with the metallic scent of blood invaded the boy’s nostrils.

  Darke only felt the warmth of trickling blood from the jagged gash on his cheek. Suddenly, the world around him turned completely dark. The boy collapsed on the cold stone floor of the cavern. Silence and peace engulfed him.

  Darke tried to open his eyes. The smell of burning flesh and …wood? Hit his nostrils. I must still be in the cave. What was that?! I didn't die?!

  He felt weak and powerless, his body not responding. But he was surely still alive. Now, he had to return, return home. He had managed to get this far. Just a little push… Up… This is all I need!

  The thought of acquiring that skill reinvigorated him. He felt that it would be something worthy of an adventurer.

  Yet his eyelids refused to cooperate still, covering his eyes like metal gates. With all his power, he tried to push them open. Slowly, but steadily, they budged, even just a little, but enough.

  Drake’s vision was still blurry. He could tell there was smoke, not only in his vision but in his nostrils. The boy coughed with sharp pain piercing his chest. Something was happening around. He could hear some loud noises and shouts. Too muffled to make any sense of.

  He crawled slowly, trying to get up. His eyes nearly opened, and the vision gradually returned, not yet clear. But an unsettling sense of dread began to swell within him, pounding in his chest and settling like a metal weight inside his stomach.

  What’s this? Fire, smoke?! I’m outside. How in the hell did I get here… I—I… Can’t remember a thing after, arkh, my head is buzzing. His mind was racing back and forth, looking for an answer.

  The young battered boy’s insides churned chaotically. It felt as if he was trapped within a fog, desperately trying to piece together the events that followed. Yet everything was blank.

  Was that strange surge of power that transported him here? Yet, no matter how fiercely he strained to recall even a fragment of the past moments, his mind remained an impenetrable void. It buzzed with pain and darkness that he saw afterwards.

  Nothing made sense. He felt drained and battered, his body packed with wounds that offered nothing but pain, suffering, and long rehabilitation. And yet, against all odds, he was still breathing.

  Just as clarity began to unfold, a chilling realization struck him like a dagger thrust into his heart, robbing him of his entire breath. He was at his home, or rather what was left of it.

  A tremor coursed through his hands, and he felt a series of uncontrollable convulsions seize him. Why is it ablaze? What had happened here? Did I do it? Confusion swirled in his mind as he stammered to himself in a hushed tone, sounding more like an unhinged madman rather than a man grappling with reality.

  But as he lowered his gaze once again, his emerald eyes opened wide and froze. His chest compressed so hard he could hear his ribs crackling.

  Two lifeless bodies were sprawled side by side. One, unmistakably a woman, her long golden hair nearly untouched by the flames. Next to her, clutching her lifeless hand with his, holding a charred long axe in the other, was the formidable form of a man. Yet his former bulk was reduced to a smoldering ruin. The realization crashed over him like a relentless wave, yet he could scarcely bear to acknowledge it. His mind refused to accept the logical conclusion right before his eyes.

  Images of joy flared in his mind. His father, the day he presented him with his very first axe, imparted lessons on its use. His tender mother cradled him as she spun tales of wonder beneath the stars. Carefree days in the town, meandering through bustling markets.

  With no resistance, tears streamed down his face like torrents, grief flooding over him, crushing his heart like a vice.

  “MOM?! DAD?! WHAT’S HAPPENING?! Oh, must be! I know… I know… I just have to wake up! WAKE UP! It’s just a dream…” Panic surged through him as he choked and coughed, his voice cracking as his desperation was only growing louder.

  “WHAT’S GOING ON?!”

  “NO, PLEASE, NO! THIS CAN’T BE REAL!”

  “PLEASE, SOMEONE, HELP ME!” Drake let out a torturing scream, a raw sound of anguish that tore through the surrounding chaos. The distant clouds of smoke loomed closer, creeping toward the city like a shadow veil.

  His mind was a tangled whirlwind of confusion. Even the physical pain was nowhere near enough to anchor him back to reality. His heart raced as if it might explode from the weight of his fear and desperation at any moment. Constant why’s were floating through his shattered-into-pieces and torn-into-shreds mind.

  Suddenly another rush of excruciating pain struck his head like someone stuck a knife into his eye. Then, strange images began to flood his head. Mechanisms he couldn’t fathom, towering buildings scraping the heavens, and landscapes he had never witnessed before. What is this? It hurts. It hurts… HURTS! BURNS! What is going on… Aaaaarkhhhhhh… My head is going to explode… like… this…

  He felt as if he were swirled within a sea of darkness, yet a faint glimmer of light pushed through, growing more intense, more demanding.

  He was bombarded with images that felt foreign, faces flashing like lightning in a storm. Jake?! Jake… JAKE?! Resounded in his head. Who is this Jake? What is… W-what’s happening to me?! I don’t think… I can handle this any longer… He held his head in both hands, scratching it hard, clutching and tearing at his pitch-black hair.

  A jolt of electricity coursed through his spine, every muscle contracting as if under immense strain, and a violent snap echoed from his neck and down.

  Blood surged from his nose as the world around him once again faded as he slowly slumped onto the ground. Face down in the green grass, his body and mind surrendered to unconsciousness.

  He recalled it now. The boy woke up four days ago. But a span of two weeks had already passed.

  It was an unprecedented and brutal attack. A massive wave of bloodhounds descended upon the city unexpectedly. Behind them emerged a man clad in spiked, charred armor on a black armored horse who led several hooded men alongside a few undead knights in dark armor.

  He wore a crooked dark helmet with hues of visible gold and a few red stones in mostly empty sockets. It appeared that he was the one in charge, sending his underlings on a rampage.

  During the chaos, twenty-three knights and seventeen adventurers from the Company lost their lives defending the city. Tragically, three farmsteads and a house outside the area were burned, with their inhabitants killed and their homes reduced to ashes. Among the victims were a hunter and his wife.

  No one could clearly tell what happened outside the walls. It was all pure chaos, a bloodbath. Only a single man working at a nearby field claimed he had seen the dark rider closer than anyone.

  From his words, it appeared that Drake's father fought valiantly to defend his wife, home, and those around him but was overpowered fast and succumbed to the wounds. Yet, he stalled the advance long enough for the reinforcements to arrive and most of the beasts to be slain.

  The mysterious rider departed as swiftly as it came. The witness recalled it wearing a red coat, which was partially burned. Yet he could still make out a vibrant coat of arms depicting a snake in the shape of the number eight, devouring its tail, pierced by a spear.

  “I’ve told you five times already that we can’t help someone as weak as you! Just get lost!” The words echoed in his mind, a cruel jab that he had heard for the tenth time in three days, each utterance a harsh slap in the face. The Company still did not want him, not on his quest for revenge.

  Drake Antos was now orphaned, yet he was still not legally an adult. The city’s Head Councilor offered him support, suggesting he stay in the social housing until coming of age. There he could either pursue another profession or take up hunting in his father's stead.

  “Thank you, Head Councilor Welberg, but I do not intend to accept your offer,” replied the boy, looking more akin to a ghost. His wounds had mostly healed, but his gaze remained as empty as a dried-up well.

  “What do you plan to do, young man? Are you sure? You could still become a great hunter; your father would have been proud,” the gray-haired, middle-aged man with slender features attempted to console him, though he could not manage a smile in such circumstances, causing his face to twitch slightly.

  “Yes… Yes. He would have loved that, undoubtedly. But I do not feel worthy of such a luxury, anymore…” Sadness soaked his voice.

  Drake mumbled, “Proud…” Before he bowed his head and silently walked away.

  Later, whispers spread through the town about the boy who had remained at the graveyard for three whole days, standing motionlessly in the rain and scorching heat. Looking over a tombstone.

  Not long after, he took his belongings and vanished in the direction of the main road to the border. Slowly the gossip would morph into a tale and ultimately become a fresh town legend as the years went by.

  And those were indeed a few long and painful years. Yet not a single day had passed without Drake reliving those memories. The challenges he had faced, the resolve he had found. Everything now led him to this moment. The path once abandoned now beckoned his return.

  It was finally time to venture on. The road led towards his hometown of Vellos!

  The final review and update for RR of this chapter was done!

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