The axe whistled past the Chieftain's ribs---again---and met only air.

The man before me moved without effort, each dodge smooth enough to feel premeditated. Every time I thought I saw an opening, it dissolved into empty space.

I pivoted, drove the haft up through a rising diagonal, but the blade only grazed the air before his chest. He had already leaned back, weight balanced lightly on his heels, like he had simply shifted to a more comfortable stance.

Yet, all this while, the hint of surprise tugged at his otherwise unreadable face. For what reason, I couldn't tell.

I pressed on. My footing changed. My muscles found rhythm. The second swing came fast---a vertical chop through his midline---then another, a feint to the right, a slash to the left. Still, the man slipped past each one with ease.

Sweat began to run down my temple. My pulse deepened, but my breathing remained steady. I backed off for a moment, adjusting my stance.

Let's up the ante.

I opened the gates a little.

Five percent.

The world sharpened. My limbs lightened, movement coming smoother as I dived back in. The axe cut through the air in a clean horizontal arc, faster than before. The Chieftain's brows rose a fraction---barely an acknowledgment---but his body still drifted just out of reach.

Ten percent.

Mana flooded the channels in my arms, the axe vibrating faintly with the added weight of berserk mana. The next strike came harder, faster, an upward diagonal aimed to tear into his side from down-low.

whoosh!

Nothing.

His eyes remained calm.

Twenty percent.

The red mana rippled out of my hands now, wrapping around the axe, yet the Chieftain's expression didn't change. As if that red glow wasn't there to begin with.

The lavender-haired woman's words came back to me then.

The only ones that can sense it are the others like myself.

I brushed away the stray thought, and stepped through with renewed vigor, attempting another downward diagonal.

But once again, he simply stepped aside as my blow fell, and the axe bounced off indestructible black stone.

Thirty percent.

The raised eyebrow flattened into mild annoyance. He barked across the courtyard, "Enough of this. Come at me with everything you have, boy." His voice was low and steady, but turned teasing, "If you can draw my blood, I'll call you Chieftain myself."

I didn't want to be Chieftain. But something inside me tightened. His tone, the ease in his movements, the casual confidence...it was...annoying.

My hand steadied on the haft. Then I opened the gates fully.

A deep crimson glow spread through the veins of my arms, mana thrumming under my skin. My body felt like a bowstring drawn past safety, yet primed for release.

Three swings. That was all the mana I had.

The first came fast---horizontal, waist-high, aimed clean across his midsection. The Chieftain backstepped, the blade missing him by a breath. But that was fine. The motion wasn't meant to end there. The knowledge of those Silver-Ranked maneuvers came to me right then.

Return Arc.

The axe twisted with the follow-through, momentum snapping around my spine. The weapon dropped behind me, spinning through the air to set the next strike in motion. My right foot dug into the black stone. I turned with it, letting the force redirect through my torso.

Downward diagonal. The second swing.

The axe howled as it fell, light scattering off the edge. The Chieftain ducked under it, sliding to my right side. But I was already moving.

Split Step.

My right heel shifted, half a step only, enough to realign the swing's center. The blade veered, chasing him through the opening he'd just created. His lips twitched---half a grin. His left hand shot out, brushing the side of the Axe's giant blade with almost lazy precision, and guided it past him as though moving a curtain aside.

The axe slipped wide, my body twisting with it. But my muscles were already tensing for the next motion.

Swing Reversal.

All at once, every fiber in my back and shoulders reversed tension, pulling the weapon upward along the same diagonal it had fallen. The blade roared back toward him, a gleaming line of pressure slicing the air from back upwards, bottom to top, left to right.

The Chieftain's smile widened as the blade reached his side. His hand turned over then, and with speed my minds couldn't comprehend, it struck back down, against the flat of the axe's blade that had been just inches from his skin.

The force destroyed my strike, breaking the arc and ramming the axe straight into the ground.

Everything---dismantled.

Silence.

My body trembled, my knees hit the sand. Breath tore free in uneven bursts. Every ounce of mana was gone, burned out in those three swings. My vision flickered between sharp and blurred.

The Chieftain studied me quietly. "Your physical strength is…unnatural for a Silver Rank." He crouched, silver eyes narrowing. "But, clearly, it is temporary. Is this your Gift?"

My mouth opened, but no answer came for a long moment. Then, quietly, "Yes."

A lie.

"Hmmm." He rose again, gaze steady. "A gift like this one...A-Rank...a powerful one." His eyes traced my heaving chest, the tremors still running down my arms. "And a very draining one at that."

I didn't reply. My mouth tasted bitter.

He began to pace around me, muttering to himself. "If that's the case, then it half-explains how you advanced so fast. If you've been bridging the gap between stages all along, you'd need what---eleven? twelve cores higher than your own rank to ascend?" He paused. "Still doesn't explain how your Skills evolved…"

His leather boots thudded against the tile as he circled. "You did say you were amnesic...Perhaps you were a Hunter once...your foundations destroyed." His voice lowered. "Your skills remained...but your ascensions...did not."

I said nothing. Letting him reach his own conclusions felt safer than correcting him. But that bitter taste in my mouth worsened.

The Chieftain stopped walking. "Your mastery, however…" He tilted his head. "Strange. Certain strikes, the simplest ones---they carry a level of refinement I've only ever seen in..."

He paused for a moment, gaze wondering past the courtyard to the city beyond, as if contemplating the revelation of something hidden.

"...a select few."

He resumed his circling.

"If you were my rank, they would have left me with few options. But the rest---" He flicked his wrist dismissively. "Sorely lacking."

He stepped closer, gaze sharp. "But that's the nature of fighting with a Greataxe, is it not? Big, heavy, wide. That's what you're thinking, right?"

I nodded slowly.

"Wrong. You're not bound by the limits of a mortal human anymore. You're a Hunter. You have control beyond instinct. Strength beyond what our bodies were evolved to control from ages past."

He leaned forward slightly. "So why fight like one who doesn't posses that strength?"

I blinked, the words cutting deeper than I expected. Because he was right. My instincts screamed against imbalance during Split Step and Swing Reversal---but my body had handled it fine. My nervous system, reflexes, all of it was beyond normal. I was still fighting within human constraints.

The Chieftain's voice softened. "You've boxed yourself into 'forms,' the kind the East clings to. But battle isn't meant to be recited. It's meant to be sung, boy." His silver eyes sharpened again. "Your voice should be yours alone. Do not let anyone define your perfection for you."

The thought struck hard. Because that's exactly what I'd been doing.

He studied me for another moment, then nodded once. "That said, the techniques you use---they're not rigid. Whoever taught you understood that. The Basics you've mastered are adaptable, open-ended. Foundational, not prescriptive." He tilted his head. "Whoever they were… their mastery equals mine. Perhaps even surpasses it."

I wasn't surprised. Mastery Guidance was a System Function created by an actual God. But I took his words seriously. I had many things in my arsenal that others did not.

I had come to a similar realization before, and leant away from dodging incoming attacks, choosing instead to take them head on to strengthen myself. But that change defined how I defended. Not how I attacked.

I had abnormally fast reflexes, even for a Silver Rank, I had a second awareness that I probably wasn't utilizing properly, and finally, my gift. My real gift---regeneration. How could I adjust my attacks in a way that took advantage of these advantages?

I looked up to find Intisak staring back at me with interest, watching my contemplation.

Should I reveal these things to him? Clearly, the man is far beyond me, but also...wants to help me, regardless of his intention to have me fight for him...

But I couldn't risk being taken advantage of as I was. The Party's warnings were clear: those at the top preferred to remain there.

I can't decide. Not here. Not now.

I looked back down, unable to fully meet the man's gaze.

Best to limit my gift and observe until I know I can trust him.

The wind in the courtyard filled the quiet between us, until the Chieftain shifted, noting that I was done thinking.

"Head to the Healers, tell them I sent you. Recover your Mana best you can, boy. In two hours, we depart."

I looked up, "Depart? Where?"

His silver eyes were steady, the faintest glint of anticipation behind them.

"To the Blacksand Caverns," he added, "We're going to see how you fight real Beasts."

Next chapter will be updated first on this website. Come back and continue reading tomorrow, everyone!

If you find any errors ( broken links, non-standard content, etc.. ), Please let us know < report chapter > so we can fix it as soon as possible.