Christopher woke up on the sixth day on the plateau to the sound of a crow cawing above his tent.
He slowly opened his eyes, his body now accustomed to pain and stiffness, as if they were his silent companions on this harsh journey.
But this morning... was unlike any morning before.
On the third and fourth days, he had spent his time in exhausting meditation and intense sword training, dedicating the fifth day to refining the mana within his body.
Bit by bit, he began to feel his body adapt to the mana flow, until the "quasi-seed" became more stable... as if it were waiting for the critical moment.
And the sixth day... was that moment.
He exited his tent before sunrise and sat on the flat rock he was used to meditating on. The air was charged with a hidden tension, as if nature itself was holding its breath... waiting with him.
He closed his eyes.
Breathed slowly.
Focused his awareness in the center of his chest, where the core pulsed like a second heart within him.
As he did, strands of mana began to creep toward him, flowing from the earth and air, penetrating his body smoothly.
He passed it through his mental filter the "Great Sky Refinement" and began collecting it little by little in the center of his chest, preparing for the next step... compression.
He imagined an inner hand kneading that mana mass, compressing it, encircling it until it shrank.
The pain didn't take long to come.
His chest ignited with a hidden heat, his hands began to tremble, and sweat streamed from his forehead like a waterfall.
Then—
A moment of stillness.
A crack.
It was an internal sound, a spiritual sensation of a long-standing barrier breaking.
At that moment, all the refined mana gathered into a single point, then burst and contracted and condensed...
The seed was born.
Christopher looked at the seed inside his body.
On the continent of Novalim, seeds take color based on a person's affinity with natural elements.
Christopher's seed appeared in four colors:
30% red — Fire
20% green — Wind
10% blue — Water
40% black — Darkness
Four elements meant a C-rank talent... a mediocre to weak talent, not promising a bright future.
But the moment the seed was completed was only the beginning.
His body underwent a violent transformation, as if every cell was being reshaped anew.
He felt his blood boiling, his bones being hammered from the inside, his muscles stretching and compressing, and his senses... exploding with power.
He could hear ants crawling, feel the wind's shift seconds before it arrived.
A physical... and spiritual evolution.
And yet, the innate skill that was supposed to reveal itself automatically after breaking through the first rank didn't appear.
And that wasn't the only thing.
During this transformation, he noticed his shadow flickering before him.
It wasn't an illusion this time. It moved slowly, stretched and contracted... then suddenly, returned to its usual stillness.
Christopher opened his eyes, panting.
He looked at the horizon, then at his trembling hands, and a tired smile spread on his lips:
"I... did it."
But the celebration didn't last long.
The remnants of the polluted mana he hadn't expelled began to boil inside him, as if refusing to submit.
He sat down again and started using the "Great Sky Refinement" technique once more, drawing refined mana to expel the lingering toxins.
After three hours of pain and concentration, his body calmed.
Thick black sweat with a suffocating odor poured from his pores, signaling the end of the process.
When he finally stood, he felt an unprecedented lightness.
His body was strong, and inside him was purer than ever before.
Christopher Reed... had officially become a first-rank Hunter – in the Seed Stage.
---
After calming down, he decided to bathe.
The smell of sweat and remnants of polluted mana clung to his clothes like a layer of mud.
Fortunately, he had spotted a small stream to the east of the plateau, sneaking between rocks and low trees.
He walked quietly.
Upon arrival, he took off his shirt and tossed his clothes aside, then stepped into the cold water. He shivered for a moment, then sighed in relief... as if every cell was celebrating purification.
He looked at his reflection on the water's surface and whispered mockingly:
"Heh... now a beautiful girl is supposed to rise from under the water and say in a soft feminine voice: 'Ah, you saw me, now you must take responsibility!' … Tsk, impossible, that stuff only happens in silly novels."
He smiled, wiped his face, and continued bathing.
After a few minutes, he got out of the water and dried himself, then put on his clean clothes:
A dark shirt, a light leather jacket, and a long black cloak flowing behind him.
He wrapped his purple scarf around his neck, half covering his shoulder.
But what changed the most...
Were his red eyes.
His handsome face, fair skin, and long black hair that now looked more fluid... every detail of him now carried a maturity beyond his apparent age.
He looked at his reflection again and whispered with a smile:
"Tsk... Tsk... handsome."
He clenched his fist, feeling the power flow through it.
"Time to test it."
---
He headed to a clearing among the trees and gathered mana in his body.
He chose a large tree, clenched his fist, and focused mana into his muscles.
Then—
Boom
He struck it with full force.
The tree broke in half and fell staggering.
He wasn't satisfied. He approached a group of trees, screamed internally, and delivered a punch that exploded with power, causing all three trees to fall at once.
The forest went silent for a moment.
He sat on one of the fallen tree trunks, gazing at the sky and brushing back his wet hair.
"I don't have any real combat technique..." he muttered softly.
While muttering, an annoying thought crossed his mind:
"And my talent…"
He rested his elbows on his knees and stared at the ground.
Four elements... C-rank.
A talent that doesn't lift you, but places you in the back rows.
And in the world of Hunters, talent determines your future.
He felt a rock pressing on his chest.
Not painful, but heavy on the soul.
But after a long moment of silence, he raised his head and took a deep breath.
"What happened has happened… I can't change my talent."
---
Christopher returned to his tent, the sparkle of newly discovered power dimmed in his eyes, replaced by a calm... deep thought.
He sat in silence, reflecting on what he had been through, but his mind was not at ease.
"I didn't awaken the innate skill..." he whispered, pressing his forehead.
Despite his disappointment, it wasn't entirely unexpected. He had considered the possibility of not being able to awaken it naturally.
But... he wasn't without hope.
In his mind, he still remembered the formula for the "Blood Awakening Potion", which he had copied from the middle-aged man inside the strange disk.
The ingredients weren't easy, but not impossible either.
He remembered them well:
100 ml of blood from a pure first-rank demonic beast: the golden-toothed tiger.
The foot of the iron-clawed eagle — a first-rank demonic beast.
A drop of blood from a first-rank Hunter.
The eye of the red-eyed monkey — a first-rank demonic beast.
And finally, blood-converting herb from the second rank.
Each of these ingredients represented a challenge except the Hunter's blood, but they were not impossible.
First-rank beasts were no longer out of reach, especially after his breakthrough.
After thinking about the ingredients and deciding on a plan, his plan was to use the disk to search for the potion components.
Christopher decided to try the disk again; last time he had exited it and couldn't enter again.
Now, after breaking through the first rank, he decided to try once more.
He sat on the ground and tried to connect with the disk.
He slowly closed his eyes and began emptying his mind of all the chaos around him, holding on to one desire only: to reconnect with the disk.
Last time... I hadn't reached the Seed Rank... But now, everything's different.
Minutes passed heavily, and every breath he took sank him deeper into focus, until the boundaries between his body and reality around him began to gradually blur.
Half an hour passed, and Christopher didn't move, didn't speak only deep stillness surrounded him.
And suddenly...
He felt something pulling his consciousness, as if an invisible current had dragged him elsewhere.
And when he opened his eyes, he was no longer on the plateau... but inside the mysterious space of the disk.
The space here was unnatural… no ground, no sky, only an infinite stretch of pure blackness. The disc floated before him, glowing with quiet pulses like a living, breathing creature. Despite the awe of the scene, Christopher chuckled softly, his voice echoing into the void:
"As I expected… I've entered again."
After finishing his laugh, he looked at the disc and smiled:
"This time, I'll use you to find all the components of the potion."
He approached and touched it, and as soon as he did, he was transported once more into the dark space. He found the familiar glowing star, but his focus wasn't on it—rather, on another star beside it; a dark red star glowing in the space like the eye of a demon. Christopher felt astonished and thought:
"Another star? And why is it red? Will I go to hell if I touch it?"
He said it sarcastically.
He decided not to touch it and began to wander around, searching for something else. He kept walking inside the dark space for half an hour, but it felt like he was going in circles. He found nothing new except for the red star.
He looked at it intently and sighed:
"Doesn't matter…"
Then he stepped forward and touched it.
As soon as he did, he felt like he was being pulled—as if he had entered a vortex. Suddenly, information appeared in his mind:
[Special Ability: Influence the world through "Sky Eye"]
"Sky Eye?"
A question mark appeared in Christopher's mind.
"Is that the name of the red star? And also… influencing the world? What a power..."
His vision suddenly shifted, and he saw a man kneeling on one knee in the center of a vast palace. He appeared to be in his late twenties, tall, with short black hair, wearing broken, blood-covered armor. His handsome face was smeared with blood. He remained still, but his eyes were filled with grief, guilt, and indescribable rage.
It was Sir Cole, the survivor of the Faceless Demon's attack.
Standing before him was a woman with silver hair and green eyes, beautiful and serene. It was Elaine.
She spoke in an extremely calm voice:
"Raven Hart Cole."
Sir Cole replied quietly:
"Present."
Elaine spoke with a cold cruelty:
"Where is the runaway huntress?"
He answered with the same calmness:
"The mission failed."
She glared at him angrily this time and said with agitation:
"What did you say?"
He replied again, without a change in tone:
"The mission failed. Everyone in the squad was killed... except me and Pero Kalvan."
Then Raven Hart Cole began to recount what had happened in the Forest of the Great Ones, as if speaking of strangers—not of himself and his squadmates.
Elaine stood in shock, muttering:
"How did the Faceless Demon escape the Bloody Hunting Plains?"
Then she raised her head and said:
"So, how did you survive?"
He answered quietly:
"Pure coincidence. I discovered its weakness… and survived. Pero passed out, but he survived too."
She looked at him coldly and didn't respond.
Raven continued, head lowered:
"Luck was on my side, but not on theirs."
Elaine murmured with faint disdain:
"Who cares about those talentless scum? Had you listened to me and joined the Purge Squad, you would've caught that girl."
Raven lowered his head even further, full of anger, sadness, and hatred. He wanted to scream at her, to tell her they weren't scum—they were his brothers. But he didn't dare. He simply said softly:
"Yes, Saintess, I was wrong."
"Saintess?" Christopher was astonished as he watched. "Is this woman from the Sacred Temple? So this is the Sacred Temple?"
He found what was happening interesting. He pondered a little, tempted to try his new ability "influence the world", but hesitated—deciding not to… not yet.
Elaine seemed slightly surprised and said:
"You've changed. It seems you've awakened from that brotherhood nonsense and started to understand me. You're a man of talent. You awakened the Blessing of your Ancestors—Heart of the Sword—when you broke through the first rank of the Sacred Path. You have a bright future, great talent. You can aim to reach the fourth rank in the Saint's Path. Don't let this nonsense distract you. Had anyone else failed like you, I'd have cut off their head. But you're different… You could be one of my pillars. Don't disappoint me, Raven Hart Cole."
Cole, head bowed, replied:
"Yes, Saintess."
But his fingers dug into the ground until they bled. He was angry, sad, and hated this woman for mocking his brothers.
Elaine continued:
"You may go to the vault and obtain a first-rank breakthrough potion, to reach the peak of the first rank and prepare for the second. I rely on you—don't fail me."
Cole replied calmly:
"Understood, Saintess."
Then, after a pause, he added:
"What about Peter's family? He was killed on the mission. Shouldn't they receive compensation?"
Elaine looked at him coldly, and a tremendous pressure burst from her, making him cough blood, then she said:
"Compensation? For what? He's dead—his value is gone. He's lucky I didn't kill his family for failing the mission the Ninth Lord entrusted me with."
Sir Cole felt a burning rage in his chest.
"Why? Because he was a commoner and talentless?"
He wondered silently, but didn't dare say it. He simply knelt down quickly and said:
"Forgive me, Saintess. I was foolish."
She looked at him coldly and said:
"Hmph… Very well, I accept your apology. Now go."
Cole responded quickly:
"Yes."
He stood, hid his bloodied hand, bowed calmly, and exited the palace.
He walked until he reached his home, entered, then descended to the basement and sealed it tightly. Once he was sure he was alone, he punched the wall hard:
BOOOOM
"Damn it..."
"Damn it..."
"Damn you, you bitch..."
Raven Hart Cole was furious—with himself, with his weakness. Had he been stronger, none of this would've happened. His brothers wouldn't have died before his eyes, and he wouldn't have been humiliated by that vile woman.
He sat on the ground, drew his sword, and began muttering with a voice full of hatred:
"I will get revenge... I will kill you, Elaine. And then I'll come back... and kill you too, Faceless Demon."
His face was stained with blood, but his expression was eerily calm—as if speaking of something trivial, not about "Saintess Elaine," who reached the peak of the third rank of the Sacred Path at a young age with supreme talent, and was promoted to Elder in the Sacred Temple.
Nor of the "Faceless Demon," the mysterious third-rank creature.
Christopher watched everything, amazed by the woman's cruelty, but didn't care much. It wasn't his business.
However, he decided to test his new ability on this man. He looked at a sword hanging on the wall and thought:
"Move, sword."
The sword moved and fell to the ground.
Christopher felt pleased, while Captain Cole looked at the sword, thinking it had fallen by accident, and rose to put it back.
Christopher looked at him and thought:
"He hates the Sacred Temple. He'll do anything for revenge."
Then a strange idea came to him:
"Right... Why not use him to obtain the resources for the Blood Awakening Potion? He surely holds some position in the temple. If I exploit his hatred and thirst for revenge, I'll get what I want, and in return, I'll give him techniques from the shining star. Both sides win."
Then he thought:
"But how can I use him without arousing suspicion?"
Christopher looked at the broken Raven Hart Cole, and a bold idea formed in his mind:
"Why don't I pretend to be the leader of an organization, convince him that he's worthy of joining it, and promise him the power he needs for revenge?"
The idea seemed feasible, especially with his new ability: influence the world.
Christopher closed his eyes for a moment, gathering his thoughts. The idea of playing the role of a "Master" of a secret organization felt tempting… and risky, but doable. If he played his cards right, he could plant a seed of hope in Raven Hart Cole's heart, offer him a false flame of vengeance… and most importantly, make him a tool to obtain the resources he needed.
Christopher took a deep breath, then murmured as he focused his awareness on Cole's body:
"Time to begin the experiment."
In his mind, he began forming a complete image of the "Master"—that mysterious entity he would now weave from imagination using his power. Suddenly, the darkness in the basement where Raven Hart Cole sat began to move slowly… as if the shadows themselves began to breathe, wavering on the walls like silent ghosts. Faint as whispers, cold as ice.
The shadows crept into every corner, until the basement was engulfed entirely… light vanished, the place disappeared. And suddenly, before Cole, the figure of a man formed, seated on a luxurious chair, his face completely shrouded in darkness, indistinguishable—but his presence was overwhelming.
A deep voice spoke, calm like the silence before a storm:
"Greetings, Raven Hart Cole."