James stirred as the morning light streamed through the old orphanage's windows, painting soft golden patterns across the wooden floor. The gentle chorus of birdsong filled the air, a peaceful contrast to the exhaustion that had weighed him down the night before.
His body felt heavier than usual—energy settling, muscles adjusting, the lingering effects of absorption still present. But it wasn't discomfort, just a quiet reminder of progress.
Blinking against the sunlight, he pushed himself upright, stretching out the stiffness in his limbs. The orphanage was just as he had left it—still, silent, untouched by the passage of time.
A new day had begun,
James went through his morning routine with practiced ease, washing away the remnants of sleep and shaking off the lingering fatigue from last night's absorption. His body felt different—stronger, more responsive—but the real test would come when he pushed himself in battle.
He ate quickly, tearing pieces of leftover bread and cheese, savoring their simple taste. But as he finished, he realized something odd—he was still hungry. His appetite had noticeably increased, his body craving more sustenance than usual. It made sense, he supposed. His strength had risen, and with it, his body demanded more fuel.
James adjusted his pack, ensuring everything was in place before stepping out into the crisp morning air. The warmth of the rising sun washed over him, and the distant chirping of birds made the orphanage feel momentarily less empty.
His first task was simple: herb collection. It wasn't a glamorous job, but it was necessary—he had taken up the mission yesterday, agreeing to gather the plants needed for basic recovery potions. They were essential for hunters, providing quick healing in the field. While low-grade, they were reliable, and his own stock was running thin.
The second task, however, was more personal.
Hunting stronger beasts. Testing his limits. Understanding the true extent of his recent level-up. His body felt different, charged with fresh energy, but experience had taught him that raw strength meant little if he didn't know how to wield it.
James moved deeper into the forest, his footsteps quiet against the undergrowth. The morning light filtered through the canopy in fragmented beams, illuminating the shifting foliage as he searched for signs of movement.
At first, everything seemed as expected—faint tracks from lesser beasts, scattered markings on trees, the distant rustling of prey moving through the brush. But then, something changed.
The usual sounds of the forest—birds chirping, leaves rustling—grew still.
James paused, his instincts sharpening. A disturbance. Something had unsettled the rhythm of the woods.
He crouched, examining the nearby earth. There—deep grooves in the soil, unlike the paw prints of common beasts. Larger. Heavier. And fresh.
Whatever made these tracks wasn't part of his original plan.
His grip tightened on his bow, a quiet thrill settling in his chest. He had been searching for a challenge. It seemed the forest was ready to provide one.
James quickly assessed his surroundings, scanning the dense foliage for an ideal vantage point. Ambushing an unknown target was risky, but waiting for it to reveal itself would grant him the advantage.
He moved swiftly, positioning himself behind a thick cluster of trees, partially concealed by the undergrowth. His bow rested in his grip, an arrow nocked but not yet drawn. The forest remained unnervingly quiet—whatever was moving through it had disturbed the natural flow.
The tracks led toward a narrow clearing ahead, perfect for an ambush. James steadied his breath, lowering his stance, controlling the rhythm of his heartbeat. The moment his prey appeared, he had to be ready—there would be no second chances.
Then, the distant crunch of movement. Slow. Heavy. Approaching.
His fingers tightened around the bowstring, anticipation thrumming through him.
The hunt was about to begin.
James remained perfectly still, every muscle coiled with anticipation. The silence stretched, the tension in the air palpable as the slow, deliberate footsteps drew closer.
Then—movement at the edge of the clearing.
The dense foliage parted, revealing the creature.
The creature fully emerged into the clearing, and James instinctively tensed. It wasn't just any common forest predator—it was a 'Shade Wolf', larger than any he had encountered before.
Its sleek, obsidian-black fur shimmered faintly, absorbing the ambient light like living shadow. Shade Wolves were elusive, their low-ranked classification deceptive—while not monstrous in size, their agility and intelligence made them dangerous foes. And this one… this one was at its peak.
Nearly a head taller than the wolves James had fought before, its muscles rippled beneath its coat, honed for rapid movement and brutal strikes. Its eyes, a piercing violet, locked onto his position—aware, calculating. It had sensed him.
Shade Wolves were known for their ability to meld into darkness, striking with precision the moment their opponent lowered their guard. This was no mindless beast; it was an experienced hunter. And he was now its target.
His fingers tightened around the bowstring. There was no backing down now.
James didn't hesitate. He shifted his weight, pulling the bowstring taut in a fluid motion, his sights locked onto the Shade Wolf's broad chest.
The arrow flew, cutting through the air with deadly precision.
The Shade Wolf reacted instantly. Its muscles tensed, instincts kicking in as it twisted to the side. The projectile struck—not where he had aimed, but just shy of the mark, slicing into its shoulder. The beast let out a sharp growl, dark blood staining its fur as it staggered briefly.
But it didn't retreat.
Instead, the wound seemed to fuel its aggression.
With blinding speed, the wolf lunged, its form blurring as it closed the distance between them. James barely had time to nock another arrow before the creature was upon him, its violet eyes burning with predatory focus.
James reacted on instinct. The moment the Shade Wolf lunged, he twisted to the side, narrowly avoiding the beast's snapping jaws. The rush of air from its strike brushed against him, a reminder of just how close it had been.
He hit the ground in a roll, coming up with another arrow already nocked, heart pounding as the wolf skidded to a halt, recalculating its approach.
It was fast—faster than the ones he had fought before.
The beast wasted no time, darting toward him again, its movements precise, relentless. James fired off a shot mid-step, aiming for its legs, but the wolf anticipated the attack, twisting just enough to avoid the worst of it. The arrow grazed its hind leg, earning a snarl—but not stopping it.
Shadows flickered across the clearing as the wolf moved unpredictably, its body blurring in brief flashes—Shade Wolves weren't just agile, they had unnatural speed, slipping in and out of visibility under the right conditions.
James grit his teeth, shifting his stance, adjusting to its pattern. This wasn't going to be a simple hunt.
The real fight had just begun.
James darted toward the nearest tree, weaving between the trunks to break the Shade Wolf's line of attack. He knew better than to rely solely on his speed—the wolf was faster, more experienced. Instead, he had to make use of what was around him.
The forest was dense, filled with uneven terrain, fallen logs, and thick undergrowth. If he played this right, he could turn the wolf's speed against it.
He sidestepped a thick root just as the beast lunged again, its claws scraping against bark as it missed its mark by a hair's breadth. James pivoted sharply, using the moment to fire off an arrow—this time aimed at the ground ahead of the wolf's next movement.
The Shade Wolf landed awkwardly, its momentum faltering as it adjusted.
A brief opening.
James moved fast, scaling a lower-hanging branch, positioning himself at a height where he had clearer sight. The wolf was already recovering, violet eyes flashing with frustration, but James had gained a temporary advantage.