James gasped, forcing his aching limbs to move, blinking past the blur in his eyes. Had it worked?
Then—he saw it.
The Emberfang Tiger lay motionless, embers sputtering, its massive body scorched, the fire in its molten eyes fading.
James exhaled sharply, his chest rising and falling in uneven breaths. His arms shook, blood dripping down his side. He had won—but by the slimmest margin possible.
Any slower, any weaker—he wouldn't be standing.
He pushed himself up, muscles screaming in protest. The battlefield smelled of ash, blood, and burnt earth.
And yet—he had survived.
Barely.
James staggered forward, his breath uneven, his body aching from the brutal fight—but he wasn't done yet.
The Emberfang Tiger lay motionless before him, its flames finally extinguished, leaving behind a charred yet magnificent carcass. Even in death, the beast radiated raw power, and its remains were valuable.
He knelt beside it, ignoring the sharp pain in his wounded side, and pressed his palm against its cooling chest. Channeling a faint pulse of arcane energy, he felt the remnants of its lifeforce ripple beneath his touch.
The monster core.
With careful precision, James carved through the beast's black hide, revealing the gleaming emberstone core, pulsing faintly with residual flame energy.
He worked quickly, extracting claw shards infused with fire, hardened obsidian-striped fur, and fragments of flame-infused bone—all highly valuable materials for armor, weapons, or alchemy.
By the time he finished, the battlefield was silent, save for the distant crackling of dying embers.
James exhaled, securing the salvaged items into his pack. Wounded, exhausted—but victorious.
This hunt had nearly cost him everything—but it had been worth it.
---
James weighed the emberstone core in his palm, feeling the faint pulse of lingering energy within it. A mid-intermediate rank core—far beyond what he should even consider using at his current level.
The thought crossed his mind—absorbing its power, using it to accelerate his cultivation, pushing past his limits. The sheer flame energy inside could refine his abilities, strengthen his runes, enhance his arcane control.
But just as quickly, he dismissed the idea.
The risk was too great.
A core of this rank wasn't just potent—it was volatile. The sheer density of flame essence within it could easily overwhelm his body, destabilizing his energy flow. At best, he'd be incapacitated for weeks. At worst… he didn't want to consider the alternative.
He exhaled sharply, gripping the core tightly before securing it into his pack. Not yet.
For now, he'd find another use for it. Perhaps in crafting, in trade, or as a bargaining chip—but not in cultivation. Not until he was truly ready.
Wounded but victorious, James glanced at the charred battlefield, the lingering embers still flickering weakly in the air.
James exhaled sharply, scanning the battlefield with narrowed eyes. Smoke, blood, and scorched earth surrounded him—signs of struggle that would undoubtedly attract other predators.
He wasn't in shape for another fight. Not now.
Gritting his teeth, he forced himself forward, each step a reminder of the deep wounds seared across his body. He needed cover—somewhere defensible, hidden, away from any wandering beasts drawn to the scent of blood.
His eyes darted toward the dense thicket beyond the rock formations—a narrow gap between towering boulders, partially obscured by overgrown vegetation. A tight entrance, difficult to access, but perfect for staying out of sight.
Pushing past the burning ache in his limbs, he staggered toward the concealed space, forcing his way through the foliage and into the natural alcove beyond. A shallow cave. Rough, uneven stone. Limited visibility from the outside.
It would do.
James slumped against the rocky wall, exhaling deeply, forcing his trembling hands to inspect his wounds. Deep gashes. Burnt flesh. Exhaustion weighing him down like lead.
He reached into his pack, pulling free a small vial of infused healing serum—weak, but enough to stop the worst of the bleeding. He grimaced as he poured it over the open wounds, feeling the magic sizzle against his damaged flesh.
This was only a temporary reprieve
For now, he was safe.
But not for long.
James pressed his back against the rough stone of the alcove, his breath steady despite the aching wounds searing across his body.
Then—he heard it.
Snarls. Clawed feet tearing through dirt. The unmistakable sound of flesh being ripped apart.
The corpse of the Emberfang Tiger was no longer his concern—it had already become a battleground.
Through the narrow gap in the foliage, he caught glimpses of beasts of varying sizes converging, their hunger driving them into an uncontrollable frenzy. Some had scaled hides, others fur streaked with unnatural energy, but all had the same intent—devour, evolve, survive.
A smaller predator lunged for the carcass, only to be instantly gutted by a larger, more vicious opponent, its remains barely hitting the dirt before being consumed. The cycle continued—every beast that arrived was either predator or prey, no middle ground.
James clenched his fists, ignoring the throbbing pain. If he had stayed just a minute longer, it wouldn't have been the Emberfang Tiger they'd been fighting over—it would've been him.
The sounds of battle intensified—roars, shrieks, bones snapping. It wouldn't last long. The strongest would rise, the weaker torn apart, consumed, forgotten.
James remained upright, his back against the rough stone, his breathing measured. Rest was necessary—but he couldn't afford to fully let his guard down.
The distant snarls and clashes of beasts still echoed beyond his hiding spot, each one a grim reminder that the battlefield was far from safe.
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