Kael didn't know how long he lay there—seconds, minutes—time blurred beneath the weight of pain. The Nightfang's essence still tore faintly under his ribs, his arms trembled uncontrollably, and even the simple act of breathing felt like dragging shards of ice through his lungs.
He had nothing left.
Nothing.
So of course the forest chose that moment to remind him that weakness was not a privilege it allowed.
A single branch snapped—loud, deliberate, cutting through the silence with the confidence of something that owned the dark.
Kael's heart lurched.He tried to push himself upright, but his arms buckled on the first attempt, dropping him face-first into the cold dirt. His second attempt wasn't much better; he managed to sit halfway before dizziness clawed his vision sideways.
He was shaking too hard to pretend he was ready.
And then it stepped through the brush—like a shadow peeling away from a tree.
A Woodland Strider, Rank 1.
Long, bark-textured limbs.Eyes like cold glass.Hooves sharp enough to crack stone.Antlers curved like hooked blades.
Kael's stomach clenched.
He couldn't even lift his dagger straight.
His hand trembled violently, the blade wobbling in his grip. He could barely stand. His ribs still screamed from the Nightfang's kicks. His breath came too fast, too shallow.
He wasn't ready for another fight—not even a small one,let alone this.
But the Strider didn't care.
Predators didn't wait for their prey to gather strength.
It charged.
Kael tried to dodge, but his weakened body lagged behind his instincts. The Strider's hoof slammed into his forearm, sending the dagger flying into the dirt. Pain exploded up his arm like lightning. He cried out, stumbling backward—
—and tripped over a root, collapsing onto his back.
The Strider's next strike hammered into the ground next to his head, spraying him with dirt. He rolled desperately, breath ragged, ribs throbbing with each movement. His vision pulsed black at the edges.
He couldn't keep this up.
He couldn't even stand properly.
The Strider's hoof carved a shallow cut across his shoulder as it charged again, leaving a burning line of pain. Kael staggered upright, gasping, clutching his side.
He needed the dagger.
He needed anything.
He threw himself toward the blade, but the world spun violently, nausea rising in his throat. He fell to his knees, scrambling blindly. The Strider's shadow loomed—
—he grabbed the dagger just as the beast lunged.
He barely got the blade up in time.
Its weight slammed into him, driving him backward until his spine cracked against a tree. The impact knocked the breath from his lungs. His fingers almost slipped from the dagger's hilt.
The Strider snarled, antlers grinding dangerously close to his throat. Its hooves dug into the soil, pushing harder, trying to crush him against the trunk.
Kael's legs trembled. He could barely keep the dagger between them.
His vision warped.His chest burned.He felt himself sliding down the bark—
—and pure instinct lashed through him.
Not strength.Not flame.Just a refusal to die like this.
He twisted the dagger sideways, driving the blade between the Strider's ribs. The beast shrieked, jerking back, its blood splattering across Kael's arm. He collapsed to the ground again, unable to hold himself up.
The Strider staggered—but it didn't fall.
It turned back toward him, limping, furious, eyes burning with predator certainty. Kael tried to stand, but his legs folded beneath him. He crawled backward, dragging himself across the forest floor, ribs screaming with each breath.
The beast charged one final time—
—and Kael forced his shaking body forward, driving all his remaining strength into a blind, upward thrust.
The dagger pierced soft flesh beneath the jaw.
The Strider convulsed violently, its momentum knocking Kael flat as it collapsed on top of him. The weight crushed his ribs, forcing a choked cry from his throat. He shoved it aside with trembling arms, rolling onto his back, gasping like he'd been underwater for minutes.
His body refused to move.
His breath refused to steady.
Every inch of him felt torn, bruised, burning.
But the Strider was dead.
Barely.Just barely.
He didn't even feel triumph. Only the raw, bitter reality that he had survived by instinct and stubbornness—not skill, not strength.
It took everything he had left to sit up, fingers numb as he cut into the beast's chest. He found the green core by touch rather than sight; his vision had blurred into indistinct shapes.
The core pulsed gently in his shaking palm.
He didn't want to refine it.
Not like this.Not when his body was already breaking.Not when pain still throbbed under his ribs like a heartbeat.
But he had no choice.
If he stopped now, his body would collapse completely, and sunrise would find him torn apart by something stronger.
He pressed the core to his abdomen.
The pain hit instantly.
It felt like roots tearing through his organs, like vines twisting inside his ribs. His back arched involuntarily, a hoarse cry ripping from his throat. His fingers clawed the earth hard enough to draw blood from his own palms.
He couldn't breathe.
He couldn't think.
He couldn't even scream properly.
The Strider's essence slammed against his unstable core, scraping, tearing, forcing its way in. His body tried to reject it. His core trembled dangerously, threatening collapse. Every nerve burned.
Minutes felt like an eternity.
And then—slowly, reluctantly—the essence was accepted.
Not fully.Not cleanly.But enough.
Kael collapsed onto his side, shaking uncontrollably, breath broken and wet-sounding. The ache in his ribs pulsed with every heartbeat. His vision darkened in slow, creeping waves.
But beneath all of that—
his core trembled with a faint, fragile pulse.
Stronger.Barely stronger.But alive.
And Kael, barely conscious, whispered the only thought left in him:
"Please… let that be the last one tonight…"
The forest did not answer.
But Kael finally slipped into unconsciousness, bloodied, battered, and clinging to a sliver of strength that could barely be called hope.