Dorian stood over the grey, moss-coated granite boulder, the cool, damp air of the forest floor swirling around his tattered boots. His arm was a rigid spear, outstretched toward the dense canopy, his two fingers locked in a gun-like gesture. It wasn't the first time he'd assumed this stance; after the bandit attack—he realized that his fancy energy blade was a massive drain on his core—Dorian had been obsessed. He'd spent every spare moment since practicing ways to maximize lethal damage while minimizing energy usage.
The energy blade, for all its dazzling effect and cutting power, was too taxing and could only be used a handful of times. It was a sustained release, bleeding his internal reserves with every swing. Then an idea came to him on one sleepless night, staring into the flickering embers of a fire: compression. Not a sustained field, but a violent, hyper-pressurized burst.
That's when the Compressed Energy Projectile—the 'finger-gun' as he morbidly nicknamed it—was born. It was a tiny ball of pure, condensed force, traveling near the speed of sound. In a desperate pinch, it was fast, precise, and most importantly, required only a tiny, disciplined pulse of compressed energy from his high-level 1 core.
The attack cleanly hit it's mark and Dorian. Could hardly believe the damage
It was during the final, frantic minutes of the leopard's and sparrow's clash that Dorian made this critical observation. The sparrow, a master of flight, was an uncoordinated mess when the leopard finally lunged. It had maintained a wide, almost paranoid distance, only closing in for quick, punishing dives. This indicated a critical weakness: its close-quarters combat was poor compared to its long-range attacks, and perhaps, more importantly, its natural defense—its feathers—was lacking as compared to the leopard pelt.
Screech!
The sound tore through the forest, a sound of agony and pure, undiluted shock. The sparrow had a look of agony , the attack had caught the sparrow mid-flight, shredding the underside of its left wing near the humerus. The massive bird tumbled from the sky, amidst a flurry of crimson-tipped feathers , fluttering mass of broken bone. Blood, thick and dark, spattered the forest floor and the inert, heavy body of the deceased Iron-Hide Leopard.
The sparrow, with a sickening thud, fell next to the leopard corpse. It was still alive, the light in its yellow eyes burning with furious, panicked pain, but it was seriously injured. Its massive wings flapped weakly, churning up dirt and debris in a desperate, futile effort. An injured wing was akin to a deathblow for an aerial predator. It tried to drag itself away, but the weight of its body and the severity of the injury made any movement a pathetic crawl.
"Dorian! What are you doing? That thing can kill us easily!" Kael's voice was a ragged whisper, laced with pure horror. He was frozen, clinging to the boulder . Kael had seen the damage the sparrow inflicted—the deep gashes on the leopard's skin—and his mind could not reconcile the current, struggling creature with the beast that moments ago was raining death from above.
Dorian, however, was in a strange, almost detached state of analytical calm. The adrenaline rush was counterbalanced by the cold, hard logic of opportunity.
"Relax, Kael. Look at it," Dorian said, his tone casual, almost bored, though his heart was thrumming in anticipation. "It's exhausted from the fight, its mana is depleted, and its wing is shattered. On the ground, what can a bird do? It's not a snake or a wolf."
He stepped out, placing one cautious foot in front of the other, his eyes locked on the sparrow. The bird saw him, and its screech intensified, a rattling, guttural sound of rage. It tried one last, violent lurch, its beak snapping air mere inches from Dorian's boot, but the effort only brought a fresh, gushing spray of blood from its injured wing.
Dorian approached carefully, ensuring he remained outside the striking range of its formidable beak and talons. He stopped about two feet away. For a fleeting second, he felt a strange pang—not of pity, but of respect for the apex predator's fight.
He extended the index finger of his right hand.
Bam.
The sound was sharp, like a small-caliber weapon, instantly drowned out by the heavy, meaty sound of the projectile impacting the sparrow's skull. A fine, crimson mist of blood erupted where the compressed energy hit. The bird's body went instantly limp, its terrible, yellow eyes glazing over, fixed on the sky it would never return to.
Dorian was beyond elated, a rush of accomplishment making his knees feel weak. Such incredible luck! To stumble upon two powerful magical beasts locked in a death battle, and to execute the finishing blow with a single, minimal-energy attack—it was an unimaginable .
"Kael, quick, come and help me," Dorian ordered, his voice laced with joy. Kael, still pale, emerged slowly, approaching the corpses as if he expected both the leopard and the sparrow to spring back to life, and devour him.
"Move faster, Kael! Their blood scent will attract other beasts!"
That warning brought back to his senses Kael. .
First, Dorian knelt by the Iron-Hide Leopard. He reached into its maw and pulled out the mana stone.
Upon touching it, a familiar warmth pulsed into his hand. His suspicion was confirmed: this was a Level 4 mana stone, a tressure to any lesser wizard. He quickly put it away in a small, in his bag.
Next was the skinning. Using Kael's hunting knife they began the slow, messy process of separating the leopard's massive pelt from its carcass. Dorian took the lead, his hands surprisingly steady and knowledgeable. He'd studied the anatomy of magical beasts in his rudimentary biology class—a class he'd once mocked as useless theory—but now, his knowledge of muscle groups, connecting fascia, and critical points was paying off handsomely. The pelt of an Iron-Hide Leopard was incredibly valuable. It was highly resistant to low-level magical attacks and physical damage, and because magical beast parts always retained a fraction of the creature's innate power, this pelt would fetch a good price from a guild or a high-end blacksmith or magical tailor.
"Cut shallower here, Kael. We want the full thickness of the hide, not a perforated mess. Think of it as peeling a fruit, not hacking a vegetable," Dorian instructed, his brow furrowed in concentration. Kael followed the instructions, the two working in a synchronized, grim silence, the only sounds the scraping of the blade and the heavy, wet tearing of tissue.
Finally, the most valuable part: the cores. Dorian carved deep into the chests of both beasts, expertly locating the concentrated power source and extracting them from the area near their hearts. These cores were also valuable as they were the engine of the beast. They had limitless uses, from powering magical constructs to being the essential ingredient in powerful magical items, potions, and high-level alchemy.
He retrieved the Leopard's core first: a bright orange sphere,causing the temperature of the area to rise abit. Then, the Sparrow's core: light green crystal, pulsating with a whistling sound ,the wind affinity .
They had struck gold. No, they had struck a vein of pure, concentrated magical wealth.
After carefully gathering the pelt, the mana stone, and the cores, Dorian and kael started walking away, leaving the bloody mess behind. The corpses would serve as stepping stones for other creatures, Magical beasts level up by consuming the magical essence or bodies of other beasts or powerful mana-infused flora. Remaining near such a prize was an invitation to a fight they could not afford.
Dorian had an undeniable spring in his step, his heart pounded with excitement in hus chest. His gamble—the bold, perhaps insane, decision to wait for the fight to conclude and risk the finishing blow—had paid off beyond his wildest dreams. He was acutely aware of the risk: if the Sparrow had noticed their presence, if it had dodged the attack both he and Kael would now be nothing but bloodied mince on the forest floor.
As they put distance between themselves and the slaughter, Dorian let his mind linger on the Sparrow's core, which he was now absently turning over in his palm. It was a beautiful, terrifying object. He was certain of its classification: a Peak Fledgling, a mere step away from becoming a true Apex predator. He, a High-Level 1 Wizard, had just defeated the equivalent of a High-Level 2 Lesser Wizard.
This led him back to the single, most important question: How powerful is the Energy Affinity that it could breach such a massive level difference?
A high-level 1 wizard fighting a high-level 2 beast, let alone a peak fledgling, was suicide. The difference in mana reserves, arsenal of skills and magical power was astronomical. Yet, the Compressed Energy Projectile, the simple, focused burst of energy had punched through the beast's defense and ended its life instantly.
Now, Dorian was absolutely sure. The Artifact Spirit hadn't lied to him in that strange, space. This wasn't a standard, run-of-the-mill affinity; this was, unequivocally, a Special Grade Affinity. The true extent of its power, its potential for focused destruction, was only just beginning to reveal itself.
The thought of the Artifact Spirit led to a sudden, sobering realization. His clothes had been stolen by the kid—including the emerald jewel that contained the Artifact Spirit. The Spirit had promised him guidance on how to train . But without the crystal, without the physical connection... how was the Spirit going to guide him now? He was stranded in the wilderness, having just made the biggest magical score of his life, but entirely cut off from his only mentor.
Well, he thought, shoving the problem into the back of his mind, I'll cross that bridge when I get to it. For now, the goal remains: reach Low-Level 2. The crystal will certainly help with that , Dorian said thought to himself as he felt the mana stone.
After a solid hour of brisk walking, Dorian and Kael found a colossal, ancient oak, its heart hollowed out by time and perhaps a controlled fire. It was just large enough for the two of them to settle inside. The night had just begun, the forest now shrouded in a heavy, darkness punctuated by the eerie, clicking and humming sounds of nocturnal magical insects.
Dorian was incredibly excited, a type ofjoy coursed through him like a child who had just received the perfect Christmas toy. He held the mana stone and two magical cores, feeling their vibrant energies, and allowed himself a small, rare smile.
Little did he know, the very objects he clutched had become a beacon. In the dark, of the magical forest the other magical beasts felt the condensed mana like sharks drawn to blood many of them gathered to Dorians location,all the while Dorian was lost in thought thinking about his major haul.