The twilight air of the Beast Vein Continent hung heavy with the scent of dust and distant storms, its wild pulse thrumming beneath my boots as I and Torren trekked back toward Dusk bane Outpost.
The clash with Kael, the mercenary hunting newly bonded Hunters, had left us shaken but alive, our chi-fueled escape through the ravine a testament to our growing skills. My Jawbreaker Beast Hammer hung across my back, its runes faintly glowing, while my lightning-laced ember coil scales crackled softly, my offensive strength foundation pulsing with fire and electricity. Torren, his gray-blue storm fang fur still bristling along his arms, walked with a predator's grace, his slit pupils scanning the horizon. The continent had saved us with its qi-disrupting pollen, but our survival felt like a small victory.
I broke the silence, my voice low. "That was too close. Kael's no ordinary rogue. And that Dragon has been pursing me for days now. How you holding up?" Torren grinned, fangs flashing, though his eyes flicked warily to the shadows. "Barely. My storm fang mode's fast, but that guy's blade was faster. I can hear a storm moving over the ridge, but I didn't hear him coming." He flexed my clawed hands, pale energy crackling. "My cultivation level is growing, though. My storm fang foundation has sharpened my senses— I could hear your heartbeat back there, clear as a drum. Even caught the wind shifting before that pollen hit. You?"
I nodded, tasting the air's faint ozone tang with my ember coil-heightened senses. "Second tier ember coil evolution's a game-changer. These lightning-laced scales boost my speed, and my strikes hit with a stunning jolt now. Not to mention the force of my melee strikes are now at 750 kilograms of force, not counting the hammer.
Sacred Breath technique's keeps my qi steady, and the mobility technique's double jump saved us. Hidden Dragon Palm was initial tricky, but after hours of training in the battle steeped essence I already cultivated it to its first level. Wind and lightning mix well." I paused, the memory of the ember coil's predatory urge flickering. "It's volatile, though. Had a moment where I almost lost control back there."
Torren's slit pupils widened. "Yeah, I get that too sometimes. The storm fang's instincts keep pushing me to chase, to hunt. Korren warned me about arrogance, but it's hard to rein in." He kicked a stone, his clawed toes digging into the earth. "We need to level up faster. Kael's on our tail now, and he's not stopping."
I gripped my hammer, "He's got speed and reflexes like I've never seen. Stolen cores, maybe. We need allies or more power—elixirs, tomes, something." My 750 iron coins could buy a chi booster once at Dusk bane, but the Hunters' Guild might offer leads on Kael. Our boots crunched along the trail, Dusk bane's torches flickering in the distance, a haven amidst the continent's dangers.
Twenty-five miles away, in a shadowed cave near the Iron spike Canyons, Kael knelt beside a smoldering fire, his curved blade laid across his lap. His dark leather armor was covered with dust and blood, his eyes glinting with a cold, relentless hunger.
A pouch at his belt held three Beast Cores—stolen from newly bonded Hunters, their faint glow pulsing in rhythm with his own qi. Kael's bond, a swift viper core, hummed within him, its armored essence sharpening his speed and reflexes but poisoning his mind with ambition. His clan had cast him out long ago, deeming him too reckless, too cruel. But the Beast Vein Continent rewarded strength, not honor.
He traced a finger along his blade, whispering to the cores. "I'll make them fear me" he muttered. Each stolen core fed his own, fast tracking his viper evolution. But it came with a high corruption risk. Newly bonded youths like Ash and Torren were easy prey, their cores pure and potent, ripe for harvesting.
Kael's lips curled into a smirk. Ash's lightning-laced qi and Torren's storm scent were strong signatures, and their initial escape was only a delay. The continent's chaos—its storms, its beasts—would drive them to him eventually. Kael stood, sheathing his blade. A mercenary's life was coin and power, and Dusk Bane's black markets paid well for cores.
But his true goal was greater: to forge a Sovereign-class bond, to rival the dragons that scarred the canyons. Ash and Torren were steppingstones, their cores just another sacrifice to his ascension. He slipped into the night, his steps light, leaving only a faint trail in the dust.
I and Torren reached Dusk Bane's gates, the market's din washing over us. My scales crackled, Torren's fur bristled, both of us ready for the next move.