Eryndor narrowed his eyes. "Are you trying to trap me?"

  Arayn scoffed. "Fool. Just take down one mother-class Bloodthorn Beast. I'll handle the rest."

  A massive claw swiped toward Eryndor, but he twisted out of the way, his feet skimming the forest floor. "Are you sure?" he asked, glancing toward a hulking figure in the distance. "That thing—the one bigger than the mother-class ones—that's an alpha-class monster. And they are all level 20! We don't know if they have reached expert class."

  "Don’t make me repeat myself," Arayn replied.

  Eryndor sighed. "Okay, okay," he muttered.

  Suddenly, a suffocating aura radiated from Eryndor’s body. As a claw barreled toward him, he caught it with one hand, gripping it effortlessly. With a sharp motion, he hurled the mother-class monster into another, their massive bodies colliding with a deafening crash.

  Five more beasts charged him. Eryndor dropped into a low stance, his sword gleaming as he drew it. In an instant, he vanished, becoming a blur of motion. When he reappeared behind the creatures, one of them froze, split cleanly in half before collapsing to the ground.

  "Not bad," Arayn said. He smirked, dropping from the tree. "Now it’s my turn."

  Arayn activated his ultimate trump card, [Dark Pact], feeling raw power course through his veins at the cost of his life force. The beasts shifted their attention to him, their feral eyes gleaming with malice as they charged.

  Arayn extended his palm and uttered words in the ancient demon tongue, "Z’rath Khaal Umbryn, vrylak’hir dross malkaar!"

  From his hand, black tendrils surged forth, writhing like living shadows. They snaked through the air before striking the mother-class Bloodthorn Beasts. The beasts froze mid-motion, their roars choking into silence as the tendrils plunged into their massive forms. One by one, they toppled, the ground trembling beneath the weight of their lifeless bodies.

  The alpha-class Bloodthorn Beast roared in fury. Its jaws widened, an ominous glow forming as it began gathering energy into a dense sphere.

  Watching from the side, Eryndor’s eyes widened in shock. "That’s the Beast Ball! Only elite-class monsters can use it. It’s dangerous, Arayn!"

  Arayn shot him a calm glance. "Don’t panic. For an alpha-class monster, such talent is normal. Good—worthy opponent gives me a motivation to unleash my own."

  He extended his hand once more, his voice resonating with dark power. "Kharz'othan T’reth Kaath, drash’khaal vrinn lyssak!"

  The ground trembled as a colossal fang burst forth, towering like a spear. Arayn leaped onto its tip as it shot forward with incredible speed, aimed directly at the beast.

  The Bloodthorn Beast unleashed its energy ball, the radiant sphere colliding with the fang mid-air. The impact ignited a deafening explosion, a shockwave rippling through the battlefield.

  But Arayn had already anticipated it. Launching himself from the fang before the clash, he soared through the chaos and landed directly on the beast’s head. Pressing his palm against its thick hide, he unleashed [Soul Rend].

  "Z’rath Khaal!" Black tendrils erupted from his hand, tearing through the beast’s body from within. The alpha-class Bloodthorn Beast let out one final, agonized roar before collapsing in a lifeless heap.

  Arayn straightened, the dark energy dissipating from his body as he turned to face Eryndor, his expression cold and triumphant.

  [Level Up! You have reached Level 18]

  [Name: Arayn Azael

  Class: Demonic Acolyte

  Level: 18

  Strength: 25

  Dexterity: 23

  Constitution: 36

  Intelligence: 36

  Wisdom: 19

  Charisma: 29]

  Arayn’s gaze lingered on the message for a moment, his expression unreadable. Beside him, Eryndor let out a low whistle, his eyes wide with amazement. "I didn’t expect you to have the same ability as me," he said, his tone equal parts intrigue and disbelief.

  Arayn closed the notification with a swipe, turning his sharp gaze to Eryndor. "The result is similar, and I’d wager the cost is too, but our abilities are fundamentally different. Yours seems to stem from an innate gift."

  Eryndor blinked, startled. "How... how do you know that?"

  "You radiate yourself brightly enough for me to see it," Arayn replied. "And, frankly, your introduction was more than sufficient. I’ve learned what kind of person you are."

  Eryndor’s brows furrowed. "You figured me out from that little performance?"

  This book's true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.

  Arayn nodded, a faint smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "It was brief, but commendable. A splendid display. You entertained me well, so as a reward, I’ll let you accompany me on the hunt." He paused, his smirk sharpening into something more commanding. "You will hunt the monsters, and you will present their souls to me."

  Eryndor glanced at the lifeless Bloodthorn Beasts strewn across the ground and barked a short laugh. "Those beasts have no souls left. They’re just empty husks now. But fine, I guess I interrupted your hunt, and truth be told, I enjoyed our time together. I’ll share half the souls I gather today."

  Arayn’s eyes narrowed, his tone dripping with disdain. "Fool. I demand ninety percent. My time is precious, and I spent it on you. Consider it a rightful tribute."

  Eryndor’s jaw dropped, his disbelief spilling into a scoff. "You’re a tyrant!"

  Arayn didn’t flinch. "Exactly. And you approached this tyrant and learned from him. Are you impudent enough to not pay tribute to this tyrant?"

  Eryndor sighed, shaking his head. "You’re... quite a character, Arayn." After a moment of silence, he relented. "Fine. Sixty percent. Not a drop more."

  Arayn gave a faint nod, as if granting some unspoken approval. Without another word, the two turned and ventured to another spot, ready to hunt the next wave of beasts.

  ---

  Kaelion crouched low in the shadows, tucked away in a hidden alcove behind a stack of crates in the far corner of Saria's mansion. It was the perfect spot—concealed but with a clear view of the room where Saria and the mysterious blonde woman conversed.

  The mansion, located on the outskirts of the town, was quiet, its walls thick enough to muffle any sound, making it the ideal place for secrets to be exchanged. The flickering light of an orb cast strange, wavering shadows across the stone walls, where the two women stood, deep in conversation.

  Saria's face twisted in disbelief as she watched the fight unfold within the orb. "I can't believe it," she murmured, her hand gripping the edge of the table. "Arayn is still this strong?"

  The blonde woman, Aveline, stood calmly beside her. "Arayn is on par with me," she stated.

  Saria snapped her fingers, a sudden shift in her demeanor. "We have to ambush him before he enters the town. They’ll be exhausted from the hunt. This is the perfect opportunity."

  Kaelion’s eyes narrowed. He had been watching from his hidden spot, carefully observing their every move. As the conversation grew tense, he activated a small orb of his own, the crystal glowing softly as it recorded the scene. This was something Valen would want to see.

  Kaelion questioned himself, "What now?"

  A voice—Valen's—suddenly echoed inside his mind. "I can't believe Saria is working with the Heralds of the Skyfather."

  Kaelion’s brow furrowed. “Should we report this?” he thought.

  Valen replied, "No. Saria hasn't broken any rules."

  Kaelion nodded as he watched Saria and Aveline continue their discussion. "What should we do next?" he thought.

  “Follow them. When they move to ambush Arayn, you follow,” Valen’s voice instructed.

  ---

  Arayn’s [Cursed Fang] plunged deep into the body of the Bloodthorn Beast, the creature’s dying roar cut short by the final blow. The beast collapsed with a heavy thud, and Arayn stood over its fallen form. With a swift motion, he unsheathed his Soul Gathering Scroll and opened it. The scroll shimmered with an ethereal glow as the souls of the defeated beasts soared toward it, swirling into the parchment like a collection of tiny stars. The moment the last of the souls had entered the scroll, it snapped shut with a quiet whisper.

  Arayn turned his head as Eryndor approached. The man seemed to have finished his hunt as well.

  “Open your scroll,” Eryndor said.

  Arayn raised an eyebrow but complied. He opened his Soul Gathering Scroll once more, and the souls from Eryndor's scroll began to drift toward him, flowing smoothly into his own.

  “There,” Eryndor said, “I kept my promise.”

  Arayn nodded with a small grunt of acknowledgment. “Good,” he replied, his eyes scanning the horizon. “Make a bonfire. We’ll camp here for the night.”

  Eryndor raised an eyebrow in question. “Why not go back to the town?”

  Arayn’s expression darkened slightly. “I don’t like working half-assed,” he said. He motioned for Eryndor to get to work.

  Eryndor smirked. “Fine, but I don’t owe you anymore after today.”

  Arayn let out a quiet laugh. “You’ve done well enough.” He said it almost casually, his eyes still focused on the surrounding wilderness.

  Eryndor stepped forward and began to gather wood. He arranged the logs before pulling out a flint stone. Sparks flew from the stone, catching on the dry wood. With a few moments, a small fire crackled to life, its flames licking at the air as warmth spread outward. The light flickered in the growing darkness, casting long shadows across the ground.

  Meanwhile, Arayn walked a short distance and began to scatter a fine powder from a small pouch. The powder was a rare substance known for its ability to ward off most predators, its scent strong enough to make monsters hesitate. He was meticulous, ensuring a protective ring around their camp before stepping back, satisfied.

  With the fire now crackling, Arayn turned to Eryndor. “Can you cook?”

  Eryndor scratched the back of his head, a sheepish grin on his face. “That’s one thing I’m bad at,” he admitted.

  Arayn chuckled lightly and gave a wave of his hand. “Sit. I’ll handle the cooking.”

  Without waiting for a response, Arayn strode over to the nearest Bloodthorn Beast carcass. He pulled it toward the fire with ease, the massive form of the creature now an ingredient in his makeshift feast. Arayn drew a sharp, jagged knife and began to dismantle the beast. He worked quickly, his blade moving with the confidence of someone who had done this a thousand times before.

  Eryndor, watching from his seat near the fire, couldn’t help but feel a twinge of respect for Arayn. Even in the quiet moments, there was something dangerous about him—a quiet storm that had yet to fully unleash.

  Arayn glanced over at Eryndor, the corner of his mouth lifting in a half-smile. “Get comfortable. This will take a while.”

  As Arayn continued to work, methodically dismantling the beast’s body, Eryndor, who had settled near the fire to prepare their meal, glanced around and then looked at Arayn with a raised eyebrow.

  “By the way,” Eryndor began, “should we destroy that familiar now? It’s been following us for some time.”

  Arayn didn’t even look up from his task. “Let it be,” he replied with a dismissive wave of his hand. “That’s a low-level familiar connected to a statis surveying tool. That worm has to watch us directly from her nest. It’s better to know what your enemy is doing.”

  Eryndor nodded, considering the logic in Arayn’s words. “I see. Speaking of which…” He trailed off, eyes glinting. “Aren’t I also your enemy? What if I attack you while you sleep?”