Back at the Hunter Base...
In a secluded chamber at the hunter base, seven authoritative figures sat calmly—yet each radiated an overwhelming aura that made the very air feel heavier. These weren't mere officers; they were the revered Generals of the Hunter Base. Though rarely seen in the daily operations, their influence and renown extended far beyond the base, echoing across the entire region like legends whispered in the winds.
General Elicia Lincoln sat at the far end, her presence as striking as her reputation. Known across the lands as the White Sage, she was a master of precision and poise. Whispers among the ranks spoke of her singlehandedly facing four high-level abomination-class monsters... and emerging victorious without a single scratch. The weapon she wielded in that infamous battle? The Red Iron Flame Sword—one of the legendary blades said to burn with the fury of a dragon's heart. Its edge, enchanted by ancient flame runes, sliced through bone with the ease of a quill gliding across parchment.
Beside her sat General Godwin Anderson, a stoic man cloaked in mystery. His fame stemmed from a chilling rumor: enemies rarely lived long enough to see his sword unsheathed. Some even swore that Godwin, in moments of disdain, used a wooden training blade to cleave through his foes as if it were forged steel. No one knew the full truth. What they knew was simple—when General Godwin stood, even monsters hesitated.
Completing the circle were the formidable General Abraham Marpherson, the relentless tactician; General Joshua Holy, a man of serene brutality; and General Rolly Makram, known for his crushing strength and peerless defense. Each of them, war-hardened legends, took their seats around a long, rectangular table carved from spirit-infused wood, the surface polished to a mirror-like sheen.
Silence gripped the room like a vice, until a single voice broke through.
"Is that true?" General Elicia's voice was calm, yet her gaze held the sharpness of her legendary blade.
The others exchanged looks, brows furrowed in curiosity, then turned toward Ezekiel and Julius, the only two present who had witnessed the recent event firsthand.
Julius cleared his throat, a faint tremor betraying the memory in his mind. "I... don't even know what to call it," he said slowly. "That boy—he's strange. Dangerous, maybe. But strange above all. He doesn't seem highly ranked in sorcery... yet, I couldn't gauge his true level. It's like... he's hiding something deeper."
As Julius explained what he had seen, a subtle tension crept into the air. The generals did not gasp aloud, but their auras wavered ever so slightly—a silent testament to their disbelief. Yet, none of them lowered their guard. Their domino of dominance remained firm.
A murmur stirred the room, a low tide of cautious speculation, until General Elicia spoke again—her voice slicing through the unrest like a sword through silk.
"And where is the boy now?" she asked, tone calm but laced with authority.
The murmurs ceased instantly. All eyes fell once more on Julius.
"I heard... he left with Thorfinn," Julius answered.
A ripple passed through the room. Subtle nods, knowing glances—they all understood. General Thorfinn wasn't one to take interest in just anyone. If he moved, it meant something.
---
Meanwhile, deep within the woods—at General Thorfinn's private villa...
In a grand hall shaped like an arena, wide and bathed in twilight through the high arched windows, General Thorfinn, Alex, and his companions stood at the center of a warrior's sanctuary. Rows of weapon racks lined the walls—some bore wooden swords for practice, others gleamed with the deadly sharpness of real blades. At the heart of the hall, a raised wooden stage dominated the space, the floor scarred with marks of countless battles.
Training statues stood like silent sentinels, carved to mimic abominations and human foes alike. This wasn't just a training ground—it was a crucible, where weak wills were broken and forged anew. The scent of oiled steel and worn leather lingered in the air. And here, under Thorfinn's watchful eye, something far more dangerous than training was about to begin.
Seraphina and Zeke found themselves drawn to the wall where a dazzling collection of swords rested in polished racks. Their eyes widened with each blade they examined—every sword whispered stories of countless battles, forged in steel and etched in legend. Some glowed faintly with residual sorcery, while others radiated chilling bloodlust. Each one was a marvel, each one a weapon worthy of warriors.
As they admired the arsenal, a sudden shift in atmosphere caught their attention.
General Thorfinn had crossed his arms over Alex's shoulders, walking side by side with him toward the center stage. Alex tensed under the general's weight, his nerves unraveling with every step.
"Alex," Thorfinn began, his voice calm yet charged with hidden sparks, "I've been curious... really curious. What exactly are you hiding under that sleeve of yours?"
He gave a faint smile—a small gesture, yet heavy with challenge.
At that moment, Seraphina and Zeke's jaws nearly hit the floor. Though they were still preoccupied with the magnificent swords before them, Thorfinn's voice rang through the hall with the weight of thunder—divine, commanding. It was impossible not to hear him, even while distracted.
Meanwhile, cold sweat broke across Alex's brow. His hands rose in protest, his voice cracking under the pressure.
"N-no way! What?! Me... fight you? Quit joking, General! That's like comparing the heavens to the earth! This—this can't be serious!"
His heart thundered like war drums in his chest, his body trembling under invisible pressure.
But Thorfinn simply chuckled, shaking his head. "Don't misunderstand me, Alex. I said I want to fight you—but I never said I'd be using my full strength. When did I become a devil in disguise?"
He patted Alex's shoulder gently, the weight of his hand reassuring yet firm. "This is a favor, Alex. An opportunity. Many would kill for a chance like this. So let me ask you—when you face an enemy far stronger than you, will you tremble and flee... or will you stand tall and greet death like a true hunter?"
He stepped onto the stage without waiting for a reply. "The Hunter's Code doesn't honor the weak. It reveres bravery."
Alex froze—his body rigid as stone. Those words, simple yet powerful, sank deep into the marrow of his bones. He clenched his fists, eyes locked on Thorfinn's back. Something inside him began to stir... a fire slowly igniting in the core of his soul.
And then, laughter.
Low, mocking, familiar.
"Don't tell me, kid… You really don't know what to do?"
"Weak. Pathetic. Don't tell me you'll cower in fear when you face an enemy?"
Alex flinched. The voice echoed inside his mind like a haunting melody.
Kai.
His eyes darted around before he caught himself. No one else seemed to notice. Of course not—they couldn't hear what he could.
"You're talking to me... here?" Alex asked silently, his eyes twitching with disbelief. "You're not supposed to be real—not like this."
"Jump into the sky, let's see what they say," Kai taunted, his voice laced with cruel amusement.
Alex clenched his jaw. "You almost made me leap like a maniac. What would they have thought—me flying for no reason?"
Kai chuckled again. "Then stop shaking, kid. It's time to stop thinking like prey."
Alex's teeth ground together in frustration, but deep down, he knew Kai was right. The stage was no longer just wood and swords—it was a battleground for something more than strength. It was a test of resolve.
Alex furrowed his brows, his inner voice tense with frustration. "Why didn't you tell me you could contact me in the real world?"
Kai's voice echoed smoothly within his mind, laced with quiet amusement.
"Simple... you never asked. I figured you'd connect the dots yourself, boy."
Alex's jaw tightened. "How could I possibly know that? You told me you've been with me since the beginning, but not once did you show up like this!"
"You're right... That's on me," Kai admitted, his voice softening. "But now you know. I'm here—and I'm not going anywhere. Reach out, and I'll answer."
Alex exhaled slowly, his anger dimming into reluctant understanding. "Then tell me... what are your motives? Why now?"
Kai chuckled, the sound low and distant.
"Motives? Please. I just want to see you fight. Fight until you're strong enough to truly wield me. Right now, you're only scratching the surface—barely able to tap into five percent of my power without tearing yourself apart."
Alex's eyes twitched. "So… you want me to fight. Don't tell me you're about to lend me your power?"
"No, no, no..." Kai said firmly. "That would be suicide—for both of us. I'll only lend you my strength when there's no other choice. But now? You fight on your own."
"I see..." Alex muttered, sighing quietly.
"Of course. You've got to earn it. I've already done what I could—I've tuned the energy flowing through your meridians, made it infinite in potential. Sure, it's not in its purest form, but I've stabilized the pressure. If it were in its real state, we wouldn't need to wait for anything."
While this silent exchange unfolded, General Thorfinn stood patiently on the stage, arms crossed, a faint smile playing on his lips. Seraphina and Zeke, meanwhile, stood frozen—mesmerized and slightly nervous, trying to grasp what was about to happen.
Then suddenly, Alex blinked out of his trance.
Without hesitation, he stepped onto the stage and gripped a wooden sword tightly.
"Good... That's the spirit." Thorfinn's eyes shimmered with excitement. "Let's see what you've got, boy. This is going to be fun—for both of us."
Seraphina's heart skipped a beat. Zeke clenched his fists, barely breathing. Something electric filled the air.
Thorfinn, still unarmed, raised his hand. "Come, Alex. Show me what a future hunter looks like."
Without delay, Alex lunged forward, sword raised high. His instincts roared like wildfire through his veins.
Thorfinn didn't even flinch.
As Alex swung the blade toward his neck, Thorfinn's smile widened.
"Not bad… Good boy."
In a flash, the general's fist shot out—clashing directly against the descending wooden blade. But just as impact seemed inevitable, Alex twisted his body mid-air, flipping left with swift agility, slipping behind Thorfinn like a shadow.
Gasps erupted across the room.
He's behind him?! Seraphina's eyes widened.
Without hesitation, Alex aimed another strike at Thorfinn's unguarded neck. The blade sliced the air, precise and clean—but Thorfinn's reaction was sharper.
In a blur, he blocked the strike with his forearm.
BOOM!
The clash echoed like a thunderbolt across the training hall.
Thorfinn felt the force. It pulsed through his arm, sharp and undeniable.
Still, he grinned. "Too slow. You'll need more than that to land a hit on me."
The battle intensified. Sword against body, strike after strike. Alex gave everything he had, pushing beyond his own limits—but Thorfinn moved like a ghost, unshaken, unreadable.
Then suddenly—
SWOOSH!
Thorfinn stepped in, right hand cocked, and stopped a punch just inches from Alex's nose. The sheer pressure of the halted blow sent a shockwave that made Alex stagger back, shivering from the force that didn't even touch him.
"Done." Thorfinn declared with calm finality, lowering his hand with a satisfied nod.
Damn... He's even stronger than I thought. Was this just a test? Or... is it what I'm starting to suspect?
Alex fists clenched tighter around the wooden sword, his resolve burning brighter.
I can't go all in yet... but if I hold back too much—I'll never grow.