Chapter 285: Golden Hunt [2]

Darion stood over the corpse, his breathing heavy, his heart pounding. The fight had been quick but intense, a true test of his skills. The moves had worked. The golden light had flowed. He had faced a real creature and emerged victorious.

He smiled, a sense of satisfaction washing over him. He was beginning to feel like a real fighter.

He continued deeper into the forest, his confidence growing with each step. The success against the Bogart had boosted his morale, and he was eager to test himself again. He encountered a wolf next, a lean, gray creature with sharp eyes and bared teeth. It circled him, its movements cautious, its gaze fixed on his throat.

Darion raised his sword, his body settling into the familiar stance. The wolf lunged, its jaws snapping toward his arm. He sidestepped, moving through the first sequence, the golden light rippling from his blade. It struck the wolf in the side, knocking it off balance. The creature yelped, its body tumbling to the ground.

He moved through the second sequence, the golden ball of energy shooting forward and striking the wolf in the chest. The creature went still, its body lying motionless on the forest floor.

Another victory. Quick and clean.

He encountered another Bogart soon after, larger and more aggressive than the first. It charged at him, its claws extended, its mouth open wide. Darion moved through the fifth sequence, a bend, a roll, a swerve left, a swerve right, then upward. The large golden ball emerged, striking the Bogart in the chest. The creature staggered, its body cracking, but it didn’t fall.

He finished it with the sixth sequence, five waves of golden light shooting forward, each one more powerful than the last. They struck the Bogart in rapid succession, overwhelming it, and it collapsed into a motionless heap.

Then he stumbled upon a pack of wild deers. They were grazing in a small clearing, their heads lowered, their bodies relaxed. Normally, deers weren’t aggressive.

They were gentle creatures, more likely to flee than fight. They had been hunted for centuries, had learned to fear humans and run at the first sign of danger.

But these deers were different. They had wild fangs, sharp and glistening, protruding from their mouths like tiny daggers. Their eyes were red, their bodies tense, their muscles coiled. They were nothing too dangerous, but they were real enough to challenge him.

One of them spotted him and let out a sharp cry. The others turned, their eyes locking onto him, their fangs bared. They were ready to attack.

Darion raised his sword, his body settling into the familiar stance. He moved through the first sequence, the golden light rippling from his blade. It struck the lead deer in the chest, knocking it backward. The creature stumbled, its body reeling from the impact, but it quickly recovered, lunging forward with renewed aggression.

He moved through the second sequence, the golden ball of energy shooting forward and striking another deer. The creature staggered, its body cracking, but it kept coming.

The third sequence followed, the curved golden light slashing through the air and cutting into a third deer’s side. The creature let out a cry of pain, its body faltering.

Darion moved through the fourth sequence, the golden hole of energy piercing through a fourth deer’s chest. The creature collapsed, its body falling to the ground, still and silent.

But there were still more. The pack was larger than he had expected, and they were relentless, their red eyes blazing with fury. He used the fifth sequence, the large golden ball emerging and striking two deers at once. They collapsed, their bodies crumpling to the ground.

He finished the rest with the sixth sequence, five waves of golden light shooting forward and striking the remaining deers. They fell one by one, their bodies lying motionless on the forest floor.

The clearing was quiet now, the only sound his heavy breathing. He stood among the corpses, his sword still raised, his body trembling with exhaustion. He had done it. He had defeated the entire pack.

He felt the thrill of victory, a surge of pride that made him smile. The moves had worked. The training had paid off. He was a fighter now, not just a Necromancer who hid behind his undead. He could stand on his own, could face enemies with his own strength.

He lowered his sword, his body relaxing. The hunt had been a success.

---

He decided to focus on the Borrowed Sight now. He summoned the undead bird again, sending it high into the sky. Through its eyes, he scanned the forest below, searching for more creatures. He spotted a wolf in the distance, its body low to the ground, its eyes scanning the trees.

He commanded the bird to dive. It shot down like an arrow, its claws extended, its green eyes glowing. The wolf looked up, its eyes wide with surprise, but it was too late. The bird struck, its claws tearing into the wolf’s back. The creature let out a cry of pain, its body crumpling to the ground.

The bird rose again, its claws dripping with blood. The wolf lay still, its body broken and lifeless.

Darion smiled. The Borrowed Sight had worked perfectly. He had seen the wolf from above, had guided the bird to its target, and had killed it with a single strike. It was efficient, deadly, and incredibly satisfying.

He dismissed the bird and unsummoned it, its body dissolving into green light. The forest was quiet again, the only sound his own breathing.

He decided to head back to Percvale, satisfied with the progress. He had tested his skills, honed his abilities, and proven to himself that he was more than just a Necromancer. He was a fighter, a hunter, a warrior.

He was beginning to feel like a real fighter.

As he walked through the forest, his steps light and easy, he thought about the future. There was still so much to do, so much to build, so much to protect. But for now, in this moment, he allowed himself to feel proud of what he had accomplished.

He smiled and continued walking, the forest opening up before him, the path to Percvale clear and inviting.