Novel Full Chapter 511: Just A Little More
Chapter 511: Just A Little More
The Forest of Twin Disasters did not rest.
Neither did Damien.
While others trained within reinforced walls and dreamed of futures still distant, Damien moved through shadow and blood, his senses stretched outward as he hunted for one thing alone—essence cores.
Luton floated beside him, its translucent body pulsing faintly, rhythmically, like a heart that wasn’t quite there. The slime had grown noticeably larger since entering the forest, its surface no longer perfectly smooth. Ripples moved beneath its skin, and now and then, faint star-like specks flickered within its body.
It was close.
Very close.
Damien could feel it—not through any system prompt or notification, but through instinct and experience. Luton was on the verge of a breakthrough, and whatever lay beyond that line would not come easily. The slime needed essence. Massive amounts of it. Not diluted scraps, not low-grade leftovers.
It needed strong cores.
Damien exhaled slowly as he crouched atop a fallen tree, eyes scanning the terrain below. The forest here was deeper than before, older. Trees grew thicker and taller, their trunks twisted and layered with hardened bark that looked closer to stone than wood. The mana density was higher too, pressing lightly against his skin like invisible humidity.
“This area should do,” he muttered.
He dropped down soundlessly.
The moment his boots touched the forest floor, movement rippled through the undergrowth.
A pack of mana beasts emerged—sleek, long-bodied creatures with six legs and elongated skulls lined with needle-like teeth. Razor Lynxes. Grade Four. Fast. Coordinated. Dangerous in numbers.
There were nine of them.
They didn’t roar or threaten. They simply moved.
Damien welcomed it.
The first lynx lunged.
Damien stepped forward instead of back.
His fist drove straight into its skull.
The impact shattered bone and essence simultaneously, the beast collapsing mid-leap as its body twisted unnaturally before hitting the ground. Damien didn’t pause. He pivoted, ducked beneath snapping jaws, grabbed a second lynx by the throat, and slammed it headfirst into the earth hard enough to crack the soil.
A third raked claws across his side. Blood sprayed.
Damien ignored it.
He seized the creature’s forelimb, twisted, and tore it free before driving an elbow into its neck. Essence burst outward like steam escaping a ruptured pipe.
Luton surged forward eagerly, engulfing the fallen beasts in seconds, their corpses dissolving into its body. Two cores were spat back out—Damien caught them mid-air and stored them immediately.
The remaining lynxes hesitated.
That hesitation cost them everything.
Damien moved like a storm unleashed.
He didn’t rely on flashy techniques or elaborate maneuvers. Every movement was efficient, brutal, and final. A kick crushed ribs. A palm strike ruptured internal organs. A thrown stone—reinforced with condensed essence—pierced an eye and detonated inside a skull.
Within a minute, the forest floor was littered with twitching bodies.
Luton devoured the rest, growing visibly larger, its body swelling slightly before stabilizing again.
Damien wiped blood from his jaw and exhaled.
“Not enough,” he said flatly.
He moved on.
The next hunt was worse.
A Cragback Basilisk, Grade Four, nearly Grade Three in mass alone. Its hide was layered with mineralized scales that deflected blades and absorbed blunt force. Its body coiled through a rocky clearing, eyes glowing with dull amber intelligence.
It hissed, releasing a cloud of corrosive vapor.
Damien leapt back, skin stinging as the vapor grazed him. He rolled, grabbed a jagged stone, and hurled it—not to kill, but to distract.
The basilisk lunged.
Damien met it head-on.
His shoulder slammed into its jaw, snapping its head sideways. He followed with a rapid series of strikes, each one targeting weak points between scales. The beast thrashed, tail whipping around and slamming into his ribs hard enough to send him flying.
He crashed through two trees before skidding to a stop.
Pain flared.
Damien stood up anyway.
Blood ran from his mouth. He spat it out and cracked his neck.
“Good,” he muttered. “At least you hit hard.”
The second exchange was deadlier.
Damien climbed the beast’s body, planting his feet against its scales as it writhed. He drove both fists down repeatedly, forcing essence into his blows until fractures spiderwebbed across the basilisk’s skull.
With a final roar, the beast collapsed.
Damien ripped the essence core from its chest himself—large, dense, pulsing with power.
He stared at it briefly.
Then tossed it to Luton.
The slime absorbed it greedily, its entire body glowing faintly for several seconds before dimming again. The star-specks inside multiplied.
Still not enough.
By the time the sun dipped lower, Damien had slain twenty-three Grade Four beasts.
His body ached. Cuts and bruises marked his skin. His breathing was heavier now, his muscles screaming with fatigue—but his eyes were sharp.
Focused.
Obsessed.
He hunted Stonehide Apes, crushing their reinforced limbs.
He hunted Void Antlers, dodging spatial distortions while breaking their necks mid-charge.
He even clashed briefly with a Grade Four demon, tearing it apart after a brutal exchange and feeding the entire corpse to Luton without hesitation.
Each kill added to the slime.
Each core pushed it closer.
And still, there was no breakthrough.
Night fell.
The forest grew louder.
Damien stood atop a ridge, staring down into a ravine where he could feel multiple powerful presences stirring.
“Last push,” he said quietly.
He descended.
The ravine was home to a colony of Thundermaws—hulking, bear-like mana beasts that generated electrical discharges with every movement. Five of them rose as Damien entered, sparks crackling across their fur.
They roared in unison.
Damien smiled grimly.
The battle was chaos.
Lightning scorched the ground. Trees exploded. The air filled with ozone and burning wood. Damien was thrown, slammed, electrocuted—but he kept moving.
He fought like a man possessed.
He tore into them bare-handed, tanking lightning to land killing blows. He shattered skulls, ripped out cores, crushed hearts. His essence flared brighter and brighter, pushing his body past safe limits.
At one point, he was on his knees, breath ragged, hands shaking.
Another Thundermaw charged.
Damien stood.
And killed it with a single punch to the chest that collapsed its entire ribcage inward.
When silence finally fell, the ravine was unrecognizable.
Smoldering.
Ruined.
Damien leaned against a rock, chest heaving.
Luton floated before him.
The slime was different now. It was both larger and denser.
Its body shimmered with internal light, the star-specks within it swirling like a forming constellation. Its presence pressed faintly against Damien’s senses—subtle, but unmistakably stronger.
On the verge.
Damien straightened slowly, exhaustion dragging at his limbs.
“Almost,” he murmured. “Just a little more.”
He looked deeper into the forest, toward where stronger beasts and darker presences waited.
And without another word, he went hunting again.