Rise Of The Monster Slayer

Chapter 8: Ascension

The warning from his new Predator's Instinct was the only thing that saved his life.

The skill seized his nervous system. The sky went black. A weight crashed down over the forest.

Aren did not look up. He did not waste a millisecond identifying the shape falling toward his tree. Adrenaline drove him. He threw himself outward into the night air.

Mid-fall, he triggered shadow burst. His trajectory bent sideways. He sailed across the gap toward a cluster of thorny oaks.

A few seconds later, the ironwood tree he had been resting on ceased to exist.

A set of razor talons hit the trunk. The impact sounded like a powder keg. The iron-hard tree splintered into thousands of jagged pieces. Wood rained onto the forest floor.

Aren crashed through the canopy of the neighboring oak. Thorns tore his leather tunic and his skin. He ignored them. The branches broke his fall. He dropped to the mud and rolled into the shadow of a moss-covered boulder. He looked up.

Circling back into the clouds was a Shadow-Rook.

Aerial predator. Wingspan wide enough to shadow an entire city block. Its feathers were not feathers. They were overlapping plates of dark steel. They ground together with a metallic shriek. Its eyes burned with yellow light. It searched the rubble below for the prey it had missed.

The bird screeched. The sound shook the bedrock. It rattled his hardened teeth. Angry that it had missed, it banked sharply away. Its steel wings cut through the clouds. It headed back toward the high peaks of the wasteland mountains.

Aren stayed still. His back pressed against the stone. He watched until the bird was out of sight. The sound of its wings faded into the wind.

He breathed out. He slid down the rock until he sat in the mud.

The euphoria of the past two days drained out of him. A cold reality replaced it. He had grown arrogant. Killing boars and lesser wolves with his bare hands had made him feel invincible. The system had given him power he had never dreamed of. The Shadow-Rook was a reminder of where he actually stood in the food chain.

He was stronger than a normal human. Yes. But the wasteland was home to things that could level cities and crush trees like dry twigs. To a creature like the rook, his stats meant nothing. He was a worm in the mud.

If he wanted to make it out of here alive, if he wanted to reach Asteria, make Darius pay, and protect Lily, strong was not going to be enough.

He needed to become terrifying. He needed to evolve.

"One more core," Aren muttered. His voice was cold. He gripped the hilts of his daggers. "I just need one more."

He spent the next day pushing his limits. He went deeper into the woods. The environment grew more hostile with every mile. The air was stuffy. It smelled of rotting meat. The underbrush grew thick enough to blot out the sky. The forest went dim.

His Predator's Instinct hummed at the base of his skull. It was a radar. It steered him clear of marked territories. Territories that belonged to things far too powerful to fight.

By nightfall, he found what he was looking for.

His shadow vision picked up a trail of red heat signatures. He tracked the trail for two miles. He moved like a predator. He reached a small clearing ringed by steep embankments.

Four Lesser Shadow Wolves rested in the center. They lounged in the dirt and gnawed on cracked femurs.

Aren did not rush in. Four wolves were dangerous. Manageable, if he used surprise. He needed the pack leader first. The largest one.

He scaled the trunk of an oak overlooking the clearing. His agility let him climb without a sound. His boots found purchase on the slick bark. He crept through the canopy. He positioned himself on a thick branch directly above the largest wolf.

He drew his two daggers. Dried blood stained the blades from earlier kills.

His heart beat slowly.

One core. That was all he needed to trigger Phase 2. The system had promised a major restructuring at ten cores. The key to surviving this nightmare was directly below him.

He tightened his grip. He shifted his weight. He prepared to drop.

Ten feet. Five feet. His muscles coiled. He was ready to fire shadow burst the second his boots hit the mud.

A roar shook the bedrock of the wasteland.

Not anger. Not a challenge. Terror.

The sound hit like a shockwave. It stripped the trees bare. It sent a tremor through the branch Aren crouched on.

The pack below ignored him. They did not bare their fangs. They did not look for a fight. They scattered. They whined like beaten pups. They sprinted into the thorny woods.

Aren froze on the branch. His daggers were raised. His Predator's Instinct screamed in his skull. A migraine bloomed behind his eyes. The clearing below him was empty.

He turned his head slowly toward the deep woods on his left.

Fifty yards away, the trunk of an old tree snapped in half. The timber crashed down. Dust and debris washed over the clearing.

Stepping through the ruined tree line was the Shadow Wolf Alpha.

The same beast that had slaughtered the recruits and left Aren for dead in the gorge.

Its pelt cracked with magical energy. Darkness clung to its frame. Its paws sank into the mud.

The Alpha stopped in the center of the clearing. Slowly, it tilted its head upward.

Its stare found him through the canopy. It pinned him in place.