David and Anna pressed deeper into the wilds, every sense on edge as they searched for a place to vanish.
The scrub had given way to thicker forest now—tall trees with rough bark that scraped against their packs when they brushed too close, vines hanging low like green curtains heavy with morning dew, the ground carpeted in fallen leaves that muffled their steps but released a damp, earthy smell with every footfall.
The air was heavier here, thick with the scent of moss, decaying wood, and the faint sweetness of hidden flowers.
Sunlight filtered through the canopy in broken shafts, painting the forest floor in shifting patterns of gold and shadow that danced with the breeze.
They moved with the caution of people who knew the land could turn deadly in a heartbeat.
Anna led, spear low and ready, eyes scanning constantly for water sources, natural cover, or signs of beasts—broken twigs, fresh droppings, disturbed earth.
David followed close behind, pack straps digging into his shoulders with a steady ache, the weight a constant reminder to stay alert.
Sweat trickled down his back, mixing with the dust from earlier work on the false trails.
The heat was building as the sun climbed, turning the morning sticky, insects buzzing lazily around their heads and occasionally landing to bite.
Neither spoke much. Words were for when it was safe. Instead, they used quick glances and subtle hand signals—Anna raising two fingers to pause, David nodding once to confirm the path behind was clear.
The forest was alive around them: small creatures darting in the underbrush with sudden rustles, birds calling sharp warnings overhead before taking flight, the distant snap of a twig that could be wind or something larger watching from the shadows.
David's mind wandered as they walked. The guilt from William's hunters still gnawed at him like a thorn he couldn't pull out, but Mom's plan had steadied the storm inside.
Fake tracks. Hide. Wait them out. Smart. Patient. The way she always handled things.
She's right. As usual. Rush in, and we die. Play smart, and we live to fight another day.
But the wilds didn't care about human plans. They had rules of their own—sudden, brutal, unforgiving.
They crested a small rise covered in thick vines and froze at the sight below.
In a small clearing ringed by fallen logs and overhanging branches, a Stonehide Boar rooted aggressively at the ground, massive tusks glinting in the dappled light as it tore into a thick cluster of Biteleaf Vine.
The vine was valuable—its broad, serrated leaves dark green with reddish veins running through like blood, climbing aggressively up a nearby tree trunk.
Biteleaf Vine was prized by hunters and alchemists: the leaves, when crushed, released a bitter sap that neutralized mild poisons, healed internal injuries from qi backlash, and sped recovery from overexertion.
Brewed into tea or refined into low-grade pills, it could stabilize meridians during breakthroughs or cleanse toxins from beast meat before eating.
A mature vine like this one—thick as a man's wrist, leaves broad and healthy, berries just starting to form—could fetch good coins back at the base markets, enough for food or even part of a weapon upgrade.
But the boar had claimed it first.
The beast was huge—easily twice David's weight, shoulders broad and muscled under its gray, rock-like hide, small red eyes burning with territorial rage.
Curved tusks yellowed with age and use dripped bitter sap from the vine. It feasted greedily, tearing leaves with sharp jerks of its head, the air filled with the sharp, bitter scent of the sap.
Anna glanced at David, eyes sharp and assessing. No words needed. She nodded once—clear message.
Go. Kill it. Without any traps and weapon.
David felt the same thought already forming in his mind. He wanted to test himself—raw strength against something tougher, higher stage.
See what peak Stage 3 really meant without tricks or blade.
He nodded back.
Then he leaped.
He dropped from the ridge in a controlled fall, boots hitting the soft earth with a muffled thud as he landed light but firm in the clearing.
The boar raised its head instantly, small eyes fixing on him with immediate, burning rage—meal disturbed, territory invaded.
The charge came without warning.
The boar lowered its massive head and thundered forward, ground shaking under heavy hooves that kicked up dirt and leaves, tusks aimed like spears.
The air displaced with a whoosh as it closed the distance fast—powerful, relentless, the kind of force that could gore a man clean through and pin him to a tree.
David felt his blood sing with the rush, adrenaline sharpening everything—the smell of bitter sap, the hot breath of the beast, the thud of hooves like drums.
He dodged.
A sidestep at the last heartbeat, body twisting fluid as the boar thundered past, close enough that he felt the heat of its body and the wind of its passage ruffle his hair.
It crashed into a thick tree behind him with a boom that shook leaves loose and sent birds exploding from the canopy in a flurry of wings. The trunk bent slightly, bark cracking with a sharp snap, a low groan echoing as the tree held but complained loudly, roots shifting in the dirt.
Stage 4, David thought, heart pounding with adrenaline, not fear. One stage above me. Skin like stone. Perfect.
The boar spun with surprising speed for its bulk, eyes mad with rage, foam flecking its jaws from the bitter vine sap. It circled once, snorting hot breath that carried the sharp tang, then charged again.
David met it this time—not full dodge, but controlled movement.
He channeled qi into his arms, feeling it surge like dark fire through veins and muscle, power building until his skin tingled and his fists felt heavy with force.
The boar lowered tusks, aiming to impale.
David struck first.
A full-force punch to the boar's rear flank as it thundered close—qi exploding on contact like a hammer on anvil.
Impact.
His knuckles met stone-hard hide. The blow landed solid, a dull thud echoing in the clearing, the shock traveling up his arm like hitting solid rock.
But the mark was shallow—a red welt blooming on gray skin, a thin line of blood where the hide finally gave just a little.
The boar squealed in fury, twisting with speed that belied its size, tusk slashing in a wide arc where David's head had been a heartbeat before. He felt the wind of it pass, close enough to ruffle his hair.
His hands went numb from the impact, a dull throb running up his arms like he'd punched a boulder. Tougher than I thought. Like hitting a wall.
From the ridge above, Anna watched every move, spear planted in the dirt, eyes narrowed but gleaming with quiet pride.
My boy... matching a Stage 4 beast bare-handed. One stage above him, and he's not backing down.
She knew how hard it was. She had fought Stonehides before—remembered the numb arms, the bruises that lasted days, the way their hide turned blades and fists alike.
To stand against one without weapon or trap, to trade blows and hold ground... it took more than strength. It took heart.
He's grown so much. Stronger than I dared hope.
The boar circled again, snorting, eyes locked on David with pure killing intent.
David shook out his hands, qi flowing to ease the numbness, a grin starting despite the sting.
Good. This is exactly what I needed.
The boar charged once more.
And the fight raged on...
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