Stark
jolted awake, drenched in cold sweat. His breath came in gasps as he
clutched his shoulder—Thankfully,
it was still intact. He quickly scanned his surroundings and realized
he was back in the cave, lying in his room.
Yet,
he couldn’t
shake off the uncanny feeling from his fight with the Guki. His hands
still trembled as memories of the battle still fresh in his mind.
“What
was that?” he muttered in an unsteady tone. He couldn’t
understand the sudden surge of power and blood lust that over took
him during the fight.
Is
it related to that black figure?
His
suspicions deepened. He knew his nightmares weren’t
normal, but he didn’t anticipate such a radical change in himself.
The encounter with that entity had to be some sort of a trigger.
Like
the black figure said, the answer lies beyond the Immortal Divide.
A
sharp pain shot through his head, breaking his thoughts.
“This
again!” he hissed, gritting his teeth.
He
tried to push himself up, but his body refused to cooperate. He
collapsed back onto the cold mattress, unable to muster any strength
to stand up properly.
Even
clenching his fists felt impossible—his entire body was numb and
out of his control.
“Don’t
move, child.”
Krul’s
calm voice filled the room as he entered, carrying a bowl of stew.
“You’re still recovering.”
Stark
glanced at him, noticing the subtle change in his appearance. Krul
wasn’t
wearing his usual attire. Instead, he wore a dark tunic resembling
leather armor, complete with shoulder pads. His long hair was tied
back in a neat ponytail, giving him a much sharper look.
“Why
can’t I muster any strength?” Stark asked frustratingly.
“It’s
because you’ve been asleep for the past three days,” Krul
replied.
Stark’s
stomach growled in the middle of their conversation.
Krul
smirked and handed him a bowl of stew along with a wooden spoon.
“Eat,”
he instructed.
Stark
took a few spoonfuls, savoring the warmth as it soothed his empty
stomach. It did taste oddly funny at times.
Once
he finished, he turned to Krul awkwardly.
Without
warning, Krul gently smacked him on the head.
“Don’t
ever do that in a battle,” he scolded.
“Fine…
I won’t do it,” Stark muttered with a pout.
Krul’s
expression turned serious. “There’s no need to risk your life
like that. This time, I was there to save you,” he said firmly “But
what if I wasn’t? You would have bled to death.”
Stark
lowered his gaze. “Yes…”
“Know
your place,” Krul continued. “Running away from a stronger
opponent isn’t shameful.”
“But
isn’t that cowardice?” Stark asked, frowning. “The Hero Dalius
wouldn’t do that.”
Krul
let out a chuckle. “Cowardice?
A warrior is shaped by both victory and defeat. And death, Stark…
death is the ultimate form of cowardice for a warrior.”
“And
about Dalius, He ran away many times when faced with an enemy he
couldn’t defeat,” Krul said
The
way Krul spoke of Dalius was casual, as if he had known the legendary
hero personally.
Stark’s
mouth fell open. “Wait….What? But”
Krul
simply smiled, ruffling Stark’s
hair. “Being afraid isn’t a weakness. Learn from your fears, and
they will guide you.”
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Stark
just nodded.
“The
Hero Dalius once said that It
was my fear that brought me this far.”
“How
do you know that?”
Stark asked curiously as he witnessed a tinge of nostalgia in Krul’s
voice.
“I
just heard some stories over the years, Child.” Krul got up to
leave. “Take rest today, you will recover by tomorrow.”
“Wait..how
are you sure?”
“Medicine.”
Krul smirked. “I mixed it in the stew.”
“That’s
why it tasted funny…” Stark mumbled.
Time
passed, and Stark recovered quickly. Taking Krul’s
advice to heart, he did his best not to recklessly risk his life.
A
few days later, Stark successfully subdued a Guki, defeating it with
only minor scratches. He had learned to use his agility to his
advantage.
He
observed that the Guki took a few seconds to come to a complete stop
after a full sprint. Stark capitalized on this brief moment, focusing
all his senses on predicting its movement. Unlike the Stilo, which
was more durable, the Guki had a fragile body, relying on its poison
and speed to overwhelm its prey.
However,
defeating a Guki in daylight wasn’t
a remarkable feat. They were nocturnal hunters, and true victory
meant facing one in its own hunting grounds—at night.
Fighting
a Guki at night was a suicidal
mission,
but Stark saw it as a wall to overcome on his path to greater
strength.
His
first night time battle with the Guki was
on
earth. He had never experienced such excruciating pain as the beast’s
venom spread through his body, hissing and eating away at his flesh.
His legs went numb, his muscles lost all strength, and he became easy
prey.
Krul
saved him just in time, healing his wounds swiftly.
’m
relying on my eyes too much…
Realizing
this weakness, Stark decided that he needed to sense the Guki with
more than just sight. He trained himself to detect the beast based on
sound, touch, and even its blood lust.
On
the second night, he managed to wound the Guki before falling to the
poison again.
This
time, however, he noticed something crucial—the Guki struggled to
change direction at high speeds. Just as it needed time to stop, its
momentum made it difficult to turn mid-attack.
This
flaw meant that by studying its attack patterns, he could use its own
speed against it.
If
he swung his blade precisely in the opposite direction of the Guki
attacks. It had no way to dodge it. The beast would run itself into
his attack and he could guarantee a successful strike.
Stark
focused on exploiting the beast’s
flaw. He relied on his senses, predicting its movements and striking
precisely at its legs to limit its attacks. As its agility and
acceleration dwindled, the beast’s range of movement narrowed,
making it easier to track.
Dodging
the Guki’s
poison claws was another challenge. A single scratch would leave him
writhing in pain, the affected limb useless for the rest of the
fight. He could anticipate its attacks, but his body lagged behind
his instincts, reacting a fraction too late.
But
time changed that.
Stark
got used to dodging and his battle senses, reflexes got much quicker
and efficient. For the first time he also managed to take down a Guki
at night.
A
wave of bliss crashed over him. The sheer sense of achievement was
overwhelming. Stark was on top of the world. The time and effort it
took to take down a single desert Guki was excruciatingly long and it
was worth every second.
“You
did well,” Krul praised.
Stark
let out a breathless laugh, exhaustion washing over him.
“Finally,
your basics are solid.”
“Basics?”
“The
foundation of martial arts and swordsmanship has been laid,” Krul
remarked.
Throughout
his training, Stark experimented with different swords, switching
from a longsword to an arming sword before finally settling on a
broadsword. It felt natural in his grip, as if made for him.
Its
basket hilt protected his hands, allowing for precise cuts and
thrusts at flexible angles. The blade itself was sharp and pointed,
and its versatility let him wield an offhand weapon like a dagger or
a wooden shield.
Krul
noticed Stark’s
serious expression. “Something on your mind, child?”
“Um…
yeah.” Stark hesitated before meeting Krul’s gaze. “What’s
the next stage of training?”
“The
next level, huh…” Krul scratched his chin thoughtfully. “Nothing
I can teach you. As I said before, I’m a mage, not a swordsman.
Learning from me could cause irreparable flaws in your technique.”
Stark
sighed, looking dejected. “Right…”
“But…”
Krul smirked. “There is something you can do to improve.”
“And
that is?”
“Fight
stronger monsters. The more you battle, the sharper your instincts
will become.”
Stark
nodded, agreeing to fight stronger monsters in the future. As they
headed back to the cave, he felt oddly at home there. Krul had given
him more than he could have ever imagined back at the slave camp.
He
often wondered why Krul had taken him under his wing. And now, he
wanted to ask about the Immortal Divide—the name mentioned by the
creature in his dreams.
After
reaching the cave, Stark settled down. He turned to Krul, who was in
the middle of unstrapping the daggers from his chest piece.
“By
the way… Teacher.”
For
the first time, Stark referred to Krul as his teacher. After all He
was the first person to teach him how to fight. He not only learned
martial arts but also was taught to read and write in Kastari.
Krul’s
eyes widened for a moment before he smiled—warmly, unlike his usual
cold smirk.
“Do
you know about the Immortal Divide?” Stark asked.
Krul
thought for a moment. “Yes,
I do.”
So
it’s
real?!! Huh!!!
Stark thought.
“Where
is it?” he stammered, his voice rising in pitch.
Krul
was taken aback for a moment. “Hmm…
It is in the n—”
Before
he could finish, a golden light erupted from Stark’s
chest, from the exact spot where his slave mark had been.
It
burned, shining so intensely that both of them were momentarily
blinded.
“What
the—“ He cursed aloud.
Stark
barely had time to react before he heard Krul shout.
“GET
BEHIND ME RIGHT NOW.”
Stark
stumbled towards Krul just as the cave shuddered violently. A ray of
light shot towards the cave with a shrill noise and the rocks beside
him disintegrated.
An
instant later, the cave exploded into a sea of flames.
