Predator’s Reflection
The Silver Forest no longer remained silent.
Somewhere deep under the ancient canopy, where silver leaves rustled under a sun already climbing towards its zenith, a clump of silvergrass had turned crimson. Blood saturated the blades, coloring the glade in macabre artistry. Five bodies lay scattered like discarded toys—five red-hued foxes, their bodies slack and eyes wide in death, steam still rising from their wounds.
Leon stood at the center of them all, chest rising and falling in deliberate breath, his body covered in streaks of gore and sweat. His golden eyes burned like hot coals. Small cuts on his chest and arms etched his skin—thin but numerous. He ignored them.
To his front lay the final beast still snarling.
It was different. Bigger. Smarter. Its scarlet fur glimmered like embers, and six tails thrashed the air with anger. Its deep ember-orange eyes seethed with fury at him—not fear—but rage. It burned with intellect behind those eyes.
"Scarlet Hexafox," Leon whispered in awe voice, scrunching up his eyes. "Early Master Realm... and angry."
The creature moved with ghastly elegance—every pawstep silent. These creatures were fast and had an affinity for fire-type. They could disappear in smoke and reappear in mid-air in an instant. But this one, injured and covered in blood, was fighting to the death. It wasn’t merely an animal—it was a predator fighting to protect its own.
Leon’s body was covered in its kind’s blood, his originally black cloak now tacky with dried red. His breathing became slower, yet the flame of sword will within him blazed. He felt it—the tides of sword intent swelling.
"Finish it," he growled.
His position changed. Right foot back, left foot forward, blade held diagonally high. And then he charged.
As dropping flower petal swept up in breeze, his sword came arcing and lovely rhythm—light-footed, fluid. Silver arcs of shimmering air broke forth as his Falling Petal Dance Sword Art unfurled. The beast lunged—fangs bared, fire licking its jaws—but it was too late.
The Hexafox’s body stiffened half-way through the lunge. A pure silver arc bisected its spine. In the course of the very next heartbeat, it collapsed into two identical halves. Its fatal eyes fixed upon Leon—continued to seethe with hatred as if its spirit would not submit even in demise.
"Dammit. This Fox is terribly hard to defeat."
He just stood there an extra moment or two, his eyes on the dead creature. Then—
[Host has killed Master Realm Magical Beast: Scarlet Hexafox]
[10 Blank Points credited.]
[Allocated to Host’s account.]
A lazy grin pulled at Leon’s mouth. "At last," he whispered. "An actual challenge."
He glanced upwards. The sun currently blazed down on him from directly above. Noon. Four hours had passed since he’d initially ventured into the Silver Forest.
During that period, he’d killed numerous 36 Mortal Realm creatures, 15 Novice Realm creatures, and now, this single Master Realm monster. He accessed his interface in his mind.
[Blank Points: 39 + 36 (Mortal) + 15*5 (Novice) + 10 (Master) = 160]
One Hundred sixty Blank Points.
He arched his hand, wincing as his palm adhered to the hilt of his sword. Blood had still clung in layers, scabbing into his armor and greaves. The odor was pungent—copper and smoke. He most likely smelled like a battlefield.
But in place of disgust, he smiled.
My Martial art getting better and My Sword’s art getting better too. My body, Reflexes and instinct too." He shrugged his shoulder. "That fox beast pushed me to my limit..."
His eyes dropped to the sword in his hand.
The previously immaculate silver-bored longsword was now chipped on the edge. Delicate fractures ran close to the hilt—spiderweb cracks from colliding with the Master-tier fox’s flame-infused claws.
The previously immaculate silver-bored longsword was now dented along the edge. Delicate cracks spiderwebbed from the bottom of the blade close to the hilt—testament to the vicious collision with the Master-level fox’s flame-infused claws.
"Tch. This blade won’t last another actual fight," Leon grumbled.
He struck it gently against a nearby boulder. The crack spread with a soft click, verifying his suspicion.
Guess it’s about time I bought a new one. But this time. better be tough enough to keep pace.
He breathed heavily but did not dawdle. Taking a deep breath, he glanced around. The woods were still dense, the atmosphere full of mana and the echoes of faraway beast howl and roar. But exhaustion never caught up to him. Starvation did not gnaw at his stomach. He was now a Master Realm cultivator—his body boosted, able to endure a week without rest, food, and water.
He sheathed the sword and walked, shadows swaying as leaves shimmered overhead.
"I must find more... sparring partners... stronger... ones who challenge me to my last edge."
And so, he walked — further into the forest. Each step was quiet, but purposeful. Determination seeped from his very bones. The smell of blood clung thickly to him, his clothes stained dark, his aura sharp and violent like a predator in the midst of the hunt.
The Silver Forest answered.
Birdsong dimmed. Insects grew silent. The lesser creatures, feeling the crushing presence emanating from him, crept into their holes or fled on wings. Even the wind paused — as if the forest itself waited and watched.
Time slipped. Minutes... possibly more. The dappled light coming through the silver-canopied trees changed position slightly. He walked on, eyes alert, boots over roots and fallen leaves making no noise. And then—
A soft wave. Faintly heard, but unmistakable in the stillness.
His golden eyes drew in, fractionally. Head tilted. The unmistakable call of water—moving slowly, rhythmically. Not the sound of a crashing river, but the calm hush of a lake.
"...Water?" he grunted to himself. His face changed. Not wary, but thoughtful.
He spun, tracking the sound.
More instinct than reason drove him around to face the sound. His boots scraped across moss-covered stone and silver-embroidered roots until at last, the trees parted—and beauty was revealed.
What he found was a clearing in the dense forest: a broad, open field drenched in golden light of Sun. At its center lay a lake—its waters clear, peaceful, and quiet. The surface glimmered like polished silver, reflecting the tall trees that ringed it. Silver-leaved branches dipped over the water, their leaves swaying in slow motion with the wind, sending shards of silver light rippling across the mirrored surface.
"Damn..." he whispered. "What a beauty."
He inched his way forward slowly. The air here was quiet, nearly spiritual.
Kneeling at the lip, Leon inserted his hands in. Cool, clean water rose to caress them. He cupped the water, dripping his face first, before wiping the blood off his arms and clothes. Next came his sword—immersed halfway, the red streaming off in curl-like tendrils.
Then—instincts surged within him.
He recoiled, twisting body to the side. Water burst up just as he was moving, a water geyser exploding in front of him. He skidded down, cracking his blade and dropping into stance. His golden gaze fixed on the lake.
Something moved beneath.
Then, the lake burst —it rose.
A magical beat with a huge form broke the surface, water streaming off its scaled hide. It was sleek, crocodilian in body, but with horned ridges and silver-blue burning eyes. Steam puffed from its nostrils. Muscles rippled under sapphire scales.
"Aqua Serpent-Beast..." Leon breathed, eyes narrowing.
Its eyes locked with his—cold, ancient, and unmistakably predatory. A beast that did not regard him as threat, but as prey.
From the throb of its aura itself, he knew.
"Average-level Master Realm..." he muttered, lips curling into a lupine grin. "Heh... it seems I no longer need to seek out magical beasts."
He cocked his chin ever so slightly, allowing a gush of blood to slide down his cheek. The sun above glinted in his golden eyes, its shine echoing the excitement igniting within him.
The snake bellowed in thunder, arching high as a column of water burst behind it in a splintering geyser. The shock ran through the trees, sent birds screaming out of the canopy, and trembled through the glade like a battle yell.
Leon remained unshaken. Unmoved.
Not mockery. Not arrogance. Simply sheer delight.
The sort only a war madman could experience when looking into the face of death and challenging it to do its worst.
"Let’s dance, big guy," he snarled, crouching low.
He clamped tighter on his dented blade.
"Let’s see if your scales can thicker or better than that fox’s claws."
And with that, Leon blasted forward — a silver blur slicing straight into the heart of the storm.