The Battle for Cavern Valley

Ryan slowly put away the No. 003 card, bending into a half crouch as he carefully slipped it into the dedicated slot in his inner lining. At that moment, he could feel the warmth of his body seeping through the fabric into the card with each rise and fall of his chest, as though it bore witness to the death struggle of more than twenty days finally drawing to a close.

He did not turn to leave immediately. Instead, he stared at the bloodstained twin blades in his hands. Their edges reflected a dull gleam in the morning light, and the tiny cracks along their spines seemed like marks engraved by his ordeal. Ryan wiped away the blood with his sleeve, little by little, his movements slow and intent, as though bidding the blades farewell.

Wind swept in from the far end of the valley, carrying the scent of stone and scorched earth. The lingering blood of the Nen beasts had yet to dry completely. Stirred by the morning breeze, dead leaves tumbled with loose soil from the valley floor into the narrow ravine below, making a barely audible rustling sound.

Ryan gazed into the distance. The high ground he had chosen gave him a view of the entire valley floor. Among the scattered rocks lay the broken remains of several Nen beasts. Those names that had once struck terror into countless players and hunters now lay silent upon the earth, reduced to cards, reduced to dust.

He slowly stood, his weighted armor scraping softly at his shoulders. He knew full well that these twenty-odd days of training had not merely been about obtaining the No. 003 card. They had tempered every inch of muscle, every thread of Aura, every fiber of his mind. He closed his eyes and felt