Footsteps at the Border

Morning mist shrouded the valley, and the distant peaks flickered in and out of view like a quiet barrier. Ryan rose from a makeshift bed of piled rocks, rolled his shoulders, and felt his bones crack softly. Days of high-pressure weight training had made his body increasingly steady, his breathing deep and powerful.

He habitually made a circuit around the camp first, confirming that the barrier and traps were intact before beginning his training. The air was damp today, and the softened earth gave off dull thuds beneath his feet. Rather than immediately following his usual training route, Ryan jogged along the edge of the valley, intending to use different terrain for sprint bursts—too many consecutive days on the same ground made the body fall into a pattern, and he needed a change.

The outskirts of the valley were mostly untouched forest, tangled with vines and shrubs, with narrow paths winding through them here and there. As he ran up a steep slope, he could feel every step taking far more effort than it would on level ground. The weight pressing down on his calves and shoulders made his muscles heat up quickly. Once he crossed the ridge, his view suddenly opened up, revealing a distant lowland and dirt road.

That straight dirt road wound southward, its end swallowed by a layer of gray-white mist. Ryan recognized the direction at a glance—it was the border route leading to the northern frontier of the East Gorteau Republic. Farther south lay a restricted zone the Hunter Association had expressly forbidden anyone from entering, and beyond that tropical sea of forest was where the main stage of the original Chimera Ant arc lay hidden.

He made a rough calculation. At his current speed, he could reach the border in two days without resting,