Squelch!
This time, there was far less resistance. The blade sliced into flesh, severed blood vessels, and lodged deep in a gap between the neck vertebrae. Loa gritted his teeth and put his strength into it, twisting his wrist, wrenching the blade, then yanking it free.
Blood gushed like a fountain-not bright red, but a dark red bordering on black. A magical beast's blood.
The boar let out an even more piercing, agonized scream. Its massive body convulsed wildly, the earthen-yellow glow around it flickering before finally fading altogether. Its struggles lasted a dozen breaths or more, then weakened. Its heavy gasps grew fainter and fainter, until at last they fell silent.
Loa backed away several steps, braced his sword tip against the ground, and panted heavily.
His heart hammered in his chest, almost ready to burst out. The webs between his thumbs and forefingers had split, and blood ran down the sword's hilt. The grazed wound at his waist burned fiercely. That momentary brush had done far more damage than it appeared.
Looking at the magical beast, now utterly lifeless, he felt for the first time, with such vivid clarity, how thin the line between life and death was.
This was no training post, no ordinary wild animal. It was a true magical beast with special powers, a creature capable of easily killing a Rank 2 Warrior.
He had won. He had relied on the skills he had honed over the years, on split-second judgment and courage, on the toughness of the sword he had forged himself, and on the perfect opening that thrust had created, along with a little luck-if that thrust had missed, if the boar's elemental protection had been a little stronger, if his sword had not been good enough...
Loa closed his eyes, suppressing the nausea churning in his stomach and the shudders of having narrowly survived.
This was no time to get sentimental. I need to grow stronger, fight more real battles, and get used to that feeling of life and death hanging on an instant.
He walked over to the boar's carcass and began dressing it.
Dressing a magical beast was far more troublesome than dressing an ordinary animal. Its hide was so thick and tough that his knife could barely cut it. Only after an enormous effort did Loa manage to skin relatively intact sections from its back and flanks. The tusks had to come off—these were materials from a Rank 1 Magical Beast. Though not particularly precious, they were still a considerable asset to the smithy.
Taking the meat was even harder. The magical beast's muscle fibers were as dense as iron, and he could only cut off its two hind legs and a few sections of ribs. There was no way to carry away all the rest; he could only take some of the better cuts.
He dug a deep pit and buried what remained, keeping the smell of blood from drawing other predators. If a stronger magical beast came, he would be in trouble.
By the time he finished, the sun had already begun sinking westward.
Loa bound the heavy cuts of meat, the enormous hide, and the pair of stark white tusks with hemp rope. After a moment's thought, he searched the surrounding area as well. Following the herbal guide's instructions, he found several stalks of purpleheart grass in a shaded crevice between rocks. Their leaves had turned purple, just when their medicinal potency was at its best. He also gathered a small handful of silverleaf vine beside the stream.
His haul far exceeded his expectations, but the cost was a body covered in blood and grime, split skin between his thumbs and forefingers, a nagging pain at his waist, and utter exhaustion.
He walked very slowly on the way back. The meat and hide weighed painfully on his shoulders, yet a complicated feeling churned inside him. It was not pride, but a heavy confirmation mingled with lingering fear and understanding.
So even second-rank strength amounted to only this against a Rank 1 Magical Beast.
So in a fight to the death, there really was only a thin line between living and dying.
Passing the slope where he had waited that morning, he suddenly remembered the pheasant that had flown away.
Next time. Forget it.
The setting sun stretched his shadow long. Carrying a haul nearly as tall as himself, the boy walked out of the mountain forest step by step, his gait stumbling but firm, toward the little town wreathed in cooking smoke.
The smithy's forge fire stood out vividly in the dusk.
Old Jack stood in the doorway, anxiously looking out. At the sight of Loa, the old man first breathed a sigh of relief. Then he saw the blood and grime covering him, the things on his back, and the stark white tusks that clearly belonged to no ordinary boar. His eyes widened.
"You child..." The old man hurried over, his voice trembling. "What did you run into?"
Loa unloaded his burden and fetched water to wash his wounds and the blood from his body. Old Jack crouched beside the boar hide with its dark red sheen, felt its thickness, then picked up a tusk and weighed it in his hand. His expression changed.
"This wasn't an ordinary boar?" The old man's voice was dry. "A Rank 1 Magical Beast?"
"Yes." Loa briefly described what had happened, leaving out the most dangerous details.
Old Jack said nothing for a long time. He watched Loa's hands trembling slightly as he washed his wounds, looked at the pallor that had yet to fully leave the boy's face, then glanced at the magical beast's hide and tusks. Finally, he let out a heavy sigh.
"Tomorrow," the old man said hoarsely, "I'll work on the hide. And these tusks... with some grinding, they could be fitted to handguards or made into daggers."
Dinner was a thick meat soup. The magical beast's meat was firmer than ordinary wild boar meat and took a long time to stew until tender, but the layer of fat floating in the soup was thicker, and its aroma richer. Loa drank two large bowls, feeling his exhausted body slowly recover as the hot soup nourished it.
Old Jack also broke his usual habit and drank an extra half bowl. Afterward, he looked at Loa, hesitating to speak.
"Grandpa Jack," Loa spoke first, "I'll be more careful from now on."
Old Jack stared at him for a long while. In the end, he only nodded. "Go to sleep. You'll have to get up early tomorrow."
That night, Loa lay in bed listening to Old Jack's steady snores, unable to fall asleep for a long time.
The wounds on his palms ached faintly, and the graze at his waist burned. More than that, though, those few seconds kept replaying in his mind-the charge, the change of direction, the thrust, the slash, the gushing beast blood, the dying howl.
The mountain forest was no longer a picture in a book. Tusks were no longer lines on paper. Fighting to the death was no longer some distant imagining.
It had truly happened. His opponent had been a real magical beast.
And he had survived, and won.
But only barely. If there had been no pit trap, if that first sword strike had not broken its defenses, if his sword had not been good enough...
Loa rolled over and clenched his fists. The movement pulled at his wounds, and the pain made him frown slightly.
Still not enough. I have to be faster, stronger, more precise.
Next time, I can't rely on luck alone.
The boy closed his eyes, his breathing gradually growing long and deep. That wisp of "energy" circulated through his exhausted body on its own, repairing tiny injuries and gathering fresh strength. The earthen-yellow Magic Crystal Core against his chest gave off a faint, steady warmth in the darkness.
The long night passed.
In the morning, as Wushan Town awoke, an enormous boar hide with a dark red sheen lay spread over a wooden rack to dry in the smithy's backyard. The aroma of meat drifting from the kitchen was richer than usual, mingling with the morning breeze and wafting into every corner of the town.
No one knew what had happened the night before.
Only a boy faced those blood-red eyes once more in his dreams.
And this time, the sword in his hand was faster, fiercer, more precise.
When he woke, dawn was just breaking. Loa felt the Magic Crystal Core against his chest, then looked at the magical beast hide drying outside the window.
There was still a long road ahead.
He rose, dressed, and went out into the yard to begin another day's morning practice.
His sword whistled through the air, sharper and fiercer than before. Every move bore the mark of the previous night's fight to the death, more decisive and more lethal. Sweat slid down his temples. The fresh scabs between his thumbs and forefingers ached faintly as the hilt rubbed against them, but he seemed not to notice.
Old Jack opened the door and came out. His gaze was complicated as he watched Loa practicing in the yard. After watching silently for a while, he turned and entered the kitchen. Before long, an even richer aroma of meat drifted out, mingled with the clean, bitter scent of herbs.
At breakfast, the old man pushed a bowl of meat porridge, specially simmered until thoroughly soft, in front of Loa. Chopped silverleaf vine leaves had been added to it. "Have this. It's good for your wounds."
Loa silently finished it, feeling warmth slide down his throat. The stinging pain at his waist really did seem to ease a little.
"That hide," Old Jack said with an air of casualness as he cleared the bowls and utensils, "tanning magical beast hide isn't the same as tanning ordinary hide. The solution you use and how much force you apply both matter. I'll teach you this afternoon."
"All right." Loa nodded, then thought for a moment and asked, "Grandpa Jack, do magical beasts... often appear on the outskirts?"
Old Jack paused, then shook his head. "Not often. Wushan Town is near the edge of the Magical Beast Mountain Range, but most real magical beasts live deeper in the mountains. Occasionally, one or two get driven out, or come to the outskirts because they're starving." He looked at Loa. "You were lucky this time. You met one that wasn't particularly strong even among first-rank beasts, and it was caught in a trap. Next time... you might not be so lucky."
"I understand," Loa said quietly.
He understood, but some paths left no room to turn back once he set foot on them. He needed to grow stronger, needed resources, needed real combat. The dangers in the mountain forest were a hurdle he had to face and overcome.
Over the next few days, life seemed to return to its usual rhythm, yet something had changed.
Loa threw himself more deeply into morning practice and controlled his strength more precisely while forging. Even when reading at night, he began deliberately searching for accounts of magical beasts' habits, their weaknesses, and possible uses for low-grade Magic Crystal Cores. He carefully wrapped the earthen-yellow Magic Crystal Core in a piece of soft leather and hid it in the shop's most secluded corner.
Old Jack began teaching him to tan the Rockskin Boar's hide. As the old man had said, treating magical beast hide required a special tanning solution-several herbs mixed with animal fat and a little lime-and repeated soaking, pounding, and scraping. The process was tedious and strenuous. Loa's hands turned pale and wrinkled from the prolonged soaking and pounding, but he learned with exceptional care.
Under the effects of the solution and repeated pounding, the tough magical beast hide gradually softened somewhat, yet retained its astonishing toughness and thickness. The dark red sheen of its Bloodmane grew more subdued after treatment, but remained striking.
"Once it's cured, this hide will make a fine chest guard or bracers." Old Jack stroked the leather, which was beginning to take shape. "It'll protect you much better than ordinary leather armor. I've done the initial grinding on those tusks. Think about what you want to make from them."
Looking at the tusks, their surface grime ground away to reveal stark white bone and sharp tips, Loa formed a plan.
He wanted to make two short daggers. They did not need to be ornate, but they had to be sturdy and sharp enough. The magical beast's tusks were extremely hard to begin with; a little grinding would turn them into natural weapons. They could serve as backup weapons in close combat, or be used in certain special circumstances.
The days passed, full and busy. The wounds on Loa's hands scabbed over, and the graze at his waist slowly healed. Only at night did he still occasionally dream of those blood-red eyes and deafening howls. Every time he jolted awake, he silently circulated that "energy" until his heartbeat settled.
The magical beast hide was finally tanned, becoming a large sheet of fine leather, soft yet tough, with a dark red sheen. Old Jack helped him cut it to size and guided him in sewing a close-fitting soft leather chest guard and a pair of bracers that wrapped around his forearms. Though the stitching was somewhat rough, wearing them gave him a weighty sense of security.
The two Fang Daggers also took their initial shape. Loa made simple grips and sheaths from leftover iron scraps and carried them close to his body.
One evening half a month later, Loa was practicing thrusts in the yard, striving to improve the speed and precision of his Gale Thrust another fraction. Old Jack sat in the doorway smoking his pipe when he suddenly spoke. "You can go up the mountain, but you mustn't be reckless. I don't ask for anything else. Just come back safe."
Loa stopped and looked at the old man.
Old Jack exhaled a mouthful of smoke, his gaze turning toward the outline of the mountain behind them in the dusk. "I know you can't develop real skill by always hiding at home to practice. You're older now, and you've got your own ideas. But be careful, don't get greedy, and remember to watch the sun's position."
"I understand, Grandpa Jack." Loa tightened his grip on his sword. Warmth rose in his heart, along with a faint new stirring.
He knew what Old Jack meant.
The night deepened.
Loa lay in bed, his fingers unconsciously rubbing the rough surface of the leather armor against his body, feeling the hard outlines of the two short daggers against his chest. In the darkness of the corner, the Magic Crystal Core quietly gave off a faint glow.
The mountain forest was still there, silent and dangerous.
His lessons in combat seemed to have only just begun.
Next time, he would be ready.
Before you continue