The Black Wolf edged cautiously towards the cave mouth, sniffing repeatedly before studying the ground scars left by his prey, then finally said: *’He’s gone. You two; go inside and check.’*
Two men at his signal squeezed into the cave when sudden cries echoed: *’He had stayed the night here!’* But before echoing voice vanished, explosive detonation ripped the cave apart. The pressure wave hurled a man flying right out of the opening like a ragdoll!
*’Damnation!*’ The Wolf crouched hastily to cover his head, but was sent hurtling backwards meters. Though hard to keep balance upon crashing, he somersault upright, inwardly fuming. His two dispatched men had unmatched forest survival skills in the realm of traps— so how could they?
A spark flashed at the peripherical vision. His heart froze — Might-core fire’s gleaming streak!.
The shot emerged unexpectedly from hundred meters — no time for evading, he tried shielding vital parts when the blast struck. An anguished scream followed. The impact tore arm protections to shreds, bones splintered like twigs under the blow. Straining for control, he flipped back to his feet but barely landed — before spotting incoming Might-flux energy glowing again.
Might-core struck again with thunderclapping force into same location. This time, the energy shield evaporated like mist, leaving arms severed midair to spiral towards the clouds.
Before falling completely, amidst haze and blood, he pinpointed Thousand Nights’ shooting station — buried among boulders barely hundred meters away.
Thousand Nights indeed chose a deceptive place: the boulders scattered chaotically in slight incline. Sparse grass covered low altitude terrain. The place screamed visibility. Black Wolf scanned earlier dismissed area. The cunning? He buried under loose earth and kept perfectly motionless.
Abandoning his depleted Might-rifle — named *Assault Hands’* empty body — Thousand Nights lunged. Like the lone wolf upon hunt. In mid-dash came thundering report: *Burkhand*, his dual-wielded axe and hammer.
**WHOOM!** Five bursts fired from the Might-engine *“Burkhand” of Ruination* at ten meters. The shot shattered Might-core energy of rival Sky-Viper footman. Flying backwards he crashed into stalwart rocks like sand bag full of blood.
Then — Thousand Nights closed the ultimate gap: ten meters in lightning speed! While two distracted opponents sought vainly for enemy presence amidst chaos — they barely heard sharp whistling sound of axe slicing through air, followed by thud burying deep into shoulder, neck area and finally skulls.
The hammer swung — handle embedded with steel weights crashed into another one’s head like thunderous bell.
Meanwhile, far back Sky-Viper ranker — a *Grade One Warrior*, steadied for his shot but rifle’s enrunes flared in sequences. It began recharging fully.
A deep, almost beastly cry — Thousand Nights closed distance in blink. Thirteen meters gone — the man flew sideways.
Crackling ribs sounded inside chest now totally concaved by Thousand’s strength, equivalent to Might-5 elite. Grasped half-ready Might-rifle from dying hands – he spun, flung it back flying at remaining enemy. That man — another Grade One — barely avoided earlier assault. Dazed from collision, saw weapon whirling back, and caught reflexfully — realization struck when strange glow burned within.
**KABOOM**! Mid-energy charge exploded violently upon impact.
Thousand gasped for air while surveying the ground. No opposition moved now.
He slowly approached wounded wolf. The man, hit twice by Might-core, bicep-less arm stumps, whispered: “You recognize me?”
“Sky Viper Gang’s one of the Four Might-beasts? Of course, our factions are declared war — thus your personal profile meticulously gathered. Who’re YOU?”
Name’s unimportant — dying message: “At least grant wish. End this via original weapon. That’s the only way deserved.”
Cradling *Burkhand*, energy runes ignited across its frame, soft lights dancing over muzzle aperture. Point to target’s breastbone, trigger pulled.
**CRUSHLANCE FLASH**. Piercing blast exited rear torso. Bloody geyser spraying three feet high.
Thousand scavenged battlefield: Black Wolf’s *Tier II Might-Rifle*, plus their stored silver coins collected. Proceeded two-hundred meters east, hidden cliff-dwellings chosen. Set new traps and merged within natural shadows as camouflage.
Later, another wave Sky-Viper reinforcements arrived, led by ‘Flying Bird.’ Rushing upon seeing battlefield corpses he paused — sudden halt! All following halted immediately, scattered to defensive staking positions.
Hovering ten meters from corpse, Flying Bird calculated trajectories of previous hits, gaze fixed at exact spots of prior engagement. Inscribed details of enemy’s original shooting station. Like agile predator, crouched forward stealthily — path mimicked suspected trajectory of killer.
Finding nothing unusual there — filled craters smoothed over by scattered rock weights. Then noticed peculiarly twisted herb nestled between slabstones. Studied whole expanse of boulders. Wind had blown since morning. Plantings bent uniformly save that single tuft — trapped sideways into crevice? Cleared location confirmed as original hiding spot.
Approaching closely to inspect deceptive trailings — sudden, as bitten, leapt skyward. Already too late: peripheral flare blazed forth — explosion’s roar deafened him while the strike sent airborne helplessly. Rolled sideways landing — left bicep dangling, bones exploded, bleeding profusely.
Hundred yards behind, atop gradual hillock, Thousand slowly stood. Watching Bird’s pain silently, made a throat-cross motion — spun back into wild lands beyond.
Flying Bird stood, pallidly. Squad urged onward — he halted: knowledge of killer exhausted might-core capacity after that shot. Not enough power left to finish whole squad in one battle. BUT if Viper squad advanced without him, his absence would let Thousand eliminate piece-by-piece.
After tending his wound thoroughly, examined remaining cave, every inch reevaluated, finally ascended ridge to observe Thousand’s escape. Eyes reflected carnal hunger tempered by wary discipline.
Thousand’s dash never relented, glanced occasionally back. No pursuit meant wary opponent indeed formidable. Though wounded arm rendered useless for full week without healing — if this Bird insisted upon vengeance regardless — his combat value reduced severely.
Fleeing three score miles distant, at last he walked cautiously now. Region beyond shadow-city’s jurisdiction. Here roam the Darkblood Races regularly — mankind hunted them, whereas they considered man meat! Particularly humans infused with mighty blood-oath a delicacy amongst many beastkind.
Seeking shelter through terrain: at last stumbled upon rock-hollow cave amid thorny bushland. Fortified it properly, camouflaged entrance, sat to finally regaining stamina.
Extracted maps, planned tomorrow’s passage, marking key choke-points before triple-rechecking every line.
Should Flying Bird follow this exact trail? In these conditions, injured prey — hunted by wounded predator — exhaustion would favor superior stamina. When blood debt due, a lesson to remember on wild plains — for hunt’s identity changes.
Post preparations done: began cultivating Might-Oath Meditation — now withstand twenty-five Might-Tide pulsations during node nurturing (previously twenty). Eventually could train routinely against thirty cycles of Might-Oath’s waves.
That magnitude could crush barriers between Warrior-ranks below King — no natural obstructions through 9th tier. Bloodspirit devouring negligible now. Though still feeding upon ambient Might, its appetite barely lowering to mundane levels.
Even during cultivation’s rhythm: autonomously hunting again within him was dual bloodspirit forces — gleaming gold against dark purple — each consuming wandering red-bloodspirits. Once sporadic event, now predictable side-effect of Thousand’s nightly exercises — to this day no longer even noticed.
Ending session with gear maintenance rituals, replenished *Burkhand* Might-cartridge. Checked all weaponry in vicinity — close rest, fingertips rested reassuringly on metal hardness, peace within. As long as can combat; As long as life endured — would not surrender heart.
He dreamt eventually. Don’t know how long — suddenly found standing dark thicket. Pitch darkness — but malevolence pricking his bare skin, raising countless gooseflesh patches.
Bush rustled — instinctively dropped posture, predator stillness embraced him, focusing upon incoming sound.
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