CHAPTER 17: THE MORE THE MERRIER

The distance Auren fired from was just over nine meters—far enough to keep him out of reach, yet close enough that the beast had no time to dodge.

The moment his finger squeezed the trigger, the bullet swiftly burst out of the barrel, fueled by his fire magic and blitzed through the air toward its target.

The first round struck the Night Stalker cleanly at the crown of its skull. A defeaning blast followed and forcefully tilted the beast’s head upward with the force of impact.

The second bullet followed within a second, smashing into one of the beast’s massive fangs.

The fang cracked with a sharp echo, the bullet ricocheting into the roof of the creature’s mouth before finally detonating—spraying blood and bits of flesh in a bloody burst and effectively disabling the beast’s biting ability.

The third bullet went slightly off-course, the recoil finally beginning to build in Auren’s small but steady arms.

It swerved off the original aim, missing the face—but still landed with a thunderous crack against the beast’s left shoulder.

The resulting explosion staggered the Night Stalker and forcing its bulky figure to stumble sideways with a deep, aching snarl as its balance faltered.

Gunfire shattered the stillness of the forest, echoing through the lush canopy.

The sudden cracks of a human-made weapon sent flocks of birds and skittish critters fleeing from the scene. The animals had never heard such a sound before. Even the elves watching from the viewing circle far above frowned in unison as they saw the MK do its magic for the first time.

It was the first time a human-made firearm had ever been used in these sacred woods—and something about it unsettled them.

Although it was small, the human weapon actually radiated danger. They knew the Night Stalker was nearly impervious to conventional physical attacks, its hide resistant to blades and arrows.

But that gun? If it struck one of them, it wouldn’t just injure them—it would tear through their flesh, leave a gaping hole, maybe even kill outright. The very idea sent a ripple of unease through the elven watchers which resulted to more hostile gaze towards Robert and Marissa.

Robert glanced at Jeis, who simply raised her hands in a quiet gesture of I told you so. She had already warned them about the reaction the weapon would provoke—and the elves’ unease was well within their expectations.

After all, they couldn’t give Auren the standard elven spear. It was far too long and heavy for his smaller frame. The gun, on the other hand, was his preferred weapon—and the perfect one for his size and fighting style.

Besides, Auren had designed it himself. He didn’t just wield it—he helped build it.

Even Kardel, chief of the Sylvan’thir Tribe, narrowed his eyes in surprise. This weapon was unlike anything they had seen—and it stirred in him a cautious curiosity.

’Now!’ Auren urged himself.

The Night Stalker was temporarily incapacitated, thanks to the fire-elemental bullets he’d loaded earlier. He knew well—its skin was nearly impervious to regular weapons. Solid bullets could barely scratch it. But explosive force with a fire-magic elemental topping? That was another story. The concussive bursts didn’t need to pierce; they only needed to disorient. And they had done just that.

It was the opening he needed.

Reaching into his backpack with his free hand, Auren pulled out another weapon—this time, a sleek, curved elven blade.

"You better work, D.R."

That was the name he’d given the dagger—Divine Rapier, or D.R. for short. Inspired by his favorite overpowered item from Dota, the weapon looked more like a short sword, nearly a meter long, ancient and noble in design. It had been a gift from Jeis, the seasoned elven huntress who had trained him for nearly a year. It was given as a reward for completing her rigorous training regimen.

And Auren had never gone a day without practicing with it.

Three hours each morning. Every. Single. Freaking day.

The blade was more than just a tool of war. It had history.

Jeis’s late husband had once wielded the blade during his hunts, long before he perished in the Catastrophe of Vulkris, three hundred years ago. He died saving Jeis’s life—and the weapon he left behind was the last tangible piece of his memory.

That dagger carried his spirit, his legacy. When Jeis trained Auren, she saw something familiar in him—a fire in his eyes, a quiet intensity etched into his every movement. Though he was human, there were moments—brief, flickering moments—when she saw her husband in him.

The way he threw himself into training, day after day, as if driven by some invisible fire. Both of them were maniacs for mastery, relentless in their pursuit of perfection. And after much thought, she made her decision.

Rather than let the blade gather dust in a forgotten drawer, she entrusted it to Auren. Not out of pity. But because, in her heart, she believed he would honor it.

And now, as she watched from afar, seeing Auren charge into battle with the same stance, same movements her husband once used, a tear broke free and rolled down her cheek.

In that moment, she didn’t see Auren.

She saw him.

Beside her, Robert and Marissa stood in silence—witnesses to the emotion pulsing through Jeis’s gaze. Rhiki, the second-best hunter of their tribe, flinched at each gunshot. Robert noticed it—three distinct times—as if the beast wasn’t the only one getting hit. Perhaps the shadow of his coming future?

In Auren’s small but steady hands, the dagger gleamed. Its bluish blade, forged from true Mythrill, shimmered like moonlight. The hilt was carved from rare Bhakwood—strong, mana-conductive, alive. Ancient runes lined its grip, allowing Auren to channel his mana into the blade with a simple thought.

And now he did just that.

[AURA BLADE]

With a flare of golden light, mana surged into the weapon. The air around it shimmered, then exploded outward in a burst before stabilizing into a luminous energy blade extending from the dagger. The aura was radiant—golden, not blue. A signature of Auren’s unique lineage, the blood of the Golden Phoenix stirring inside him.

"Let’s finish this."

Auren’s body blurred into motion, leaving a puff of dust in his wake as he sprinted forward, the Divine Rapier blazing with his golden mana in one hand and his gun still ready in the other.

His target: the top of the Night Stalker’s skull.

Jeis had taught him that was the most effective kill strike. Go for the crown. Not only would it sever the brainstem, it would shut down the body’s instinctual reflexes—those last-second counterattacks that often killed hunters even in death throes.

But just as Auren was about to leap and strike, he noticed the creature’s eyes snapping into focus. It had recovered faster than expected—and it saw him coming.

Its bleeding mouth opened wide.

Auren recognized what was coming.

The Paralyzing Roar—a devastating signature skill of the Night Stalkers. A sonic blast that froze its prey in place for several seconds. And that was all it would need to end him.

’Oh no you don’t.’

Although he was surprised it recovered that fast, Auren was prepared.

BANG!~ BANG!~

He squeezed the trigger twice, both rounds slamming into the creature’s open maw. The impact was immediate. The roar died in its throat, replaced by a garbled grunt as its jaw snapped shut and smoking from within. It knocked its skull from underneath, causing it to shake its head in dizziness.

Without wasting a breath, Auren changed his direction towards the flank and lunged again—D.R. in his right hand, gun in his left.

A perfect fusion of melee and ranged.

The beast, furious and wounded, reacted. With sheer willpower, it repositioned itself to face the flanking human and launched a counterattack—its massive claw slicing through the air.

SLASH!~

Auren ducked low, evading the sweeping blow, and drove his dagger upward into the beast’s foreleg. Sparks of energy flared from the impact. The gun, still in his grip, was just inches from its snout.

BANG!~

Another shot burst straight into the beast’s face.

Auren’s eyes stayed locked, cold and focused—but behind that stillness was a heart pounding like a war drum. There was no room for fear, not now—not when a single hesitation could mean death. He clenched his jaw, forcing himself to breathe steady, steady... even though every instinct screamed at him to run.

His courage wasn’t some born gift. It was something he had built—painfully, stubbornly—on the back of every failure, every scar, and every sleepless night spent chasing a future he used to think was impossible.

Compared to the timid, unsure boy he’d been in his old life—the one who hid behind screens and dreams—this version of himself felt like another world entirely. That boy had imagined what strength looked like. This one was living it, moment by brutal moment.

But even now, with blood on his blade and a monster in his path, he knew he wasn’t finished. Not even close.

He’d come too far to stop here.

This was just the beginning.

ROAAR!!

The creature howled in agony. Blood and saliva sprayed as it thrashed, its pain turning to fury.

It lashed out with a series of furious swipes that would have ripped its attacker apart—but Auren was already gone, retreating to a safe distance, panting, sweat slicking his brow. His heart hammered. He could feel its every beat.

One mistake would mean death.

’I’ll be facing far worse than this,’ he told himself, reigniting his aura blade. Its golden glow washed across his face. ’If I can’t handle this, I’ll never survive what’s coming.’

He steadied his breath, adjusting his stance. He wasn’t here to dance. He was here to win.

The Night Stalker, snarling and bleeding from several wounds, suddenly backed off. Its breath was ragged. The damage to its legs and mouth had slowed it.

It knew now—it wasn’t winning this fight.

With a deep, guttural growl, it activated its innate skill.

Stealth Mode.

The creature vanished into the darkness of the night.

It didn’t run away.

It was biding its time.

GRRRRR~

The beast melted into the shadows, its bloodied form vanishing as the night embraced it. Cloaked in darkness, it made a silent decision—to wait.

The human had proven fast, clever, and unnervingly resourceful. But the Night Stalker had endured far worse over the centuries. It was a predator forged in patience, not pride. This fight wasn’t over—it was merely paused.

The moment its pack will arrive, the odds would shift, and when they did... it would strike with certainty and vengeance.

Just one minute. That’s all it needed.

Auren narrowed his eyes, scanning the forest, his senses sharp as he reactivated his eye skill.

[TIGER FOCUS]

"You want to play hide and seek?" he muttered, a smirk curling at his lips.

"I’m in."

Everything was going according to plan.