CHAPTER 19: CALM BEFORE THE CHASE

"Oh no. Oh no! OH NO!"

Auren moved like a ghost caught in a hurricane—ducking, diving, scrambling with the desperate instincts of someone who didn’t want to die. Not yet. Not here.

He wasn’t graceful. He wasn’t calm.

He was alive, and he was fighting to stay that way.

He leapt over roots, rolled beneath fallen branches, sidestepped through curtains of leaves—anything to stay just ahead of the Alpha’s next swipe. Once, he even kicked off the ground in a frantic burst of magic-powered flight, just to clear a collapsing tree that had been sliced in half behind him.

The air screamed with every claw wave.

These weren’t just attacks—they were rage made visible. The forest wasn’t just being torn apart; it was being rewritten with every slash. Massive gashes carved into the dirt where he’d just been standing. Trees toppled like snapped matchsticks. Rocks exploded into shards as the ground itself buckled under the weight of the Alpha’s fury.

And still, Auren ran.

Because slowing down wasn’t an option.

And because part of him—tired, terrified, but burning—refused to fall.

The clearing where he had landed seconds ago? Gone. Just wreckage now. A battlefield carved by magic and rage.

But Auren didn’t look back.

He sprinted into the thicker woods, weaving between trees like his life depended on it—because it did. Every breath burned in his lungs, every heartbeat felt like it could burst through his chest. But still, he ran.

He could feel it. That cold, ruthless presence. The Alpha’s gaze trailing behind him like a blade at his spine. Hunting him. Measuring him.

Waiting for him to slip.

And Auren knew—if he stopped, even for a second, he wouldn’t get a second chance.

Across the river, the massive white beast stood in perfect stillness, its glowing crimson eyes locked onto the path of the fleeing boy. It didn’t charge. It didn’t roar. It simply watched—calculating, waiting without an ounce of hurry.

Auren dared a glance over his shoulder—and paused. The barrage of air blades had stopped. The white beast hadn’t moved from its position across the river. Relief crashed over him like a wave.

"Finally safe," he whispered, chest heaving like a bellows.

Auren dropped behind the wide trunk of an ancient tree and slumped to the forest floor, his back pressing hard against the bark. His lungs drank in air with sharp, ragged gulps. Just moments ago, he’d truly thought it was over. That the Alpha would be the last thing he’d ever see.

Only the Tiger Focus—Jeis’s brutal, unforgiving technique—had kept him alive. The reflexes it demanded had been seared into his body after months of relentless drills, and today, it had saved him.

His body was mostly intact, thank the stars. No broken bones, no torn muscles. But his cloak was in tatters, and his hair looked like it had been used to mop up a hurricane. He must’ve looked half-dead.

Still, he was breathing.

And that meant he’d won—for now.

Every muscle screamed with exhaustion. His legs trembled from overuse, his vision wavered at the edges, and the constant mana drain was finally taking its toll. He’d burned through too much—his boosters, his bullets, his aura blade, even the grenade had drained him more than he realized.

Still, the fact that the Alpha couldn’t follow him here... that alone made it all worth it.

He recalled Jeis’s old map and her warning: this part of the forest didn’t belong to the white Night Stalker’s territory.

That meant, for now, he was safe. Probably.As long as he kept moving and didn’t let his guard slip, this might actually count as a win.

After a few more deep breaths, Auren stood and dusted himself off, his body still buzzing from adrenaline. He turned to leave—

—but then paused.

A mischievous grin crept onto his face.

He spun back around, cupped his hands around his mouth, and shouted across the river where the White Alpha still stood. The beast hadn’t moved, but its glowing eyes were fixed on him like a smoldering promise.

"Can’t catch me now, huh, kitty?"

With the cockiness only a survivor could muster, Auren flipped up his middle finger—bold, childish, and proud. Just like the old days in the internet cafés when he clutched a victory in the last second and made sure everyone knew it.

He stuck out his tongue, pulled down his lower eyelid, and let out one final, glorious taunt:

"BLEEEEEEEEH~!"

THUD.

The smugness drained from Auren’s face like someone had yanked the plug on his soul.

The White Night Stalker—no longer across the river—landed with a thunderous THUD on his side of the shore. One leap. That’s all it took. The earth quaked beneath its massive paws, and leaves trembled loose from the trees as if the forest itself recoiled.

Its glowing crimson eyes locked onto him—not with curiosity, not with caution.

Just rage.

Cold. Focused. Personal.

Oh.

Oh no.

Auren stood frozen, still mid-taunt, hand half-raised while his tongue was still out.

The realization hit like a slap to his goofy face. The beast had never stopped hunting. It had just been savoring the moment—watching him squirm, watching him rest, watching him celebrate and waiting for the most delicious time to strike.

Now, it was done waiting.

Its muscles coiled like drawn bows, every fiber ready to lunge. It wasn’t just angry.

It was entertained.

’Master—RUN!’ Bigbird shrieked.

Auren’s boots flared to life, and he did exactly that.

"I was just kidding, cat!!" he shouted as he dashed into the safety of the woods -if he can call it safe. His voice cracking with panic. The trees blurred past him, the MJ Boosters flaring to its maximum ability as he tried to outrun the monster now charging behind him like a locomotive.

But the Alpha was too fast. It didn’t run—it flew across the ground. Its white fur became a blur, and within seconds, it was nearly on top of him. Like a cat playing on its toy, it just want to see him struggle more before getting a tiny bite.

Auren glanced back—and saw its maw, wide open, reaching for him mid air.

Suddenly—

ROAAAR!~

Seven massive bodies slammed into the Alpha from all sides.

Night Stalkers.

But not the Alpha’s.

These weren’t just Night Stalkers—they were locals of this side of the river. Guardians of this stretch of forest.

With snarls and bone-deep growls, they launched themselves at the intruder. Seven dark forms crashed into the confident white Alpha, dragging it down in a whirlwind of claws, fangs, and fury. The air erupted with dust and crackling magic as the beasts collided, shaking the trees and ground with their raw, primal clash.

Auren skidded to a halt, wide-eyed and breathless.

For the first time, he wasn’t running from death.

He was watching it happen behind him.

"This...?"

’They must be the rightful owners of this forest’s territory, Master,’ Bigbird replied grimly.

Auren didn’t need to be told twice.

"Good enough for me!"

Without another word, Auren turned and bolted, vanishing deeper into the forest. Whatever miracle had just saved him, he wasn’t sticking around to see which cat came out on top. One of them was going to win—and whoever it was would still be hungry.

And Auren had no intention of becoming dessert.

Across the river, the rest of the Alpha’s pack howled in frustration. The younger Night Stalkers could only roar from the far bank, unable to leap across like their leader had.

Meanwhile, the brawl between the invader and the defenders was savage. Bodies lunged. Jaws snapped. Magical claws clashed with bone and fur. The Alpha, even outnumbered seven to one, held its ground. It fought like a demon—smart, ruthless, precise. It ducked and weaved, striking and retreating in a blur of white fury. A true expert of the forest and befitting of the title of an Alpha.

But for Auren, the only battle that mattered was survival.

He jumped from branch to branch, using every bit of his remaining mana to maintain his height advantage. The boosters in his MJ boots sparked with each leap, giving him enough lift to clear gaps and vault higher.

His mind raced just as fast as his feet—plotting escape routes, scanning the terrain, watching for anything that moved with the wrong kind of silence.

In one hand, he clutched his tattered map, the corners worn and damp with sweat. His original route was a lost cause now—the river, the camp, all of it was crawling with threats. Going back the way he came would be suicide.

His eyes locked onto a jagged line near the map’s edge: a mountain range.

"So I’ve gotta go over this, huh..." he muttered, frowning. The climb wouldn’t be easy. "Full day. Maybe more... But at least it’s not filled with giant murder cats."

He rolled the map and tucked it into his pack.

"Better late than dead," he added, with a dry chuckle that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

His mana reserves were nearly dry, and his boots—his precious MJ Boosters—were overheating. With a sharp hiss of escaping steam, Auren dropped from the treetops and landed with a grunt.

"Hot—hot—ow—dammit!" he hissed, hopping in place and flapping at the soles of his boots. The enchantments inside had worked overtime, and now they were threatening to fry themselves—and his feet.

No more jumps. Not for a while.

Switching to a steady jog, Auren pushed into the deeper woods. He needed to find shelter—a safe place to catch his breath, restore his mana, and plan his next move. Somewhere quiet, hidden, and far away from fangs, claws, and glowing red eyes.

"I need a damn nap," he muttered as he vanished into the dark treeline, his silhouette swallowed by the shadows.

Back at the riverbank, the battle was over.

The once-serene shoreline had become a graveyard of violence—scarred earth, shattered rocks, and the broken bodies of fallen titans.

Seven guardians lay in ruins, their dark fur matted with blood, their proud, feral forms twisted in death. Whatever force had once ruled this territory had been crushed.

And atop that brutal heap stood the White Alpha.

It swayed slightly, chest heaving, blood dripping from its fangs like melted rubies. Deep, raw gashes covered its body—gifts from a battle it hadn’t taken lightly. But even with wounds that should’ve felled it...

Its eyes still burned. Fierce. Unyielding.

It was injured—but it was not beaten. Not yet.

To the White Alpha, this was a battle worthy of the pain. A worthy hunt. And unfortunately for Auren, those wounds weren’t permanent. Even as it stood there, muscles twitching with tension, the deep lacerations across its body were already beginning to close, mending themselves at a visible rate.

By morning, it would be as if the fight had never happened.

And when that time came... there is a hunt he needs to finish.

Around it, the surviving females of the local pack approached with their heads bowed low. Not one dared challenge him now.

In that moment, the forest had crowned a new Night Stalker king.

And as the blood soaked into the soil, the Alpha raised its head and let out a long, echoing howl that shook the treetops and sent every creature in the woods into stillness.

A triumphant call.

One by one, the others followed. The pack howled in unison—a chorus that declared the fall of the old guard and the rise of a new ruler. Even the hesitant newcomers joined in, their growls forming a low, rumbling chant of submission.

When the final note faded into the night air, the Alpha lay down, licking its wounds slowly. Its body begged for rest—but its mind did not.

In its glowing red eyes, one image remained.A boy.Fleeing.Laughing.

’The chase is not over, human.’

Back at the Aetherthorn, emotions surged like a storm—restlessness rippled through the crowd with every heartbeat as they watched Auren’s trial unfold in real time. The viewing crystals shimmered with the images of his narrow escapes, his clever traps, his brutal victories. While the other contestants had only just begun to stir from sleep, Auren had already danced with death.

And now, something strange was happening.

The cheers, once meant for their own kin, had faded. In their place was silence... hesitation.

For the first time in the history of the Test of Fang, the elves found themselves divided. Not over tribal pride, nor over rank or honor—but over a single human boy. A boy who had earned their awe.

Some whispered that the White Alpha deserved respect, that such a majestic creature should not be bested by a child. Others, however, felt something stir in their hearts—something that told them to root for the underdog.

The crowd didn’t know who to cheer for anymore.

And that uncertainty was louder than any roar.