Chapter 40 — Quiet After the Storm
The aftermath was silent.
The ruins lay heavy beneath a shroud of smoke and dust, the faint hiss of cooling debris the only sound that broke the stillness.
Bodies—beasts and broken concrete alike—were strewn across the street, scattered like discarded thoughts after a nightmare. The metallic scent of blood lingered, sharp and dense, clinging to the air like fog.
Seth walked through it all in silence.
The One Sword hung loosely in one hand, streaked with dark stains that caught the last light of day. His steps were measured, unhurried, his eyes calm in a way that almost felt detached—as though the battle that had shaken this district minutes ago had never really touched him.
He stopped beside the corpses of the three novice beasts.
The wolves had finally gone still, their monstrous frames twitching no more. The moth's wings, shredded beyond recognition, fluttered weakly in the dying breeze before going limp. Seth crouched, pressing a hand against the coarse hide of one of the wolves before cutting into it with practiced precision. His movements were clean, efficient—almost surgical.
One by one, the beast cores came free.
Glowing spheres, faintly pulsing with inner storms. Energy swirled inside them like trapped mist, alive and restless, whispering with the same silent hum he remembered from the lizard's core. Seth turned one between his fingers, watching the pale-blue currents coil and pulse beneath the smooth surface.
"Good," he murmured, faint approval slipping through his tone. "These'll do."
He didn't bother with the lesser ones.
The ground was littered with initiate-level corpses—hundreds of them—but their cores had become meaningless. Nearly two hundred level-nine initiates had barely nudged his saturation to two percent. The gains were too small he was better off hunting for novice ranked cores.
Cutting a strip of meat from the stronger wolf's flank, Seth wiped his blade clean and glanced once toward the distance.
The ruin that had once served as his shelter now had a hole punched through the middle. He was sure it wasn't going to last long now —a casualty of his last advancement in strength. He exhaled softly and began to walk.
There was no rush. The world around him had gone eerily still.
Here and there, beasts stirred in the shadowed corners of ruined buildings, drawn by the thick scent of blood—but none lasted long enough to matter. A step. A blur. A clean strike. The street fell quiet again.
Seth wasn't the hunted anymore.
He was now the hunter.
By the time Seth reached the outskirts, the sun had dipped low, painting the broken skyline in shades of crimson and gold. His eyes settled on a compound a short distance ahead—half hidden behind the skeletal remains of a concrete fence.
It looked deserted.
A place long forgotten.
Tall walls, broken in several places, leaned beneath the weight of vines. Rusted vehicles lay half-buried in grass and dust, their once-smooth frames gnawed by time. Tools and machines were scattered across the cracked lot, frozen mid-task. It looked as if the people here had simply… walked away one day, never to return.
Seth took a moment to look around before entering through what used to be the gate.
Three structures stood within. Two were barely standing, their roofs caved in, walls split down the middle. But the third—a warehouse—still held form.
He went there.
A few beasts lingered within, skulking between shadows and debris. Their growls echoed faintly against the steel walls—low, uncertain. Seth's presence answered them with silence. Moments later, the warehouse was still again, the smell of blood already thickening in the air.
He dragged the bodies out, tossing them aside like useless clutter, and returned inside.
Dust drifted lazily through thin rays of light that filtered from gaps in the roof. The air was heavy, still carrying the warmth of the day. Seth leaned against a cracked wall, let his sword dissipate back into his body, and finally—after what felt like hours—summoned his system screen.
The golden panel blinked into existence, its edges sharp against the dimness.
He'd long since muted the notifications during battle. They were a distraction he couldn't afford. Now, as he scrolled through the list, hundreds of lines flickered by—each marking a kill. Most were beneath notice. Only three lines caught his attention.
⸻
[YOU HAVE ABSORBED THE SOUL OF A LEVEL 4 NOVICE BEING. +4.0 SP]
[YOU HAVE ABSORBED THE SOUL OF A LEVEL 2 NOVICE BEING. +2.0 SP]
[YOU HAVE ABSORBED THE SOUL OF A LEVEL 7 NOVICE BEING. +7.0 SP]
⸻
Exactly as expected.
Especially the second one—the weaker wolf.
He could still picture the moment vividly: the impact of his kick sending it crashing through a wall and the faint whimper before he cleaved it clean in two. Quick. Brutal. Efficient.
Another thing he noticed was that Novice-ranked beasts gave ten times as much SP as initiates. During the time he had killed the lizard he had been too broken to care.
It seemed fair. His growth cost ten times as much now, after all.
Seth's eyes drifted to the bottom of the panel, to the total number glowing faintly against the dark.
SP: 310.3
A short whistle escaped him, quiet but impressed.
There was a time when that number would've felt like a mountain. Now, it barely scratched the surface.
"Not enough," he muttered.
With a sigh, he dragged three points into his Physique.
The change came immediately—a slow burn that rippled beneath his skin, muscles coiling tighter, bones denser. The world around him seemed to grow slightly smaller as strength surged quietly through his veins. When the glow up finally faded, he exhaled, a small grin ghosting across his lips.
"Better."
Turning toward the corner, he began clearing debris, stacking dead vines and crumbling wood into a crude fire pit. The motions were routine—almost comforting.
A spark. Then flame.
Orange light flickered across the warehouse walls, chasing the darkness into retreat. Seth skewered the wolf meat and set it over the flame, the rich scent rising slowly into the air. For the first time that day, warmth filled the ruined space.
Outside, the night deepened.
The forest's cries grew faint, fading into the distance as even the beasts seemed reluctant to approach. Only the soft crackle of fire broke the silence.
Seth watched the meat roast, his eyes distant, reflecting the flickering light. His mind was already elsewhere—on the hunt, on what came next.
He'd grown stronger today.
But beyond the ruins, at the far edge of the city, he could still feel it—that faint shimmer of power emanating from the Waterhouse district. It hadn't vanished. It was waiting.
He had thought reaching the novice rank would make him untouchable. He was wrong.
The threat he felt from that place hadn't decreased in the slightest. In fact it seems worse due to his enhanced spirit stat now more capable of sensing the threat a bit better.
His hand clenched slightly. The firelight danced across his knuckles.
Tomorrow, he would go hunting again.
And this time… he'd aim higher.
For now, he reached for the glowing cores beside him, their faint pulses painting soft light across his face.
It was time to see how far these three would take him.