Moonlight drifted through the tangled crown of Darkroot Forest like pale ghosts searching for a place to rest. The silver light slipped between branches, only to be swallowed by the thick shadows that ruled the ground below.
Darkness here was not a simple absence of light—it was a living presence, heavy and patient, clinging to every root and twisted trunk like a predator waiting for its moment. Even the wind moved carefully among the trees, brushing past leaves with the quiet caution of something that knew it had entered territory far older and far crueler than itself.
Somewhere within that oppressive wilderness, a lone figure staggered forward.
Nova's boots sank into the damp forest soil with dull, wet sounds. Each step left behind a dark stain that spread slowly through the earth.
Blood—his blood—poured from wounds too deep to ignore, soaking the ground in a trail so obvious that even a half-blind scavenger could track him without effort.
His breathing came in ragged bursts.
Every inhale scraped through his lungs like shards of broken glass, sharp and merciless. The coppery taste of iron filled his mouth so completely that swallowing became an impossible task. It clung to his tongue, thick and suffocating, reminding him with every breath just how close he stood to the quiet border between life and death.
One of his arms hung uselessly at his side.
The limb had been nearly ruined. Flesh had been torn open by savage claws, leaving muscle shredded and exposed. Beneath the torn skin, pale bone flashed faintly whenever the moon managed to break through the canopy above. The wound pulsed with unbearable heat, sending waves of agony through his body with every movement.
Across his back, four brutal claw marks carved deep furrows into his flesh.
The wounds ran from shoulder to waist like the strokes of some monstrous blade. Blood trickled steadily down his spine, soaking through his torn clothing before dripping silently to the ground. Each step forced the injured muscles to move again, and every movement sent a violent tremor of pain through his body.
Several times, his knees threatened to buckle beneath him.
Yet somehow, he kept walking.
Behind him, the forest stirred.
A low growl echoed through the trees, deep and guttural, vibrating through the earth like distant thunder. It was a terrible sound—wet, heavy, and filled with hunger. The noise was accompanied by the slow, deliberate crunch of bones snapping beneath massive paws.
The creature was not rushing because it didn't need to. The beast knew exactly what it was doing.
Even seasoned cultivators—warriors hardened by years of battle and bloodshed—would feel their courage falter upon hearing such a sound in the dead of night.
But Nova did not stop.
Not because he believed escape was possible. The truth was far less heroic.
Some stubborn fragment of will inside him simply refused to collapse. Some irrational part of his mind continued to command his legs to move forward, even though every step felt like torture.
"Again… a… Tier Three… fox-beast…"
The words slipped from his lips in a broken whisper, barely strong enough to disturb the still forest air.
His voice sounded strangely distant. Almost like it belonged to someone else.
He had underestimated it.
No.
The truth was far harsher than that. He had been arrogant.
At Level 30, with Intermediate Mortal Cultivation, Nova believed himself strong enough to hunt a beast of that rank alone. His fire affinity had carried him through countless battles, burning through enemies that once seemed terrifying. And his trusted Ring Technique had turned many desperate fights into victories.
Over time, those victories had built confidence. Confidence, unfortunately, had quietly evolved into pride. He had walked into the forest believing he was the hunter.
A weak, dry laugh rattled in his chest, barely more than air escaping ruined lungs. "Turns out…"
His voice cracked, rough and exhausted. "…the forest had other ideas."
And somewhere in the darkness behind him, the fox-beast growled again.
Arrogance, Nova reflected dimly, was a remarkably persistent companion. Even while bleeding out in a cursed forest, it still found a way to whisper reminders of one's mistakes. At the moment, however, the fox-beast pursuing him seemed far more eager to finish the lecture.
The consequences of that arrogance gnawed at him more viciously than the beast itself.
Golden light flickered weakly around his hands as five radiant rings slowly formed around each wrist. They hovered in precise formation, rotating slowly in the air like small suns bound by invisible threads. Once, their brilliance had been fierce and unwavering. Now their glow trembled, dull and unstable. Cracks crept across their surfaces.
Fine fractures spread through the golden constructs like spiderwebs across fragile glass. These rings were not artifacts or enchanted tools. They were the manifestation of Nova's cultivation path—the living expression of the technique he had forged through decades of struggle.
They were his pride. His identity. His weapon. And now they were breaking.
Between his palms, fire struggled to gather. In better days, his flames would roar into existence with explosive power. Tonight they sputtered weakly, forming fragile embers that collapsed almost as quickly as they appeared.
"Damn it…"
The word slipped from his lips as his strength faltered.
His legs gave out beneath him, and he dropped heavily to one knee. Mud splashed against his clothes as pain exploded through his chest, forcing the air from his lungs. The forest tilted violently in his vision, moonlight scattering into blurred fragments while dark stars flickered along the edges of his sight.
Thirty-seven years. That was how long he had lived.
Thirty-seven years of cultivation, struggle, and survival in a world where strength was the only currency that mattered. He had clawed his way upward from nothing—burned meridians, shattered bones, and countless battles marking every step of the journey.
Power had never come easily. But he had endured. And now, after everything, his life was ending like this. Alone. In the mud.
The fox-beast burst from the shadows.
The creature was enormous, far larger than any natural fox. Coarse crimson fur covered its muscular body, shimmering faintly beneath the moonlight. Its elongated snout dripped with saliva mixed with fresh blood, and three massive tails lashed behind it, cracking through the air like whips.
Its eyes burned with savage intelligence.
Nova barely managed to turn before it lunged.
Instinct forced his body to act. He poured every remaining fragment of mana into the rings around his wrists. Golden flames erupted outward in a violent surge, illuminating the forest with blinding brilliance.
Heat flooded the clearing.
Trees blackened instantly. Leaves turned to ash midair as a roaring wall of fire slammed into the beast's chest.
The fox-beast shrieked, but it did not fall.
Instead, it pushed forward through the flames.
The force of the collision shattered Nova's rings. Golden fragments scattered through the air like dying stars before dissolving into nothingness. The backlash tore through his meridians instantly, turning pain into something unbearable.
Blood burst from his mouth as the world collapsed into darkness. The beast reached him a moment later.
Its jaws closed around his torso. Teeth pierced flesh and crushed bone with brutal ease. Nova felt himself lifted from the ground, his body shaking violently as ribs snapped and organs tore.
Strangely, there was no fear left. Only bitterness.
"So… this is it…"
His final thought faded quietly as the moonlight dimmed and the forest dissolved into darkness.