Chapter 5: The First Hunt

  Ezren exhaled sharply, stepping through the swirling portal and back into the forest. The air was cool and damp, thick with the scent of moss and decaying leaves. He clenched his fists. If he wanted to make use of the Graos, he needed corpses—materials to work with. And for that, he had to prepare.

  He spent the next few hours collecting wood, dragging heavy bundles back to the portal before tossing them into the fleshy depths of the forge. When he had enough, he entered and set to work, shaping the wood into sharpened stakes. One by one, he carved them down with careful precision, their pointed tips gleaming under the dim, unnatural light of the forge. Thirty stakes—enough for his experiments.

  Ezren extended his hands, gathering dark mana until it coalesced around his fingers like swirling shadows. He shaped the energy before him, weaving it into a magic circle suspended in the air. Symbols etched themselves into the darkened space, glowing faintly as the spell took form.

  When the circle was complete, he channeled his will into it. The magic activated with a sharp pulse, unleashing a surge of dark energy. Tendrils of shadow snaked outward from the circle, latching onto the fifteen stakes laid before him. All at once, the stakes absorbed the energy, their surfaces pulsing with a faint, eerie glow as Branding claimed them.

  The process was taxing—a single cast that consumed 55% of his mana. 10% burned away upon activation, while the spell imbued the stakes, locked 48% of his reserves to maintain control over the stakes. The weight of it left him drained, his core feeling hollow.

  With a weary sigh, he closed his eyes and sank into meditation. The forge quickened the process, amplifying his recovery as dark mana seeped into him, filling the void left by his exertion. Yet even as his mana replenished, the locked portion remained untouchable, claimed by the Branding spell to keep the stakes under his will.

  Ezren extended his hand, his will reaching out to the stakes. One by one, they trembled before rising into the air, their sharp tips gleaming under the forge’s dim light. His focus sharpened, and all fifteen stakes hovered before him, suspended by his will alone. The strain was there, a constant drain of mana, but he held them effortlessly. Then, he let them drop.

  “Good,” he murmured.

  Next, he opened a portal. If he could summon the stakes from within the forge, they’d be even more useful in combat. He reached through the connection—and the stakes shot out from the other side, hurtling into the air before clattering to the ground. A sharp grin spread across his lips. It worked.

  He called the stake back and caught it in his hand, feeling its rough, polished surface. As he held it, he willed it to rise while keeping his grip steady. The stake floated upward, his will commanding it to rise. As it ascended, he tightened his grip and allowed himself to be lifted along with it. Slowly, steadily, he rose higher until he reached the height of a high tree branch. The strain worsened as he ascended, the effort of lifting both himself and the stake consuming his mana at an accelerated rate. He had enough. Slowly, he willed the stake to descend, careful not to shatter his bones upon landing.

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  For his final test, he extended his hand, his will commanding the lone stake to rise. It floated before him, steady and obedient. With a sharp breath, he called upon the remaining fourteen stakes from within the portal, feeling their presence stir within the Forge.

  The stakes surged through the portal, hovering before him in a jagged formation. All fifteen glowed faintly under his command, their sharp tips angled forward. Without hesitation, he launched them downward, embedding them into the ground with precision. A satisfied smile crossed his lips.

  The exertion left him drained, his remaining mana reduced to a mere 6%.

  Satisfied with his progress, he returned to the forge, meditated until his reserves were full, then collapsed into sleep.

  —

  Dawn’s light filtered through the trees as Ezren stepped out of the portal. He wandered the forest, scanning for prey. Hours passed before movement caught his eye—a bird perched on a low branch, pecking at the bark. He reacted instantly. A flick of his wrist sent a knife flying. The bird darted to the side, escaping the strike—until Ezren twisted his fingers, adjusting its trajectory with his will. The stake veered midair, striking true. The bird tumbled to the ground, lifeless.

  He opened the portal and tossed the corpse inside.

  Then he heard it.

  A low, guttural growl from the underbrush.

  His body tensed. His instincts screamed danger. Slowly, he took a cautious step back—

  SNAP. A twig cracked underfoot.

  The growl turned into a vicious snarl. Leaves rustled violently as three wolves burst from the bushes, eyes glowing with hunger.

  Ezren didn’t wait. He spun on his heel and ran.

  The wolves gave chase, their heavy paws pounding against the earth. The snapping of jaws grew closer, the hot breath of the lead wolf brushing against his heels. His heart slammed against his ribs.

  Eyes darting frantically, he spotted salvation—a sturdy branch overhead. Without hesitation, he grabbed a knife, willed it to rise, and clung to it as it lifted him into the air. The strain was immediate, mana bleeding from him like an open wound, but he forced himself higher until he could grasp the branch and pull himself onto it.

  Below, the wolves circled, snarling and snapping, their yellow eyes locked onto him.

  Ezren wiped the sweat from his brow, a smirk curling his lips. “Let’s see how you handle this.”

  Ezren extended his hand, dark mana coiling around his fingers as he willed the portal open. Its swirling depths pulsed in response, awaiting his command.

  With a sharp breath, he reached through their connection, his mind latching onto the stakes stored within. His will tightened, and the stakes stirred—rising from the fleshy ground of the forge.

  Then, with a mere thought, he unleashed them.

  The stakes shot out of the portal like arrows loosed from a bow, slicing through the air.

  The stakes rained down like a volley of daggers, their sharpened tips whistling through the air with deadly precision.

  Below, the wolves clawed and leaped at the tree, their bodies stretched upward in a frenzy of snarls and desperation. Heads thrown back, throats exposed, muscles straining as they tried to climb their way to him.

  The stakes struck true. Each one drove into flesh and bone—piercing skulls, crushing throats, and tearing through chests. Blood sprayed across the roots and leaves, splattering the ground with crimson. The wolves collapsed where they stood, their bodies crumpling mid-reach before falling lifeless to the earth.

  Ezren lowered his hand, his entire body trembling. The effort had drained him completely, leaving only a sliver of mana—barely 6%—lingering within his core.

  He climbed down from the tree, his gaze sweeping over the blood-soaked clearing. With a flick of his wrist, he opened the portal and dragged the corpses inside, their twisted forms disappearing into the fleshy depths.

  A satisfied grin tugged at his lips.

  “Not bad for a first hunt.”