The sound of the bowstring cut through the mist.
An arrow screamed toward me, flickering with dark mana—jagged, unstable.
I was mid-air. No time to deflect. No room to dodge.
So I caught it.
Mana surged through my fingers as I clamped down. The arrow sizzled in my palm, heat biting through skin and nerve. I crushed it mid-flight. Splinters disintegrated like ash.
Momentum unbroken, I twisted and drove forward—knee raised high.
A flying strike, direct and brutal.
But he was faster than I expected.
The dark figure slipped sideways, almost gliding, and swung his bow like a hammer. It cracked across my ribs with bone-shaking force.
Pain flared. My body snapped backward, slamming into a tree. Bark shattered behind me.
I dropped to one knee—but only for a second.
Three more arrows were already in the air.
Fast. Too fast.
I dipped left. One sliced past my face, close enough to cut. The second whistled over my back. The third found its mark.
Buried deep in my shoulder.
Heat bloomed. Wet.
I roared forward, attacking in a frenzy—left hook, elbow, heel kick.
It slipped through it all like it was smoke.
Dodging effortlessly.
What was this speed? His aura wasn't even visible. No surge. No flaring mana signature.
His movement was incredibly smooth. But also hidden.
Almost like it was fighting from the shadows.
The hunter was taller than me—lithe, built for range. A bow fighter.
And yet, he was winning up close.
In the middle of my punch, he slipped under, pivoted—and grabbed me by the neck.
I barely registered the motion before my back slammed into the forest floor.
A shockwave rippled through the moss. Trees trembled. Birds scattered.
I gasped, chest convulsing. Pain arced down my spine like liquid iron.
I staggered upright, teeth clenched. Shoulder burning, ribs cracked, vision blurring—but I stayed on my feet.
Looked him in the eye.
Slate-black skin. That eerie shimmer. Watching, not attacking.
Measuring.
"You're one of the elves," I muttered, breath ragged.
He stilled.
"From the myths."
The forest held its breath.
The elf tilted his head. "Myths," he echoed. "Humans forget truth far too often."
A flicker of something passed across his expression. Not malice.
Almost... pity.
"But we are still here."
I wiped blood from my mouth. He was strong. Skilled.
And if I didn't go all out—I was going to die.
This creature was an elf.
One that hadn't disappeared. One that had mutated along with the forest.
The myths had said the original inhabitants of the forest could speak with the trees. Shift with the terrain. Disappear into light.
No one believed them anymore.
But now I see those were not myths.
Because I was looking one in the eye.
And losing.
No more holding back. No more calculations.
This was not the time to restrain oneself.
I let out a slow breath. Then turned inward.
Mana plunged deep—where most never dared—into the bloodstream itself.
I expanded the red blood cells. Forced them wider, thinner. Maximized their efficiency. More oxygen. More output. More burn.
I didn't just amplify my body. I rewrote it.
My heart kicked into overdrive. Muscles screamed as they adapted to the increased demand. Lungs drew deeper, faster, colder.
And on top of that—I activated Perfect Flow.
Every tendon, every nerve, every electrical signal aligned. No drag. No hesitation. No delay between thought and movement. The body became a perfect circuit.
My heartbeat dropped into rhythm.
Strike. Step. Breath. Pulse.
One flow.
Micro-tears bloomed in my organs. Cells fraying under the pressure. The cost was building second by second.
But I moved. Because this was what I had.
This was what it meant to fight without a Seed.
Techniques that pushed the body past its natural ceiling—methods most avoided, feared, or failed to survive—had a name.
Sacrificials.
I moved.
No, I appeared before him.
His eyes widened—a flicker of genuine surprise.
The first crack in his composure.
Left hook—telegraphed, on purpose.
He read it. Dodged. Exactly as planned.
I spun, elbow arcing in behind the motion. Clean. Controlled. No mana signature.
He didn't brace.
And at the last possible instant—I let it surge.
A flash of condensed mana erupted down my arm, called from nowhere. A burst of energy cloaked in silence.
The mana disappearance technique.
My elbow collided with his jaw.
Bone met bone.
His head snapped sideways, body jolting back half a step.
Not a knockout—but it landed.
His feet slid against the moss as he caught himself.
He looked back at me—and for the first time—
He reset his stance. No more measuring. No more games.
He understood now.
I wasn't prey.
He tilted his head, something calculating rising in his tone.
"You're no Seed-bearer. I can feel that. But you're not ordinary either."
A pause.
Then, almost curious:
"What are you, exactly, child?"
His gaze swept over me again, studying the micro-twitches in my stance, the uneven breath I was trying to control. There was no mockery in his voice—just interest.
Sadly for him, I was not about to engage in conversation.
I shifted forward. Subtle. Precise.
He noticed—and readied his bow.
But this time, something changed.
He didn't just notch an arrow. He coated it.
A thin ripple of mana spread from his hand—cold, slow-moving, like ink bleeding into water. It wrapped around the bow, the string, the arrowhead.
Dark mana.
But it wasn't just mana. It had weight. Structure. A rhythm deeper than natural mana flow.
My eyes narrowed.
Wait.
He mentioned me not being a Seed-bearer.
He knew what that meant.
Which meant—
He had a Seed.
I didn't wait for confirmation.
I attacked.
He faded—his form dissolving like smoke—reappearing a few meters back, half-merged with the shadow of a twisted branch.
He moved through it. Through the shadow.
He fired the arrow as he reappeared. Dark mana hissed through the air.
I dodged hard, shoulder screaming, and went after him again.
But this time—I didn't stop when he vanished.
I adjusted. Predicted. A two-step attack.
I struck at where he would be—and was.
My fist clipped his side. He spun away—smooth, controlled—but I was already on him.
A second strike followed. Faster. Cleaner.
My forearm crashed into his back.
He stumbled, and I used the opening. Slipped in low, wrapped his arm, and threw him with all the strength my Sacrificial technique could give.
He hit the tree hard, bark cracking, leaves raining down around him.
But before I could press the advantage—
Pain.
A flash of agony bloomed in my leg.
I looked down.
The arrow.
It did not miss. It was tracking me.
Black mana rippled outward from the wound, veins darkening beneath the skin.
It wasn't just pain.
It was paralysis—creeping through my mana flow, strangling control from the inside out.
My leg stiffened.Breath caught.
I staggered. Almost collapsed.
He watched me carefully—measured—but I saw it. That flicker of satisfaction.The predator thinking the struggle was done.
And I let him believe it.
Let my aura die. Let the fear show.Let him take the step.
Because that was all I needed.
I felt it then—like a wire pulling tight.
A single path forward.
Clear.
Unavoidable.
Ah… now I see it.
My fingers twitched.
My victory.