A month had gone by.
Even though Orren was improving steadily every day, he still did not dare to venture deeper into the forest.
He kept his hunting restricted to the outer edges where the dormant beasts were relatively predictable.
Even there, however, danger never truly disappeared.
His luck with Memories had also seemingly run dry.
Since his first kill, he had not received a single additional Memory.
He had successfully hunted more than fifty Ironfur Vulpines, yet none of them had rewarded him again.
That lack of reward was exactly why he was currently in a slightly sour mood as he knelt beside his latest kill, carefully digging out the soul shard.
This time, he had managed to kill three of them in a single hunt.
But it had not been without cost.
One of the beasts had managed to land a claw strike on his left shoulder, leaving deep gashes that still stung with every movement.
The injury was not fatal, but it was a reminder that his growth was not without risk.
After collecting the soul shards, he dragged the corpses a short distance away before loading them onto his makeshift wagon, one by one.
Once everything was secured, he made his way back toward the town.
The first stop was the smith.
When he arrived, the old man looked up from his work and immediately let out a rough exclamation.
“Bloody hell, kiddo.
You got a death wish or something?” The smith was a broad-shouldered man with a sturdy build, his arms thick from years of hammering metal.
His gaze shifted between Orren and the blood soaking through his bandaged shoulder.
“Don’t start, old man.
Just hold up your end of the deal,” Orren replied without hesitation as he unloaded the carcasses.
The smith clicked his tongue but did not refuse.
“How do you even find these beasts so easily?
Others struggle for a week just to spot one.” Orren paused briefly at that.
Even he found it strange at times.
‘The only explanation would be my Aspect.’ He focused inward for a moment, recalling the nature of his power.
Aspect: [Wayfarer].
Aspect Description: [You walk paths others fail to notice.
Where direction falters and certainty fades, your steps remain strangely correct.
The world does not guide you, yet it allows you to proceed where others would become lost.] The description was vague, but it was clearly influencing his ability to navigate and encounter opportunities others would miss.
It might also explain why finding beasts felt almost… guided.
“I don’t know,” Orren finally answered.
“Just tell me how far along you are.” The smith scratched his beard, glancing at the corpses as he mentally calculated.
“I’m quite tight on time with your request.
I’ve got a huge order coming in from the city.” Before he could continue, Orren immediately cut in.
“Oi, oi.
Don’t go backing out on your word now.” The smith frowned.
“I’m not saying I won’t make your armor, you brat.
Just come back tomorrow.
It’ll be ready.” “That’s good,” Orren replied, though his curiosity was already piqued.
“But what’s with this big order from the city?” The smith shrugged.
“I don’t know much.
Just heard that all the smiths in the nearby villages and towns got orders for weapons and armor.
Something big is going on.” He waved his hand dismissively, already turning back toward his work.
“Now shoo.
I’ve got things to do.” “Yeah, yeah.
See you tomorrow.” Orren left without further argument.
On the way back, he reflected on the arrangement he had made.
He could not rely solely on the Nightmare Spell to provide him with everything, so he had negotiated with the smith: in exchange for delivering fifteen Ironfur Vulpine carcasses, he would receive a properly made set of armor.
By the time he returned to his hut, dusk had already settled.
He treated his wound carefully, wrapping it with fresh bandages before sitting down to rest.
His routine had become increasingly rigid.
Morning until afternoon was spent at the academy.
Afterwards, he would rest briefly before heading into the forest to hunt.
The hunts usually lasted anywhere from one to three hours, depending on luck and distance.
After returning, he would deliver the corpses, treat any injuries, and eat something simple.
Only then would he begin his most important routine.
Meditation and soul shard absorption.
He crushed the cores one after another, focusing on the faint sensation of soul essence flowing through him.
By now, he could sense it more clearly than before, but it still only lingered for a few seconds before fading away completely.
The progress was painfully slow.
And if things continued like this, he could not be sure he would awaken before the final battle.
‘No… I need to hunt awakened beasts.
That’s the only way to speed this up.’ The thought was becoming harder to ignore.
He forced himself to calm down and continued meditating for another hour before finally tending to his equipment and lying down to sleep.
…
The next day, after receiving his new armor, Orren entered the forest once again.
This time, however, his goal was different.
He was no longer just hunting dormant beasts for survival or resources.
He was searching for something far more dangerous.
An awakened beast.
To increase his chances, he had already hunted down an Ironfur Vulpine and used its remains as bait, hoping to lure stronger predators deeper into the forest.
However, for that plan to work, he first needed to move beyond the familiar outer edge and venture into territory where even he could no longer rely on certainty.
He advanced cautiously through the undergrowth, carefully observing the terrain and marking the path he had taken.
The forest here felt heavier, denser, as if the air itself was thicker.
Every sound seemed sharper, every movement more significant.
Soon, he came across faint traces in the ground.
Large footprints, partially crushed vegetation, and broken branches indicated something massive had passed through this area recently.
Judging by the size alone, the creature must have been enormous, possibly comparable to an elephant in mass.
His armor gave him some confidence, but not much.
It consisted of sturdy boots, reinforced shin guards, forearm protection, and a metal breastplate lined with leather padding beneath.
It covered his vital areas well enough, but it was still far from something capable of withstanding a direct strike from a monster of that size.
As he continued following the tracks, distant sounds suddenly reached his ears.
He immediately stopped.
There was a battle nearby.
Letting go of the cart he had been pulling, Orren moved silently toward the source of the noise, keeping himself low and using the trees for cover.
Each step was measured, careful not to draw attention.
After a short while, he climbed a tree to get a better vantage point.
What he saw made his body tense.
Three crab-like abominations were engaged in a brutal fight against a massive creature resembling a Komodo dragon.
Two similar bodies already lay on the ground, motionless, while the remaining three continued to fight desperately.
‘Hard to call it unfair,’ Orren thought as he observed the scene.
The giant lizard, nearly six meters in length, suddenly lunged forward and clamped its jaws around one of the crabs, throwing it aside with terrifying force.
Despite being injured, it moved with overwhelming strength and precision.
All four remaining creatures were clearly wounded.
Yet it was obvious that the lizard held the upper hand.
Even among awakened beasts, it seemed to be of a higher tier, closer to the peak of its rank.
‘If I want to take advantage of this situation, I need to move now.’ As the lizard prepared to strike again, an arrow suddenly cut through the air and struck its neck.
The attack barely pierced the hide, but it served its purpose, drawing the creature’s attention away for just a moment.
That brief distraction allowed the crabs to strike back.
One of them managed to latch onto its leg, while another drove its pincer into the beast’s torso, drawing blood.
The third crab, previously thrown aside, was still recovering and not yet able to rejoin the fight.
Even surrounded, the lizard reacted violently.
It snapped down on the crab holding its leg, crushing it and ripping off its pincer in the same motion.
The injured creature collapsed, but the struggle continued without pause.
The third crab finally rejoined the battle, only to be met with a sweeping tail strike that dented its shell and sent it staggering.
Another arrow followed almost immediately after, again drawing the lizard’s attention at a crucial moment.
The remaining crab seized the opening and pushed forward, further worsening the creature’s injuries.
Only then did Orren move.
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