The cries of beasts echoed through the dense forest as Ethan, his red hair matted with sweat and blood, clashed against a myriad of Bronze Rank creatures. Fatigue gnawed at him, his pallor a testament to the toll these battles had taken. To an outsider, he might have appeared overwhelmingly powerful, yet he knew the harsh truth: without his aura skills, he was merely a normal mage with no Spirit Beast to aid him. As he fought on, he recognized the stark reality that, despite his recent victories, he was still just a fledgling in this unforgiving wilderness.
With each encounter, the beasts grew stronger and more cunning. The earlier foes seemed like mere practice dummies compared to the ferocity of the creatures he faced now. It was as if he had transitioned from battling domesticated dogs to challenging seasoned warriors. The Silver Rank Wolf Drake had been a formidable opponent, but it paled in comparison to the four-armed creature now before him.
Ethan was engaged in a desperate fight against a Pandion Monk, its white fur like an impenetrable armor, adorned with sinister black horns. The creature stood six feet tall, wielding weapons with a skill that showcased its rare Arsenal affinity—an ability that allowed it to manipulate and control weapons with an almost sentient grace. The beast's four arms were a blur as it swung a dagger and a short sword in its lower hands, while bone clubs banged against one another in the upper pair, creating a cacophony of violence.
The clash had been brutal and relentless for over half an hour. Ethan's body bore the marks of the fight; cuts and bruises covered him, and though some of the blood was his own, the fatigue—both mental and physical—was overwhelming. His aura skills were nearly depleted, leaving him on the brink of collapse, but he pressed on, aware that time was running short. He had only five minutes left in this grueling challenge.
The Pandion Monk roared, releasing a primal sound that echoed through the forest. It sheathed its weapons, reached for the black war hammer strapped to its back, and charged at Ethan, the weapon glowing ominously with golden light. Ethan's heart raced as he saw the beast preparing to unleash a powerful skill.
"Not today," he thought, summoning the last vestiges of energy from Boost. In a flash, he darted to the beast's back, clambering up its fur with desperation. With the Pandion Monk distracted, he unleashed Razor, aiming directly for one of its silver eyes. It was a risky move—he could have killed the creature—but exhaustion clouded his judgment, and he merely aimed to cause pain.
The beast howled in agony, its grip on the hammer faltering. In that instant, Ethan felt a strange connection to the hammer, a pull that made his heart race. He seized the weapon with his remaining strength, feeling a surge of energy as he lifted it above his head.
With a mighty swing, he brought the hammer crashing down onto the Pandion Monk's skull. The beast crumpled to the ground, unconscious but not dead. Ethan leaned against the hammer, panting, the thrill of victory coursing through him despite the overwhelming fatigue that threatened to drag him under.
Suddenly, the portal began to materialize, glowing ominously as it prepared to whisk him away. He held onto the hammer tightly, unwilling to let go of this unexpected prize. As he was pulled into the swirling darkness, he hoped to take the hammer with him—but the portal spat it out, sending it crashing back to the unconscious beast with a dull thud.
Ethan didn't know whether to laugh or cry. His hard-won reward was discarded like trash, a cruel twist of fate. The moment he reappeared in his room, notifications blared, but he ignored them, too exhausted to care. He stripped off his tattered clothes, hid them away, and stumbled into the bath, using a healing pill the system had granted him.
After a quick wash, he dragged himself to bed like a living corpse, falling into a deep, dreamless sleep. As he drifted off, his mind flickered back to the forest, where the battle had raged, and where he had pushed himself to his limits.
In his slumber, he dreamed of the challenges that awaited him, oblivious to the notifications still flashing on his screen. Tomorrow marked the beginning of the weekend, granting him the luxury of rest without the burden of daily quests.
Meanwhile, Zark observed Ethan's determination with mild surprise. The boy had pushed himself to the brink, reinforcing not only his physical limits but his mental fortitude as well. This resilience, while taxing, was a crucial part of the system's plan for his growth.
As Zark contemplated the implications of Ethan's efforts, a presence stirred within the Beast Plane.
"My lord, I sense one of our kind among the pest who invaded Tilem. Should I take action?" a voice inquired, filled with urgency.
"Don't you dare," a deeper voice responded, laced with authority. "If you value our clan, leave it be."
"But—"
"No buts! You're still too young and naive. That boy is someone we cannot afford to offend, even with the empress candidate by his side. If it were anyone else, I would intervene personally, but the power behind that boy is something we must never provoke."
"What?! Is he really that strong?"
"No, not him. It's his protector. A single word from them could turn Tilem into their slaves, whether we like it or not."
A hush fell over the conversation, the weight of the warning settling in. "Now forget this. Focus on growing stronger, Brad."
The tension lingered in the air as the unseen figures contemplated the ramifications of Ethan's presence, unaware of the incredible journey that lay ahead.