Kalem stood at the mouth of the treacherous mountain pass, the jagged peaks of the Burning Ashes looming above him like silent sentinels. The Focus Core, now embedded into a reinforced chest plate of his design, thrummed gently against his chest. The improvements he had made since his first tests were already paying off—the energy field extended more steadily, covering a wider radius, and the strain on his body had lessened with each practice run.
Strapped to his back were the longsword and axe, their newly sharpened edges gleaming like mirrors. A flail and a single-handed sword rested snugly at either side of his waist, their hilts within easy reach. A belt of throwing knives hung across his chest, their lethal tips glinting ominously. In his hand was his trusty spear, its shaft reinforced and its blade charged with the Lynthian energy that radiated faintly from the Focus Core.
He was armed to the teeth and ready for anything. Or so he thought.
The first stretch of the mountain trail was deceptively calm. The air was crisp and thin, the only sounds the crunch of Kalem's boots on loose gravel and the occasional whisper of wind through the crags. But Kalem knew better than to let his guard down.
He had come here to put his weapons and the Focus Core to the ultimate test—not against training dummies or stationary targets, but against the wild creatures that called this unforgiving terrain home.
His first encounter came sooner than expected. A shadow flitted across his peripheral vision, followed by the low growl of a Rockfang Cat, its mottled hide blending perfectly with the surrounding stone. Kalem barely had time to shift his stance before it lunged, claws outstretched.
With a flick of his wrist, the spear in his hand flared to life, its blade glowing faintly as the Core channeled energy into it. Kalem stepped aside with practiced precision, the spear tip arcing upward to meet the beast's trajectory. The Rockfang screeched as the energized blade pierced its flank, the resulting shockwave sending it skidding across the ground.
It wasn't even a challenge.
As Kalem ascended deeper into the mountain range, more creatures emerged from the shadows, drawn to the unnatural hum of the Focus Core or simply defending their territory.
A pack of Ash Wolves ambushed him at a narrow ledge, their ember-filled eyes gleaming with malice. Kalem dispatched the first two with his throwing knives, their enchanted blades burying themselves deep into the wolves' skulls before exploding in bursts of heat and light.
When the rest of the pack surged forward, Kalem switched to his flail, its spiked head glowing faintly with Lynthian energy. He swung it in a wide arc, the weapon's momentum enhanced by the counterbalancing properties he had painstakingly forged into its design. The wolves were swept off their feet, their howls of pain echoing as the energy field burned through their fur and flesh.
Further up the trail, a Molten Stag charged at him, its antlers aflame and its body radiating intense heat. Kalem dropped his spear and unslung the axe from his back. The Core flared as he willed it to channel energy into the heavy blade. When the stag closed the distance, Kalem sidestepped and brought the axe down in a single, devastating blow. The weapon bit deep into the creature's neck, the energy coursing through it amplifying the impact to the point that the ground beneath their feet trembled.
By the time Kalem reached the halfway point of his climb, the mountain pass was littered with the remains of his adversaries. His weapons, sharpened and energized, had performed beyond his expectations, but it was his own growth as a warrior that truly astounded him.
Every strike, every dodge, every calculated step felt instinctual, as though the Core wasn't just enhancing his weapons but also honing his senses and reflexes. The once-clumsy miner who had barely survived his first battle with a Garon was gone. In his place stood something far more dangerous—a human disaster, armed and relentless.
The mountain seemed to recognize his transformation. The wildlife became more cautious, the attacks more sporadic. Even the normally territorial Ridge Serpents slithered away when Kalem passed through their nesting grounds, their instincts warning them against engaging with the armored figure radiating an aura of lethal energy.
Despite his dominance, Kalem wasn't content to merely survive these encounters. Each skirmish became a learning experience, a chance to test the limits of the Focus Core and his arsenal.
He found that the energy field worked best with weapons that required precision and timing, like his throwing knives or the flail. The longsword and axe, though devastating, drained the Core's energy more quickly, forcing him to deactivate it between swings. The spear remained his most reliable weapon, its reach and versatility allowing him to control the flow of battle with ease.
Yet, even with his growing proficiency, Kalem couldn't shake the feeling that he was only scratching the surface of the Core's potential.
As the sun began to dip below the horizon, Kalem reached a plateau where he decided to make camp for the night. He surveyed the carnage he had left in his wake—scorched fur, shattered carapaces, and pools of blood—and felt a pang of unease.
This power he had harnessed, this strength he had forged—it was intoxicating. But it was also dangerous.
He set down his pack and began tending to his weapons, cleaning the blood and grime from their blades. His mind wandered back to the Focus Core, its gentle hum a constant reminder of the Lynthian Crystal's power.
"I need to be careful," Kalem muttered to himself, tightening the straps of his chest piece. "This isn't just a tool. It's a responsibility."
As he leaned back against a rock and stared up at the stars, exhaustion finally caught up with him. Tomorrow, the mountain would throw more challenges his way. But for now, Kalem allowed himself to rest, knowing that he was no longer the man who had fled from danger.
He was the one who brought it.