Without much effort required, he leaned to the side as the blade wielded by the hunter passed by.
"Ghh–?!" The masked man winced in shock.
Gael reached out, casually grabbed the sharp steel with two fingers before only slightly flipping his wrist–CRACK. The blade was snapped in half, easily redirecting the hunter, spinning the enemy around and tossing him across the dirt road.
It felt as though he'd spent centuries training, honing his mind and body.
'With this kind of strength, I can win,' he resolved.
The hunter hopped back to his feet seamlessly, dashing right towards him with no hesitation.
"Fine, then—I'll leave nothing left of you," the masked man threatened with a sinister trace to his words.
From every direction, only flashes of the cloaked figure were seen; a constantly shifting blur that moved rapidly. Faster than a bullet, more nimble than a jet; it was the kind of speed that would've left him hopeless.
Yet, he found himself standing his ground, having a complete sense of his enemy's movements.
"You Outlanders are a plague on this world. What we Venator do is no different from an exterminator handling an infestation of rodents," the enigmatic man's voice came from every direction, constantly running circles around Gael. "So, you can die knowing you're improving the world."
Like a jolt through his body, he sensed what he could only attribute as "malice"; a killing intent as tangible as seeing a blade aimed for his neck. The sixth sense obtained from his temporary state of enlightenment guided him to swiftly lean to the side.
–Right past him, the high-speed assault barely missed, though the masked hunter caught himself on his hands, redirecting himself into a nimble kick. Gael saw it all as if it were in slow motion, using minimal movement to evade before pushing his hand forward.
'I can control it–this force within me,' he realized as he moved.
It felt like a river of energy flowing throughout his limbs, guiding it through his hand and into his palm before letting it push outward against the enemy. Like a breath of harsh wind born from a momentary storm, the pulse knocked the masked figure off his feet, throwing him back.
Though he didn't restrain himself, he didn't strain either, finding it to be an amount of force that would undoubtedly shatter all the bones in a person's body–a normal one, anyway.
To his surprise, the cloaked hunter flipped around, catching himself on his feet to immediately dash right towards him again.
"That's good. Make it fun for me," the Venator scathingly emitted.
He moved with ages of knowledge artificially infused into his body, striking his fist against the bare air. The momentous strike multiplied, manifesting through spiritual replications of his own fist, expanded with colossal force.
–Multiple times, the hunter was struck, knocked back as the road was carved through as the branches of neighboring trees swayed from the force.
Yet, once again, the stranger landed on his feet; the wind was knocked out of him, sure, but he remained approaching.
'What's the deal with this guy? Right now, I can tell–I'm wielding strength I can't even comprehend. So, why is this person still coming at me? This is who I encountered right when entering this world?' Gael considered in disbelief, watching the man in the glistening, deathly mask rush him.
There was no way of knowing when the skill that served as his barrier between life-and-death would end; all he knew was that he had to end this–fast.
'—I need to kill him,' Gael decided.
Honing his hand like that of a blade, he swept his arm as though swinging a sword, performing the motion while the man was still several meters away.
["Supreme Sword Intent"]
—At the same time, a phenomenon occurred on that isolated, forest road. Like urchins expanding in the air in every direction, blades of black material stretched out.
"Skewer."
In the middle of his own motion, Gael was caught in the path of the expanding steel; poked and stabbed from multiple angles.
He finished the motion, causing the soil to be split as if the air itself was weaponized as a sword. The road was cleaved as the hunter's chest was opened with a gash.
"Ghh!—" The masked man spat out, bleeding from beneath his cover.
[Temporary Summon over.]
"Gah…!"
At the same moment, he felt all of the strength and wisdom evaporate from his body. All of that was secondary, instead finding the pain settling in from having his body poked with holes by the manifested bundles of blades.
'Shit…!' He thought.
At the very least, the masked hunter seemed in even worse shape, yet still on his feet.
"You're a troublesome one, aren't you?…Killing you isn't worth me dying. I'm saying your life isn't a fair trade for mine, by the way…" The hunter claimed, breathing out as blood gushed from his chest.
Gael stood there, only glad he wasn't still being attacked, though surprised the pride of the man was still unchecked.
"I'll be back for you—wherever you may run or make your nest, Outlander. I will find you and finish the job," the masked hunter claimed before leaping back.
With a simple breeze passing by, the presence of the enigmatic hunter was gone. Standing there, alone as blood oozed from his various wounds, he could still hear his heartbeat in his ears. Not enough strength was left for him to take even a step before collapsing onto the dirt road, gasping out.
'Shit…I got messed up really badly, didn't I? What the hell is the deal with this world, anyway? It's way too hard right off the bat,' he thought.
Flickering between consciousness and unconsciousness, the ground rumbled against his cheek as he laid there amidst nature. He blinked, hardly able to move his body, only enough to slightly tilt his head–
"Ah–?"
He let out tiredly, finding himself face-to-nose with the snout of some sort of equine beast staring down at him. It definitely wasn't a normal horse, coated in thick, silken fur that glistened under the moonlight like pure silver.
Following the lead that the massive creature was attached to, he found himself staring at an exuberant carriage with golden decorations laid on its fine wood.
"Madam, I wouldn't get too close–" The driver of the carriage warned, though it didn't seem to stop who the words were for.
Before he could attempt to pick himself up with his weak, bleeding body, he instead found himself greeted by the one who came out from the carriage, kneeling beside him.
A young woman, likely around the same age as himself with skin as fair as the nightly weather; he looked into her crystalline, emerald irises, empowered by her silver eyelashes that matched her hair of the same complexion.
"Are you an angel…?" Gael mumbled, finding himself believing the fact he might be dreaming, or already passing into heaven, if that was still an option for him.
"You might consider me to be," the girl spoke with a soft voice that sounded like a blanket being placed over his body. "What's your name?"
"...Gael…" He weakly uttered.
Just as he managed to emit his name, his eyelids felt heavier than boulders, bringing them to close as all he could hear was the softly-spoken woman calling to the carriage driver.