Ash-Stalkers hunted in vicious, shifting packs. Always, a Matriarch commanded them, a creature larger, more formidable than any male. Coarse, shaggy fur like a lion’s mane framed her neck, a stark outline against the perpetual gloom.
Towering over two meters at the shoulder, stretching five from maw to tail-tip, these were beasts of nightmare fuel. Packs numbered in the tens, sometimes hundreds, many born from the Matriarch’s own savage brood. Their world spun around this maternal tyrant; her growl, her scent, her very presence was law.
Creatures of twilight, they thrived in the dim, ash-choked air. Scorched sands, endless and unforgiving, were their domain. Nightfall, or whatever passed for it beneath the dense clouds of the Great Shroud, brought them to life.
Now, a torrent of them surged forward, a terrifying, many-limbed wave. Reckless, they knew no fear, held no caution. Such immense numbers routinely overwhelmed individuals, even the Awakened. No one could stand against a charge of this scale.
Most Ash-Stalkers fixed on Ignis, an unnerving focus. Yet, a hungry few peeled off, rushing Kaelen.
Kaelen moved, a blur of practiced motion. Ash Lance solidified in his grasp. High-pressure ash, compressed into a piercing shaft, flew. It tore through the lead stalker’s head, a clean, swift kill. Companions paid no mind, their bloodlust a potent current carrying them over their fallen kin.
Again, Kaelen fired. Again, an Ash Lance struck true. Each precise shot felled a beast, one by one. Problem remained, too many. Felling them individually was a futile effort. Survival demanded more.
‘One by one won’t work,’ Kaelen’s thoughts raced, even as his arm moved with practiced grace. ‘Five, at least. More, if I want to gain ground.’
Mana, that was the crux. He needed to ration it, stretch its limits, yet unleash devastating power.
Hesitation was a luxury he couldn’t afford. He pushed, pulled, commanded. Five strands of ash erupted from the Cinder Wastes, thin, sharp threads. They lanced towards the charging Ash-Stalkers.
Screams, guttural and brief, ripped through the twilight. Five beasts fell, their massive forms collapsing in unnatural ways. Each bore a small, coin-sized hole in its skull, a testament to the ash’s condensed power. He had split a single Ash Lance into five, conserving mana. To maximize impact, he’d focused the separated streams, making them thin, potent needles rather than explosive blasts.
Difficult, at first. Easier on the second attempt. A new path, once forged, became familiar. Swoosh! Swoosh! Swoosh! Ash Lances flew, a relentless volley. Five Ash-Stalkers fell with each command, their lives extinguished in a whisper of pulverized bone. He could endure, for now.
A flicker of motion caught his eye. Kaelen glanced at Ignis, his breath catching.
“Kekeke! More, more…” Ignis’s laughter, a ragged sound, cut through the night. He wielded Cinderblade, its ancient form a dark extension of his will. Around him, a hundred Ash-Stalkers lay broken, their forms twisted beyond recognition.
No intricate skill, no refined technique. Ignis simply swung Cinderblade. Swung again. Each arc carved through several creatures. Blood sprayed, dark against the grey ash. Flesh flew, splattering the already crimson ground. Occasionally, a stalker snapped, teeth closing on Ignis’s arm or calf. No penetration. His flesh, hewn from rock, held hard as obsidian. Instead, their teeth shattered, fragments flying like shards of bone.
“Kekeke! That tickles.” Ignis seized the head of an Ash-Stalker clamped onto his thigh. Fingers closed, crushing. The beast’s formidable skull crumbled like dry earth. He hurled the broken creature into the mass, a grotesque projectile. Ash-Stalkers crashed together, limbs bending unnaturally, bellies torn open, spilling putrid organs.
Ignis moved through them, a whirlwind of death. Not one dared to truly challenge him, only to be swept away in the tide of his fury. Watching, the Matriarch Stalker finally advanced. A dark, crackling energy wreathed her, a field of menacing power. This one was different, a true threat, a force beyond simple savagery.
Sparks erupted from the monstrous horns crowning her head. A corrupted lightning, drawn from the very ash-choked air, arced from her. It split the oppressive twilight, arriving before Ignis in a blink. Ignis, as if swatting a fly, raised a hand. He caught the bolt, the crackling energy vanishing into his palm. Night returned to its dim pallor.
Only then did the Matriarch’s primal fear ignite. This adversary defied all their instincts, all their generations of predatory dominance. A roar, ragged with desperation, tore from her throat. It was a command, an absolute decree to retreat. Foolish, to fight against such overwhelming power.
Already, half her pack lay dead. No survival for the whole, if this slaughter continued. Her judgment, shrewd in its pragmatism. But Ignis harbored no such mercy. He had no intention of letting them escape.
Ignis hurled Cinderblade. It spun, a dark blur of destruction, cutting a swathe through everything in its path. Mournful cries, the death knell of a hunted species, echoed through the vast, silent wastes. The sheer carnage froze Kaelen, his breath catching in his chest. Yet, Ignis was not finished.
Ignis pushed off the ash-crusted ground, launching himself skyward. Cinderblade, having completed its brutal circuit, spun back, settling into Ignis’s waiting hand. He arced, falling like a meteor, straight for the Matriarch.
Impact, tremendous, shook the very earth. Ash erupted in all directions, a tidal wave of pulverised rock. Amidst the Matriarch’s desperate, final screams, her life was snuffed out. After a moment, the roiling ash settled. The Matriarch lay mangled, defeated. Only one horn, stubbornly intact, remained. Ignis stood over her corpse, utterly unfatigued, rather, invigorated. A faint smile, one of perverse satisfaction, touched his lips.
Kaelen couldn’t breathe, dared not even move. He was overwhelmed, a mere speck before such raw, untamed power. ‘He’s not human, not truly,’ a quiet voice whispered in his mind. ‘No special skills used, just… strength.’ Awakened beings usually channeled their strength through unique abilities. Fighting a creature like the Matriarch usually demanded such. Ignis, however, scorned such common sense. He had crushed the leader with pure, unadulterated power, sans any ‘skill.’ Unfathomable. No one from the Enclaves of humanity could wield such might, not without their abilities.
Then, Ignis turned, his gaze settling on Kaelen. “Kekeke! You managed to survive.”
Kaelen merely nodded, incapable of finding words. Ignis chuckled, a dry, rasping sound, then collected the Matriarch’s horn. “Ash-Stalker horns are useful. Lightning properties, too. Refine it, excellent weapon.”
He inspected the horn, then stretched out a hand. A ripple in the air, a whisper of nothingness. The horn vanished, as if swallowed by the void itself. ‘Spatial ability? Not brute strength, but… void mastery?’ Ignis, until now, had fought with the ferocity of a primal warrior. Yet, he’d just invoked a mastery over space, an ability rarely seen among the Awakened. Kaelen’s understanding shattered. Confusion warred with awe. Ignis possessed Cinderblade, why another weapon? Kaelen did not ask.
Ignis sheathed Cinderblade, drawing a small, utilitarian dagger. He tossed it to Kaelen. “From now on, find your own food.”
“Most Ash-Stalker muscle is toxic,” Ignis continued, his voice devoid of emotion. “Except for the flank. Safe to dry, consume.” He demonstrated, skillfully cutting a palm-sized portion from a fallen Ash-Stalker’s side. Not a large piece, enough for a few days. Kaelen watched, then mimicked, cutting with the new dagger. He knew Ignis would offer no further explanation.
Past hunger, the gnawing emptiness of the wastes. He’d grown up in the desolate outskirts, scavenging for scraps. Edible meant survival. He cut, carefully. He realised the jerky he’d eaten for days had been from these very monsters. ‘He hunts these… for our food.’ No objection, only a quiet acceptance.
Ignis cut only enough for immediate needs. Replenishment meant hunting again, a cycle of survival. Kaelen, not possessing Ignis’s monstrous strength, needed foresight. Securing more meat, whenever possible, was prudent. He ended up with nearly thirty pieces. More would be good, but he had no way to store it. He fashioned his outerwear into a bundle, slung it over his shoulder.
“Keke! Resourceful.” Ignis’s comment was short, almost approving. Kaelen pushed himself. He’d survived two days under Ignis’s harsh tutelage. Far from truly useful, he knew. More toil awaited, more hardship.
“Everything collected? Let’s leave. Before the others catch the scent of blood…” Ignis moved, not out of fear, but merely inconvenience. Kaelen nodded, falling into step. No lingering in this charnel ground. Sun climbed, a pale orange smear against the ash-choked sky. The carnage, revealed in the growing light, became even more gruesome.
Scavengers, monstrous, winged forms, already circled. More would follow. Law of the wastes: strong prey on the weak, dead feed the living. None escaped this immutable cycle. Following Ignis, Kaelen slowly, grimly, understood.
Ignis, typically, paid Kaelen no mind, striding ahead. Kaelen pushed himself, engaging Ash Glide. Extensive mana use during the battle should have made it challenging. But no, it flowed easier than expected. More mana remained, its control smoother, more intuitive.
‘Battle’s effect,’ Kaelen mused. Life-or-death decisions, mana pushed to its breaking point, it all sharpened him. A significant improvement. ‘Stronger. I will grow stronger.’ Kaelen fixed his gaze on Ignis’s retreating back. He didn’t comprehend Ignis’s purpose in taking him along. Yet, one truth remained: following him would make Kaelen stronger. As long as he survived. Kaelen followed, diligent and silent.