A guttural roar tore through the desolation, a sound scraped from rock and bone. Silas’s gaze sharpened, tracking the tremor across the ash-plain. They were here. A vast, gray tide of predators. Ash-Stalkers, the Cinderlands’ most formidable hunters, moved with a horrifying unity. Ash-Stalkers hunted in merciless packs. Their leader, an Alpha-Cinder, would invariably be the largest, a female scarred by countless skirmishes. Bristling shards of obsidian-like horn protruded from her spine and skull, giving her a crown of cruelty. Standing easily two meters at the shoulder, reaching five meters from snout to tail, she was a true monster of the wastes. Her pack numbered in the dozens, perhaps hundreds, many of them scions of her brutal line. A matriarchal dominance shaped their every move. Every Ash-Stalker obeyed her silent command, a primal obedience etched into their very cinders. These creatures owned the twilight. Born of the lingering chill, they thrived in the perpetual gloom, their pale eyes glowing with a cold, predatory light. The Ash-Stalkers charged, a low growl rippling through their ranks, growing into a terrifying rumble. Lack of fear defined their assault; they swept aside all that stood in their path. Awakened or not, most would simply vanish beneath their overwhelming numbers. Many of the monsters swerved toward Silas. Others, the larger, bolder ones, fixed on Kael. Silas moved first. He lifted a hand, drawing on the raw power within. A surge of cinder rose from the ground, coalescing into a single, dense projectile. He called it a Cinder-Shot. It erupted from his palm, a focused projectile of compressed ash. Wind howled as the Cinder-Shot tore through the air, striking the lead Ash-Stalker. Its skull cracked like dried earth, the creature collapsing in a heap. Still, the pack did not hesitate. Their fallen comrade meant nothing. Again, Silas unleashed Cinder-Shots. Each strike dropped a monster, but the sheer numbers were suffocating. Taking them down one by one, he knew, was a futile effort. He needed to adapt, to push his limits. ‘More. I need to fell at least five, perhaps more, with each effort.’ His ash-power would run dry if he didn’t find efficiency. The trick was refining the Cinder-Shot, splitting its destructive potential without diminishing its lethality. He had to. Hesitation meant death. Five thin strands of ash erupted from the ground, lashing out like whips. They streaked across the ground, converging on five distinct targets. Screams tore through the air as the Ash-Stalkers fell. Each had a coin-sized hole bored through its skull. He had divided the raw Cinder-Shot. Mana efficiency was paramount. To maintain piercing power, he condensed each divided stream into a needle-thin, destructive force. Not an explosion, but a drill, boring through bone and flesh. It felt difficult at first, a mental strain. Then, with the second attempt, a flicker of ease. Once a path was carved, it became simpler to walk. *Whoosh! Whoosh! Whoosh!* Successive waves of ash-spikes erupted. Five Cinder-Shots, precisely aimed, pierced the heads of five Ash-Stalkers simultaneously. He could hold them at bay, for a time. Briefly, Silas’s gaze flickered to Kael. His eyes widened. “Kekeke! More, more…” Kael spun his Pyre-Blade, a gleeful, maniacal laugh escaping his lips. Around him, a landscape of death. Over a hundred Ash-Stalkers lay broken, their pale blood staining the gray ground a darker crimson. He used no complex forms or intricate abilities. Just the Pyre-Blade, swung and swung again. Each sweep carved a bloody swathe through the attackers. Blood misted the air, chunks of flesh flew. The barren ash became a gruesome canvas. Occasionally, an Ash-Stalker managed to sink its teeth into Kael’s arm or leg. Their fangs, hard enough to splinter stone, simply shattered against his flesh. His body was tougher than honed steel. “Kekeke! That tickles.” Kael grabbed an Ash-Stalker latched onto his thigh. Its skull crumpled in his grip like a brittle, sun-dried husk. He hurled the limp body into the approaching pack. Bone splintered, bellies tore open, guts spilled onto the ash. Kael slaughtered the Ash-Stalkers with ruthless abandon. None dared to directly engage him, their predatory instincts overridden by pure terror. Only the Alpha-Cinder remained composed, observing from a distance. A shimmering field of azure energy crackled around her body. She was a potent creature, a master of elemental magic. Sparks, like imprisoned lightning, danced between the jagged obsidian horns on her head. Lightning magic, then. An echo of the Great Pyre itself. A bolt of pure lightning tore from her horn. It split the dim twilight, hurtling toward Kael. He reacted with casual indifference, a hand waving as if swatting a fly. The searing lightning vanished within his palm, absorbed, consumed. At last, a primal sense of danger pierced the Alpha-Cinder’s hardened shell. This adversary was unlike any they had hunted. A creature of pure, unbridled destruction. She roared, a sharp, piercing sound that commanded retreat. Foolishness had no place against overwhelming power. Half her pack had already fallen. To linger meant certain annihilation for the rest. The Alpha-Cinder’s judgment was astute, but Kael had no intention of letting them escape. Kael hurled the Pyre-Blade. It spun, a black blur of sharpened obsidian, tearing through everything in its path. Mournful cries of dying Ash-Stalkers echoed across the desolate plains. Silas watched the carnage, frozen. Kael’s rampage was not over. Driving his feet into the ash, Kael launched himself skyward. The Pyre-Blade, having completed its bloody circuit, arced back to his hand. He caught it mid-air. --- Like a meteor, Kael plummeted toward the fleeing Alpha-Cinder. The impact shook the ground, ash erupting in a vast wave. The Alpha-Cinder’s desperate screams were swallowed by the concussion. Ash settled. The aftermath revealed a mangled horror. The Alpha-Cinder lay defeated, a ruin of flesh and bone. Only the obsidian horns remained intact, still fused to its skull. Kael stood over the corpse, breathing steadily. No hint of fatigue touched his face. Instead, a peculiar invigoration, a subtle smile, as if refreshed by the slaughter. He didn’t seem human at all. Silas found he couldn’t even breathe loudly. Overwhelmed. The raw, terrifying power of Kael had stripped him of all composure. ‘Is he truly human? He used no named abilities, no special skills.’ Awakened beings gained unique skills. Their ultimate power manifested through these abilities. Facing a potent creature like the Alpha-Cinder, using specific skills would have been logical. But Kael defied logic. He had crushed the Alpha-Cinder with brute force alone, no apparent skills needed. Such strength seemed impossible for a human. No one Silas had ever heard of, no Elder of the scattered settlements, possessed this kind of raw, unaugmented power. Kael turned his head, his gaze sweeping over Silas. “Kekeke! You survived.” Silas could only nod, his throat dry. Kael chuckled, then bent to retrieve one of the Alpha-Cinder’s horns. “These horns are useful. They carry an echo of Pyre-lightning. Refine it, and it could make a formidable weapon.” He examined the horn, then stretched out a hand. The horn vanished, as if it had never been there. A void-pocket, Silas realized, a localized tear in space to store items. Kael wasn't just a martial brute; he possessed an ability that only the rarest of geomancers or elementalists could hope to master. Kael sheathed his Pyre-Blade, drawing a small, utilitarian dagger. He tossed it to Silas. “From now on, you find your own food.” “Most of an Ash-Stalker’s muscle is toxic. Only the flesh along their side is safe. Dry it, and it’s sustenance.” Kael expertly carved a palm-sized portion from a fallen Ash-Stalker. He didn’t take much. Silas watched his movements, mimicking the precise cuts. Kael wouldn't explain further. He had to learn. He understood now. The jerky he’d eaten for days, the food Kael had provided, was this same monster meat. Kael hunted these creatures for their flesh. No objection formed. Growing up on the fringes, food was food. If it sustained life, it was consumed. Survival dictated it. Silas cautiously carved, following Kael’s example. Kael took only enough to last a few days. If he ran out, he would hunt again. Silas wasn't Kael. He needed to prepare more thoroughly. Securing as much meat as possible was prudent. He managed nearly thirty pieces. He wanted more, but had no means to carry it all. He stopped, wrapping the meat in his outerwear, fashioning a crude bundle to sling over his shoulders. “Keke! Resourceful, aren’t you.” Kael’s words held a hint of approval. Two days of relentless exertion, of brutal lessons, had pushed Silas. He had grown. But he was far from finished. To be truly useful, he knew, he needed to suffer more. “Done? Let’s leave. Before the scent of blood draws others.” Not fear, Silas realized. Just inconvenience. Kael desired no further distractions. Silas nodded, following. He had no wish to linger in this blood-soaked charnel ground either. The distant, weak sun had begun its slow crawl across the sky, casting sickly light upon the horror. More monsters would gather, drawn by the feast. This was the Cinderlands’ law. The strong preyed, the weak died, and the dead became food. No being escaped this cycle. Following Kael, Silas was finally grasping these brutal truths. Kael moved ahead, paying Silas no heed. Silas pushed himself to keep pace, activating his Ash-Stride. After the relentless battle, he expected his ash-power to be depleted, his movements sluggish. Surprisingly, it was easier than he thought. More power remained than anticipated, and controlling it felt smoother, more fluid. The desperate decisions made in combat, pushing his ash-power to its limits, had honed him. He felt it, a subtle shift within his very being. He was stronger. He would only continue to grow. Silas gazed at Kael’s back. He still didn’t understand why Kael had taken him along. But one thing was clear: simply by enduring, by surviving at Kael’s side, he would become stronger. As long as he survived. He trailed after Kael, diligently. Each step was a pact with the desolate earth, a promise of continued endurance.

A Hunger in the Ash