The realization hit him like a sledgehammer. “They all came back.” The beasts he killed today and yesterday had all returned, and if this continued, if he somehow managed to survive tonight, there would be more of them tomorrow. And many more the night after that. The sheer thought of it was terrifying, a never-ending cycle of death and resurrection that would only end when he did.
If Kent used body spells, he can finish these beasts with mere snaps. But he decided to fight with bare hands to relieve from relentless thoughts.
For a brief moment, Kent felt something close to despair, the weight of his predicament crashing down on him. But it was quickly replaced by something else—anger, raw and seething, bubbling up from the depths of his soul.
He had no choice but to fight. He had no choice but to kill. If he was going to die, he would go down swinging, taking as many of these cursed beasts with him as he could.
“Kill!” Kent roared, his voice echoing through the forest, a battle cry that shattered the oppressive silence. There was no fear in his eyes, only a burning resolve. He had nothing left to lose. The beasts, seemingly unfazed by his defiance, charged at him in unison, their roars filling the night air.
The battle that ensued was nothing short of a nightmare. Kent was surrounded on all sides, the sheer number of enemies overwhelming, but he fought like a man possessed.
His fists moved with a ferocity he hadn’t known he was capable of, each punch landing with bone-crushing force, each strike delivering death. But for every beast he killed, another would take its place, clawing at him, tearing at his flesh, seeking to drag him down into the darkness.
The forest became a blur of motion and violence, the sounds of battle blending into a cacophony of snarls, roars, and the sickening crunch of bone.
Kent stood in the midst of a field of corpses, the bodies of forty evolved beasts strewn across the ground like broken dolls. He was drenched in blood, his clothes torn and tattered, his body battered and bruised. But he was alive.
Barely.
His legs gave out from under him, and he collapsed to the ground, gasping for breath, his chest heaving with the effort. The adrenaline that had kept him going drained away, leaving him weak, almost delirious from exhaustion. But there was a grim satisfaction in his heart. He had survived the second night.
As he lay there, staring up at the darkened sky, Kent realized just how close he had come to death.
Any ordinary man would have perished long before now, but he had survived. He had pushed himself beyond his limits, tapping into a reserve of strength he hadn’t known he possessed. But he knew he couldn’t do this forever. The forest wouldn’t allow it. The numbers would continue to grow, the beasts becoming more and more powerful with each passing night.
He didn’t have much time.
Before dawn broke, Kent forced himself to sit up, wincing at the pain that lanced through his body. He had to rest, had to regain his strength, or he wouldn’t make it through another night.
He leaned against the massive tree that had provided him shelter, his eyes heavy with fatigue. Sleep came quickly, pulling him down into its dark embrace, his mind replaying the battle in an endless loop.
When the first light of dawn touched the forest, Kent awoke. The fire had long since died out, leaving behind only cold ashes. The bodies of the beasts he had slain were gone, as if they had never existed. But Kent knew they were real. The blood on his hands, the pain in his body, the memories of the fight—all of it was real. Read new chapters at empire
And so was the resolve that had carried him through.
Kent slowly rose to his feet, every movement an effort. The sun had barely risen, but already he felt the weight of the day ahead pressing down on him. The beasts would return, stronger, more numerous, but so would he. He would continue forward, one step at a time, fighting until he could fight no more.
For now, that was all he could do. The Devil Mountain loomed ahead, a dark and ominous presence on the horizon, but Kent didn’t falter. He had survived the night, and he would survive the next. Whatever it took.
–
The days passed in a relentless blur of blood and battle, each one more grueling than the last. Kent’s routine had become a vicious cycle—slaying beasts during the day, resting briefly, and then fending off the very same creatures that resurrected under the cloak of night.
His body, hardened by constant combat, moved with the precision and power of a well-oiled machine, each strike calculated, each movement efficient. It was as though he had become one with the forest, a predator among predators, his senses sharp and his instincts honed.
By the sixth day, however, the forest decided to up the ante. The number of evolved beasts he faced at night swelled to an overwhelming three thousand, their glowing eyes piercing the darkness as they closed in on him from all directions. The sheer number was staggering, and for the first time, Kent felt the weight of the forest’s unyielding wrath pressing down on him.
He could no longer rely solely on his body’s strength. The time had come to unleash the power that had been simmering within him, the spells that had remained dormant as he tested his limits. With a deep breath, Kent began to draw upon his inner reserves.
As the beasts charged, Kent’s body erupted in a surge of power. His muscles tightened, veins pulsing with energy as he invoked the first of his body spells. His fists glowed with an ethereal light as he struck out, each blow carrying the weight of a sledgehammer. The beasts fell like leaves before a storm, their bodies crumpling under the force of his attacks.
But the forest was relentless. More and more beasts appeared, their numbers multiplying as if the very land itself was summoning them to test Kent’s resolve.
By the seventh day, the number had swelled to an unimaginable ten thousand. Kent’s body ached, his muscles burning with fatigue, but he pushed through the pain, drawing on the power of the Storm God’s Wrath.