Ash continued to venture deeper and deeper into the forest, and as he moved, he came across more monsters.

For the first time, he saw the fantasy creatures he had only ever read about in novels. Goblins, hobgoblins, and even ogres appeared before him. Fighting them was not overly difficult, though the goblins proved to be tricky, relying on their numbers and cleverness rather than strength alone.

Deep within the forest, there was even a small goblin and hobgoblin village, hidden among the mountains, and Ash obliterated it with a simple explosion.

The sound of the explosion echoed through the forest, drawing more beasts toward him.

He had to face them one after another, yet instead of feeling overwhelmed, Ash felt exhilarated.

Something about fighting and killing stirred a deep, hidden satisfaction within him.

It was not that he was a psychopath who enjoyed killing. No, it was something else entirely.

It was the use of his spells, the flow of power through his body, the control he had in the moment, and the adrenaline that surged with every battle. All of this combined into a pleasure that felt intoxicating and addictive.

He began to understand what those battle-hungry protagonists from stories felt when there were no worthy opponents left.

And when he thought about reaching the peak of his power, a faint ache ran through him.

After all, when he finally stood at the top, there might be no one left to fight, no challenge left to push him.

That thought made his will to fight blaze even brighter. He sought out every beast he could find, eager for each encounter, unable to stop himself.

He did not know if this desire came from within him or from something else awakening, but it only grew stronger with every battle.

A week passed in this way, the forest ringing with the sounds of clash, blood, and the cries of dying monsters.

***

–Slash!!

Ash's blade cut through the wolf-like creature that had stepped into his path. He turned his body fluidly, almost as if he were performing a dance, narrowly avoiding a claw that passed dangerously close to his chest.

With a precise swing of his empty hand, he severed the wolf's head from its shoulders, using space itself to cut, a trick he had learned over the past week.

It was not an exaggeration to say that one real fight could teach more than countless hours of practice.

The growth he had experienced in that short time was staggering. His instincts sharpened, his intent became more focused, and the experience he had gained manifested in every movement.

The satisfaction from these battles was something no ordinary training could replicate. Even the academy, despite its recent changes, could not provide anything like this.

Ash sheathed his sword and sat on a rock, observing the aftermath of his path. A thick trail of blood followed the straight line he had maintained for a full week. He had not altered his course once.

Everything in that line had been destroyed.

From morning to evening, he fought continuously. At night, he washed himself using water stored in his Soul Vault or some lake, changed into fresh clothes, and, using Absolute Concealment, ate his meal and rested.

With the concealment active, no beast had ever discovered him, and by hiding among trees or mountains, no beast saw him. And like that, he was never caught off guard once.

All in all, he enjoyed this journey immensely.

There was no need to talk to anyone, no awkward conversations, no distractions. The only thing that mattered was fighting.

The only thing he had to do was continue moving forward, cutting down anything that crossed his path.

But, even after that..

There is not a single change in my status…..

Even though he had been pushing his body to its limit, sometimes getting injured, exhausting his mana, and straining his muscles, his stats did not grow at all.

It was slowly starting to get on his nerves. His potential was enough to reach Grandmaster rank for the Rune's sake, but already he felt the wall pressing against him, stopping him from progressing further.

Before he could dwell on that thought more, a noise reached his ears.

Instantly, Ash activated Absolute Concealment and teleported onto one of the thick branches of a nearby tree. The leaves around him rustled slightly as he landed silently, blending seamlessly with the shadows and the bark.

As soon as he settled, the sound of footsteps grew louder and more distinct, echoing faintly against the trees around him.

People…

Instinctively, he decided to remain hidden from the approaching group. It was not only caution but necessity, as he was in the Neutral Continent—a land not filled with ordinary adventurers or ambitious travelers.

Instead, it was a place crawling with runaway criminals, demonic humans, and various shady organizations. Everyone knew this, yet no one dared to take action.

The Neutral Continent was vast, and finding the rats hiding within it was a task few could accomplish. To make matters worse, the land was teeming with even Monarch beasts, each comparable in strength to the Saints of humanity.

Ash peeked slightly from behind the thick branch, scanning the approaching figures as the sound of footsteps became more desperate. The forest around him was dense, and shadows twisted with the movement of the leaves, masking the figures as they moved closer.

Soon, his gaze fell upon a group of four men who appeared around the rock where he had been sitting.

The first two were twins, positioned at the back. Both had black hair and black eyes, appearing to be in their mid-twenties. The only visible difference between them was that one had a diagonal scar running across his face.

Neither carried visible weapons, but their well-developed muscles betrayed their fighting capabilities. It was safe to assume that they either hid their weapons or were bare-handed fighters.

The third man looked slightly anxious, as though he had lost something.

He was shorter than the others, with a lean and muscular build evident beneath his tight clothing. Brown hair framed his face, and brown eyes constantly scanned the surroundings, searching for something.

A bow rested on his back.

He was an Archer or maybe a scout too.

The fourth man immediately drew Ash's attention the most. He was middle-aged and clearly the oldest of the group.

There was an aura around him that radiated authority and power, a presence that demanded recognition. His black hair was streaked with white in places, and his eyes were filled with sharp seriousness and intent, reflecting the experience of countless battles and hardships.

A sword was strapped around his waist, clearly marking him as a seasoned swordsman and a leader whose presence alone could command the others.

Then, suddenly, the middle-aged man's gaze turned towards the branch Ash was hiding on.

Ash froze.

His eyes twitched.

Don't tell me…

"What happened, sir?" the twin without the scar asked, his voice breaking the tense silence for a moment.

The middle-aged man slowly shook his head, his gaze scanning the forest around them. "Nothing. I just felt as if something, or someone, was looking at me with an unusual intensity. But I suppose it was nothing but an illusion. Maybe I am just tense too…" He trailed off, his eyes flicking to the ground, taking in the spread of dead monsters and the blood-stained earth beneath their feet.

The scene was gruesome, yet telling. Along the entire path they had traversed, the same pattern repeated itself. Monsters lay scattered and lifeless, and the forest bore the marks of a force far beyond ordinary hunters.

Sigh, looks like I need to avoid staring too hard… some people are quite sensitive, I need to remember that…

Ash thought as he turned his attention back to the group's conversation.

"There is no one here, Kiro. You said whoever was responsible for all this mess would be here," Tharos, the middle-aged man, said, his tone steady but carrying a hint of caution.

Kiro's expression tightened. They had been sent to investigate the destruction near their territory, and they were accompanied by one of the continent's best squads for exterminating any significant threat.

Along the way, they had followed a trail of death and destruction, evidence of a highly skilled and disciplined opponent. Every path, every fallen monster told the story of someone moving in a perfect, straight line. Kiro was certain that they had arrived at the last known position of the target.

But there is no one here… where did that bastard go? Now, because of some unknown person, Sir Tharos will doubt me…

Kiro lowered his gaze in shame and admitted, "This is the last place that person stayed. There is no trail beyond here. I do not know where he/she went after this."

He felt a sharp pang of guilt. Perhaps the enemy had sensed their approach and deliberately erased all evidence. Kiro knew he had been too hasty in pursuing the trail, and the thought gnawed at him.

Before he could dwell further, a firm hand landed on his shoulder, startling him.

"Do not think too much. You brought us to the right place. Look at the dead bodies—they are still warm. Not much time has passed since their deaths. Even the blood is fresh. The enemy is somewhere nearby," Tharos said, his voice calm yet commanding, carrying the weight of experience.

"Or perhaps even listening to us right now."

At his words, all three men instinctively shifted into defensive stances, muscles tensed, eyes sharp, and senses alert. They scanned the forest carefully, every shadow and rustle demanding attention.

!!!!!!!

****

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