The Hydra’s three remaining heads hung limp in the water, their jaws slack, their yellow eyes dim and unfocused. The soul damage had accumulated beyond what the creature’s willpower could sustain. Its body was intact, its regeneration still working, but the thing that made it fight, the fury, the aggression, the four independent minds driving it forward, had been pummeled.

At that Moment, Moon cast his curse.

The skill reached out and found the hydra’s near-shattered consciousness. This time, there was no resistance.

The curse sank into the creature’s mind like a key sliding into an open lock.

’It worked.’

Moon felt the connection form instantly. Three minds, broken and hollow, accepting the single directive he placed inside them without question.

’I broke it down mentally. Constantly damaging its soul eroded every defense it had.’

His method had been deliberate from the start. Not a fight to kill but a fight to conquer.

Every slash, every bolt of purple lightning, every minute spent on the creature’s back had served a single purpose. Damage its willpower until the curse could take hold.

’Rise.’

The thought traveled through the connection like a command through a wire.

Beneath him, the hydra suddenly gained resolve. Its three remaining heads lifted slowly from the water. Its massive body shifted, legs finding purchase on the lake floor, and it began to rise.

Moon stood on its back as the creature emerged from the lake, water cascading off its enormous frame. It rose to its full height, nearly five meters, the mist parting around its body as it stood motionless in the shallows.

Three heads swayed gently above Moon, their yellow eyes staring forward at nothing in particular. Waiting for his command.

Moon looked out across the misty lake from the hydra’s back, his sword dripping with blood and water, his chest heaving.

"Minor Mend." Moon cast the healing spell on the hydra, the warm energy spreading across its battered body. He watched the regeneration accelerate, the charred scales regrowing faster, the deep gashes from his sword knitting shut as time went by.

He did not cast Cleanse. The thought crossed his mind, but he dismissed it immediately. There was no telling whether the skill would differentiate between his own curse and a foreign one. If Cleanse treated all curses equally, it could sever his connection to the hydra in an instant.

"Better to be safe than sorry." Moon muttered. "Once I’m stronger than this thing by a wide enough margin, I’ll test it. For now, two Second Star loyal subordinates is more than sufficient for my immediate plans."

He waited patiently as the hydra’s body restored itself. The fourth head regrew slowly, emerging from the stump of the severed neck like a bud pushing through soil. Its yellow eyes blinked open, dull and obedient like the other three.

Once the healing was complete and the hydra’s body showed no visible damage, Moon issued a command through their connection.

’Attack the far shore. Full power.’

The hydra opened its second mouth. Water gathered in its throat, compressing and rotating until a pressurized jet screamed across the lake and struck the opposite shore.

The impact was significant. But Moon’s expression darkened.

He had seen this creature fight at full strength against himself. The attack had carved a large crater from a misdirected, charged shot.

What he just witnessed was noticeably weaker.

"Damaging its soul also damaged its power and foundation." Moon muttered, the numbers forming in his head. "It lost about four acupoints worth of output."

Moon sighed in regret.

The purple lightning’s soul-scarring effect was a double-edged sword when used for subjugation rather than killing. Breaking the creature’s willpower had made the curse possible, but the process had left permanent scars that his healing couldn’t restore, which reduced its overall combat potential.

Still, the hydra remained within the Second Star threshold. Barely. The very bottom of it, scraping the floor of what qualified for that ranking. But it was there.

"Still better than killing it outright." Moon said, looking at the creature standing next to him, four heads swaying gently, waiting for its next command. "A weakened Second Star beast is still a Second Star beast."

His gaze turned deeper into the mist. The lake stretched on, and whatever else lived in these waters hadn’t shown itself yet.

Moon had Mirage at his side. His D-Rank spirit in his pocket space. And now a Four-Headed Hydra under his control.

"It’s time to start hunting for real."

Hours passed by in a blur.

♢♢♢♢

Early morning. The sun risen, the city lively with people from all age groups.

The annual Spirit Art Tournament had arrived!

The gates to the tournament grounds opened at dawn, and within minutes, a river of people began to pour through them. Evolvers from every corner of the kingdom, some fresh-faced and nervous, others battle-scarred and confident, filed through the registration lines that stretched hundreds of meters along the entrance boulevard.

This wasn’t just a normal event. It was a kingdom sized event.

Every major news network had been broadcasting since before sunrise. Screens across the city displayed panels of analysts debating the favorites, their backgrounds, their achievements, their chances. Photographs and combat footage of the top candidates cycled through the coverage in polished highlight reels.

"Marcus Miller, backed by the famous Ascender, The Drunk Swordsman, is widely considered one of the best fresh Evolvers this year. His team entered the Second Sanctuary months ahead of most competitors of similar awakening period, giving him a significant head start in acupoint development. Although it is a pity that he won’t be able to compete against those that had years of time to prepare, reaching Fifth Star Evolver Stage."

"Don’t sleep on the dark horses though. Every year there’s someone nobody expects who makes it deep into the bracket."

"The real question is whether anyone can challenge the established Second Star Evolvers who have been preparing for this all year."

The tournament grounds themselves were enormous. Several kilometers of dedicated space within the city had been converted into a sprawling complex that accommodated the massive influx of participants and spectators. T

he testing arenas sat at the center, surrounded by viewing platforms that could seat tens of thousands.

Beyond them, the grounds spilled outward into food courts, game areas, merchandise stalls, and entertainment stages. The smell of food spread in the air.

It felt less like a competition and more like a festival.