The roar of the colossal beast still echoed faintly through the forest long after its body had fallen.

The clearing looked like a battlefield.

Broken trees leaned at unnatural angles. The ground had been split open in several places where Damien's blows had collided with the creature's immense strength. Dirt, bark, and shattered stone lay scattered everywhere.

At the center of it all lay the corpse.

The massive obsidian-armored bear had finally stopped moving.

Its body was half-collapsed into a crater formed by the final blow Damien had delivered — a reinforced strike that had crushed through its armored skull and shattered the core hidden deep within its chest.

Damien exhaled slowly.

The fight had been brutal.

Even for him.

That creature had been at the very peak of Grade Three. Its strength alone could have flattened weaker hunters without effort.

But Damien had broken it.

Fenrir approached the corpse first.

The white wolf's crimson eyes glowed faintly as it lowered its head toward the exposed core fragments.

It devoured what remained of the beast's essence without hesitation.

Cerbe tore into the thick hide next, its three heads biting deep into the flesh with low growls of satisfaction.

Luton followed calmly, its silver body expanding as it began absorbing the rest of the enormous corpse piece by piece.

Damien stood quietly for a moment.

His breathing slowed.

His body ached in the familiar way that followed a good fight.

The sensation within him pulsed again.

Closer.

Every battle was pushing him toward the threshold he could almost feel.

But not yet.

Not quite.

He rolled his shoulders slowly, stretching muscles that still carried the lingering tension of combat.

Then he glanced toward Fenrir.

The wolf had finished feeding and was now staring deeper into the forest.

Alert.

Waiting.

Damien smiled faintly. "You're restless."

Fenrir snorted.

Of course it was.

The wolf had grown stronger with every hunt, and now its instincts were pushing it toward larger prey.

Damien thought about it for a moment.

Then he nodded.

"Alright."

Fenrir's ears twitched.

"You want a hunt?"

The wolf's tail flicked once.

Damien crouched and placed a hand against Fenrir's neck.

"Go."

The single word carried intent.

Hunt.

Devour.

Grow.

Fenrir understood immediately.

Without hesitation the massive wolf turned and vanished into the forest at terrifying speed, its white fur disappearing between the trees like a streak of moonlight.

Damien watched it go.

Fenrir was more than capable of surviving alone now. In fact, letting the wolf hunt independently sometimes accelerated its instincts far better than fighting alongside him.

It would return.

It always did.

Damien stretched once more before walking toward a relatively intact patch of ground near the edge of the clearing.

The battle had drained more of his energy than he realized.

And truthfully, he could use a short rest.

He glanced toward Cerbe.

"You're on guard."

One of the hellhound's heads looked offended.

Another growled lazily.

The third simply nodded once.

Cerbe understood.

Guard duty.

It moved toward the edge of the clearing and sat down heavily, three pairs of glowing eyes scanning the forest in different directions.

Black flames flickered softly along its fur.

Nothing was getting close unnoticed.

Damien then looked down at Luton.

The slime had finished devouring the last remnants of the massive bear and was now slightly larger than before, its body shimmering faintly with absorbed essence.

He crouched beside it.

"Come here."

Luton happily bounced toward him.

The slime flattened itself instantly the moment Damien leaned down.

Within seconds it reshaped into a soft, slightly raised cushion.

Damien smirked.

"Perfect."

He lowered himself onto the ground and rested his head against the slime.

Luton adjusted immediately, its body forming a surprisingly comfortable pillow beneath his neck.

Warm.

Soft.

Oddly soothing.

Damien folded his arms behind his head and looked up at the canopy.

Sunlight filtered through the branches in broken beams.

The forest rustled quietly around him.

Cerbe's low breathing provided a steady background rhythm while Aquila occasionally circled high above.

For the first time in several hours, there was no fighting.

No chasing.

No killing.

Just silence.

Damien closed his eyes slowly.

His body relaxed almost instantly.

He had pushed himself hard these past few days.

Stronghold.

Scouting.

Demons.

Constant hunting.

Even someone like him needed a moment to reset.

Luton shifted slightly beneath his head, adjusting to make him more comfortable.

Damien chuckled softly.

"Don't get used to this."

The slime bubbled quietly.

Cerbe's three heads continued scanning the forest.

Nothing approached.

The scent of the massive bear's corpse had already been devoured, leaving no trail for scavengers to follow.

Minutes passed.

Then more.

Eventually Damien's breathing slowed.

His body entered the deep rest it had been craving.

But even in sleep, his instincts remained sharp.

Inside his body, magic essence continued circulating slowly through his reinforced muscles and bones.

The progress he had made inside this forest was staggering.

Every fight had refined him.

Every hunt had sharpened his control.

And somewhere deep within him, that threshold waited.

Level one hundred.

Close.

For now though, he slept.

The forest slowly grew darker.

Even though the sun had not yet set, the thick canopy above allowed only fractured beams of light to reach the forest floor. Long shadows stretched across the clearing where Damien slept, the broken terrain still bearing the scars of the colossal beast he had slain earlier.

The place looked like the aftermath of a small war.

Yet at the center of it, Damien rested peacefully.

His breathing was slow and steady.

Luton remained beneath his head, its body perfectly shaped into a soft, flexible pillow. Occasionally the slime shifted ever so slightly, adjusting its density so Damien remained comfortable.

Not far away, Cerbe sat like a black sentinel.

The three-headed hellhound had not moved much since Damien fell asleep. Its enormous body remained planted firmly on the edge of the clearing.

Three sets of eyes scanned three different directions.

Nothing approached.

Any mana beast foolish enough to wander close had long since retreated after sensing the oppressive presence of the hellhound.

One of Cerbe's heads suddenly lifted.

Then the second.

Then the third.

The forest had changed.

Something was coming.

But it wasn't hostile.

The scent was familiar.

Moments later the trees parted slightly and a massive white shape emerged from the shadows.

Fenrir.

The wolf returned at a steady pace, its powerful frame carrying a faint scent of blood and battle.

Cerbe's middle head growled softly.

Not in warning.

In acknowledgment.

Fenrir had returned from its hunt.

The wolf stepped into the clearing, crimson eyes glowing faintly in the dim forest light.

Its fur carried streaks of fresh blood — not its own.

Behind it dragged the remains of several beasts.

Large ones.

Fenrir had not been idle.

The wolf stopped when it saw Damien sleeping peacefully.

Its ears twitched.

For a moment it simply watched.

Damien rarely rested this deeply.

The past few days had been relentless — hunting demons, destroying strongholds, battling creatures strong enough to shake the forest itself.

Fenrir understood something in its own instinctive way.

Its master was recovering.

The wolf slowly walked forward.

Cerbe observed but said nothing.

Fenrir dropped what remained of its hunt near the edge of the clearing.

Three large mana beasts lay there.

One looked like a giant horned lizard with thick armored scales.

Another resembled a massive forest cat with blades protruding from its spine.

The third was nearly unrecognizable, its body mangled beyond shape.

All of them were high-grade creatures.

Fenrir had hunted well.

More importantly, a pile of essence cores lay beside them.

Over a dozen.

Grade Four.

Grade Three.

Even a few that seemed unusually dense for their rank.

The wolf had gathered them carefully rather than devouring them immediately.

They were for Damien.

Fenrir sat beside the pile and waited.

The wolf's breathing slowed as it rested from the hunt.

Minutes passed.

Then more.

Eventually Damien shifted slightly.

His instincts had noticed the change in the clearing.

His eyes slowly opened.

The first thing he saw was the forest canopy above.

The second thing he noticed was that Luton was still serving as a pillow.

The third, was a familiar presence nearby.

Damien turned his head slightly.

Fenrir sat there calmly, its massive frame illuminated by broken sunlight.

Damien blinked once.

Then he smiled.

"You're back."

The wolf huffed softly.

Damien pushed himself upright.

Luton reshaped itself immediately, sliding down beside him like a loyal companion.

His gaze moved toward the pile behind Fenrir.

Then his eyebrows lifted.

"That much?"

Fenrir flicked its tail once.

Damien stood and walked closer.

The scent of blood was strong.

The beasts Fenrir had dragged back were all powerful creatures. Even in death they carried heavy mana signatures.

And the cores... Damien crouched down and picked one up.

Grade Three.

Another.

Grade Three again.

Then a Grade Four.

He whistled softly.

"You really went to work."

Fenrir simply watched him.

Damien chuckled under his breath.

"You're starting to act like Luton."

The slime bounced slightly at the mention of its name.

Cerbe approached as well, its three heads sniffing the pile with interest.

Damien gathered the cores and handed them to Luton.

The slime opened a small pocket in its body, absorbing the cores instantly and storing them inside its universal space.

Nothing would be wasted.

Damien stretched once after standing again.

The rest had done him good.

His muscles felt looser.

His mind sharper.

And that pressure inside him, still there.

Still growing.

Level one hundred was close.

But not yet.

He glanced at Fenrir again.

"Good work."

The wolf stood, clearly ready for more.

Damien laughed quietly.

"Relax. Even predators rest."

Fenrir didn't seem convinced.

Damien looked deeper into the forest.

Somewhere out there, Demon captains were searching.

The hunt between them had already begun.

But Damien wasn't rushing.

Not yet.

For now, he was still growing.

Still sharpening his claws.

He placed a hand on Fenrir's head.

"Soon," he murmured.

The wolf's crimson eyes gleamed.

The forest around them grew darker as evening slowly approached.

And far away, a demon captain had just received another report.

The human was still inside the forest.

Still hunting.

Still alive.

But not for long.

At least, that was what the demon believed.