Chapter Eight: The Hunter

The sharp blade slid effortlessly into the energy leech's skin, tough and thick as rubber, and Faeron could feel the pulse of life through the scalpel. Before him, the energy leech opened its gaping maw and bit down with force. Yet those teeth, sharp enough to tear steel, did not rend fresh flesh as expected. They snapped shut on empty air, ringing out a metallic clang. Before the energy leech could launch another attack, Faeron's scalpel had already swept in a circle around its neck as easily as slicing ham. With a spray of foul blood, the creature's head tumbled to the ground, and its body, after a twitching swipe of its claws, crashed heavily onto the floor, falling silent forever.

Faeron exhaled deeply, finally closing his eyes. The sensation lingered in his fingertips—the moment when the scalpel became an extension of his body, and he could keenly sense the vitality beneath the skin, the fragile blood vessels, the heart pounding in fear, terminated mercilessly by his hand. In that instant, he felt life’s instinctive struggle and resistance against death, and then its end. To feel life extinguish beneath his touch was intoxicating, like a dreamlike narcotic.

The pleasure of snuffing out life in that moment was utterly irresistible, supreme bliss.

Pity, though—it was still too weak.

He lowered his head, quietly gazing at the remains before him. Judging by the decor, this had once been a fast food restaurant, though now it had lost all function. Instead, the floor was littered with corpses of energy leeches, their bodies completely dissected, innards spilling through smooth, neat incisions, the stench of blood filling the room. The dozens of energy leeches that had surrounded Faeron were now utterly dead, but for him, this was merely a warm-up.

It was about time to leave. The scent of blood would soon draw other monsters, and though Faeron enjoyed battle and slaughter, he did not care for being forced into defense. This was already the midsection of the outer city, and who knew what might appear next? With that thought, Faeron cast another glance at the corpses, then raised his right hand and grasped the air.

"Collection mode, activate."

As Faeron spoke, circles of varying size, seemingly composed of code, radiated out from him, spinning and enveloping the energy leech corpses. Under the shimmering halos, a faint green glow began to emerge from the bodies, transforming into motes of light that spiraled toward Faeron’s palm, drawn by an invisible force. Soon, the green dust from all around coalesced into three green shards in his hand.

The energy leech corpses had become shriveled and emaciated, like mummies long dead.

(The harvest is truly bountiful, Master.)

Only then did the elusive black cat leap lightly from the rooftop, settling nimbly on Faeron's shoulder. It shook its head, its bright amethyst eyes fixed on the energy shards in Faeron's hand.

(Eighty-seven energy leeches, and three shards obtained—this expedition into the ruins was indeed worthwhile. Normally, even with good luck, you might not get a single shard from a hundred.)

"Those living in the net-energy zones have higher access levels than the ragtag ones outside. But what comes next is anyone's guess."

Muttering softly to himself, Faeron looked up at the ruined ceiling, then sprang upward, passing through the hole and landing weightlessly on the rooftop, as light as a feather. The moment his toes touched the surface, an invisible force yanked him sideways several meters without warning, and he slipped silently into the shadows by the wall, calmly observing the city.

"Boom!"

Barely a minute had passed when a massive shadow descended from the sky, plummeting to earth like a shell. Its impact collapsed the decayed rooftop and sent dust swirling.

A beastly roar echoed from the ruins of the fast food restaurant, and a monster emerged through the haze. At first glance, it seemed little different from the energy leeches Faeron had dispatched—save for a larger build and darker skin.

But Faeron disagreed, for he had sensed an invisible wave seeking to lock onto him. Only his quick reaction had let him escape detection, yet he remained wary. This hulking energy leech was not only bigger but far stronger. If Faeron was correct, its access level was much higher than his own.

Level five access—the same as that musclebound fool he’d killed in the VIP suite of the trading hall. But Faeron held no contempt for this foe. Humans were easier to deal with than beasts; humans feared, hesitated, doubted. Given a chance, Faeron was confident against any adversary. Beasts, however, though less clever, were fiercer, more dangerous, harder to handle. Tricks held little value against such monsters; it was a contest of raw strength.

There was only one chance.

Faeron glanced at the black cat on his shoulder, then extended his hand, offering one energy shard. The cat opened its mouth, delicately tasting the shard, then squinted with delight. The shard melted like candy, vanishing in its mouth.

Just then, the elite energy leech seemed to sense something and whipped its head toward Faeron’s position. In the same instant, Faeron sprang up, leaping like a lithe leopard toward the elite creature.

Caught off guard by Faeron’s sudden appearance, the elite energy leech was startled—perhaps it had never faced such a scenario, and for a moment, it even panicked. Yet instinctively, it raised its arms to shield itself. Its bat-like wings swelled up as if inflated, meeting the incoming scalpel.

"Thud!"

This time, the sharp blade did not pierce the elite leech’s wing as easily as before, but struck with a dull force and veered off course.

Blocked!

Feeling the recoil in his palm, Faeron was unsurprised. Wild monsters differed from humans; humans’ access levels were determined by the sum of awakened abilities. Monsters usually awakened only one, and the higher the ability level, the greater the suppression. Unless attributes countered each other, a high-level ability could easily block a lower one. The previous leeches were only level three, letting Faeron dispatch them with ease. But now, against a level five elite, his modest level three "Cutting" ability was insufficient.

That did not mean Faeron feared it.

"Hmph!"

The instant he sensed his attack fail, Faeron pressed downward with both hands, then flipped over the creature’s head. A flash of silver shot downward, stabbing precisely into the elite leech’s right eye as it looked up.

"Roar—!"

Wracked with pain, the elite leech let out a furious howl and swung its arms at Faeron mid-air. But Faeron was prepared; he twisted aside, dodging the claws, and landed steadily. The elite leech, enraged, turned to glare at Faeron.

A scalpel was embedded in its right eye socket.

"Seems even a body honed like an iron fortress has its weak points..."

Faeron’s expression remained calm as he looked at the snarling creature, curiosity lighting his eyes and a slight smile as he glanced toward its legs.

"But according to the books, those who master the legendary art can retract their yang into the abdomen... Shall I test it?"

"Swish!"

Another scalpel materialized in Faeron’s hand as he spoke.

Even the furious elite leech sensed danger now. It spread its wings and beat them hard, soaring skyward in an attempt to escape the nameless threat.

"Whoosh—!"

But in that instant, a gust of wind rose behind the leech’s head.