At that exact microsecond, the flanking raptor lunged from his blind spot.
SKRRREEE—!
Its jaws unhinged wide, black venom dripping from serrated fangs as razor-sharp talons flashed inches from Azriel’s exposed throat.
Azriel didn’t even turn his head.
Trusting Warrior’s Instinct, he dropped his center of gravity into a low, fluid spin.
His sickle flashed in a wide upward arc, cleanly deflecting the beast’s talons, while his right elbow drove backward like a battering ram straight into the raptor’s solar plexus.
CRACK—!
The beast’s breath exploded from its lungs in a bloody wheeze, the blunt impact arresting its forward momentum mid-air.
Before gravity could drag it down, Azriel reversed his grip on the sickle and drove the curved tip straight through the roof of its open mouth, piercing its brain with a wet shhk.
[Iron-Claw Raptor (Lvl 3) Slain: +45 XP]
Ripping the blade free, he pivoted on his heel and brought his heavy combat boot down onto the chest of the grounded raptor still thrashing against the tangled chain.
CRUNCH.
The monster’s ribcage caved beneath his enhanced physical strength, instantly silencing its dying screech.
[Iron-Claw Raptor (Lvl 3) Slain: +45 XP]
Without wasting a second, Azriel harvested the valuable claws and iron-plated crests from the carcasses, stowing the materials cleanly into his spatial ring with a single mental pulse.
With another quick thought, he retrieved a small jade container of high-grade soothing balm from the ring’s inventory, one of the many restorative ointments and healing vials Rosalind had thoughtfully packed for him.
Scooping a dollop of the fragrant, cool salve onto his fingertip, he dabbed it across his scratched cheek.
The soothing herb immediately numbed the sting, knitting the damaged flesh together at visible speed until the skin was smooth and blemish-free once more.
Glancing up at his updated experience counter, a cold grin tugged at his lips.
"215 to go."
Over the next hour, Azriel stalked through the shadows of the colossal black trees.
He encountered several roaming Iron-Claw Raptors, but they only moved in isolated pairs or solitary scouts, making them easy prey for his newly integrated chain-and-sickle style.
The moment he cut down his fifth target, a crisp, melodic chime resonated in his mind.
[Level Up!] [You have reached Level 6]
Azriel smiled, calling up his status screen with a mental flick.
-x-
[ PRIMORDIAL STATUS ]
Name: Azriel Amaros
Age: 19
Race: Beastman - Nocthari (Black Panther Lineage)
Title: Blessed by Primordial of Lust and Purity
Class: Divine Charmer (Rank: S)
Hidden Class: Primordial Soul Streamer (Rank: Primordial)
Bloodline: Abyssal Ardor Bloodline (Rank: D; Potential: SSS+)
Level: 6 (Exp: 15/2,000)
System Wallet: 46,452 Karma Points (KP)
Attributes
Aether Capacity: 10
Physical Prowess: 25
Charisma: 75 (1,000)
Endurance: 32
Free Stat Points: 16 -> 20
-x-
Aside from his level jumping to 6 and the next threshold scaling to 2,000 XP, his unallocated Stat Points had increased to 20.
Each level granted 4 free stat points.
Azriel had intentionally hoarded them from Level 1 onward.
His Charisma was already unnaturally high, while his Physical Prowess and Endurance had steadily climbed on their own through Vesperia’s grueling physical training.
As for Aether Capacity, Awakeners couldn’t actively harness internal aether until evolving into the Adept realm at Level 25 after clearing their first Ascension Trial.
Holding onto the points gave him an emergency pool to dump into whichever attribute a life-or-death situation demanded.
Dismissing the interface, Azriel pushed deeper into the subterranean forest.
However, after another thirty minutes of navigating the winding roots, the trails grew increasingly erratic, and the raptor tracks vanished entirely.
Realizing he had drifted off the standard path, Azriel paused, his black feline ears twitching as they picked up a faint, rhythmic murmur cutting through the humid silence.
Flowing water.
Adjusting his grip on the chain, Azriel shifted direction and quietly stalked toward the sound.
Parting the thick, bioluminescent fern fronds, he stepped onto a shelf of slick river stone.
Before him stretched a subterranean river, its pitch-black waters glowing with a sickly, phosphorescent green as they churned through the jagged ravine.
Massive weeping willows with obsidian bark dipped their glowing vines into the steady current, bathing the stone ledge in an eerie, hypnotic luminescence.
The silence was absolute.
Too absolute.
Azriel didn’t drop his guard for a fraction of a second.
His violet eyes flared as Gaze of the Thermal Stalker swept across the terrain, casting the environment in sharp infrared clarity.
Nothing.
The shoreline was dead. Not a flicker of body heat, not a single crimson trace in the dense ferns or tree canopies.
Yet the tiny hairs on the back of his neck rose in sudden, primal warning.
It wasn’t that nothing was there, the predator had no body heat at all.
CRACK—!
The obsidian trunk right beside him seemed to peel open as a monstrous, bone-chilled mass exploded from the void.
Before Warrior’s Instinct could even draw a clean vector, razor-sharp claws ripped violently across Azriel’s spine.
The reinforced weave of his black armor held, sparking under the sheer friction, but the raw, crushing kinetic force hammered straight through the fabric.
His vertebrae rattled with a sickening thud, knocking the air from his lungs in an agonizing wheeze as the sheer momentum sent him hurtling headfirst off the slick ledge, plunging directly toward the corrosive, glowing depths below.
In that split-second before disaster, Azriel whipped his left wrist around.
The iron fundo blurred through the air and wrapped securely around the thick bough of an overhanging willow just as his body pitched over the drop.
His boots grazed the water’s surface for a fraction of a second, and the leather instantly sizzled and hissed, melting away like butter under corrosive acid.
A cold chill shot straight down Azriel’s spine.
Tension snapped through his arms as he hauled himself up by the taut chain, swinging off the momentum and sticking a clean, low-crouched landing back on solid rock.
Rising smoothly, his violet eyes locked onto the predator standing on the ledge, a massive, scarred Corrupted Timber-Wolf, glaring down at him with venomous, cold-blooded malice.
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