The mist thickened that evening, turning the forest into a labyrinth of gray. Trees loomed like towering phantoms, their twisted branches clawing at the sky.
Raven Xian moved through the gloom, every sense on high alert.
He wasn't alone.
Somewhere in the mist, something watched him—something cold, patient, and hungry.
Lyra walked silently at his side, her violet eyes narrowed. Even she, always calm, seemed tense.
"They're here," she whispered.
"Soul Hunters," Raven said, his voice low.
Lyra nodded grimly. "Not just assassins. Predators. They hunt not just flesh, but the soul itself. If they kill you, they'll steal your spirit before it can ascend."
Raven clenched his fists. He remembered the tales: warriors dying screaming, their bodies left untouched, but their eyes hollow, their spirits devoured.
He wasn't afraid.
But he was cautious.
"Stick close," Lyra said, drawing a slender, rune-etched blade from beneath her cloak. "Even a moment's distraction could mean death."
Raven unsheathed his own sword, the metal gleaming faintly with golden veins.
The mist thickened again—almost unnaturally—and a cold, spectral wind whispered through the trees.
Then came the sound.
Not footsteps.
Not breathing.
A sound like bones grinding against stone.
They were coming.
The Attack
It started with a shadow.
A wisp of darkness darting at the corner of Raven's vision.
He turned, slashing instinctively, but hit only mist.
A faint laugh echoed—a sound without joy.
Then a blur lunged from the fog, claws extended, eyes burning blue-white.
Raven ducked, pivoted, and slashed upward.
The creature—once human, now something else—screeched as his blade tore through its chest, black ichor spraying.
It didn't die.
It recoiled, hissing, and faded back into the mist.
"Be careful," Lyra called. "They don't bleed like normal beings."
Already two more emerged, shambling yet swift, their bodies cloaked in ragged shrouds of soul energy.
Raven gritted his teeth.Fine.If one strike wasn't enough, he would strike a thousand times.
He met the first creature head-on, ducking under a claw swipe and driving his blade through its throat. Before it could retaliate, he wrenched the sword free and spun, slicing across its knees.
The thing collapsed—but still tried to crawl forward, jaws snapping.
Only a burst of golden energy from Raven's palm—channeled from his awakened bloodline—finally destroyed it, burning it to ashes.
Light.Golden energy.That was the key.
He turned just in time to see Lyra dispatch another hunter with a single, precise stab through its forehead, her blade glowing faintly.
"Use your bloodline energy!" she shouted. "They can't withstand it!"
Another wave of Soul Hunters emerged, dozens of them, howling like wolves.
Raven felt his heart pound.
Good.
He needed this.
He wanted this.
With a roar, he surged forward into the swarm.
Battlefield
The fight became a blur.
Raven moved like a wraith through the enemy ranks, golden energy surging through him with every heartbeat. His sword became an extension of his will, carving through the soulless husks.
Each time his blade connected, the energy pulsed, disintegrating the corrupted flesh.
But it wasn't easy.
The Soul Hunters adapted quickly, feinting, harrying him from the sides, forcing him to defend constantly.
One managed to rake its claws across his side, tearing through cloth and flesh.
Pain flared.
Raven grunted but didn't falter. Pain was an old friend.
He retaliated with a vicious elbow to the creature's skull, shattering it into mist.
Lyra fought near him, her movements a dance of death—graceful, efficient, utterly lethal.
She wasn't just skilled.
She was a master.
And yet, even together, they were slowly being pushed back.
There were too many.
Raven's muscles burned, his breathing ragged.
He could feel the edge of his stamina.
If they didn't end this soon, they would be overwhelmed.
The Turning Point
As he parried another strike, Raven caught sight of a figure standing at the edge of the battlefield.
Different from the others.
Taller.
More solid.
Cloaked in black mist.
Its face hidden behind a bone mask carved with ancient runes.
And its aura…
Raven's blood ran cold.
The leader.
The true Soul Hunter.
Unlike the mindless creatures around him, this one radiated intelligence—and malice.
The figure raised a skeletal hand and pointed directly at Raven.
Instantly, the swarm shifted focus, converging on him like locusts.
Raven bared his teeth in a savage grin.
So be it.
Gathering the last reserves of his strength, he drew deeply from the golden energy within him.
It answered eagerly, surging through his veins like wildfire.
A golden glow burst outward from his body, momentarily blinding the lesser hunters.
Raven sprinted straight toward the leader, cutting a bloody path through the mob.
The Soul Hunter raised its hand, summoning spears of black mist that shot toward him.
Raven dodged the first.Parried the second.Took the third through the shoulder—but didn't stop.
Pain didn't matter.
Only victory.
With a roar, he leapt, golden energy flaring along his blade, and slashed downward with all his might.
The leader caught the blow on its arm, but the force sent it staggering.
For the first time, the Soul Hunter seemed surprised.
Raven didn't let up.
He pressed the attack, each strike fueled by rage, by betrayal, by the burning need to survive and conquer.
Blow after blow rained down, and cracks appeared in the bone mask.
Finally, with a thunderous strike, Raven shattered the mask.
The creature shrieked—a sound of pure, soul-deep agony—and began to disintegrate, black mist pouring from its broken body.
The lesser hunters howled and collapsed, their connection severed.
The battle was over.
Raven stood panting in the center of the clearing, golden energy flickering around him like dying embers.
Lyra approached, bloodied but grinning.
"You did it," she said.
Raven wiped blood from his mouth.
"No," he said grimly. "We did it."
Aftermath
The bodies of the Soul Hunters faded into the mist, leaving only the ruined clearing and the lingering stench of death.
Raven dropped to one knee, exhaustion finally catching up with him.
Lyra knelt beside him, placing a steadying hand on his shoulder.
"You've crossed another threshold," she said. "Most cultivators would have fallen tonight. You didn't just survive. You won."
Raven closed his eyes, feeling the weight of it.
His first true victory against the forces sent to annihilate him.
A step forward on the path of shadows.
But he knew it wasn't over.
Not by a long shot.
This was only a prelude.
The real enemies still waited beyond the horizon, sharpening their blades, weaving their traps.
He would meet them all.
He would destroy them.
And he would rise.
Higher than any before him.
[End of Chapter 5]