"I don't need talent," he said quietly. "Just consistency. Relentless hard work. Repetition."

Amon had never felt such a strong desire to get stronger.

Strong enough to travel this place without any worry.

He wouldn't lie. He was curious about this place. This forest was mysterious. And Amon, being Amon… he was a curious boy.

Many times, the same desire toward this forest came to his mind. But he couldn't act recklessly just because of curiosity.

He still remembered what that curiosity had made him go through before.

Nearly getting killed by a wyvern.

"Enough thinking…"

He pulled the blade free. His dark eyes filled with resolve.

'I must get stronger.' His grip tightened on the hilt dangerously until his knuckles turned white.

He needed to try again and again.

If he wanted to survive, he needed to become stronger.

This time, he didn't rush.

He raised the sword and simply watched his shadow on the ground. Studied it. The way it clung to him, the way it distorted when he shifted his weight.

Then he moved. Slowly. The shadow moved and wrapped around the blade. Mana flowed toward the blade, covering over the shadow.

A deliberate thrust.

And he guided the shadow first. Not forcing it. Not commanding it.

It was as if he was inviting it.

Dark shadow slid along the blade, slipping outward like a whisper. A false fang formed. Thin, sharp. Slightly to the left of the real strike.

Amon's eyes snapped open.

He completed the motion.

The real blade followed, hidden behind the shadow's path.

The air split.

Stone cracked.

A shallow gash appeared on a fallen pillar. It was clean, precise.

Amon froze.

His heart pounded.

"…That was –"

The shadow dispersed a moment too soon. The technique collapsed before it could fully stabilize.

Incomplete.

But.

It had worked. For a breath. For an instant.

Amon's lips parted slightly. His chest rose and fell as something unfamiliar stirred within him.

It was confirmation.

"So that's it," he whispered. "You don't chase the strike… you bait it."

Shadow Fang wasn't about overwhelming the enemy's senses.

It was about giving them something else to fear.

Amon wiped the sweat from his brow and raised his sword again.

His muscles screamed in protest. His mana circulation stuttered, darkness flickering unevenly.

Still.

Again and again.

Each attempt was flawed. Sometimes the afterimage was too thin. Sometimes it snapped too late. Sometimes the shadow swallowed the blade entirely, ruining the precision.

But Amon didn't stop.

The ruins echoed with sharp, solitary strikes as dusk finally surrendered to night. There was only darkness now. No moonlight coming from broken walls.

Blood trickled from his palm where the hilt had rubbed raw.

He ignored it.

"If you won't listen," Amon muttered, lifting the sword once more, "then I'll make you."

In the darkness of the ruined building, his shadow stretched wide. No longer mocking.

Watching.

Waiting.

And for the first time, it did not pull away when he moved.

---

Far from where Amon Vale struggled alone among broken stone and stubborn shadows, the same dark forest took on a very different face.

Several kilometers from him, behind those mountains, the sea began.

The distance between the sea and those mountains spanned many kilometers. From the coastal sea, the trees abruptly ended, stopping near the base of the mountains.

A vast circular stretch of land lay carved out from the forest, as if something enormous had scraped the earth bare.

No trees stood within it. No grass dared to grow. The ground was packed hard, scarred by wheel marks, boot prints, and the weight of industry.

At its center rose a temporary human base.

Rows of dark canvas tents were arranged with military precision. Lanterns hung from metal poles, their orange light pushing back the gloom but never fully defeating it.

Thick cables snaked across the ground, connecting rumbling mana generators to unfamiliar machinery. Steel frames etched with glowing runes, rotating lenses, containment crates humming with restrained energy.

The air smelled of oil, salt from the nearby sea, and iron.

This was not a camp built for survival.

It was a staging ground.

For months, human soldiers from the Kingdom of Valmoria, under the leadership of Galahad Valliant, had come here on the orders of Empress Celestia.

At the heart of the base stood the largest tent, reinforced with steel ribs and layered fabric.

Two guards flanked its entrance, spears grounded, eyes sharp. Unlike the rest, they wore polished armor. A silver sun pierced by a sword.

Inside, the atmosphere shifted.

A sturdy wooden table occupied the center, its surface cluttered with maps, mana compasses, and crystal orbs glowing faintly blue.

The canvas walls muffled the sounds of the camp outside, leaving only the low hum of machinery and the occasional distant crash of waves from the coast.

Seated at the table was a man with broad shoulders and posture as straight as a blade.

Galahad Valliant.

His black hair was tied back neatly, his features sharp and weathered, as though carved by years of command.

A long white coat rested over his armor, its edges trimmed with gold thread. Even while seated, he radiated authority. The kind that did not need to be announced.

He studied a map spread before him, one gloved finger resting on a marked section of forest.

Across from him sat another man.

This one leaned back casually, boots crossed atop a crate, arms folded. His dark cloak was unfastened, revealing light armor beneath. Practical, worn. His eyes were sharp, yellow, and observant. He had bright green hair.

He was Caspian Evangeline, from the family of Marquis Evangeline.

"So," Caspian said, voice calm, almost amused, "this is where you decided to dig in."

Galahad did not look up.

"The clearing was necessary," he replied.

"This forest interferes with detection arrays. Too much ambient mana."

The other man chuckled softly.

"Funny. I'd say the forest is doing exactly what it's meant to."

Galahad nodded. "It's been months. Still, we didn't find any traces of demons here. At least not on this side. Maybe we need to go to the other side of these mountains.

Then we might find something useful. This place is by no means small. This island is as big as a kingdom."

"We have explored all the surroundings on this side of the mountains. There are barely any monsters alive here."

As he said. They have explore here. Not only that. They even have explore those mountains.

"Yeah… guess we need to start searching beyond it," Caspian said, then paused. "But what about that boy? Amon Vale."

If you find any errors ( broken links, non-standard content, etc.. ), Please let us know < report chapter > so we can fix it as soon as possible.