The Primal Hunter

Duskleaf appeared beside the Malefic Viper as he joined him in staring down at the young human within the time chamber.

“Did you ask me to come by simply to confuse me?” Duskleaf asked the Viper while looking down at Jake.

He had a break from assisting his Master as he could handle everything there himself for now. This had allowed Duskleaf to send his clone back to help the little elf girl catch up and make sure she stayed on top of her studies without any of his personal projects being affected. He even had time for this brief excursion to see what Jake was up to, though he, at first sight, didn’t learn much.

Though there was one thing.

“Why has he embedded the weapon in his chest?” Duskleaf asked. He saw that Jake had the weapon he had created firmly stabbed into his own chest, more accurately, into his own heart. At first, Duskleaf thought he was absorbing some of the curse energy from it directly into his body, but he felt no movements of energy.

“Good question,” his Master smiled. “Sadly, I have no bloody idea. What I do know is that what he wants to accomplish is linked to that mythical weapon of his.”

“Further strengthening his connection to a Sin weapon does not seem wise… it may influence his Path and lead him somewhere he did not intend to go,” Duskleaf disapproved.

“It will only become a problem if he allows the curse to influence him too much. Besides, from my understanding, what he is doing is more than merely strengthening the Soulbound connection,” the Malefic Viper explained.

Duskleaf looked a bit at the young man below and sighed. “How long has he been in there anyway?”

“From whose point of view?” the Viper asked.

“His.”

“I would say… about forty years, give or take?”

Duskleaf frowned. Not that long for himself, but a notable amount of time for a D-grade. “Has he-“

“Yep. Every single goddamn second.”

The old alchemist nodded. He stared at Jake and saw how he still remained focused. Not a single disturbance could be detected in his aura. There was only a sensation of serenity and focus from his Master’s Chosen as he worked on his task.

Duskleaf had lived for… a while. He had many students during this time, having not taken the position of Grand Elder of the Academy in the Order just for show. Throughout the years, one learned things.

There had been heaven-sent geniuses. Individuals who had formed several legendary skills in F-grade, alchemists who had crafted as if they were three times their own level, living encyclopedias, and absolute monsters of mana control. Yet none of these had ever made it to godhood. They had made it far, they had gotten powerful and respected, but ultimately they had fallen short despite everyone saying they would no doubt ascend.

A foolish assumption on their part that they would make it. An arrogance born of talent. In some ways, Duskleaf even pitied them because geniuses tended to all run into the same problem down the road. They became impatient.

For a prodigy in magic, forming legendary skills, amazing all your peers, and showing off by killing foes in higher grades were all expected. They would be hailed and respected, but as they got stronger and stronger, things began to change.

Rather than compete with individuals that were D-grade and had trained for a century, they would meet C-grades who had lived for millennia. They would meet B-grades who had lived for tens of thousands of years. Even if this heaven-sent genius was only a few hundred years max, could he truly make up the gap fifty-thousand years of experience and practice had formed? Most couldn’t.

Not to misunderstand, they were still talents. These people would catch up, becoming stronger than the old expert in a fraction of the time, but they rarely did. They got frustrated. They saw magic a mage had spent ten thousand years making and couldn’t comprehend how they hadn’t perfected it themselves in a decade. In a way, their talents became their downfall as they had never learned the act of patience.

like an insurmountable barrier, and rather than giving up or

all honesty, then Jake was not the most talented person Duskleaf had seen, far from

to have a singular focus on a task. He remembered hearing the assessment from the trial dungeon where Jake had gained the highest possible assessment from that part of the alchemy test. Coupled with

found a task, the more enjoyable he would find it, and if the difficulty of a task was the mundanity of it, he would simply view overcoming his own boredom and lack of stimulation as just another challenge to beat. In a way, he truly was a born hunter, be it the hunt to kill or a hunt for success. Even if Jake was not talented, he would go far

of Jake reminded

in,” the Viper spoke. “Not to mince words, but damn, did he suck. His mana control was all over the place. He took months to even figure out how to make the basic potions and even longer to properly learn how to make poisons without constantly hurting himself. Oh, and don’t even get me started on rituals. The only thing he was even faintly

his head and stroked his beard. “Master,

a dunce. I was amazed at how bad he was, yet this idiot kept trying. Kept attempting to craft things even after failing a thousand times and kept improving himself one small step at a time. Usually, we talk about people meeting barriers in their Path, but this guy was running an obstacle course from day one. Yet he kept slowly trodding forward. Shit, he was downright crawling at times. He was just a stubborn fool who loved

looked at Duskleaf with a

my dear dunce of a

slid back, both also raising a hand and releasing a blast of energy. Simultaneously,

itself. Both katars were aimed at the thigh of the opponent, but suddenly, both men froze as their eyes flashed yellow. The

met. Two other arrows flew as each curved in opposite directions to not clash. Dodging

fight, it looked more than choreographed dance, and in some ways, that was a more accurate description of what their

and swiped as neither man was hit as they got closer and closer, each blow missed by mere millimeters. Then, they both swung, having their two katars impact each other hard. Both

to do was slightly move forward to find purchase. Yet, the first to move would also be the one to incite a

“Another tie,” Jake spoke.

row,” sim-Jake answered. “We don’t need

a year. In fact, it had been months since either had even landed a wound on the other. Trading blows had entirely stopped as both knew

meaningless,” Jake agreed. There was nothing more to learn and

Sim-Jake had learned to use the bow merely by observing and copying Jake, and Jake

and for the last few… years? There had been no difference between them. Outside of magic, neither could do anything the other couldn’t. Sim-Jake had even learned to

been the initial plan, but Jake had naturally learned all there was to the fighting style. Both of them had kind of

the style by only fighting each other could end up worsening it, as it would be

at each other for a bit as they both

“It’s time.” “It’s time.”

they could do, nothing more to learn. Sim-Jake’s body already gave off a sensation reminiscent of Eternal Hunger, and the cursed beast no longer attacked sim-Jake whenever he got close, even if it did still want to eat the regular

will finish up

bit melancholy. “I

would not be the same. Once the skill was made, and he was fully integrated with Eternal Hunger, his Records would fully join and become one

had already begun to show signs of failure. Microcracks covered it entirely, and even if it remained sturdy enough and was still useful, Jake knew it was close to the end

even sped this up by giving away his memories and Records. Sim-Jake had admitted that he couldn’t remember a damn thing anymore from before the system in his simulated reality - nothing aside from what Jake had seen during his vision, anyway. Even

things must

word. It is more that I will change. In some ways, wasn’t this what I wanted?

“Well-argued,” Jake smiled.

and try to take over your body at

would see that coming,”