The Primal Hunter

To be strong… was something that truly didn’t matter in the world before the system. One could be the best swordsman in the world or the best martial artist, but the difference between the bottom and the top was never that significant. Even the greatest fighter would lose against a few average men who teamed up on him. If they had weapons, even fewer. If they had a gun… a single shot could end the journey of a martial artist who had trained his body and skills to perfection over decades of struggle and hard work.

Due to this, and the peace of society as a whole, being able to fight rarely mattered. It was more done for sports or to stay in shape rather than any practical applications. Sure, the army did also teach hand-to-hand, and being able to stand your ground could come in handy when situations got tricky, but that was about it.

Yet Miyamoto had dedicated much of his life to training with a sword. Despite how many people told him he was wasting his time, he kept training whenever he could and only laid down his sword the day his body no longer allowed him to lift it.

It had simply been a passion of his, pursued for no other reason than the fact he enjoyed it. He worked most of his life, and it became his one selfish pastime where he could just be himself and ponder. His one childish pursuit…

And when the system arrived, he realized indulging in this childish pursuit was no longer that childish. Instead, it became a true Path to power, and no one looked down on him or questioned if he was wasting his time whenever he trained. One other thing did change, though, and that was the reason for his training.

Miyamoto had always been ambitious. It was simply an innate trait of his. During the Tutorial, he had simply fought, doing his best together with the allies he gathered as he struggled to survive. His body was weak in the beginning, but as time passed, he got stronger and stronger, and he still remembered that one fateful day.

It was a rather large fight, and one of the youngsters was struggling. Miyamoto had a breakthrough as he hurried over and managed to kill the opponent in the nick of time. The young woman who had been lying on the ground had called him something then. Something reminding him of a rather childish concept as she said he was like the Sword Saint of history…

The title stuck with him, as others also began to call him it, and Miyamoto never corrected anyone. Instead, he took this new title as a promise. To be the Sword Saint was to be at the peak of swordsmanship. To be the strongest…

And as of this moment, Miyamoto didn’t feel like he lived up to that promise. He hadn’t for quite a while, especially after he returned from the Challenge Dungeons and heard how others had done. Even if others said he hadn’t done badly, he was still far from satisfied.

The Sword Saint had done quite a lot better overall than Sylphie and finished with a final multiplier of 70%. His 10% in the Colosseum of Mortals had very much been a disappointment to him, as it turned out to be one of his worst despite, on the surface, looking like one he should have done well at. However, he had also gotten very unlucky. His “basic state” was that of an old man who had been a single step away from death before the system. When he entered the Colosseum and had his stats reduced, he was far more negatively affected than someone like Jake. His brittle bones made him take more damage every time he tried to block. His old muscles made him slower, and especially his striking power was negatively affected by his aging physique. He simply didn’t have a body that could make full use of his stats.

This wasn’t a problem when he had his full stats… but in the Colosseum, it became a severe limiter, in many ways making it impressive that he even managed to get 10%. He did feel sad about having had to use his Transcendence to beat Umbra, though, as it meant he could barely walk when he faced Valdemar for the final fight… but at least the backlash had been minimal due to the special circumstances of the Challenge Dungeon. By the time he had finished the Test of Character afterward, he was all good.

Speaking of the Test of Character, the Sword Saint did a lot better there. In fact, it ended up being one of his best-performing Challenge Dungeons with a 20% multiplier. Despite still being “young” in the context of the system, he felt like an old man, and he was very much set in who he was. He was good at judging situations and adapting when necessary, no matter what story he experienced.

A place he did a lot better than expected was the House of the Architect, where he got a 10% multiplier. He had expected not to get much here, but he had ended up surprising himself. In many ways, it had been a good respite as he had done this one last and had spent longer in it than any of the others. This allowed him to spend plenty of time working on his painting skills while naturally also upgrading some class-based skills, making it a very pleasant experience.

Challenge Dungeon he had very much enjoyed. Doing the menial jobs as a Courier reminded him of the jobs he had when he was young, especially while in the military. The later happenings and dealing with the political turmoil reminded him of what he had to deal with in his later years. Except, the political arena was too… simple. Easy. Simplified. There were a lot of twists and turns, but in the end, nothing ever felt too complicated, and he ended up challenging himself by aiming to broker a peace agreement between the Dragon Tribe and the Guild, as well as all the other nations. Something he was quite proud of had succeeded, even if he knew peace would

to decipher many of the clues given and even deployed some tricks

had made and the burden of the title he had taken upon himself. He felt far below the realm of monstrous existences like Jake and even Ell’Hakan, whom he had faced in combat once and came

Miyamoto, showing that she had also improved. A figure sat beside him, made up of

yourself,” the former

he could not fully materialize his body but only be in an intangible form only the

do not believe I am,” the Sword Saint said as he sat meditatively with his sword across his legs. “Look at the young hawk. Her personality is utterly whimsical; she never seems to take any situation seriously, and she appears to only be playing around… yet her rate of improvement is unquestionable. Despite it looking like she isn’t trying, you can see she innately is pushing herself to improve with every fight. Instinctively, she is driven to improve.

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coming at different intervals, but more importantly, in different spurts. Remember, the Path to power is not a sprint but a marathon toward

didn’t say more as he heard the cliché words he had listened to so many times before. He just kept watching Sylphie as she battled the pack of beasts

of the things that are holding

will not become a vampire,” the Sword Saint

you have to,” Iskar said. “I’m just saying that maybe there is just something to be looking at there. You have a lot of untapped potential you never truly dove into, especially

his Path becoming murky again if he tried to diversify himself too much… but perhaps the former Monarch of Blood had a point. His Patron, Aeon, had told him that his time

moved a few kilometers ahead of him. It was a small group of scaled deer-like creatures, all moving in a defensive formation. Even so, the hunter wasn’t worried. He knew he would find his time to strike at some point, as he felt for all

any potential future prey along the way. Every time he marked one, he became able to

Without missing his chance, the hunter took out his bow. Never once did he get close or enter their line of sight as he got to

more arcane power appeared as an Arcane Powershot was slowly charged, the hunter

It slightly curved around all the trees in the way as it slammed into the side of the first beast’s head before it could even react, making it fall to

assist their comrade, the other beasts didn’t hesitate to take off in four different directions. However, sadly for them, they were all already marked. The hunter didn’t even care to pursue as he sprung wings

Powershot blasted out as it hit one of the fleeing deer now over thirty kilometers away. The damage was even greater than the first deer the hunter had hit as he promptly nocked another. A second powershot in rapid succession was released, hitting a third deer for more damage yet again. It wasn’t an extreme amount, and the

of the deer were soon taken down except for one. The hunter looked at it closely as the outline of its Soulshape revealed the damage done. The outline was slightly damaged, letting the hunter know the damage was significant and would potentially lead to death on its own. Not that he would let that up to chance as he shot one more

standing atop a watchtower. He narrowed his eyes and spotted a scout in the distance. Instantly, he marked the target,