The Primal Hunter Chapter 1241 - Runes of Golden Life

Carmen deflected the spear with her forearm, parrying the weapon to the side as she closed the gap to drive an elbow into the warrior’s chest. The man let out a pained grunt from the impact and stumbled backward, but Carmen was already in pursuit, ready to follow up with a jab.

Before her strike could land, however, an arrow slammed into her side. It detonated in a burst of flame, knocking her off balance and forcing her to cancel the offensive. After a rapid assessment of the battlefield, she concluded that while the spearman was the primary offensive threat, he was also the most resilient member of the enemy group.

Agilely repositioning, she dodged a flail—a heavy spiked ball on a long chain—that pulverized the ground where she had stood moments before. She began circling the arena's edge, searching for the elusive shaman. Detecting him after a few seconds, Carmen grinned and flooded her fist with power before striking the floor.

The arena floor shattered, sending rock and debris skyward along with a hidden humanoid figure. The man reacted instantly, weaving hand seals and gesturing toward Carmen. The airborne rubble suddenly shimmered with light and surged toward her, several fragments fusing mid-flight into massive boulders.

Punching through the incoming rocks, Carmen bridged the distance in an instant. Yet, just as she was about to seize her opponent's throat, she was halted once again.

A strange aura locked onto her body, freezing her limbs as the sound of rhythmic chanting filled the air. The environment began to ripple and distort, making it feel as though she were being dragged into an alternate dimension.

It was a formidable skill, but the shaman had made the mistake of targeting a Runemaiden.

Luminous runes ignited across her skin as she let out a piercing shout, releasing a surge of energy that shattered the enchantment. While the first shaman who controlled the rocks managed to retreat, the chanting one was less fortunate; she coughed up a spray of blood as back-lash from her broken spell hit her.

Carmen smiled and launched herself at the shaman who had been hiding. The spearman attempted to intervene, but Carmen kicked his weapon aside and hurled the man directly into the path of a flying arrow.

In a desperate move, the shaman tried to restrain Carmen with a manifested web of chains. The Runemaiden simply brushed them aside, the magic within the metal dissolving the moment it touched her flesh.

Clamping her hand around the shaman’s neck, Carmen smiled. “Do you surrender or—”

“I surrender,” the woman gasped. Carmen gave a nod and prepared to speak, but the archer and the first shaman attacked simultaneously, forcing her to throw the woman aside and leap out of the way.

A barrage of arrows rained down, several falling every second. Looking up, she spotted the beastkin man hovering in the air, maintaining a constant bombardment. She dashed across the arena to evade the projectiles, focusing her intent on the shaman who had just completed a minor ritual.

The man struck the ground with his fist, causing the earth itself to wake. Soil and stone twisted into hammers and various weapons, rising up to hinder her progress. While neither the shaman’s nor the archer’s attacks were truly lethal to a Runemaiden, she remained cautious, knowing two of her opponents still possessed the power to wound her.

One appeared shortly after; Carmen dodged a stone club only to be forced into blocking a spiked flail swinging in from the flank. Despite her preparation, the sheer force of the blow caught her off guard. Her arms buckled under the pressure, and she was sent skidding through several stone structures that tore at her back.

Crashing into the arena boundary, Carmen struggled to recover before a Powershot hit her. The arrow pierced her skin, drawing blood. Immediately, the spearman and the flail warrior converged on her position, the latter swinging her chain from above.

Facing the coordinated assault, Carmen decided it was time to get serious. The runes on her body transitioned from a pale blue glow to a vibrant red. A surge of raw power flooded her system, and she grinned.

Just before the attacks landed, Carmen slammed her fists together, detonating a massive wave of red, destructive energy. Her attackers were thrown into disarray, giving Carmen the opening she needed to appear instantly before the flail user.

The warrior reacted by raising a heavy shield, but it was futile. Carmen’s fist punched straight through the metal and deep into the warrior’s chest. The strike concluded with an explosion of energy that blew a hole through the warrior’s back, sending the mangled body flying.

Even after such a display, the survivors didn't waver. Carmen narrowly avoided a spear thrust aimed at her throat. Using her boosted speed, she tried to finish the second warrior, but the archer remained a nuisance.

An arrow buried itself in her arm just as she went to strike—a consequence of the lower defenses inherent in this Runic Stance. However, being hit proved just as dangerous for the spearman standing near her.

The energy in her arm erupted upon impact, creating a blast of destructive force that knocked the spearman back. Despite the shaman trying to impale her with a stone spike, Carmen finally landed a clean hit on the spear warrior, launching him into the far wall.

With the last melee threat neutralized, the shaman was easily beaten into submission. She then finished off the spearman, leaving the troublesome archer for the very end.

Healers moved in to retrieve the wounded as Carmen finished the fight. With a heavy sigh, she deactivated her Runic Stance, letting the marks fade. She noted that the lack of a "weakness period" after the boost was a significant advantage, though she had been warned that more advanced Runic Stances would likely bring back that temporary exhaustion.

“Your strength has increased, but you still have trouble with long-range fighters who can bypass your guard,” a voice remarked from behind, causing Carmen to turn.

“Yeah, I definitely need a superior movement skill to close the gap,” Carmen admitted, looking at the speaker. The woman was a human about two heads taller than Carmen, her black hair tied back in a neat ponytail. Her attire was minimal, designed specifically to display the intricate runic patterns etched into her skin with pride.

“More specifically, you need to refine your current one and apply the concepts we discussed last month,” the other Runemaiden corrected. “The Path of a Runemaiden is a holistic one; eventually, the majority of your skills will find their Origin within your runes.”

“I’m working on it,” Carmen said with a nod, cracking her neck. “By the way, the Ruination Stance is great for offense, but is it worth the constant risk? It feels unnecessary unless I’m in a hurry or facing someone with unbreakable defenses—though fighting someone like that seems like a bad idea anyway.”

“It is risky, but it is also more efficient. Mastering the Ruination Stance allows you to channel those offensive concepts into your other skills, even when the stance isn't active,” the Runemaiden explained. “You’ve likely seen how something like Fist of Ragnarok uses similar principles. I suggest using the stance frequently just for the training value. Besides, it’s simply enjoyable to crush things occasionally, and Ruination Stance is perfect for that.”

“You know what? That’s a fair point,” Carmen agreed, especially with the last part.

“I only make fair points,” the Runemaiden replied with a smirk. “Now, that little skirmish was a bit too easy for you, wasn't it?”

Carmen braced herself, a matching smile appearing on her face. “Is it even a real spar if you don’t lose a limb or break a few bones?”

Without a word, the other Runemaiden vanished, demonstrating a movement skill far beyond Carmen’s current level, bolstered by her higher grade.

Carmen spun to block but was sent flying by a punch. She swallowed back the taste of blood, her smile never wavering.

She lived for these sessions… even if she usually left with half her skeleton turned to powder.

“From the Lumenflight… a curious pick,” a voice resonated within the golden hall. “Oh? Her training evaluations are quite high. Weak, certainly, but not without potential.”

“According to my records, Yrelstromoz possessed early talent but wasted it through arrogance and a poor personality,” Aishalstromoz replied. “Nevertheless, she was a legitimate member of the Lumenflight before her exile. Yet, the Chosen of the Malefic Viper slew her.”

“As I thought,” the voice boomed as a golden light filled the chamber. A figure in golden robes appeared, two majestic curved horns rising from his head. “Your read on the Chosen was accurate.”

“No, father, I actually underestimated him,” Aishalstromoz admitted with a shake of her head. “I expected him to kill a dragon once he reached the peak of C-grade. That would have been impressive, but he succeeded while still over ten levels away from that threshold.”

The Dragon of Gold let out a soft laugh. “For my daughter to so readily admit a mistake… he must truly be something special.”

“Is that so strange?” she countered, smiling. “Very few individuals have ever triggered my survival instincts; it’s only natural I’m curious. I consider it a stroke of luck to be his contemporary, as his presence will push me to grow further.”

Even though the Chosen of the Malefic Viper was currently much weaker than Aishalstromoz—who had recently achieved her evolution into a True Dragon—she knew it was only a matter of time before he closed the gap. Her own growth would stabilize now that she was mature, while his legendary progression speed showed no signs of slowing.

“Should I be worried that my daughter is taking such a keen interest in a man?” the Patriarch of the Regalflight asked, his expression unreadable.

Aishalstromoz shook her head with a smile. She had only briefly interacted with the Chosen during Nevermore. He had left an impression, certainly—his ability to ignore her passive aura and speak to her as an equal had even made her blush from the sheer bluntness of it. However…

“He isn’t my type,” she said with a shrug.

“A pity,” her father replied. “Though personally, I find that a relief. It is usually best to keep business and personal feelings separate.”

Aishalstromoz nodded, understanding the implication.

“That being said, are you confident?” he asked, raising an eyebrow. “He killed a dragon as a C-grade. When he eventually evolves and you face one another as B-grades, what will you do?”

Her smile widened. “I will show him exactly what a True Dragon is capable of.”

“The right answer,” her father chuckled. His expression turned solemn as he looked toward the horizon, his gaze piercing the boundaries between realms. “The Dragonflight hasn't established a strong foothold in the new universe yet, but as our people emerge and the paths open, our era will begin… and the first objective will be the struggle for the powers of the Exalted Prima.”

His aura surged, and the sheer pressure from the strongest god of the nine Dragonflights made Aishalstromoz’s knees tremble. This was the reason the Regalflight was considered the most powerful, despite their small numbers. He was a being at the absolute pinnacle… yet also her doting father, who often made her forget his terrifying nature.

“Oh, my apologies, I lost control for a moment,” he said, immediately pulling back his aura and looking at her with concern. He seemed almost frantic that he had accidentally pressured her, causing Aishalstromoz to sigh.

“Dad… it’s okay,” she said. His face brightened at the informal address. Despite his current behavior, she knew the weight of his words. As more B-grades appeared and the new universe expanded, the Dragonflights would have to assert their dominance, and Aishalstromoz would be at the vanguard.

He inhaled, feeling the throb of life throughout his body. With an exhale, the sensation radiated outward. Raising his hand, he drew upon the magic within to manifest life. A human form, a perfect replica of himself, appeared—teeming with vitality, yet lacking a true spark of existence.

It was a step forward, yet a failure in this new era.

The hollow vessel had a heartbeat and breath; it was technically alive. However, the moment its internal life energy was spent, it would vanish. It was like a human from the time before the system’s arrival.

In many ways, life before the system was fundamentally broken compared to the present. It was finite, lacking a true soul. To survive, one had to steal life from others, consuming nutrients in a never-ending cycle of destruction.

Now, things had changed. With a soul, life was intrinsic. A damaged body didn't require external resources to heal; the soul provided the necessary energy.

Evolution was a journey toward perfection. Removing the need for sustenance was a key step for humans, proving that the need to eat was a design flaw—a failed system where life had to consume life to endure.

Yet, life remained temporary. Even with other flaws mended, the soul would eventually lose the ability to sustain the body. It was another failure, one that only godhood could resolve. Only the gods were truly immortal.

It was a truth accepted by all, yet he refused to yield to it. He knew how to mend the flesh and preserve life perfectly… but what was life without a conscious existence to experience it?

The man stood up with a sigh. Even with his new power, it wasn't enough. But he would persevere until he achieved perfection.

Exiting the chamber, he found a monk waiting for him with a respectful smile.

“I offer my congratulations to the Chosen of the Daolord on his successful evolution,” the monk said, bowing deeply to the man who had just ascended to B-grade.

“Thank you,” Eron replied, feeling the sparks of connection that bound their lives together. Like many others, every breath he took allowed him to feel those ties. He felt all the lives he shared and touched… and with every exhale, billions of pulses resonated through him, uniting them all as one.