Chapter 60 – Stillness Before the Hunt
Steam drifted lazily off the surface of the hot spring, curling into the cool air like slow-moving spirits. Peterson sat at the edge of the pool, feet still submerged, eyes half-closed as warmth seeped deep into his aching muscles.
For the first time since the training began, his body wasn't screaming at him.
Just breathing.
He inhaled slowly through his nose, held it, then exhaled through his mouth the way Naëlle had shown him. The world around him felt… quieter. The forest noises dulled. Even the distant rush of water faded into something softer, almost rhythmic.
"Good," Naëlle said quietly.
Peterson cracked one eye open. She sat a few feet away, cross-legged on a flat stone, posture straight, hands resting loosely on her knees. Her curly hair was tied back in a ponytail, loose strands catching the light as steam drifted past her face.
"You're not clenching anymore," she continued. "Your shoulders finally dropped."
"I didn't even notice," Peterson admitted.
"That's the point."
He closed his eyes again.
Minutes passed. Maybe more. Time felt strange here—less like something that moved forward and more like something that hovered, waiting to be acknowledged.
Inside him, something settled.
The lingering tremor in his hands faded. His breathing deepened. The constant edge of tension he'd been carrying since waking up that morning slowly loosened its grip.
Then, softly—
A familiar chime echoed in his mind.
[SYSTEM NOTICE]
Daily Quest Completed: Quiet Meditation
Reward Granted
Peterson didn't react right away.
He stayed still, letting the calm linger for a few seconds longer before opening his eyes. When he finally looked down at his hands, they were steady.
"…Huh," he murmured. "That actually worked."
Naëlle smiled without opening her eyes. "Told you."
He pushed himself up carefully and stretched, joints popping quietly. His body still ached, but it was manageable now—like soreness after a long workout instead of the crushing exhaustion from earlier.
As the calm settled, something else surfaced.
"Hey, Naëlle?" he said casually, rubbing the back of his neck.
She hummed in response, eyes still closed.
"Do you… know anything about demon beasts?"
That got her attention.
She opened one eye and turned her head slightly toward him. "Demon beasts?"
"Yeah. Like—where they usually show up. Or where someone might find weaker ones."
Her brow furrowed. "Why are you asking?"
Peterson hesitated for just a fraction of a second.
"I was just… wondering," he said, keeping his tone light. "Figured if I'm going to be around places like this more often, I should know what to avoid."
Naëlle studied him now, fully alert. "Most people ask how to run from demon beasts," she said slowly. "Not where to find them."
He shrugged. "Guess I'm not most people."
That earned a quiet laugh from her, but there was curiosity behind it. "You know more than you let on sometimes, Peterson."
He smiled, saying nothing.
After a moment, she sighed and stood. "There are places. Areas where weaker demon beasts gather—usually ones still forming, or bound to old spiritual remnants. They're dangerous, but not… overwhelming."
Peterson's heart ticked up just a bit. "So you do know where they are."
"I do," she said. Then added, "But I wouldn't take you there without permission."
"Permission from…?"
She glanced toward the trees. "Papa Legba."
That settled it.
They walked together through the forest paths, the ground still damp beneath their bare feet. The deeper they went, the heavier the air felt again—not oppressive like before, but watchful.
Papa Legba stood waiting near a crossroads carved into the earth, leaning on his skull-topped staff as if he'd been there the entire time.
"Finished breathing already?" he asked, amusement in his voice.
Peterson scratched his cheek. "Something like that."
Naëlle stepped forward respectfully. "Papa Legba," she said, bowing her head slightly. "Peterson was asking about demon beasts. The weaker ones."
The old man's eyes shifted to Peterson, sharp and knowing. A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth.
"Oh?" he said. "Is that so?"
Peterson met his gaze. "I just want to test myself," he replied honestly. "See where I stand."
Papa Legba studied him in silence for a long moment.
Then he chuckled.
"Always in a hurry," he said. "But… curiosity is not a sin."
He tapped the end of his staff against the ground once.
"Very well."
The air in front of them rippled, folding inward like water pulled down a drain. Space twisted, light bending until a dark oval tore itself open between the trees.
A portal.
Cold air rushed out, carrying the scent of moss and old stone.
Papa Legba stepped aside. "Have fun," he said lightly. Then his gaze flicked to Naëlle. "And you—don't just watch."
Her eyes widened slightly. "Me?"
"You need experience too," he replied. "Consider it… shared responsibility."
She nodded, excitement flickering behind her calm. "Understood."
As they stepped toward the portal, Papa Legba added, almost as an afterthought, "Try not to die. I'd hate to redo the paperwork."
The world lurched.
They emerged into a different forest—darker, older. The trees were thicker here, their trunks twisted and scarred. The air felt heavier, charged with something primal.
Behind them, the portal snapped shut.
Silence followed.
Peterson took a few steps forward, scanning the surroundings. "This place feels… off."
Naëlle nodded slowly. "We're deep now."
Then she stopped.
"…Peterson."
He followed her gaze.
Far in the distance, rising above the treeline, stood a massive stone statue.
A gorilla.
Carved from dark, weathered rock, its body enormous even from afar. Its posture was regal, dominant—like a guardian frozen in time.
And atop its head—
Four massive horns curved skyward.
Peterson swallowed.
"…That's not 'basic,' is it?"
Naëlle didn't answer right away.
She stared at the statue, eyes narrowing slightly.
"No," she said quietly. "That's not basic at all."
The forest around them remained still.
Watching.
End of Chapter 60 (Part I)