This was the first time Nev watched friends die.
Not strangers.Not nameless bodies from another life.People he had spoken to. Walked with. Fought beside.
His mind did not scream.
It went quiet.
The forest around him blurred, not because of tears, but because his thoughts stopped moving. Lyra's weight rested against his chest, warm and fading. Bran's ragged breathing scraped the air. Kerr lay still, face turned away as if sleep might explain what had happened.
Nev did not move.
Why did a monster like this appear here?
The question surfaced without emotion.
This was a restricted hunting zone. Tier 1 parties came here because Tier 3 threats were not supposed to exist this close to the city. Patrol routes. Guild control. All of it was meant to prevent this exact situation.
Then another question followed.
Why am I not strong enough?
A month of training. Endless repetition. Planning. Preparation. He had polished his movements, refined his instincts, controlled his breath. He had believed himself ready.
Was it meaningless?
The Knocker shifted its weight, turning slowly toward him again. It did not rush. It did not feel threatened. To it, this was not a battle. It was feeding.
Nev stood.
His movements were smooth. Too smooth. There was no rush, no wasted motion, no visible emotion on his face. His eyes were empty, focused on a single point.
Cold.
He did not shout. He did not glare. He did not tighten his jaw.
He stepped forward and struck at the monster's leg.
The blade bit shallow.
Not enough.
The Knocker barely reacted, lifting its foot and bringing it down hard. Nev twisted away just in time, the impact shattering earth where he had stood. Dust and blood sprayed outward.
He understood immediately.
Direct power would not work.
So he stopped trying to overpower it.
Nev inhaled once.
Then he moved.
Not faster than before. Not recklessly.Just without hesitation.
The instinct shard ignited.
The world slowed—not fully, not cleanly, but enough. Enough for Nev to see how the Knocker shifted its weight before each step. How the massive muscles in its legs tightened before movement. How balance mattered even to something this strong.
Nev vanished from its front.
The Knocker turned, confused for the first time, its head snapping side to side. It did not see him.
Nev was already at its flank.
His blade struck again and again, not deep, not wide. Controlled cuts along tendons, joints, muscle seams. Places where movement began. Places that mattered.
The Knocker roared.
It tried to pivot. Nev was gone.
Another strike. Then another.
He moved faster now. Not wildly, but precisely, threading himself through blind spots, accelerating beyond what the monster could track. To the Knocker, it felt like pain came from nowhere.
Its steps became uneven.
Its balance shifted.
Nev saw the opening.
He surged forward, full speed, faster than he had ever moved before. His blade drove deep into the back of the monster's knee. The Knocker collapsed forward with a thunderous crash, shaking the clearing.
Nev did not hesitate.
He climbed onto its back and began to strike.
Once.Twice.Again.
Head. Arm. Neck. Spine. Stomach.
Each blow landed with controlled violence, fueled by something colder than rage. There was no shouting. No roar of triumph. Only the sound of steel cutting flesh and bone.
The monster twitched.
Then it stopped.
Nev kept striking.
Again.And again.And again.
The Knocker was dead, but Nev did not stop. His body moved on instinct alone, blade rising and falling, carving into a corpse that no longer resisted.
Blood soaked the ground beneath him.
He did not feel it.
Voices reached him distantly.
"Stop. Stop now."
Hands grabbed his shoulders, pulling him back. Nev resisted for a fraction of a second, then let go. The sword slipped from his grip and fell into the dirt.
The world rushed back in.
A group of city patrol Holders stood around the clearing, faces pale, weapons half-raised. They stared at the scene in disbelief. At the bodies. At the destroyed terrain. At the massive corpse beneath Nev.
One of them stepped closer, eyes fixed on the exposed core embedded in the monster's chest.
"…That's a Tier Three core," he whispered.
The others froze.
Silence spread.
Slowly, Nev turned his head.
Blood streaked his face. His expression was empty. No anger. No grief. Just a stillness that made the patrol uneasy.
This was the moment everything changed.
Not because he killed a Tier Three monster.
But because this was the first time death stayed with him.
And it would not be the last.