Kazel crouched beside the still-warm corpse of the Mustang Black Rabbit, his eyes narrowing in thought. He had never really considered what happened when a spirit beast of the same kind was killed while he had already integrated with one. But curiosity gnawed at him, an old habit from his past life.
(Only one way to find out.)
Extending his hand, he placed his palm on the beast's fur. A familiar sensation washed over him as he entered his soul space.
Inside, the vast expanse of swirling white mist greeted him. His Mustang Black Rabbit sat in its usual spot, ears twitching, its dark fur almost blending into the ethereal surroundings. But Kazel's attention was drawn to something new—another Mustang Black Rabbit was beginning to manifest, its form still incomplete, wavering like a mirage.
The moment it appeared, his Mustang Black Rabbit moved.
Faster than Kazel expected, his spirit beast launched itself at the newcomer, its body a streak of black against the glowing mist. The second rabbit barely had a moment to react before sharp fangs tore into it, cutting through its form with ruthless precision.
There was no struggle. No cry.
The newly manifested rabbit disintegrated almost instantly, its fading essence merging into the swirling mist of the soul space. Above Kazel's Mustang Black Rabbit, the white flame that marked its integration flickered, growing just a little stronger, its glow subtly more pronounced.
Kazel observed in silence, then smirked.
(So it consumes its own kind to strengthen itself? Interesting.)
He withdrew from the soul space, returning to reality. The corpse of the rabbit beneath his hand was now just that—a lifeless, empty husk.
He continued.
A Two-Tusk Boar stood before Kazel, its massive frame dwarfing the Mustang Black Rabbit he had just slain. Thick, corded muscles rippled beneath its coarse fur, and its gleaming ivory tusks curved menacingly outward. Yet, despite its size and power, Kazel felt no threat.
The beast, however, did.
Its dark eyes locked onto Kazel, assessing him, instinct warring within. It lowered its head in a tentative standoff, muscles tensed to charge—but in the next heartbeat, it made its choice.
It ran.
A foolish mistake.
Kazel's smirk widened. No mercy.
With the speed of the Mustang Black Rabbit, he surged forward, covering the ground in the blink of an eye. The boar was strong, but it was slow.
Too easy.
His sword gleamed as he struck, swift and precise. The chase ended in an instant.
As Kazel pulled his sword from the lifeless body of the Two-Tusk Boar, a prickling sensation crawled up his spine. He was being watched.
His gaze flicked toward the thick underbrush, where pairs of glowing eyes stared from the shadows. Two... Ten... More than twenty.
A lesser man would have panicked.
Kazel?
His lips curled into a grin. "Very well..."
He turned slowly, his grip shifting. The weight of his bow felt comforting in his hands.
( Assessing me? ) He scoffed inwardly. "Then let me set the terms."
Before the hidden beasts could act, he drew his bowstring and released.
His arrow pierced clean through the skull of the nearest beast, striking right between the eyes. The moment its lifeless body hit the dirt, the forest erupted.
The pack of Mustang Black Rabbits—all larger than the first one he had slain—roared and leaped from their hiding spots. Their powerful legs launched them forward, their razor-sharp teeth gleaming in the dim forest light.
But Kazel did not retreat.
No, he stepped forward.
He lunged into the fray, sword drawn, like a warrior who had long befriended death.
---
The Mustang Black Rabbits lunged at him from all sides, their powerful hind legs propelling them through the air like arrows loosed from a bow. Their razor-sharp teeth gleamed, aiming for his throat, his limbs—anything they could tear into.
But Kazel moved first.
His sword flashed, carving through the darkness. His first swing met a rabbit mid-air, cleaving through its skull with a wet crunch. Before its corpse even hit the ground, Kazel had already pivoted, ducking low as another rabbit sailed over his head, missing its mark.
Thud!
The moment his feet touched the ground, he kicked off—fast—using the speed of the Mustang Black Rabbit he had integrated with. The world blurred as he twisted, his sword following his motion in a deadly arc.
Slice!
Another rabbit fell, its head severed cleanly from its body.
The pack hesitated.
For a moment, the remaining rabbits circled him, their instincts screaming that this prey was not like the others.
But hunger and fury drove them forward.
One rabbit darted in from the side—too fast for an ordinary warrior to react.
Kazel didn't need to react.
He anticipated.
He stepped back, just a hair's breadth before the rabbit's teeth could sink into his arm, and swung his blade downward.
Shhk!
His sword pierced through the rabbit's back, pinning it to the ground.
Another one came.
Kazel let go of his sword, shifting his grip to his dagger instead. As the next rabbit pounced, he spun, dodging by mere inches. His dagger drove upward, slicing open the beast's stomach as it passed. Its guts spilled mid-air before it crashed lifelessly behind him.
Now weaponless, he reached for his bow.
Thud. Thud.
His heart pounded—not out of fear, but out of exhilaration.
The rabbits gathered again. Six. Eight. Twelve left.
A wide grin spread across Kazel's face. He was outnumbered—but so what?
He dashed forward.
His bowstring tensed. He loosed an arrow mid-stride—Thwack!—right through the eye of another beast.
Without stopping, he rolled, dodging a swipe of claws, grabbed his sword from the corpse it had impaled, and twirled it in his grip.
A rabbit lunged.
Kazel threw himself into it, sword-first, piercing through its throat.
Another charged.
He sidestepped, slammed its head into the dirt, and with a brutal stomp, caved its skull in.
His movements were precise. Fluid. Every attack was executed with lethal efficiency.
The pack dwindled.
The last three hesitated.
Their instincts—the same ones that had made them attack—were now screaming at them to flee.
Kazel exhaled. His grin never faded.
"Go on," he muttered. "Run."
They bolted into the forest, vanishing into the shadows.
A slow clap echoed through the blood-stained clearing.
Kazel, still catching his breath, turned toward the sound.
A man stood at the edge of the battlefield, his smirk sharp as the blade resting lazily over his shoulder. His face bore the marks of a seasoned fighter—a jagged scar running down his cheek, a crooked nose that had been broken more than once. Unlike the usual robed cultivators, he wore a simple vest, exposing a ripped physique that spoke of years of hardship. His presence alone carried a weight of danger.
"Good job, kid. Thank you for your labor," the man drawled, rolling his shoulder as if preparing for an easy task. His smirk widened. "Now scurry off, and tell your mother I said hello."
Kazel slowly straightened, his sharp eyes locking onto the intruder. He didn't speak. Didn't move.
Then—
A flicker of motion.
The bandit's smirk froze. His eyes widened, his pupils shrunk.
He staggered, choking on something—no, not something. A blade.
A dagger jutted from his throat, its tip glistening red.
His sword slipped from his grasp, hitting the ground with a dull thud. His hands trembled as they reached for the embedded weapon, his lips parting, struggling to form words—but no sound came. Only the gurgle of a man who had underestimated his prey.
Kazel stepped forward, stretching his neck with an audible crack.
He looked down at the dying man, his gaze devoid of mercy.
"You are too young to play with me," he murmured.
Then, without hesitation, he lifted his foot and slammed it down onto the dagger's hilt.
A sickening crunch.
The forest rustled as the body collapsed.
Kazel stood amidst the carnage, his breath steadying as he surveyed the aftermath. The clearing was littered with lifeless bodies—Mustang Black Rabbits, the massive Two-Tusk Boar, and now, the foolish bandit who had mistaken him for easy prey.
The air was thick with the scent of blood, the rustling leaves the only sound accompanying the stillness of death.
A smirk tugged at his lips as he gazed at his handiwork.
"This is today's feast," he muttered, amusement glinting in his sharp eyes. He tilted his head toward his soul space, where his own Mustang Black Rabbit lurked, watching from within. "I hope you're hungry, rabbit!"
The white flame above his spirit beast flickered in anticipation.
Kazel crouched, touching the nearest corpse. His soul space stirred—the energy pulsing, shifting.
---
A few days later, deep in the forest, two men wearing matching vests trudged through the undergrowth. Their faces were twisted in frustration as they searched for their missing companion.
"Damn, I hope he didn't just pass out drunk somewhere," one of them muttered, kicking a loose stone.
"Torki, that bastard," the other grumbled. "Why the hell do I have to waste my time looking for hi—" His words died in his throat as his gaze landed on something ahead.
His partner followed his line of sight and stiffened. There, sprawled lifelessly on the ground, was the man they had been searching for.
They rushed forward, and one of them knelt beside the corpse, hesitating only a moment before pressing two fingers to the cold skin.
"Well... I was just making sure," he said grimly.
The other one, however, had his attention elsewhere. His breath hitched as he pointed a shaking finger ahead. "O-Oi… look at that."
"Huh?"
Then he saw it.
A towering mountain of corpses. Two-Tusk Boars, Mustang Black Rabbits, and other beasts were stacked high, their lifeless bodies piled atop one another. It wasn't just a random collection of kills—it was a statement. A grim trophy, a challenge left behind by the one responsible.
The man swallowed hard, sweat beading on his forehead. "What in the world..."
Back at home, Kazel stepped through the door, exhaustion lingering on his face. But before he could even set his weapons aside—
"Kazel!"
His mother's voice rang through the house, sharp with relief and fury. She stormed up to him, her hands trembling slightly.
"We were worried sick!"
"Yeah, where have you been all this time?!" His father crossed his arms, his tone firm but laced with concern. "Your mother hasn't slept a wink!"
Kazel's sharp gaze softened as he took in Lana's tired face, the dark circles under her eyes evidence of sleepless nights.
"Forgive me, Mother," he said gently. "And… thank you for worrying about me."
Lana let out a shaky breath before pulling him into a tight embrace.
"What are you saying, you're my son!" she scolded, her voice muffled against his shoulder. Then, as she pulled back, she wrinkled her nose. "And you are due for a good bath. You stink of blood."