Death has never been a stranger to Yaw-yan's life.
Growing up in the hospital, he learned the concept of passing at a very young age. He first understood it when the kid in the next room suddenly stopped visiting to play computer games with him. The same happened with the kind old man who once told him that reading different stories was the best way to experience different lifetimes without ever leaving his bed. He didn't show up the next day to give Yaw-yan the book he had promised.
He understood death more deeply the first time he woke up in the ER with more tubes attached to his body than usual.
And even more so, a year ago—when he finally let the abyss embrace his body.
Death is not new to Yaw-yan.
So now, standing among his tribesmen, watching the passing ceremonies for one of their elders and fallen warriors, Yaw-yan felt far more composed than his fellow tribespeople.
Not because he was an outsider who had only recently arrived in this world, nor because he didn't care enough to feel the grief of their loss—but because he had accepted that death is an inevitable fate for everyone. There's nothing to do but learn to live with it.
What truly interested Yaw-yan more than anything, however, was the cause of this elder's death—his sacrificial demise.
Yaw-yan had witnessed it when it happened, though he hadn't understood what was going on at the time.
All he knew was that a giant beast had appeared during the tribe's migration to the safe valley.
They were forced to leave after the Silao Grande shifted its resting place, leaving the previous settlement vulnerable to attack. Without the Silao Grande's presence to drive the beast away, danger had returned.
Migrating to this land was no easy task—especially when you had to bring along everyone: the elders, the women, and the children.
It made the journey far more dangerous than usual.
And that danger is the very reason the tribe now performs the passing ceremonies.
Many of the tribe's warriors lost their lives during the migration, ambushed by a pack of beasts in the middle of their resettlement.
The warriors fought valiantly while the rest of the tribespeople ran for safety.
Yaw-yan still remembers one particular moment—a larger beast among the pack ignored the warriors and charged straight toward the fleeing group. It nearly caught up to them… until one of the elders broke away, running in the opposite direction. Then, he let out the loudest shout Yaw-yan had ever heard from a human.
But what truly caught Yaw-yan's attention was what happened next:
The beast stopped its pursuit, turned its enraged glare toward the elder, and beat its chest in a display of dominance. It let out a ground-shaking roar and charged toward the elder, who stood his ground, intercepting the beast with his core weapon.
The elder didn't last long.
It only took a few breaths before the beast's massive arm came crashing down, swiftly ending the man's life.
Yet instead of chasing the fleeing group, the beast let out a roar of triumph.
Yaw-yan hadn't understood why, but something about the elder's yell had driven the beast into a rage—it hadn't hesitated to fight the man.
So, later, Yaw-yan asked the old chief what had happened.
> "Ruler's claim," the chief said. "The elder challenged the Great Beast by claiming its territory as his own—asserting his dominance. In return, the beast proved its claim by killing the elder with overwhelming strength. It was the elder's last resort—a brave sacrifice to protect our people. A final act to ensure our survival in this land, Yawboi."
Yaw-yan looked toward the huge campfire, where the grieving family of the fallen warrior was tossing the beast's core into the flames, turning them into a swirl of multicolored fire.
Around them, the elders and surviving hunters performed the passing ceremony—music and traditional dances honoring the warrior's bravery and sacrifice.
"How did the elder do it, Old Chief?"
The old chief looked at Yaw-yan with a thoughtful gaze, clearly contemplating something, before sighing in resignation. He sat down on the ground, cross-legged, and motioned for Yaw-yan to sit with him—which the boy did.
Seeing that the boy was fully determined to learn the knowledge passed down by their ancestors, the old chief nodded and cleared his throat before speaking.
"Yawboi, what I'm about to tell you is not something you can teach to children who haven't undergone the coming-of-age ceremony. This knowledge can bring calamity to those who don't understand the extent of danger it holds if used incorrectly."
Yaw-yan nodded at the old chief, sensing the seriousness of the matter.
"What the elder did was perform a shout similar to the one the beast makes when it lets out a Ruler's Claim roar. Our ancestors found a way to replicate that shout—and turned it into a tool to bait the beast. This shout is ancient knowledge passed down through generations. It's meant to challenge the beast to a fight.
But nowadays, with our current strength, our warriors only use it as a last resort—to divert the beast's attention. Just like the elder did. He saved everyone by sacrificing himself."
Yaw-yan shifted in his seat. So there was such a technique in their tribe—and it seemed more people knew about it than he expected.
"Can you teach me?" he asked.
The old chief shook his head at first, smiling tiredly, but after a moment, he relented.
Yaw-yan had proven himself a capable member of the tribe, and the shout was taught to every hunter in case a sacrifice became necessary. If he was shaping up to be one of the tribe's hunters, then he deserved to learn it too.
"I will. But be cautious. Don't ever practice it where there are beasts around—if one hears your challenge and accepts it, it will hunt you down… and it won't stop until you're dead."
Yaw-yan nodded.
He fully understood the danger of this technique.
Back in the present
Yaw-yan ran as fast as he could, but it was becoming clear that the beast was much faster—judging by the rustling of trees and leaves ahead of him. The boy gritted his teeth and pushed himself harder, weaving nimbly through the obstacles in front of him.
He had to wake up his friends.
If he didn't get to them in time, the beast would—while they were completely defenseless.
But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't keep up.
The sound of massive footsteps ahead of him was already beginning to fade.
Yaw-yan racked his brain for a solution—until a reckless thought crossed his mind. He hesitated, fully aware of how powerful the beast was… and how powerless he was against it.
It wouldn't take long for the Blood Collector to sink its claws into him and tear him apart.
But when he saw the large tree in the distance—the one he and his friends had set up camp in—Yaw-yan shook off his hesitation and fear.
He darted off the path and began running along the trail left behind by the Blood Collector.
Seeing the massive back of the beast, Yaw-yan shouted to grab its attention.
"HEY!"
The beast halted and turned toward the sound of his voice. Its predatory gaze locked onto the boy behind it.
It took a step forward, preparing to launch itself and eliminate the intruder—
—when it suddenly stopped.
A breeze swept past, blowing from behind the beast.
It sniffed the air, catching a scent carried by the wind.
It turned its head back toward the path it had been following… and ignored Yaw-yan completely.
The boy's stomach dropped.
He couldn't believe what he was seeing—the Blood Collector had completely disregarded him the moment it caught a whiff of something in the air.
Then it hit him.
A cold sweat ran down his spine as realization sank in.
The Blood Collector had picked up the scent of the bloodsack—the one he had collected during the hunt and left at camp with the rest of his gear.
The beast was heading straight to the camp.
Straight to Amika and the others—still deep asleep.
Following the scent of blood, the Blood Collector continued toward the camp, leaving Yaw-yan behind.
Desperate, Yaw-yan drew his bow and fired an arrow at the beast, trying to draw its attention back.
But the arrowhead simply bounced off the beast's thick hide without leaving so much as a scratch.
Though it sensed the intruder's attack, the beast didn't slow down—it grabbed a rock the size of a football and hurled it toward Yaw-yan.
He barely managed to dodge the incoming projectile, stumbling out of the way at the last second.
But instead of chasing after him, the beast continued on its path toward the camp.
"N-No!"
He couldn't believe this was happening.
The beast was ignoring him.
He wasn't even worth the goddamn beast's attention.
Yaw-yan stood there, watching its massive back disappear into the darkness.
That's it?
Is that all he could do—just stand there and watch while the beast slaughtered his friends?
Or should he just turn around, pretend this was all a nightmare, and hope he wakes up?
He couldn't catch up. He was too slow.
He couldn't bait the beast away.
He couldn't do anything.
His bow slipped from his hand.
His entire body felt numb, and bile rose in his throat.
Any moment now, the Blood Collector would reach the camp.
Amika, Ayato, and Suina—deep asleep and completely vulnerable—would be caught in its wrath.
And he couldn't stop it.
All he could do was wait for it to happen.
His friends…
That trio he had bonded with during the night of their first encounter…
They treated him kindly, offered their friendship without hesitation.
They were good friends.
And how did he repay them?
By dragging them into this cursed forest.
By selfishly asking them to help him collect blood.
And now... they were going to die because of him.
Tears flowed down his cheeks.
This always happened.
He always brought pain to the people around him.
First, his parents—who spent their entire marriage taking care of him.
And now, he had dragged Amika, Ayato, and Suina to their deaths... and he couldn't do anything to stop it.
Yaw-yan dropped to his knees, listening to the distant roar of the beast.
He closed his eyes.
He listened to the roar that shook the trees and leaves around him.
He kept listening—studying it—its tone, its rhythm, its frequency, its timing.
Its intent.
Yaw-yan took a deep breath, his chest swelling.
He pushed himself to his feet, planted them firmly in the dirt, bent backward—his cheeks filling with air.
And then, in a single, powerful cry, Yaw-yan let out a roar that challenged the beast for dominion.
The beast's sounds, which had been a constant presence, vanished in an instant.
Silence fell—a heavy, unnerving quiet that suffocated the air.
Yaw-yan, breathing heavily, reached for his bow without realizing.
He stared into the darkness where the beast had disappeared moments ago.
His heart pounded in his chest, and a bead of sweat trailed down his forehead.
He stepped back.
The silence didn't bring comfort.
Then—footsteps. Slow at first, then faster and faster, until the ground trembled under the beast's charge.
Yaw-yan bolted, sprinting toward the thickest part of the forest, hoping the trees could slow down what was coming.
"GRUEEEEECHEE!"
"OH MY FREAKING GOD!"
His heart nearly jumped out of his chest as he heard the enraged roar of the Blood Collector behind him.
The roar was deafening, accompanied by the sounds of trees and rocks being uprooted and flung aside like toys.
He never imagined his Ruler's Claim would work so well on the first try.
He had never attempted it before—had no idea if it would even work.
But judging by the furious beast now barreling after him...
He had done a damn good job.
Now, if he could just survive this chase, he'd definitely brag about it to everyone he knew.
Yaw-yan swerved sharply when an uprooted tree suddenly flew over his head and crashed into the path ahead, blocking his way.
He dove into another dense patch of forest.
And just like before, within minutes, the trees behind him were being shredded and torn apart as the Blood Collector relentlessly pursued him.
Back in the camp
The blue-haired girl frowned at the sudden change of events.
She had been tasked with watching over her group of freshmen during the field exercise, making sure they stayed safe while exploring—just like the other upperclassmen assigned to their own groups.
She had kept an eye on this particular group since day one and knew everything that had happened to them so far.
She also knew that the trio was close friend with the tribal boy—they had been hanging around him since the first night.
Even from a distance, it was easy to tell how much the trio valued their friendship with him. The way they dreaded the thought of not seeing him again once the day of their departure came said it all.
And now, seeing how the tribal boy willingly made himself bait to protect them—even though he didn't have a Soul Core, based on what she overheard—she could tell he also held their friendship as something precious.
But that was exactly the problem.
Because of it, he was now in grave danger.
It wouldn't be long before the beast caught up to him... and when it did, he'd be dead.
The blue-haired girl bit her lip. Her crystal-like eyes stayed locked on the direction of the destruction. The only sign that the tribal boy was still alive were the occasional furious howls of the beast—proof that he was still running, still fighting for his life.
She wanted to help him—at the very least to make sure the trio wouldn't have to carry the guilt of their friend's death.
But her orders were clear: prioritize the safety of the freshmen at all costs.
Leaving the trio unguarded would be reckless.
Another roar shook the ground.
This time, it seemed the beast had caught up to its target—the destruction now centered in one corner of the forest.
The girl closed her eyes, torn between her duty and her heart.
The conflict weighed heavily on her, each choice pulling her in a different direction.
Guard the trio... or save the boy?
Yaw-yan dove to the side, barely avoiding a massive swing from the beast, which had been trying to crush him into paste.
His breathing was ragged.
Running and dodging the attacks of this monster was no easy task—especially one with eight extra appendages.
He scrambled to his feet and tried to sprint to the other side of the forest—only for the beast to hurl a fallen tree at him, cutting off his escape.
He was about to raise his bow and shoot when one of the beast's limbs grabbed his arm.
In an instant, he was flung through the air like a ragdoll, crashing back-first into a tree with a loud thud.
Yaw-yan groaned and tried to push himself up—only to realize he couldn't move his left arm.
When he looked at it, his eyes widened in horror.
His arm was mangled beyond recognition—twisted in a grotesque position, bone protruding through torn skin.
The normal color was gone, replaced by a sickly deep-purple hue.
He choked in pain, blood dripping from his mouth and nose.
His hair was a mess.
Just one hit—and he was already down.
Worst of all was the strange, conflicting feeling in his body: a mix of excruciating pain and soothing comfort.
He could feel his consciousness slipping—if he closed his eyes now, he knew he'd fall asleep instantly.
The purple mist was thick in the air.
The citrusy, floral scent was stronger than ever, loosening his muscles, numbing his limbs.
But the agony coursing through him—and the monstrous beast looming above—were grim reminders of what's coming.
Yaw-yan chuckled softly.
"Just a year, huh...? I didn't even last that long this time."
He reached behind his back and pulled out the dagger Ayato had given him.
If he was going to die again tonight...
Then he'd make damn sure this ugly motherfucker bled.
Even if it was just a scratch—he had to struggle.
He had to fight.
He lifted the dagger, his entire body creaking with the movement as pain surged through him—but he didn't let go.
He didn't lower his arm.
He held the blade steady, its sharp tip pointed directly at the Blood Collector.
Seeing the resignation in Yaw-yan's eyes, the Blood Collector let out a victorious screech, claiming its triumph over its challenger.
It raised its arm, stretching it far back, fully intending to unleash its strongest punch.
Yaw-yan smiled bitterly.
His only regret… was that he didn't do anything to help his friends.
Once he died, this beast would return to camp.
He could only hope that they'd already woken up from the noise, now that the purple mist was far from them.
The beast screeched again and swung its massive arm toward the boy.
Yaw-yan didn't close his eyes.
He fully intended to stare down the beast—furious to the very end.
But then, his vision was suddenly blocked—by someone's back.
Long, waist-length blue hair flowed behind her.
She wore a white uniform with green accents and a fluttering green skirt that barely covered half her thighs.
On both her arms were massive, gaudy gauntlets glowing with shimmering blue flames.
She cocked her arm back.
The gauntlets roared with intense heat.
Then, she punched.
A shockwave tore through the land, uprooting trees in the direction of her strike.
The Blood Collector's entire upper half was gone—obliterated—along with everything behind it: trees, rocks, all turned to ash.
The girl dismissed her Core Weapon and turned around.
Her gaze landed on the injured boy.
Their eyes met once again.
Yaw-yan smiled weakly, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth.
"Thank you, beautiful… Can you save my friends next?"
He didn't get a chance to see the scarlet blush that spread across the blue-haired girl's cheeks—
Because everything faded to black.
End of chapter 10