The darkness closed behind him, but Yeon Woo no longer looked back. His steps were silent, his movements light—like a beast that had just discovered its own strength. The forest stretched ahead, no longer frightening. It was just another obstacle. Fragile. Lifeless.
Branches cracked beneath his stride, and the rustling of leaves felt like the echo of the world's breath. The sky, veiled in clouds, pressed down from above, and the stars had hidden themselves like cowardly witnesses to an approaching storm. Yeon Woo felt it—something waited for him ahead. Not a coincidence, not a twist of fate, but a sinister inevitability, as if the world itself was weaving a new trap for him.
And he walked straight into it.
After a couple hours of travel, he saw them.
Figures flitted between the trees. Stealthy, but not too much. They didn't avoid his gaze—instead, they moved demonstratively alongside him, circling. Their movements were coordinated, the kind born from training, from the habit of hunting.
Mercenaries.
Eight of them, clad in leather armor, armed with swords, short bows, and daggers. They moved in a semicircle, slowly tightening the ring. Their faces were hidden behind masks, but cruelty radiated from them as clearly as cold from snow.
"Someone put a price on me..." Yeon Woo realized with cold clarity.
Without slowing, he drew his sword.
The blade rang softly in the night, and in the next moment, the forest came alive.
They attacked at once.
Arrows hissed through the air. Yeon Woo dodged, diving between them with inhuman agility. His body moved faster than he could think. The first mercenary came too close—too slow. Yeon Woo drove his blade into the gap between the armor plates, spinning in a deadly dance.
Blood splattered the earth.
Two more came from the flanks. Yeon Woo surged forward, sliding across wet grass, parried the strike from the left, and without turning, kicked backward, feeling bones crack beneath his heel.
A scream of pain.
He spun, meeting the next attacker with a blow to the temple. The sword struck armor, leaving only a dent—but it was enough. Yeon Woo instantly seized the momentum, twisted the enemy's wrist, and drove his blade into the man's throat.
The remaining five froze.
They saw not a man.
They saw silent judgment.
They exchanged glances.
And scattered.
Yeon Woo let them run.
He knew: if these dogs had come for him, somewhere nearby lurked their master. And if he killed them all here and now—he'd lose the chance to reach the true enemy.
Wiping the blood from his blade with cloth, Yeon Woo raised his gaze to the trees.
And then he saw him.
Standing on a high oak branch was a man. His face hidden beneath a black hood, but even from here, Yeon Woo felt it—this opponent was different. Not a mercenary. Not a pawn.
He was a hunter.
The man dropped down effortlessly, landing on the soft grass with barely a sound. His sword—a strange weapon with a jagged edge—caught the faint moonlight.
"You survived," he said quietly, voice calm, but within that calmness lurked steel. "So the rumors were true."
Yeon Woo didn't reply.
His body tensed. Instincts screamed: danger. This man was on another level. One who was used to killing the strong.
"My name is Lee San," the stranger continued. "And I've come for your head."
He stepped forward.
No prelude.
And the world exploded.
Their blades clashed with such force that a cloud of leaves rose from the ground. Yeon Woo felt his bones tremble with each blow, his muscles screaming from the strain. But with that pain came something else—an ancient power woven into his flesh, awakening, demanding release.
Every movement from Lee San was precise, like a master who had survived hundreds of duels. Yeon Woo barely kept up, skating the edge of defeat. More than once, his sword shrieked, glancing off the enemy's blade so closely he could feel death's breath on the back of his neck.
Then, he did what he had once feared to do.
He let go of control.
Ancient energy surged through his veins, silver lines pulsing across his skin. The sword in his hands became an extension of his body, moving faster than thought.
Lee San hesitated for a heartbeat.
It was enough.
Yeon Woo's blade sliced through the air, piercing the enemy's defense. The edge cut along Lee San's side, drawing a trail of blood. But the hunter didn't fall. He only smiled under his hood—a cruel, cold smile.
"Interesting," he rasped. "Very interesting."
And vanished into the night.
Not killed.
Not defeated.
Yeon Woo stood still, watching where he had gone. The forest filled again with rustling sounds. His heart pounded heavy but steady.
The battle was over.
But the war had just begun.
He sheathed his sword and began walking again, toward the bend in the path where, he knew, another story would begin. A story of blood, steel, and a star-forged curse.
And this time, he would face it head-on.