Chapter 14 – Before the Hunt
Night draped itself across Revenak like a velvet curtain. The towers of the Citadel shimmered faintly under the twin moons, their crystalline peaks glowing like frozen stars.
The market had gone silent. The only sound was the hum of the Light veins running through the city walls — the steady heartbeat of a world trying to stay awake.
The trio stood outside their assigned quarters, the day's tension still clinging to them like dust.
Blake stretched with a groan. "If Rin poisons me one more time, I swear I'm gonna sleep with one eye open."
Tamara smirked. "He'd probably just poison that one too."
"Ha. Hilarious." Blake waved a lazy hand and shuffled toward his door. "Wake me when it's time to die horribly tomorrow."
He disappeared inside, and the hall grew quiet.
John leaned against the railing, looking out over the glowing gardens below. Tamara stayed beside him, silent for a while. The breeze carried faint whispers from the Light pools — voices that weren't quite words.
"You can feel it too," she said finally.
John glanced at her. "The pressure?"
She nodded. "It's like the barrier's… restless. Like something on the other side is waiting."
John looked toward the shimmering veil in the distance — that great, pulsing wall that separated Revenak's warmth from the unknown darkness beyond. "Leto said the Hunt's been tradition for centuries. Guess tomorrow we find out why."
Tamara's tone softened. "You nervous?"
"Yeah." He didn't pretend otherwise. "But not like before. It's not fear — it's more like… expectation. The kind that sits in your chest and won't let you sleep."
She studied him for a moment, then smiled faintly. "You've changed."
He chuckled. "That's the idea."
"I mean it," she said, stepping closer. "When we first met, you fought like someone trying to prove something. Now you fight like someone trying to protect something."
He met her eyes. "Maybe I finally found something worth it."
For a second, neither of them moved. The air between them shimmered softly with Light. Then Tamara nodded once and turned toward her door.
"Get some rest, John. We'll need every bit of strength tomorrow."
He smiled. "Yeah. You too."
She disappeared into her room. John lingered a while longer, watching the stars bend faintly through the barrier's glow. Then he sighed and went inside.
Alchemy in the Quiet
His room was lit only by the faint blue shimmer of Light stones embedded in the walls. Ember padded in behind him, yawning wide, then curling into a small glowing lump on the rug.
John rolled up his sleeves and pulled the alchemy book onto the table. The pages pulsed faintly, as if aware of his intent.
"Alright," he muttered. "Let's see if I can do this without blowing a hole in the Citadel."
He laid out his materials: powdered Mooncap Blossoms, Silent Fern dust, a handful of Lumina roots, and two small empty vials of polished glass.
His goal — Focus Dew and Echoveil Essence.
The Focus Dew came first. He ground the Mooncap Blossoms into a soft silver paste, mixing it with condensed Light water and breathing slowly to maintain the rhythm the book described. The mixture pulsed once — then hissed violently, spraying bright sparks across the table.
"Dammit—!" He jumped back as the mixture blackened. Ember blinked up, unimpressed.
"Alright," John muttered, "round two."
Two hours passed.
Five failures.
Burnt herbs. Cracked vials. His hands smelled like ozone and regret.
Then, finally—success.
A single vial glowed faint blue, cool mist swirling inside like liquid calm.
"Focus Dew," he breathed. "Finally."
He moved on to the Echoveil Essence. This one was trickier — the recipe involved subtle Light vibrations to fold energy into mist. It took every ounce of patience Leto had drilled into him. Sweat dripped down his neck, his breathing steady, his focus razor-sharp.
One vial burst. Another fizzed out to nothing. The third shimmered… and held.
By dawn's first shimmer, he had three Echo potions and one Focus Dew.
John leaned back, rubbing his face with both hands. "Six failures, four successes. Not bad for a beginner."
Ember lifted his head, chirping curiously.
"Yeah, yeah. You've been judging me this whole time."
He reached for a different vial — the one the merchant had given him for Ember. The green glow pulsed faintly inside like a sleeping heart.
John crouched beside the cub. "Alright, buddy. Time to see what you've got."
Ember tilted his head, eyes bright as he sniffed the vial. When John uncorked it, the scent of earth and ozone filled the air. Ember licked once — and the room exploded with light.
Ember's Evolution
Light flared from the cub's fur like a miniature sunrise. The glow deepened from gold to pure white, then to soft blue. Ember let out a low hum — not quite a roar, not quite a cry — as tendrils of light unfurled from his body, spiraling through the air like ribbons.
The cub's form lifted from the ground, suspended in a cocoon of radiance. John shielded his eyes as the light condensed, shaping — growing.
When the glow faded, the small creature that had fit in his arms now stood at chest height. Its fur shimmered silver-gold, shot through with streaks of deep azure. Its eyes were luminous pools of molten gold. Small wing-like tufts extended from its shoulders, glowing faintly.
Ember blinked, then let out a soft, trilling sound — the same sound he'd always made, only deeper, fuller. He stepped forward and pressed his head into John's chest, warmth flooding the room.
John laughed breathlessly. "You— You're incredible."
The Lumibear purred, his tail now trailing faint motes of light that hung in the air before fading.
"Alright," John said quietly. "If you're evolving…"
He glanced at the glowing Focus Dew on the table.
"…then it's my turn."
Cultivation: The Light Within
He uncorked the vial. The scent was sharp — cold and clean, like rain before lightning.
The potion glowed in his palm as he whispered, "Here goes nothing."
The liquid slid down his throat like molten silver.
Instantly, fire bloomed in his chest.
Not pain—raw energy.
It surged through him, flooding his veins with light that burned and healed all at once. His pulse roared in his ears as the world around him dimmed, the room fading into pure brilliance.
He could see his Light Core — that small, flickering ember within his chest. It pulsed weakly, unsteady from weeks of overuse and strain.
Now, it began to change.
Light flared outward in concentric circles, each pulse stronger than the last. The energy crashed against the edges of his spirit like a storm breaking stone, demanding more space, more breath, more him.
He gritted his teeth, sweat running down his jaw. "Come on… hold it…"
The core cracked — then expanded. The faint amber glow deepened to gold, and for a heartbeat, his entire body felt weightless.
John knew that he had become stronger and his core had reached the next level.
He gasped.
His Light flowed smoother, cleaner — every movement, every breath felt like a dance with fire and wind.
Ember growled softly beside him, the air shimmering with mirrored resonance. Their Light pulsed together — one heartbeat, one rhythm.
John opened his eyes.
The room gleamed brighter than before. Every detail — every mote of dust, every faint echo of sound — felt sharper, alive. His hands trembled as he flexed his fingers. "So this is… advancement."
He stood, steady now, the fatigue replaced with quiet strength.
Outside, dawn painted Revenak in gold. The barrier shimmered faintly in the distance, waiting.
John looked down at Ember, whose eyes glowed like two suns.
"Well," he murmured. "Looks like we're ready."
The Lumibear gave a soft, rumbling chirp — the kind that meant finally.
John smirked. "Yeah. Let's show them what F-tier means."
He turned toward the door, the alchemy book still open behind him, its runes glowing faintly as if in approval.
Tomorrow, they would face the darkness.
But tonight — for the first time — he no longer felt small beneath it.