Blood and Thunder: The Hunt for Rank 8
The clouds over the Zephyr hunting fields swirled around and wouldn't settle down. Like swords cutting through the darkness, sharp flashes of yellow light pierced it.
The wind howled through shattered tree lines and sharp rocks, carrying the stench of blood, ozone, and something old.
Charles Ziglar stood alone on a cliff covered in moss, shirtless and nervous. His black cloak flapped behind him like the wings of a storm crow.
Raijin's Emberfang pulsed with barely controlled strength in his hand. Its edge crackled with purple lightning, and its spine burned with fire like embers.
"I swear," Charles muttered, flexing his wrists, "if I don't break into Foundation Rank 8 today, I'm personally going to set a beast on fire just for being ugly."
[SIGMA: You've done that three times this week.]
"And it still didn't work."
[SIGMA: Correction: it worked once. Unfortunately, it was a rabbit.]
Charles sighed. "Right. Let's make this one count."
With a surge of qi, he vanished from the cliff in a streak of gold and violet. The ground where he stood cracked and hissed from the residual charge.
Below, the hunting grounds stirred.
A trio of Direclaw Bears—spiritual beasts of the upper-silver tier—had claimed a ridge near a bubbling spirit spring. Their bodies bristled with steel-like fur, claws longer than sabers, and eyes burning with territorial rage.
Perfect.
Charles landed like thunder on the slope, slashing with a single flaming arc of Emberfang. The first bear barely had time to roar before its neck exploded in a gout of violet fire.
"Target acquired," he whispered. "Let's test the storm."
The second bear charged with a roar, and Charles met it head-on. Lightning surged from his katana, jumping from the blade into the beast's eyes, jaw, and chest. The creature spasmed mid-charge, its massive body locking in place—then exploded backward as Charles used Thunderstrike Cleaver, the blade severing bone and soul in a single electrified slash.
Blood hissed into steam against the molten ground.
The third bear backed away.
Wise.
Too late.
Charles activated Storm Fusion, channeling both lightning and fire into the blade until it roared like a living tempest. With one step, he vanished and reappeared beside the bear as it turned.
BOOM!
A loud shockwave sent broken stone and flaming debris flying in all directions. The beast was destroyed, its body ripped apart by elemental carnage that had joined together.
Charles took a step back, breathing hard. Violet sparks danced all over his body.
"Not enough yet," he said, sweat running down his forehead.
The cultivation barrier is still at 89.7%. Qi core is almost full. One more bloody fight should do it.
"Good. "Queue me something big."
[SIGMA: Scanning… Oh. You'll like this. One alpha-grade Thunderhorn Rhinowyrm, heading your way. Speed: 62 km/hr. Estimated mass: six tons. Estimated mood: very pissed.]
Charles cracked his neck. "Perfect."
The beast crashed through the trees seconds later—a mountain of bone and armor, covered in natural plating and bristling with tusk-like horns pulsing with storm energy. Its roar shook the valley.
"Now that's more like it," Charles said, grinning like a madman.
He launched forward with a war cry, his blade flaring to life.
Steel met horn. Lightning met thunder. Fire clashed against natural armor.
For nearly a full minute, the battle raged across the hills—a blur of explosions, slashes, and devastating stomps that shattered terrain. Charles moved like a blur of violet and gold, each swing empowered by the blade's radiant surge, each dodge a dance between death and dominion.
Finally, he ducked under a tail whip, used Radiant Surge to boost his speed, and slashed in an arc empowered by Emberstorm Wrath.
The world shook.
The beast's upper half was incinerated mid-roar, vaporized in a cyclone of fire and thunder.
Charles dropped to one knee, panting.
His breath came in controlled bursts as the final wyvern fell.
It hit the moss-covered floor with a thud that echoed through the trees, its scaled wings twitching, its throat slit clean by Raijin's Emberfang. Violet flames sizzled through the wound as its heart qi was devoured by the blade's passive hunger. Lightning still crackled around Charles's boots, dissipating like echoes of a divine storm.
Smoke drifted from his shoulders. His shirt was half-burned, and his arms were traced with drying blood. Most of it wasn't his.
Charles stood there, chest heaving. Waiting.
Come on.
He focused inward. The core at his dantian swirled with qi, violent and unstable, but full. The heat of the hunt, the surge of elemental qi, the chain-kill bonuses—it had to be enough. His body trembled, golden fractal lines of advancement flickering at the edge of his spirit sense.
And then…
Nothing.
The surge collapsed like a broken wave. The qi dissipated into silence.
SIGMA: Breakthrough threshold unmet. Remaining Qi Deficit: 2.8%. Recommend further combat engagements or alternate cultivation enhancement methods.
Charles groaned and kicked the wyvern's tail. "Two-point-eight percent? You mean to tell me I slayed a forest's worth of elemental wildlife and I'm short two point eight?"
[SIGMA: That's right. Don't kick the dead body, please. The loot ratio is still the best.]
He wiped the blood off Raijin's Emberfang and said, "Remind me to ask the universe to round up."
[SIGMA: The petition was turned down. Do you want a summary of the loot instead?]
Charles sighed and put away his sword. "Okay. "Hit me."
[SIGMA: Loot Summary – Zephyr Hunt 47:
9,480 gold coins
There are 2 Wyvern Cores (Grade-3).
4 Stormfang Panther Pelts (Rare)
Molten Feathers: 12
Beast Essence Crystals (Assorted): 26
Ancient Wind-Sealed Ring (Unidentified): 1
High-tier Beast Core: 1 (Thunderhorn Rhinowyrm).
Thunderhorn Bone Fragments: 12 – usable for forging runic armor.
Spirit Spring Essence Flask: 1 vial collected. Usable for alchemical elixirs.
1 drop of Thunderhorn Blood (very conductive and unstable) is a rare material.
Spoiled Boots of the Daring Idiot (Unique Junk): 1
Damage to local biodiversity is estimated to be 82% in the current quadrant.]
Charles blinked. "Did that say Spoiled Boots of the Daring Idiot?"
[SIGMA: A name for an artifact that is automatically created based on what users have done in the past.]
He made a noise. "Not nice."
[SIGMA: The total worth of the loot is 87,000 gold. Extra: 500 gold for daily farming. Updated the new balance in the treasury.]
Charles whistled. "One man's trauma is another man's portfolio."
Charles looked out at the battlefield littered with scorched trees, clawed earth, and twitching carcasses. The scent of ozone and ash hung heavy in the air.
Still stuck at Foundation Rank 7. Close—but not enough. He flexed his shoulders and cracked his neck, sparks flickering at his fingertips. "Alright. Fine. We'll do it the hard way."
He walked off into the mist again, Raijin's Emberfang humming faintly with hunger.
Time for round two.
Dance of Fire and Blood
The Zephyr Hunting Grounds were no longer quiet.
Trees cracked like snapped ribs. The ground was scorched black. The scent of burning fur, molten steel, and vaporized blood stained the wind. Twenty Abyssal Flamehounds had answered the unspoken challenge, drawn by the scent of Charles's rising qi and the crackle of Raijin's Emberfang. These Foundation Realm 9 monsters were nightmares given flaming flesh.
"Twenty? Really?" Charles muttered as the first hound emerged—massive, fangs like obsidian sabers, its molten eyes narrowing.
[SIGMA] You did scream at the sky like a lunatic after failing your breakthrough. I'd call that a summoning ritual.]
"Note to self," Charles said as he ducked a flaming pounce that turned an entire pine into ash, "don't scream your trauma into hellhounds' lunch menu."
He surged forward. Left foot twisted, activating Phantom Stride. His figure blurred into a crescent arc of lightning. One Flamehound lunged. Too late.
Raijin's Emberfang cleaved through its neck in a sideways stroke—Thunderstrike Cleaver active. The beast's head didn't just fall—it exploded in a chain of lightning that lit up five others like fireworks.
Then the real fight began.
Hellfire erupted from every angle—roaring dark infernos that twisted the air. Charles activated Storm Fusion and charged headlong into chaos.
His footwork became a ballet of survival. He used Shadowstep Slip, Pulse Vault, and Ember Dash, while his fists glowed with the heat of Blazing Tempest Fist, thunder cracking with every blow.
A hound caught him mid-air, jaws clamping around his side.
Crunch.
"Ah. Rib. Definitely rib."
He stabbed downward, Flame Infusion flaring, driving the katana into the beast's skull. Blood sprayed his face in a geyser of molten black.
[SIGMA]: Seven cracked ribs. One lacerated lung. You're bleeding from five locations. On the bright side: ten Flamehounds down.
"I'm not even halfway?!"
Another beast howled—Abyssal Howl—waves of sound crashing into Charles like hammers, disrupting his qi flow. The sky darkened as the hellhounds began cloaking the clearing in a dome of fire and shadow.
He grinned, blood between his teeth.
"Alright then, round two."
He sheathed his katana—just for flair—and dove straight into the mob.
A claw tore through his back. Another burned through his leg. His footwork collapsed.
But Charles didn't stop.
He punched a beast in the mouth, his knuckles breaking from the force, then kicked off its nose, launching himself through the air. Raijin's Emberfang came unsheathed in a scream of thunder and flame as Emberstorm Wrath ignited fully.
The blade struck down.
BOOM.
The entire clearing detonated in an explosion of violet fire and divine lightning.
When the smoke cleared, only Charles stood—half-conscious, drenched in blood, skin cracked with burns, and muscles twitching uncontrollably from residual lightning overload.
Around him, the shattered corpses of twenty Abyssal Flamehounds smoldered in blackened ruin.
[SIGMA: Quest complete. Confirmed kills: 20/20. Estimated value: 40,000 gold coins.]
[SIGMA: Collected Loot:
Abyssal Flame Cores × 20
Flamehound Pelts × 16 (4 incinerated)
Molten Fangs × 17
Infernal Embers × 13
Special Drops:
Abyssal Flame Gems × 3
Flamehound Soulstones × 2]
Charles tried to laugh. Coughed up blood instead.
And then—it came.
The surge.
His qi spun, tore, and screamed through his meridians. The bottleneck shattered—forcefully.
His body convulsed.
Every nerve screamed. His bones felt like they were being rebuilt from molten glass. His qi core cracked, then fused, then shattered again as Foundation Realm Rank 8 loomed in reach… and then—stopped.
Denied.
[SIGMA: Attempted breakthrough failed. Threshold reached but not stabilized.]
Charles screamed—not from rage, but pure, elemental pain. His veins bulged. His flesh steamed. For a moment, it looked like he might combust from inside.
[SIGMA: Administering emergency recovery.]
Crimson Soul Recovery Pill × 2
Violet Qi Rebalancing Elixir × 1
Fire-Affinity Stabilization Serum × 1
Lightning Channel Detox Draught × 2
A spray of mist hit his mouth, force-fed by an automated nozzle drone.
He collapsed backward, panting, eyes bloodshot and twitching.
[SIGMA: Estimated healing duration: 11 hours for baseline function. 36 hours for combat readiness. Internal damage: 42%. Ego: 91% intact.]
Charles wheezed. "Tell the Abyss to send harder dogs next time. These ones were just fire-flavored puppies."
[You threw up blood while saying that.]
"It's worth it."
He lay in a crater of smoke with a blade buried in the ash next to him, smirking through his split lips.
Still no breakthrough.
But the storm was getting louder.
And what about next time?
He wouldn't knock.
He would set the gate on fire.
The Path Beyond Flesh, Thunder, and Venom
Under the pale light of mana-rich mist, the lake gleamed like liquid moonlight. It was really silent. There were no bugs chirping or leaves stirring; all that could be heard was the sound of static in the distance, like an incomplete symphony.
Charles stood near the brink and squinted. Little sparks crawled across the folds of his cloak, making it flutter. He thought of something holy or maybe something horrible that he had forgotten while he was at this place.
He saw the cave entrance behind a wall of stone and roots, covered in moss. It didn't look like it would be fun. It really did look like the kind of location that even magical creatures would stay away from. Of course, that made it perfect.
Charles stated in a dry voice, "A mana-dense deathtrap in the middle of nowhere. This is the perfect place for me to meditate."
He went inside, and the pressure changed right away. The air was heavy with raw qi and mana, and it had a faint vibration that felt like dew on his skin.
The bioluminescent moss lighted up the cave walls, showing off the glints of embedded mana stones. The energy got stronger the deeper he went: pure, old, and not tainted by human greed.
Charles sat down on a cool stone slab near a glowing vein of raw mana crystal and closed his eyes. For the next four hours, he focused on healing breaths, guiding every fragment of qi through his battered muscles and scorched veins.
His bones ached from the Flamehound hunt, his internal channels still singed. But here, the ambient mana mended him—slowly, patiently, like the cave itself acknowledged his right to be here.
Finally, with energy stabilized and pain dulled, he stood—and went deeper.
He hadn't taken twenty steps before the crackling hiss reached his ears.
A serpent—no, serpents—hundreds of them, coiled and writhing like a storm given flesh.
"Great," Charles sighed. "The lake had to come with a bonus hydra-nest."