Chapter 25: Eye of the Storm
The moment I stepped into the dungeon, a sharp shift overtook my senses.
One breath, and I was no longer in the sunlit outskirts of East Delhi.
I stood inside a massive hollow cavern, the air damp and cold. The cave's interior glowed faintly, illuminated by softly pulsing mana crystals embedded in the ceiling and walls like a frozen sky of violet stars. The ground beneath me was uneven stone, blackened in places by ash or dried blood.
This was the central zone of the dungeon—an area of temporary peace and transaction. Dozens of hunters were stationed here, exchanging loot, treating wounds, or preparing their equipment. It looked like a miniature marketplace in the belly of a beast.
I paid them no mind.
This wasn't my destination.
I moved past the trading crowd, heading straight for the cave's exit—a gaping tunnel veined with thick moss and mana vines. Light filtered from the far end.
I stepped out.
And the world opened.
A vast, open expanse of rolling green hills, dotted with sparse woodland and jagged boulders, stretched into the horizon. It was quiet here—almost deceptively peaceful. Birds chirped faintly, and the wind smelled of fresh grass, but beneath that calm lurked a deadly reality.
This was goblin territory.
I began to run.
At first, slow and steady—feet pressing against the slightly damp earth. But soon, as momentum built, mana surged within me. It flowed like a violent river beneath my skin. Each breath added fuel to the inferno within. My strides lengthened. The world began to blur.
Raj had said that 1.5 kilometers out, small goblin camps would begin to appear. But I wasn't here for that. My eyes were set on a bigger target.
A super-large settlement.
According to gossip on HunterNet, one had recently been spotted around 40 kilometers east, past a cliff. These settlements were rare and coveted—not just for their size, housing 7,000 to 10,000 goblins, but for the resources they hoarded: herbs, monster cores, magical ores, and occasionally, mutated specimens of goblins. Super-large settlements were strategic gold mines and usually under exclusive control of major guilds.
And Raj, ever the strategist, had already informed the Flamebearer Guild.
It wasn't a betrayal. It was his duty. But I knew what that meant.
They'd be arriving in roughly eight hours. That gave me two hours to push my limits before the area became a high-security zone. That time window—tight, dangerous, and perfect—was all I needed.
I wasn't reckless. I was calculating. I knew the goblins operated on herd instinct. I knew they copied the behavior of the boldest among them. I was counting on their disorganization, their fear, and my own potential—my eye skill, my awakening attributes, and the gamble I was about to take.
As I ran, goblin camps flashed by in the corners of my vision—clusters of stick-and-hide tents, smoke rising from bonfires—but I ignored them all.
My goal was to locate the scout of the super-large settlement.
Every such camp had them—goblins usually marked with the sun-tattoo and a dagger. Intelligent, stealthy, and above all, protective of the one thing I needed: the map.
Roughly an hour later, I spotted him.
A hunched goblin, about 1.2 meters tall, picking herbs in a forest clearing. His back bore the sun tattoo, and a metal dagger hung at his side.
Found you.
Scouts like these memorized and mapped the terrain. But they were clever—if cornered, they'd destroy the map. Most often by swallowing it. Their stomach acid was potent, and no hunter could retrieve it.
I crouched behind a gnarled root and focused.
Mana surged into Ashratal.
It buzzed in response, the halberd trembling lightly in my grip. I compressed the energy, funnelling it into the axe head and narrowing its shape into a blade of light. I waited until the scout turned slightly—just enough to expose his neck.
Then I struck.
With a flick, the purple slash sliced through the air, swift as thought. It collided with the goblin's neck in an instant. He turned—just enough to see the blade—and then his head flew free.
The body collapsed.
I dashed forward, ignoring the corpse's twitching. I searched the scout's pouch. Herbs, dried meat, and—there. A rolled parchment tucked at the bottom.
I unfurled it.
The map was rough but readable. Hunter Academy had drilled map interpretation into us. It didn't take long to find the settlement.
Four kilometers east. Behind a cliff.
I smiled.
Time to move.
The cliff's edge loomed high, jagged and wind-blasted. I scaled it carefully, using natural footholds and bursts of mana to ascend.
And when I reached the top—
There it was.
The super-large goblin settlement.
Nestled in a massive valley, the sprawling settlement resembled a writhing sea of thatched huts, watchtowers, and torch-lit pathways. Goblins bustled about—hundreds at a glance, maybe thousands. Fires crackled. Weapons clanged. Drums beat in a slow rhythm like a primitive heartbeat.
I crouched and focused.
Mana surged into my body. I activated my eye skill.
Immediately, my vision changed.
The world slowed.
I could zoom in and out—see heat signatures, weapon placements, patrol paths. It was more than perception. It was data—being analyzed and converted into optimal pathways.
Monkey Saint had said the eye lacked direction.
Now, it had one.
I called it: Path Alignment. I named the skill Eye Of Alignment.
It let me read the battlefield. Predict flow. Adapt.
I stood up and began channeling mana.
A reckless idea formed.
A desperate one.
A calculated gamble.
I climbed higher onto a jutting stone ledge and poured every drop of mana I had into the tip of Ashratal. The halberd gleamed a blinding purple. The mana compressed violently, fighting against the constraints. Sparks flared along the shaft.
I jumped.
Fell like a meteor.
The sky above me roared. Clouds gathered unnaturally. The wind screamed around me.
And in that moment—
Something awakened.
It was like a dam broke within me. Mana twisted violently. Lightning crackled around my limbs. Fire surged from my core. The air bent as a cyclone formed. The elements responded—not from training, but from instinct. From awakening.
I became the eye of a storm.
A beacon of power and destruction.
The goblins looked up, confused.
And I struck.
Impact.
An explosion of light and sound ripped the valley open. A wave of force expanded outward, flattening huts and bodies alike. The ground cracked. Trees were uprooted. Fire and lightning danced across the wreckage. I couldn't hear anything. My ears had burst.
I was on my knees, clutching Ashratal like a lifeline.
A crater stretched around me—ten meters wide, maybe more. My arms trembled. My armor had held, but my bones screamed. Blood ran down my lips.
I vomited.
Still, I stood.
I'd cleared a 500-meter radius.
Rough estimate? 1,400 goblins—gone.
But the battle wasn't over.
I staggered to my satchel and retrieved a potion, breaking the glass with shaking hands. I drank deeply, feeling bones begin to mend, wounds seal.
Still no full recovery.
Around my neck hung the bead—a mana regeneration item.
Most didn't know, but I'd researched it. The bead had a hidden feature: it could fully restore mana once, at the cost of being destroyed. But there was another secret—its lifespan was only one year.
Mine was ten months old.
It wasn't chance. It was a test from Father—to see if I examined my gear or blindly trusted him.
I passed.
I looked up.
Thousands more goblins were approaching—blades drawn, snarling.
I bit down on the bead.
It shattered.
And mana surged back into me like a divine flood.
Ashratal flared with renewed energy. The eye skill reignited. My vision stabilized.
The goblins charged.
Weapons shook in their hands. They were afraid—but herd mentality drove them forward.
I raised my halberd.
Two hours.
Two hours until the Flamebearer reinforcements arrived.
All I had to do was endure.
I grinned, blood still on my teeth.
"Come then."
The Trial had begun.
And I wasn't backing down.