The Primal Hunter Chapter 1241 - Runes of Golden Life

Carmen deflected the spear with her forearm, parrying the strike to the side as she closed the gap to drive an elbow into the warrior’s chest. The man let out a pained grunt from the impact and was knocked backward, with Carmen immediately following up to land a finishing jab.

Before she could connect, however, a flaming arrow struck her side and erupted in an explosion. The force threw her off-balance, forcing her to cancel the offensive. Quickly scanning the battlefield, she noted that while the spearman possessed the highest offensive threat, he was also the most resilient member of the enemy team.

Moving with agility, she dodged a heavy flail—a long chain tipped with a massive spiked ball—that pulverized the ground where she had just been. She began circling the arena’s edge, searching for the elusive shaman. After a few moments, she pinpointed his location and, with a confident grin, channeled power into her fist before slamming it into the earth.

The arena floor shattered, sending rock and gravel skyward along with a hidden humanoid figure. The man reacted instantly, weaving hand seals and gesturing toward Carmen. The debris she had unearthed suddenly glowed with light and surged toward her, with several fragments fusing into massive boulders mid-flight.

Carmen smashed through the stones as she closed the distance, but just as she reached out to seize her opponent’s throat, her momentum was halted once more.

A strange aura lunged around her, locking her limbs in place while the air filled with the sound of loud chanting. The environment began to flicker and warp, making it feel as though she were being dragged into a different dimension against her will.

It was a formidable skill, but unfortunately for the caster, he had targeted a Runemaiden.

Luminous runes ignited across her skin as she let out a piercing shout, releasing a surge of energy that shattered the enchantment. While the first shaman who had manipulated the earth managed to retreat, the one responsible for the chanting was less fortunate; the woman coughed up a spray of blood as the violent disruption of her spell caused a severe backlash.

Carmen smirked as she lunged toward the exposed shaman. The spearman attempted to intervene, but Carmen kicked his weapon aside and threw him directly into the path of an incoming arrow.

The shaman made a desperate final stand by summoning a web of magical chains, but the Runemaiden simply walked through them. The magic within the links dissolved the moment they brushed against her skin.

Gripping the shaman by the throat, Carmen smiled. “Do you surrender or—”

“I surrender,” the woman gasped. Carmen nodded, but before she could speak, the archer and the first shaman launched a coordinated strike, forcing her to hurl the woman away and leap to safety.

A rain of arrows descended, falling at a rate of several per second. Glancing up, she spotted the beastkin archer hovering above, maintaining a relentless bombardment. She darted across the arena to evade the projectiles while keeping her focus on the shaman, who was finishing a minor ritual.

The man struck the ground with his fist, causing the environment to turn hostile. The very earth rose up, shaping itself into hammers and various weapons that sought to pin her down. While neither the archer nor the shaman posed a lethal threat to a Runemaiden, she remained cautious; two other opponents were still very capable of drawing blood.

One of them reappeared shortly after. Carmen dodged a stone club only to be forced into blocking a spiked ball swinging in on a chain. She had anticipated the move, yet the sheer force nearly overwhelmed her. Her arms buckled under the weight of the blow, and she was sent tumbling through a series of stone pillars that tore at her back.

After crashing into the arena wall, Carmen was pinned just long enough for a Powershot to find its mark. The arrow pierced her skin, drawing blood. Simultaneously, the spearman and the flail-wielder closed in, the latter swinging her chain down from above.

Facing the onslaught, Carmen decided it was time to stop holding back. The runes on her body transitioned from a soft blue to a vibrant, angry red. A surge of raw power flooded her veins, and she grinned.

Just as the attacks were about to hit, Carmen slammed her fists together, detonating a massive wave of red, destructive energy. Her attackers were staggered, giving Carmen the opening she needed to appear instantly before the flail-wielder.

The warrior reacted by raising a heavy shield, but it offered no protection. Carmen’s fist punched straight through the metal and deep into the warrior’s chest. The strike culminated in an explosion of energy that blew a hole through the fighter's back, sending the mangled body flying.

Despite the display of brutality, the others pressed on. Carmen narrowly avoided a spear thrust aimed at her throat. Using her enhanced speed, she moved to eliminate the second warrior, but the archer intervened again.

An arrow sank into her arm just as she went for a strike, taking advantage of the lowered defenses inherent in her Runic Stance. However, being that close to her proved fatal for the spearman.

Her arm erupted in a discharge of energy upon impact, creating a blast of ruinous force that sent the spearman reeling. Even as the shaman tried to impale her with a stone spike, Carmen finally landed a clean hit on the spear warrior, launching him into the far wall of the arena.

With the last melee threat neutralized, the shaman was easily beaten into submission. Finally, she turned her attention to the persistent archer and finished the fight.

By the time Carmen stood alone, healers had already moved in to collect the wounded. With a long exhale, she deactivated her Runic Stance, letting the marks fade. She found the lack of an exhaustion period after the skill quite refreshing, though her mentors had warned her that more advanced Runic Stances would eventually bring back the temporary weakness.

“You’ve improved, but ranged fighters who can bypass your guard are still a problem,” a voice remarked from behind, causing Carmen to turn.

“Yeah, I need a better movement skill to close gaps,” Carmen admitted, looking at the speaker. The woman was a human about two heads taller than her, with black hair tied in a practical ponytail. Her attire was minimal, designed specifically to display the intricate runic patterns etched into her skin with pride.

“More specifically, you need to refine the one you have and apply the concepts we discussed last month,” the senior Runemaiden noted. “The Path of a Runemaiden is a holistic one; eventually, nearly all your skills will find their Origin within your runes.”

“I’m working on it,” Carmen said, cracking her neck. “By the way, the Ruination Stance is great for offense, but is it worth the risk? It seems unnecessary unless I'm trying to end a fight instantly or facing an opponent with impenetrable armor. And if their defense is that high, maybe I shouldn't be fighting them at all.”

“It is risky, but it is also faster. Mastering the Ruination Stance teaches you how to infuse that same destructive power into your other skills, even when the stance isn't active,” the Runemaiden explained. “The Fist of Ragnarok, for instance, uses those same principles. I suggest using the stance regularly just for the discipline it instills. Plus, let's be honest—it’s satisfying to crush things, and Ruination is perfect for that.”

“You’ve got a point there,” Carmen agreed, nodding at the last part.

“I usually do,” the elder Runemaiden teased with a smile. “Now, that little warm-up was far too easy for you, wasn’t it?”

Carmen braced herself, a determined grin spreading across her face. “Is it even a real spar if you don’t walk away with a broken bone or two?”

The elder Runemaiden didn't bother answering. She simply vanished, demonstrating a movement technique far superior to Carmen’s, her speed bolstered by her higher grade.

Carmen spun to block, but a heavy punch sent her flying. She suppressed a cough of blood, the smile never leaving her lips.

She lived for these sessions… even if she usually left with half her skeleton turned to powder.

“From the Lumenflight… quite the unexpected candidate,” a voice boomed within the golden hall. “And she completed her training with high marks. Weak, certainly, but she has potential.”

“My research suggests Yrelstromoz was talented in her youth but wasted it on pride and arrogance,” Aishalstromoz replied. “Regardless, she was a legitimate member of the Lumenflight before her exile. To think she was killed by the Chosen of the Malefic Viper.”

“As it was meant to be,” the voice resonated as a golden light filled the chamber. A man in golden robes appeared, two majestic curved horns of gold rising from his head. “Your read on the Chosen was accurate.”

“No, father, I actually underestimated him,” Aishalstromoz corrected. “I thought he would slay a dragon at the peak of C-grade. That would have been impressive enough, but he was still over ten levels away from that threshold when he did it.”

The Dragon of Gold laughed softly. “For my daughter to admit a miscalculation… you must be truly fascinated.”

“Is that so strange?” she asked with a smirk. “Very few people can make me feel an instinctive sense of dread. It’s only natural I find him interesting. I consider myself lucky to be of his generation; his presence will force me to grow faster.”

Even though the Chosen of the Malefic Viper was currently much weaker than Aishalstromoz—who had recently completed her evolution into a True Dragon—she knew he would eventually bridge the gap. Her growth would stabilize as she reached maturity, while his trajectory showed no signs of slowing.

“Should I be worried that my daughter is so focused on a man?” the Patriarch of the Regalflight asked, his expression unreadable.

Aishalstromoz shook her head, amused. She had only briefly interacted with the Chosen during Nevermore. He had left an impression, certainly—his ability to ignore her passive pressure and speak to her as an equal had even made her blush. However…

“He isn’t my type,” she said with a shrug.

“A pity,” her father mused. “Though, selfishly, I find that a relief. It is best not to let personal feelings interfere with the Flight's interests.”

Aishalstromoz nodded in agreement.

“But tell me, are you confident?” he asked, his eyes sharpening. “He killed a dragon as a C-grade. When he evolves and you face one another as B-grades, what then?”

She smiled, her confidence unwavering. “I will show him the true power of a True Dragon.”

“The right answer,” her father chuckled. His gaze then drifted toward the horizon, looking past the boundaries of their world. “The Dragonflight hasn't claimed much territory in the new universe yet, but as the gates open, our era begins… and our first objective will be the power of the Exalted Prima.”

His aura surged, and the sheer pressure of the strongest god among the nine Dragonflights nearly forced Aishalstromoz to her knees. This was why the Regalflight, despite their small numbers, ruled supreme. He was a being at the absolute peak… and also her doting father, who often made her forget his terrifying nature.

“Oh, my apologies, I lost control for a moment,” he said, instantly pulling back his aura and rushing to her side with a look of panic. Aishalstromoz could only shake her head at his sudden change in demeanor.

“Dad… I’m fine,” she reassured him. His face brightened at the informal address. Despite his current behavior, she knew he was deadly serious. With more B-grades entering the new universe, the Dragonflights were preparing to assert their dominance, and as the strongest of her generation, Aishalstromoz would be the one leading the charge.

He inhaled, feeling the pulse of life saturate his frame. As he exhaled, the sensation radiated outward. Raising a hand, he drew upon the magic within his surroundings. A human form, a perfect replica of himself, manifested—vibrant with life, yet lacking a true spark of existence.

It was a step forward, yet a failure by the standards of the new era.

The hollow vessel had a heartbeat and breath; it was technically alive. But the moment its internal life energy was spent, it would vanish. It was a relic of how humans existed before the System arrived.

In many ways, life before the System was a flawed design. It was finite and lacked a true soul in the modern sense. To survive, one had to steal life from others, consuming nutrients in a cycle of death.

Now, that had changed. With a soul, life was inherent. If a body was injured, the soul provided the necessary energy to mend it without needing outside sustenance.

Evolution was a journey toward perfection, and the removal of the need to eat was a key step for humanity. It proved that the necessity of consuming life to maintain life was an error in the original blueprint.

Yet, mortality remained. Even with these flaws fixed, the soul eventually lost its spark. It was the final design flaw that only godhood could resolve. Only the divine were truly immortal.

It was a truth accepted by all, yet he refused to yield to it. He knew how to sustain the flesh and preserve life perfectly… but what was life without a conscious mind to experience it?

With a sigh, the man stood. Even with his new power, he wasn't there yet. But he would reach that peak and achieve perfection.

As he left the room, a monk was waiting, a respectful smile on his face.

“I offer my congratulations to the Chosen of the Daolord on his successful evolution,” the monk said, bowing deeply to the man who had just attained B-grade.

“Thank you,” Eron replied, feeling the invisible threads of life that connected them. Just like with so many others, every breath allowed him to feel the sparks of the lives he touched. As he exhaled, billions of pulses resonated through his being, binding them all together as one.