The Primal Hunter Chapter 1299 - Death of the Deathstalkers

The Shaman found himself in a thrilling and heart-racing predicament as he observed the human clashing in close quarters with the six Deathstalkers. Seven times already, he had signaled his comrades to prepare and charge in for the rescue, yet each instance, the Shaman restrained himself.

Particularly when the human endured a strike that almost cleaved off one of his limbs, the Shaman's heart lurched. The human perishing so pointlessly on their debut expedition from the village was utterly unacceptable, and the Oracle's wrath would prove inconceivable.

With only basic knowledge as a Shaman, he understood that the Circle had long suspected a realm existed beyond the Boundary. Should his own negligence dash the hopes of his leaders, the repercussions were too dire to fully fathom.

Nevertheless, the Shaman stayed put. It felt impossible to act. An overwhelming aura radiated from the human, suffocating in its intensity, and the manner in which he butchered the initial Corpsemender before felling the Monitor while pursued by six Deathstalkers... left the Shaman utterly baffled at its feasibility.

Yet countless enigmas escaped his understanding.

The human's magic was wholly unfamiliar to the Shaman. He repeatedly launched projectiles of similar shape, though some detonated on contact while others impaled, and at times they impaled before detonating. The smaller variants differed, but the larger ones wrought utter devastation.

All his techniques appeared linked to a single affinity, but that awareness offered scant insight. The Shaman held no familiarity with it whatsoever, not even from ancient texts describing such energy.

Still, that faded against the chill the Shaman experienced upon hearing those two words. Event Horizon. Words of Power held no novelty for him—he wielded skills demanding them himself—yet the phenomenon unleashed by the human's utterance left him profoundly shaken.

In a fleeting instant, the Shaman glimpsed something beyond comprehension, only for it to vanish as swiftly as it arrived. No matter his efforts to recapture the vision, it eluded him entirely. Deeply unnerving, he resolved to seek the Oracle's wisdom on it later.

Numerous matters demanded discussion with the Oracle. Too many shocks defied all reason.

He genuinely failed to grasp the human's stubborn drive to battle the Arachnecs, yet the Shaman sensed strongly that intervening to halt this futile fray would provoke the human's ire—something he keenly wished to sidestep, especially amid the unfolding spectacle.

After downing the Monitor, the human stood encircled by six Deathstalkers. An alien energy scorched his form, annihilating all it encountered, and positioned amid foes on every flank, he inexplicably caused his weapon to vanish.

Once again, the Shaman stood perplexed, for humans plainly relied on weapons. Willingly abandoning it was downright astonishing. But moments later, arms extended, two fresh implements materialized in his grip. They resembled knives, yet their forms ill-suited for slashing. Strange armaments whose practicality the Shaman doubted—for mere seconds.

The six Deathstalkers surged forward, overwhelming the Shaman's ability to track them all, their forms blurring the instant his attention wavered. Even so, the human suffered no wounds from their first assault, deftly dodging every attack.

Weaving fluidly among them, he evaded their frantic attempts to rend his flesh, each strike falling just a whisper short. In stark contrast, his ripostes struck with lethal precision, boring into the undead carcasses of his enemies; that bizarre energy corroding them from inside with every thrust.

The Shaman even spotted a toxin capable of harming the Arachnecs. It lacked great potency or strength, but it revealed the human's use of poisons in tandem with his ruinous energies—an bizarre fusion, given their total incompatibility.

As the fight against the six Deathstalkers dragged on, the Shaman began to steady his nerves, even though the human perpetually hovered on death's doorstep. His attacking might was extraordinary, yet his defenses seemed frailer than those of a freshly ascended B-grade Virumancer. That is, when blows actually landed.

In his entire existence, the Shaman had observed countless Agility specialists. The Venusians possessed an uncommon speed-oriented variant, but even uniting them all, they faded beside the human's absolute mastery in evasion.

He anticipated every strike prior to its arrival, completely disregarding the Deathstalkers' feints and stealth tactics. Actually, he didn't disregard them; rather, he exploited their misguided confidence in deceiving him, counterstriking to seize territory while methodically dismantling all six adversaries.

All foes exceeding him by over thirty levels. A fact underscoring that this human was freshly evolved, sparking numerous queries about the true might of his species. Matters far beyond the Shaman's expertise to assess.

The battle raged on, until the initial Deathstalker perished soon after. Quickly followed by a second casualty, and with diminished foes easing the strain, the human capitalized, swiftly eliminating a third and then a fourth.

Down to just two, victory was inevitable. Yet at that moment, the Deathstalkers ceased their assaults and swiftly withdrew, scattering in opposing directions while stifling their wounds.

Then the Shaman recalled his oversight in not warning the human about the Arachnecs' frequent habit. Facing defeat against an unfamiliar creature type, they typically fled to share details of the threat with their brethren.

Venusians exhibited similar behavior, but Arachnecs proved more determined, retreating only when loss became undeniable. This let them transmit greater intel, having witnessed more abilities, and considering their prolific breeding, such sacrifices likely paid off.

Regrettably for the Arachnecs this instance, their pursuer wasn't easily shaken. Spotting their escape, the human appeared irritated above all, then banished his dual close-combat arms and invoked his ranged launcher—what he called a bow.

One massive arrow he fired at a retreating Deathstalker, which couldn't evade the fatal shot, meeting instant death cleanly and decisively.

Yet no second shot flew toward the last Arachnec. The human merely stared at it for moments, prompting the Shaman's frown. Was he sparing the survivor? Such logic escaped reason... though the human had already defied Venusian understanding repeatedly.

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The Shaman's assumption proved incorrect. He glimpsed the human's eyes shimmering faintly, and afar, the Deathstalker slowed, staggered, then collapsed. It convulsed on the earth for seconds, ripping the landscape in apparent agony—illogical, since Arachnecs felt no pain from their undead state. Still, torment gripped it for almost ten seconds until stillness claimed it. Destroyed. Soul eradicated. With his decent grasp of soul magic, the Shaman scarcely comprehended the event. Clearly, the human's stare alone had assaulted and felled the Arachnec.

Yet another chilling and disconcerting notion.

the Shaman mused inwardly as the human averted his gaze from the corpse and faced the five survivors.

His potent aura vanished, which the Shaman surmised as some enhancement ability judging by its impacts. It visibly drained him, but the Shaman harbored no foolish urges to exploit the vulnerability. He refused to share the Arachnecs' fate.

“See, no reason to run when you can fight,” the human remarked cheerfully while drifting closer. The Shaman judged it cheerful, at least. Human emotions proved elusive, their expressions mostly neutral save for the eyes.

A peculiar adaptation, yet it shielded a vital vulnerability effectively. Moreover, they ingested sustenance, as the Shaman verified by proffering drinks. Bizarre how the vessel phased through the face to an underlying orifice, but humans brimmed with enigmas; he dismissed such trivia.

“A most impressive display of your prowess,” the Shaman remarked, truly awed by the human’s overwhelming strength. What a formidable species, especially with this standout specimen. Definitely prime candidates for forging diplomatic bonds, provided the Venusians could step beyond the Boundary.

He simply wished the humans’ absence of faces wouldn’t complicate the negotiations.

--

Jake was feeling damn satisfied while eyeing the Shaman, who seemed lost in strange inner reflections. Didn’t matter; it was probably nothing significant.

Battling the Deathstalkers had been exactly what Jake craved post his B-grade evolution. Stretching his limbs felt incredible, and unleashing his boosting skill at maximum hit the spot. The toll was heavy, yet entirely bearable.

Even more thrilling was his secondary “boosting” ability. Sight of the Boundless Horizon had shone brilliantly. The sheer boost to Perception alone delivered a massive passive damage surge, and though it reduced his toughness considerably, that swap was one he embraced wholeheartedly.

Its impact on Event Horizon proved stunning too. The skill pinned the Monitor throughout its full runtime, which might not sound groundbreaking since his arrows already tracked the marked target instinctively, but it went beyond simple physical lockdown.

The immense pressure it exerted also seemed to hinder energy flow, and judging by the undead spider-worm beast’s inability to retaliate while trapped, Jake figured it dulled the target’s senses somewhat. Overall, a tremendously potent effect. Sure, the Monitor was feeble, and its performance against stronger enemies remained unproven, but it would surely still pack a punch.

Near the battle’s close, with one Deathstalker bolting away, Jake at last experimented with merging Sight and Primal Gaze. He’d already learned that enhancing skills via Sight required deliberate intent, and with just a single foe left, he gambled on supercharging Gaze.

Jake remained uncertain about the result even now. Normally, Primal Gaze struck fast and finished quick, offering a brief peek into the target’s soul while clashing his own against it, almost always stunning the enemy.

Yet empowering it with Sight triggered something entirely different. Jake’s sight transformed completely, bypassing the Deathstalker’s body to reveal only its soul. Instead of a swift soul strike, he established a link between his soul and the creature’s.

This bond let Jake relentlessly assault the enemy’s soul with minimal backlash to his own, though he suspected the foe’s relative weakness played a role. It felt like firing an unseen beam from his eyes that scorched the target’s soul bit by bit until the B-grade perished.

Undeniably potent, but Jake recognized the conditions favored him greatly. The target was battered from combat, heightening its vulnerability. Plus, like most soul assaults, mental states mattered hugely, and a terrified, fleeing enemy convinced of its doom made for effortless prey.

Post-skill, he noted this Primal Gaze variant guzzled resources heavily. All three were depleted in the assault, turning it into a damage exchange rather than pure offense, as Jake essentially harmed himself to execute it. His soul endured strain too, but not excessively, suggesting he could sustain it for a good stretch. Jake itched to experiment more, but sadly, every Arachnec lay slain. Anyway, recovery time was due—he’d sustained injuries and burned through plenty of stamina.

The Venusians had made him wary, though. He’d flaunted his might deliberately to leave a mark, all while monitoring their responses closely. Though he prayed it wouldn’t occur, he’d braced for an ambush the instant he dropped Arcane Awakening and showed vulnerability.

Relief and joy washed over him seeing no aggression from the Shaman, who instead voiced genuine praise for Jake’s combat skills.

“The Arachnecs hardly seem like formidable variants to me,” Jake remarked, uncertain if they ranked as average within this Minor World. Objectively speaking, they fell on the weaker side, and every one of them proved extremely fragile.

“They aren’t,” the Shaman replied, shaking his head. “Their fighting methods remain quite restricted, partly because of their low intelligence. Yet, they boast overwhelming numbers and strong attack power. They don’t hesitate to sacrifice five of their own just to eliminate one enemy. Unless their Nest faces direct danger, they can endlessly produce more replacements.”

“So these Nests aren’t simple to reach?” Jake inquired.

“Every one protected by A-grades,” the Shaman sighed in response. “In reality, taking down Arachnecs achieves almost nothing, since most of their essence flows back to the Nest upon death, enabling rapid rebirths. That’s why we usually steer clear of battles with them unless they invade our territory.”

“Got it,” Jake murmured. These Arachnecs reminded him strikingly of the Ectognamorphs, although he hadn’t heard of any undead Lineages existing in the Endless Empire. Still, such rapid reproduction wasn’t unique to ectognamorphs anyway. Even the rat horde from the Tutorial dungeon could churn out countless drone spawns.

“Can they sense our presence here, even without any escaping?” Jake questioned, aware that certain creatures like these might transmit info back to their “queen” or similar leader remotely.

“They do realize their kin perished in this spot and might dispatch scouts soon, but they can’t relay precise details as far as we’ve observed,” the Shaman denied with a headshake. “The only thing possible is a survivor sharing full memories, which merges into a collective knowledge base inherited by every new Arachnec spawn.”

Jake nodded gradually, a grin creeping onto his face. “Sounds like the perfect spot for some hunting. You okay with hanging back here for a bit of action?”

“I’d question the wisdom of lingering, but if you’re set on wiping out more Arachnecs, I won’t stand in your way,” the Shaman chuckled deeply and raspily, eyeing Jake’s badly wounded leg. “Still, you should recover first. I can cast healing spells if you let me help.”

“Nah, I’m good,” Jake dismissed with a wave, pulling out a healing potion and downing it swiftly. His leg mended right away, flesh knitting together seamlessly like it had been stitched. Luckily, he’d stocked up on potions while practicing Lesser Primeval Energy.

He’d grabbed the potion casually without much forethought, so the Shaman’s reaction caught him off guard—the elder gaped briefly before bursting out:

“That… how did you obtain such a treasure?”