PATH OF THE STAR HUNTER

632 Chapter 632 The Black Wolf vs. The Gray Wolf.

Desmond had heard on more than one occasion that a person’s downfall was at the end of a path built with his arrogance, as well as other similar phrases. Still, he never expected to see such a clear example of it.

Mathias Lupan, the heir to his clan and holder of one of the remaining keys Desmond sought, was a man full of himself, arrogant, and somewhat unhinged. However, Desmond thought that the werewolf would have even a little intellect to back up his current position, which didn’t seem to be the case.

At the slightest provocation, the werewolf did exactly what Desmond would have wanted, heading into the woods only after releasing his prey. With barely a minute between the two games, Mathias hunted down his clanmate.

It is worth mentioning that said member of the Lupan clan seemed to hate everyone present to death and acted like a cornered beast prepared to die fighting. Still, his behavior changed as soon as he saw the opportunity to escape when he was released into the forest. Desmond even suspected that Mathias had somehow drugged the man, given how erratic and unstable his behavior seemed.

Whatever the case, Desmond was left alone with the rest of Mathias’ playmates, a group of witnesses Desmond didn’t need alive. Not bothering to hide his movements, Desmond drew his sword, < Heaven’s End>. At first, Desmond’s move did not attract attention since he was not the only person carrying a weapon. Yet, things changed when the other nobles saw him adopt a battle stance.

Even without mana backing, Desmond’s physical power in his current form easily rivaled an Aura user of his same level, armed with a sword as precious as < Heaven’s End>; few things could stop a cut from Desmond, and those didn’t include a bunch of weakling nobles.

“I’m sorry, but I can’t leave loose ends. <Astryd Swordplay-fourth form- undying storm>” Relying on the mana stored within the sword, Desmond drew his weapon, and soon a barrage of silver flashes pierced all the nobles in front of him.

Even without mana support, Desmond’s sword was deadly, and the storm of slashes that rained down on his enemies left no one alive. The nobles died without a chance to defend themselves or at least find out why they died.

Reduced to a heap of minced meat, the corpses of the five nobles crumbled to the ground, leaving a huge pool of blood. Desmond didn’t even blink about it, his plans were far from over, and there would be no lack of corpses in these, so there was no point in him dwelling on the subject.

.....

“There is still a wolf to hunt.” Desmond commented before hastily putting his sword away to prevent corrosion. Not bothering to wipe the blood off his face, Desmond headed into the woods, searching for his next target.

Contrary to what one might expect from a natural predator like Mathias, his trail was fairly easy to follow. Desmond didn’t know whether to chalk it up to the werewolf’s arrogance or the deteriorating psyche of all sentient beings in this world.

A minute later, Desmond heard a fight in the distance, surely the battle between Mathias and his prey. Knowing Mathias, he was just playing long enough for others to come to witness his glory. Guiding himself by the sound, Desmond made a vague guess about where Mathias was and began searching for a high position.

After a couple of jumps, Desmond ended up at the top of an old oak-like tree that juts out half a dozen meters above the top of the rest of the gray trees. From this position, Desmond could see Mathias fighting or, rather, playing in the distance, which brought a grim smile to Desmond’s face.

The smile still hadn’t finished growing on Desmond’s face when his face changed and filled with pain. “No again.” Desmond muttered as he felt like someone was driving a fiery spear through his heart as a small electrical numbness ran through every fiber of his being.

As it had happened the last few times, the pain passed in a matter of seconds. Desmond regained control of his body, only feeling that same paralyzing sensation for a couple more seconds. Although he seemed intact, Desmond didn’t look good at all; it could be seen that he wasn’t happy with what had just happened, even more, so the fact that it wasn’t the first time it had happened.

Desmond didn’t know the reason, so he could only attribute this to the toxicity of this world. Ever since he had come to this place, he had been having these strange periods of paralysis and pain.

As absurd as it seemed to someone in his circumstances, Desmond almost thought he had a cardiac attack the first time it happened. Still, he quickly realized that in addition to the pain, his mana reserves dwindled tremendously after each incident.

Through the slow replenishment, Desmond’s mana pools had remained relatively stable even with these odd episodes of him being drained. Nonetheless, Desmond didn’t find much comfort in this. In all respects, Desmond currently suffers from some kind of heart condition that affected his mana reserves; nothing in that circumstance sounded like good news for the hunter.

To make matters worse, Desmond had no idea that he triggered the attacks, as they seemed to happen randomly, without any fixed pattern or associated circumstance; the only sure thing was that they were becoming more frequent, another reason to be concerned.

“At least both of my arms work.” Desmond commented wryly when he recovered from his ailment. Given Myrilla’s explanation and how the stigma on his arm had changed, Desmond knew that it had become more and more dangerous to use the power of the arcane stigma. He still remembered how he was nearly crippled the last time he used it, hence came your comment.

Trying to push all unnecessary thoughts away, Desmond took a deep breath. He focused fully on the gray werewolf fighting in the distance. For almost a full minute, Desmond did nothing but clear his mind and analyze Mathias’s movement patterns.

When he was ready, Desmond slowed his breathing. He focused even more on his senses, his red eyes like mirrors that could only reflect the image of Mathias still playfully struggling.

Although he still had reservations about what he would do, Desmond drew his bow, <Vampiric Thorn>, and did something rather strange. With a difficult expression, Desmond took out a sealed container. He poured its contents onto the macabre wood of the bow. Thick, still-warm blood dripped onto the bow, quickly being absorbed by it, giving it a bloody, dangerous sheen.

This was the trump card of the spirit weapon, <Vampiric thorn>, a blood sacrifice that would become a catalyst and enhancer for the next arrow fired. The problem and the reason why Desmond didn’t want to use that ability was that he was afraid that the blood of the creatures of this world would be too intense a corrosion agent for the bow.

In addition to the bloody glow around the bow, little flashes of unholy black were rather disturbing. With no time to waste, Desmond focused one hundred percent on Mathias, leaving the subject of his weapon for later.

The bow burned through the sacrificial blood, quickly filling the arrow planted by Desmond with an ominous, deep red glow. Surrounded by dangerous and deadly air, the arrow on the bow was intimidating enough. Still, Desmond was too focused on Mathias to notice such details.

Desmond waited until he saw Mathias crash into the other werewolf again. Predictably, Mathias knocked the other werewolf to the ground, overwhelmingly dominating his opponent. It wasn’t until Desmond saw Mathias stomp on his rival to reassert his dominance that he released the arrow.

Desmond had waited until the last moment until Mathias held still to fire. With his current strength and the bow’s power, the red arrow traveled at terrifying speeds leaving behind nothing but a low, near-subsonic hiss. Unfortunately, the werewolf’s ears were truly terrifying, as were his reflections.

Sensing a sudden rush of danger, Mathias reacted by pulling out of the way, but that wasn’t enough. Having foreseen long ago that Mathias might have the reflexes to dodge even his best bow-and-arrow shot, Desmond hadn’t aimed directly at Mathias in the first place.

Known as the black wolf of the north, Desmond was an apex predator in his own right. Even with most of his abilities disabled or restricted, his reflexes and instincts were second to none. Based exclusively on his instincts and observations made a minute ago, Desmond had predicted Mathias’s next most likely move and aimed for that spot, believing his arrow would find his target.

Seeing that Mathias relied on his dominant leg to build momentum and jump to the side, Desmond smirked, the werewolf’s habits coming to bite him on the butt.

Mathias couldn’t even feel safe after jumping when he saw a flash of red past him at mind-boggling speed before slamming squarely into his stomach. Blood and entrails exploded at that moment, creating a fiery red spectacle and a strong smell of iron.

Despite seeing how his arrow found his target, Desmond did not claim victory; he knew this was only the first round between him and Mathias.