Chapter 25: Chapter 25

Hunter charged. Foundation Realm speed. Six days of suffering compressed into one strike. Perfect form. Perfect angle. Everything Han had beaten into him with a stick.

The alpha raised one paw.

The wind around it condensed. Compressed into a visible blade of air pressure. Sharp. Deadly. Extending from its claws like an invisible sword made of compressed atmosphere and bad intentions.

The alpha swiped casually.

Hunter’s spiritual sense screamed a warning. He twisted mid-charge, muscles moving faster than thought. The wind blade passed inches from his face. Close enough that he felt it. Close enough that it cut a lock of his hair clean off. Close enough that he smelled his own hair burning from the friction.

The wind blade kept going. Sliced through a tree behind Hunter. Clean cut. The tree toppled slowly, almost gracefully, crashing into two others in a domino effect of destruction.

Hunter stared. That attack had range. Serious range. And power. And precision. If it had connected with his neck instead of his hair, he’d be dead. Very dead. "Two separate pieces" dead.

I’m fighting something at my own cultivation level. This isn’t like the swarm. This isn’t overwhelming numbers. This is actual combat between equals.

Except we’re not equals. It’s better than me. It’s been cultivating for decades. I’ve been cultivating for two weeks. This is like bringing a calculator to a calculus exam when everyone else has graphing calculators and also degrees in mathematics and also the exam is on fire and also the fire has claws.

The alpha attacked again. Not charging this time. Methodical. Controlled. Professional. Each swipe of its claws sent wind blades screaming through the air. Invisible attacks from fifteen feet away. Forcing Hunter defensive. Forcing him to dodge, retreat, give ground.

Hunter dodged. Shadow Step carrying him between strikes. But he couldn’t get close. Every time he tried to close distance, another wind blade forced him back. Every advance met with retreat. Every attack met with counter-attack.

This is bad. Really bad. I can’t hit it from range. My sword needs contact. But I can’t get close without getting shredded into human confetti.

A wind blade caught his left arm. Deep cut. Blood sprayed. The pain was immediate and overwhelming, like someone had pressed a hot knife into his flesh and then wiggled it around for good measure.

Hunter’s healing qi activated automatically, trying to close the wound. But fighting and healing at the same time was hard. His circulation stuttered. The healing slowed. Blood kept flowing.

Another wind blade. This one caught his leg. Hunter’s knee buckled. He went down hard, eating dirt and grass and what might have been a small rock.

The alpha saw its opening. Charged again. That same terrifying speed. Claws extended. Going for the throat. Going for the kill. Going to end this fight in the most efficient way possible.

Hunter rolled. Barely. The alpha’s claws gouged the earth where his head had been. Four deep trenches in the soil. Deep enough that Hunter could see darkness at the bottom. Deep enough that his head would have been in multiple pieces.

He scrambled to his feet. Stumbled. Nearly went down again.

His leg screamed. His arm was numb. Blood loss turning his vision fuzzy at the edges.

The world tilted. Righted itself. Tilted again.

Foundation Realm or not, physics still applied.

Enough blood loss meant unconsciousness.

Unconsciousness meant death.

Death meant Mei died watching.

That math was simple and terrible.

Behind him, Mei screamed. "HUNTER!"

Not Master. Not Senior. His actual name.

The name only she used.

Screamed with pure terror. The kind of scream that bypassed his ears and went straight to his chest. The kind that made his heart stop and restart wrong.

Something broke. Not physically. Emotionally.

The sound of that child’s fear shattered everything—whatever hesitation he’d been holding onto, whatever self-preservation instinct had been suggesting "maybe run away."

I’m losing. I’m actually losing. And if I die, she dies. They all die. Everyone in this camp dies because I wasn’t good enough.

Twenty-three people. Twenty-three lives depending on him not sucking.

That’s a lot of pressure for someone who barely knows how to use a sword.

"I KNOW I’M LOSING! I’M VERY AWARE! IT’S HARD TO MISS!"

[LUNA] YOU HAVE THE SHADOW STEP MANUAL [LUNA] LEVEL THREE AND FOUR [LUNA] USE THEM (◕‿◕✿)

"I’ve never used them! I don’t know how! I’ll screw it up and probably die in a hilarious way!"

[LUNA] YOU’LL DIE ANYWAY IF YOU DON’T TRY [LUNA] YOUR CHOICE: DIE SAFE OR DIE TRYING [LUNA] AT LEAST DYING TRYING IS MORE INTERESTING ♥

Hunter looked at the alpha. At the jewel on its forehead pulsing with power. At the wind qi swirling around it like armor. At the child-intelligent eyes that knew it was winning, knew Hunter was bleeding, knew victory was seconds away.

Looked at his disciples behind him fighting desperately. At Han coordinating the defense while holding off thirty squirrels simultaneously. At the cave where Mei was probably watching with those too-big eyes, watching him fail, watching her faith in him prove unfounded.

At this accidental family he’d collected in the worst possible way.

One incompetent cultivator.

"Alright," Hunter whispered. "Let’s try something stupid. Let’s try ALL the stupid things. Stupid speedrun."

He closed his eyes. Reached into the Shadow Step manual burned into his brain. Past Level One and Two. Past the comfortable, safe techniques he’d practiced. Into the parts he’d never touched. The advanced techniques. The ones with warning labels. The ones that said "DANGER: DO NOT USE UNLESS ACTIVELY DYING."

He was actively dying. That counted.

Level Three: Shadow Decoy. Create temporary copies from shadow essence.

The manual unfolded in his mind. Not instructions. Not a tutorial. Pure knowledge. Muscle memory for movements he’d never made. Understanding that bypassed learning and went straight to instinct—your body knows this even though you don’t.

It felt wrong. Like reaching inside himself and pulling out pieces that weren’t meant to be separated. Like his soul was play-doh and he was tearing off chunks. Like someone was rearranging his internal organs but spiritually.

But he did it anyway because the alternative was death and death seemed worse than temporary spiritual organ rearrangement.

Hunter’s shadow peeled off the ground.

Not metaphorically. Actually peeled. Like someone had grabbed a corner of his silhouette and pulled it free from the earth like the world’s most disturbing sticker.

The sound it made was worse. Wet. Tearing. Wrong.

Reality didn’t like being pulled apart.

It rose up, took humanoid shape, stood next to him.

The shadow-Hunter looked wrong. Uncanny valley wrong. Same height, same basic shape, but wrong.

Arms too long by two inches. Head tilted at an uncomfortable angle. Legs bent slightly backward. Features blurred and indistinct.

Like someone had drawn Hunter from memory.

While also being attacked by squirrels.

It hurt to look at. Hurt to maintain. Hurt to exist.

Hunter felt the drain immediately. Qi pouring from his dantian like water from a bucket.

Not a bucket with a hole.

A bucket that WAS the hole.

Just hole. No bucket. All drain.

This technique wasn’t meant to be sustained. It was meant for brief tactical advantages. Flash it, use it, dismiss it. Not maintain it while fighting.

But Hunter had never been good at following instructions.

The alpha tilted its head. Child-intelligence processing what it was seeing. Two humans now. Both smelling the same. Both moving. Both equally punchable.

Hunter didn’t give it time to figure it out. He and his shadow-self charged from different angles, moving in sync like really creepy twins.

The alpha’s wind blade attack came automatically. Aimed at the real Hunter. Passed straight through the shadow decoy.

The decoy dispersed into smoke with a sound like disappointed whistling.

But Hunter was already there. His blade coming down toward the alpha’s exposed flank. Perfect angle. Perfect timing. Perfect technique.

The alpha’s wind qi barrier flared. Hunter’s sword met resistance. Not solid resistance. More like cutting through water if water was made of compressed air and attitude. The strike that should have cut deep only left a shallow wound.

Blood welled up. Red on red fur. The alpha screamed.

Not pain. Anger. The indignity of being scratched by an inferior opponent.

The alpha spun. Impossibly fast. Claws glowing with compressed wind. Swiped at Hunter’s midsection with intent to bisect.

Hunter created another shadow decoy. This one jumped between them. Took the hit.

Very temporary meat shield.

Very temporary shield.

Smoke that used to be part of his soul.

Dispersed into regret.

The strain was immediate and overwhelming. Creating two decoys in rapid succession felt like running a marathon while someone punched him in the kidneys repeatedly. His qi reserves were draining fast. His meridians felt scorched. His dantian was screaming "STOP DOING THIS."

But it was working. The alpha was confused. Hesitating. Child-intelligence couldn’t track which Hunter was real when they kept appearing and disappearing and making smoke and generally being confusing.

Hunter created a third decoy. Then a fourth. They surrounded the alpha from different angles. All moving. All threatening. All looking equally punch-worthy.

The alpha spun in a circle, trying to track them all. Wind qi flared around its body in panic response.

Then it made a decision. If it couldn’t tell which was real, kill all of them.

The alpha screamed. Frustrated rage overriding tactical thinking. Wind qi exploded from its body in all directions. A desperate area attack. Wind blades erupting like invisible shrapnel, cutting everything within fifteen feet.

The decoys dispersed immediately. Gone. Smoke and regret.

But they’d done their job. Created openings. Wasted the alpha’s energy. Made it panic.

Hunter was gasping now. Sweat poured down his face, mixing with blood. His meridians felt scorched from the rapid qi expenditure.

Level Three was brutal. Effective but brutal.

Like chemotherapy. It killed the cancer but also tried to kill you.

Except the cancer was a squirrel.

And the chemotherapy was ripping pieces of your soul off and throwing them at said squirrel.

Metaphor breaking down. Too tired to care.

And it wasn’t enough. The alpha was injured but still fighting. Still fast. Still dangerous. Still mocking him with those child-intelligent eyes.

I need more. Level Four. But I’ve never even tried it. Don’t know if I can. Don’t know if it’ll work or kill me or turn me inside out.

[LUNA] DO IT [LUNA] LEVEL FOUR [LUNA] SHADOW MASTER [LUNA] GO FULL ANIME PROTAGONIST ♥

[LUNA] YOU KNOW WHAT I MEAN [LUNA] THE TECHNIQUE WHERE YOU MAKE MULTIPLE INDEPENDENT COPIES [LUNA] IT’S BASICALLY NARUTO’S SHADOW CLONE JUTSU [LUNA] EXCEPT WITH MORE EXISTENTIAL HORROR [LUNA] LESS FRIENDSHIP [LUNA] MORE PSYCHOLOGICAL DAMAGE [LUNA] AND YOUR COPIES MIGHT HAVE OPINIONS [LUNA] LIKE "WHY DID YOU CREATE ME JUST TO DIE" [LUNA] VERY CONCERNING (◕‿◕✿)

Hunter would have laughed if he wasn’t about to die. "You did not just reference Naruto during a life-or-death fight."

[LUNA] I’M IN YOUR HEAD [LUNA] I HAVE ACCESS TO ALL YOUR MEMORIES [LUNA] INCLUDING YOUR EMBARRASSING ANIME PHASE [LUNA] INCLUDING THAT TIME YOU CRIED AT THE ZABUZA ARC [LUNA] TWICE [LUNA] YOU WATCHED IT TWICE AND CRIED BOTH TIMES [LUNA] NOW DO THE JUTSU BEFORE YOU DIE ᕕ( ᐛ )ᕗ

The alpha charged again. No more playing. No more testing. Going for the kill. Claws extended. Wind qi screaming. Death incoming.

Hunter reached deeper. Past Level Three. Into the technique that came with capital letters and WARNING LABELS and probably a waiver form.

Level Four: Shadow Master.

The manual didn’t unfold.

Like someone had compressed all the knowledge into a singularity, added high explosives, and shoved it through his eye sockets directly into his brain.

Without warning labels.

This wasn’t muscle memory. This was soul surgery.

Performed by a drunk doctor.

While the patient was awake.

Hunter’s shadow didn’t peel this time. It erupted. Like a geyser of darkness shooting from the ground, splitting, dividing, forming into distinct shapes. Not temporary copies. Independent entities. Each one with its own will. Its own thoughts. Its own questionable life choices.

Five shadow-Hunters materialized around him.

They looked better than the decoys. More complete. More real. Still slightly wrong—proportions just a bit off, movements too smooth, eyes a bit too dark—but functional. Dangerous. Real enough to matter.

Hunter could feel them. Feel their thoughts at the edge of his consciousness. Five separate minds connected to his own.

Five versions of himself. Each one thinking. Each one judging. Each one having opinions about his life choices.

This is a terrible plan, one of them thought.

We’re going to die, thought another.

Why did he create us just to fight a squirrel? complained a third.

At least it’s interesting, offered the fourth.

The fifth was suspiciously quiet. Probably plotting something.

It was like having six brains running in parallel. Like being six people at once. Like his consciousness had been put through a copier that had opinions about the original.

He’d gone from loneliness to crowd in one technique.

Deeply concerning crowd.

It was the most disorienting thing he’d ever experienced. And he’d died twice and transmigrated to a cultivation world where squirrels had PhDs in murder.

[LUNA] OH MY GOD (ノ◕ヮ◕)ノ*:・゚✧ [LUNA] YOU DID IT [LUNA] YOU MADE SHADOW CLONES [LUNA] THIS IS AMAZING [LUNA] THIS IS TERRIBLE [LUNA] YOUR QI IS DRAINING SO FAST [LUNA] YOU HAVE MAYBE TWO MINUTES BEFORE YOU PASS OUT [LUNA] POSSIBLY LESS [LUNA] POSSIBLY WAY LESS [LUNA] MAKE THEM COUNT ♥

7,200 heartbeats if his heart wasn’t racing.

His heart was racing.

Maybe 4,000 heartbeats.

Less if the alpha killed him. Fınd the newest release on novel~fire~net

He could work with that.

The alpha stared at six Hunters.

Child-intelligence completely overwhelmed. This wasn’t tactical confusion anymore. This was existential crisis. Its tiny brain trying to process how one human had become six humans and whether this was a nightmare or reality or some kind of philosophical thought experiment about the nature of identity.

The alpha chittered. Uncertain. Nervous.

Hunter—all six of him—grinned.

Six identical grins. Six identical expressions. Six identical terrible ideas manifesting simultaneously.

"Alright," they said in perfect unison.

The harmony was deeply creepy.

The synchronization was unsettling.

The tactical advantage was undeniable.

"Let’s see you mock us now."

The clones charged as one.

Six Hunters. Six swords. Six souls worth of terrible life choices compressed into one final desperate gambit.

The alpha’s eyes widened.

Then the real fight began.