Chapter 26: Chapter 26

Hunter reached deep. Past Level Three.

Into Level Four. Shadow Master. The technique with the most warning labels.

The one that said "DANGEROUS. PROLONGED USE CAN FRAGMENT THE SOUL. NOT RECOMMENDED FOR FOUNDATION REALM CULTIVATORS. SERIOUSLY DON’T DO THIS YOU’LL REGRET IT."

Too bad. Out of options. Also out of time.

The technique unfolded in his mind like a really disturbing origami sculpture. More complex than Level Three. Exponentially more difficult. It required splitting not just his shadow, but pieces of his consciousness. Creating independent copies that could think, react, fight on their own.

Temporary parallel processing using soul fragments. Like running multiple computers off one power source except the computers were pieces of his identity and the power source was his questionable life choices.

The manual had warnings in red text. Flashing red text. Screaming red text that said "TURN BACK NOW YOU IDIOT."

Too late. Already committed. Already dying. Might as well die doing something interesting.

Hunter’s qi erupted. Not controlled flow. Explosive release. His dantian poured energy into the technique like opening a dam, like every faucet turned on simultaneously, like that scene in every anime where the protagonist powers up and everything glows.

His shadow split. Not into one decoy. Into four.

Four shadow-Hunters peeled from the ground simultaneously. They rose up, took form, stood in a circle around the real Hunter like the world’s most disturbing boy band.

These weren’t like the Level Three decoys. These looked real. Perfect copies down to the smallest detail. Same height. Same proportions. Same bloodstained clothes. Same expression of terrified determination. Same questionable haircut.

And they moved independently. Each one tracking the alpha with their own awareness. Like four versions of Hunter all existing at once. Four separate thought processes. Four separate sets of reactions.

It felt like having four brains operating off one skull. Confusing. Overwhelming. Like trying to watch four movies simultaneously while also being in all four movies.

The alpha skidded to a halt. Its child-intelligence completely overwhelmed. One human had become five. Which one was real? Which were fake? How could it tell? What was happening? Was this legal?

"Hi," all five Hunters said in perfect unison, which was creepy even to the Hunters saying it. "This is going to be really weird for both of us."

Then all five Hunters attacked as one unit like the world’s most coordinated disaster.

The alpha tried to track them. Impossible. Its child-intelligence wasn’t built for this. Wind blades erupted in all directions. Caught two of the shadow copies.

But these didn’t disperse like the Level Three decoys. They staggered. Wounds appearing on their shadow-flesh. Blood that looked real because it kind of was. But they kept moving. Kept attacking.

Because they were real. Sort of. Temporary copies made from pieces of Hunter’s soul and qi and terrible life choices. They could take damage. Could think. Could fight. Could probably have opinions about things if they lasted long enough.

Which was deeply concerning but also tactically useful.

The remaining three shadows pressed the attack. Coordinated assault from three angles. The alpha’s wind barrier couldn’t protect against simultaneous strikes from three directions.

One shadow feinted high. The alpha blocked with wind qi, raising its paws defensively. Another shadow struck low. Connected. Shallow cut across the alpha’s leg.

The third shadow went for the tail. Because apparently Hunter’s subconscious thought attacking a squirrel’s tail was tactically sound. It wasn’t. But it was distracting.

The real Hunter waited. Watching. Looking for the opening. Trying to coordinate four separate versions of himself plus his original self while also not dying.

His brain felt like it was melting. Four streams of consciousness plus his own. Five different perspectives. Five different sets of sensory input. Five different opinions on how to fight this squirrel.

One of the shadows thought they should aim for the legs. Another thought the exposed flank was the better target. The third was pretty sure the jewel on its forehead was the weak point. The fourth was having an existential crisis about being a temporary copy and whether it counted as murder if it died.

"FOCUS!" all five Hunters yelled at themselves. "STOP HAVING OPINIONS!"

The alpha spun, frustrated rage overriding child-intelligence. It jumped. Twenty feet straight up. Wind qi propelling it like a rocket, like a really angry bottle rocket filled with vengeance.

Aerial attack. Smart. Get above the copies. Strike down with full power. Area attack that can’t miss.

The alpha descended. All four claws extended. Wind blades forming around each one like invisible swords of compressed death. A devastating attack that would annihilate everything in a ten-foot radius.

Multiple wind blades. From above. No dodging. No blocking. Just death incoming.

But it had made a mistake. A small one. A critical one.

It had forgotten about the real Hunter.

Hunter’s Shadow Step activated. He teleported directly beneath the alpha’s descent path. Sword raised. Point up. Using the alpha’s own momentum against it like every martial arts instructor says to do but nobody actually does because it requires perfect timing and also being slightly insane.

The alpha saw it too late. Child-intelligence realizing the trap but unable to stop. Gravity and wind qi both pulling it down. Directly onto Hunter’s waiting blade. Physics becoming an unavoidable enemy.

Time slowed. That thing that happens in combat where everything becomes crystal clear and also takes forever. Where you have time to think "this is either going to work brilliantly or I’m about to be crushed by a falling squirrel."

The sword entered just below the sternum. Punched through the alpha’s chest cavity. Foundation Realm strength behind the thrust. Enhanced by desperation and adrenaline and the knowledge that failure meant death.

The blade emerged from the alpha’s back, blood spraying in an arc like a gruesome fountain. The alpha’s momentum carried it down. Sliding further onto the blade. The jewel on its forehead flared bright red. One last surge of power. One final attack.

Its claw came around. One last strike. Wind blade at point-blank range. Zero distance. No dodging. Just taking it.

Hunter tried to move. Too close. Too late. Too committed to the sword thrust to dodge.

The wind blade caught his shoulder. The same shoulder the first squirrel had injured. Same exact spot. Like the universe had marked that shoulder for "repeated trauma only."

The pain was immediate and overwhelming and felt like someone had stuck a blender in his shoulder and turned it on high. His arm went numb. The sword fell from his grip, still embedded in the alpha.

But it didn’t matter. The alpha was already dead. The light in its eyes fading. The jewel on its forehead dimming like a light bulb losing power. Its body slumping forward.

Hunter barely managed to step back. His shoulder screaming. Blood pouring from the wound. The alpha’s corpse fell, pulling his sword down with it, hitting the ground with a heavy thud that sent up dust and blood and the smell of death.

The shadow clones dispersed immediately. Without conscious effort to maintain them, they simply stopped existing. Four shadow-Hunters becoming smoke. Returning to wherever shadow-stuff came from. Probably the same place socks go in the dryer.

Hunter fell to his knees. Every ounce of energy gone. His qi reserves completely depleted. His meridians felt like someone had scoured them with sandpaper while they were still inside his body. Blood poured from his shoulder. His leg barely supported his weight. His brain was fuzzy and getting fuzzier.

The swarm had stopped attacking. Two hundred squirrels frozen in place. Watching their alpha die. Watching the impossible human who’d killed it. Watching their tactical genius, their leader, their strongest fighter become a corpse.

Then, as one, they fled. Melting back into the forest. Disappearing into shadows. Gone in seconds like they’d never been there except for the bodies scattered everywhere and the destroyed camp and the blood.

Hunter knelt there, gasping, barely conscious, while his people stared in stunned silence.

"Did he just..." Tao started.

"He made four copies of himself," Xuan finished, voice full of awe and terror.

"Like ninja," Lex added helpfully. "Cool ninja. Scary ninja. Ninja that probably violated several laws of reality."

"I think Master might be insane," Tao said.

"Definitely insane," Xuan agreed. "But he won. The insane man won."

Han approached slowly. Spear ready. Making sure the alpha was really dead and not playing possum. He prodded the corpse with his spear tip. No reaction. Dead as dead could be.

"It’s dead." Han’s voice was carefully neutral, the kind of neutral that suggested he was processing something that didn’t make sense. "You killed a C-rank spirit beast in single combat. While outnumbered. While injured. While being an idiot."

"Used Level Four Shadow Step," Hunter wheezed. "Thought I was going to die. Or go insane. Or both. Probably both. Still might go insane. Jury’s out." ɴᴇᴡ ɴᴏᴠᴇʟ ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀs ᴀʀᴇ ᴘᴜʙʟɪsʜᴇᴅ ᴏɴ novel(ꜰ)ire.net

"You made four copies. Four independent copies. That’s not normal. That’s not Foundation Realm. That’s not even Golden Core. That requires Soul Transformation realm minimum." Han stared at him. "How?"

"I don’t know! The manual just... worked? Maybe? Or I’m special? Or cursed? Definitely cursed. Nothing good comes from being able to split your soul into pieces."

"That’s disturbing on multiple levels."

Han knelt beside the corpse. His eyes locked onto the jewel. That ruby-red crystal still embedded in the alpha’s forehead, no longer glowing but still beautiful. Deep red. Size of a chicken egg. Crystallized cultivation essence worth more than most people saw in a lifetime.

He reached out, grabbed the jewel, and pulled. It came free with a wet sucking sound that made Hunter’s stomach turn. No longer glowing. But still radiating power. Still clearly valuable.

"Wind-attribute beast core," Han said, turning it in his hands, examining it in the morning light like a jeweler checking a diamond. "C-rank. From an alpha. This is worth fifty gold. Minimum. Probably more to the right buyer. Definitely more if we find someone desperate."

"Fifty gold?" Hunter’s brain was too fried to process numbers. Everything felt fuzzy and far away. "That’s a lot?"

"A farming family lives on five silver per year. This is worth a thousand farming families’ annual income." Han carefully tucked the core into a pouch at his belt. "This single core could buy supplies for our entire group for months. Or equipment. Or passage to a major city. Or a small house. Or a really nice sword. Or bribe our way past checkpoints. Or—"

"I get it. It’s worth a lot."

"It’s worth everything."

Qiu Hengdao’s voice called from the defensive line where he’d been cowering behind a barrel. "Or it could be used in weapon forging! Wind-attribute cores are rare! Very rare! Swordsmiths would pay a hundred gold for something this size! Maybe more! I know a guy!"

"You know a guy?" Hunter asked weakly.

"I know several guys! I’m a merchant! Knowing guys is my profession!" Qiu emerged from behind his barrel, remarkably uninjured for someone who’d spent the entire battle hiding. "Before I lost everything to squirrels, I dealt in specialty goods. Beast cores were part of my inventory. That core could upgrade your sword from ’rusty garbage’ to ’actual weapon.’"

Hunter looked at his rusty sword. Still embedded in the alpha’s corpse. At the blade that had killed two people and one spirit beast. At the weapon that had somehow survived despite being held together by rust and wishful thinking.

"Could it make this sword not terrible?"

"With a core this size?" Qiu looked thoughtful, stroking his beard like a wise merchant who definitely hadn’t just been hiding. "Yes. Absolutely. But you’d need a master smith. Someone who knows how to bind beast cores to weapons without exploding. That’s expensive work. Very expensive. Very dangerous. Many smiths have died trying."

"The smith’s fee alone would be thirty gold. Plus materials. Plus the risk fee because you’re asking them to do something that might kill them. You’d spend more than the core is worth." Qiu paused dramatically. "But you’d have a weapon worthy of a Foundation Realm cultivator. Instead of that rusty piece of garbage you’re currently using that honestly should have broken by now."

Hunter looked at the core in Han’s hands. At the physical representation of the fight he’d barely survived. At resources their group desperately needed to survive. At the choice between practical survival and personal power.

"We keep it," he decided. "For now. Figure out the best use later. Maybe weapon. Maybe supplies. Maybe something else. But it’s ours. We earned it. Nobody sells it without group agreement."

[LUNA] LOOK AT YOU (◕‿◕✿) [LUNA] THINKING STRATEGICALLY [LUNA] NOT JUST "SELL IT IMMEDIATELY" OR "USE IT NOW" [LUNA] ACTUAL PLANNING [LUNA] ACTUAL LEADERSHIP [LUNA] CHARACTER GROWTH [LUNA] I’M SO PROUD ♥

"Can you stand?" Han asked.

"Probably not. But I’m going to try anyway because sitting in squirrel blood is undignified."

Hunter forced himself to his feet. His legs shook like leaves in wind. His shoulder screamed like it had opinions about being damaged. Everything hurt in new and creative ways.

But he was standing. That counted for something.

The refugees emerged from the cave. Slowly. Carefully. Making sure the danger was really over and not just taking a smoke break.

Mei was first. She didn’t walk. She ran. Full sprint. Crashed into Hunter hard enough that his shaky legs nearly gave out and they both almost fell over.

"You won," she said into his chest, voice muffled by blood-soaked robes. "You promised and you won and you made copies of yourself and it was scary but also cool but mostly scary but you won."

"Yeah." Hunter put his good arm around her, careful not to get blood on her but failing immediately because blood was everywhere. "I won. We won. Team effort."

"I didn’t do anything. I just watched and was scared."

"Being scared is hard work. You did great."

She pulled back, looked up at him with those too-big eyes. "Can you teach me the copy thing? That was really cool. I want to make copies of myself."

Despite everything—the pain, the blood loss, the exhaustion, the existential horror of having split his soul into pieces—Hunter laughed. "Maybe when you’re older. And a cultivator. And not seven years old. And after I figure out if it permanently damaged my brain."

"I’m seven and a half."

"Seven and a half. My mistake. Still too young to learn soul-fragmenting techniques."

"Life isn’t fair. But you’re alive. That’s the important part."

The other refugees crowded around. Not too close because Hunter looked like he’d been dipped in blood and then rolled in trauma. But close enough to show they cared. Close enough to celebrate survival.

Tao, Xuan, and Lex pushed through the crowd. All three looking shell-shocked and blood-splattered and like they’d just watched something that redefined their understanding of possible.

"Master, that was amazing!" Tao’s eyes were shining with the kind of admiration that suggested he’d definitely try to copy the technique and probably hurt himself. "The way you split into five people! The coordination! The tactics!"

"Can you teach us?" Xuan asked. "The shadow technique? The copy thing?"

Hunter looked at them. At his three disciples who’d somehow survived their first real battle. At Tao who’d only hit himself twice instead of the usual seventeen times. At Xuan who’d managed not to fall into a ditch during combat. At Lex who’d hidden behind a stick but survived, which was honestly impressive tactical thinking.

"It requires the Shadow Step manual," Hunter said. "Which I got from... a source I can’t explain. But maybe someday. If you’re very lucky and very unlucky at the same time. Also it might fragment your soul. Did I mention the soul fragmentation? That’s a real concern."

"Worth it," Tao said immediately.

"Probably not but it looked cool."

Lex stared at the dead alpha. At the massive corpse lying in a pool of blood. At the impossible thing they’d just survived. "It’s so big. And we won. We actually won."

"We did." Hunter looked around at the camp. At the destroyed defenses that had lasted fifteen seconds. At the celebrating refugees who’d survived against impossible odds. At Han organizing cleanup crews because someone had to be practical. At his three terrible disciples who’d become slightly less terrible through exposure to violence. At Mei holding his hand like she’d never let go.

At this accidental family he’d collected through a combination of bad luck and worse decisions.

[LUNA] ◈ MISSION COMPLETE ◈ [LUNA] DEFEAT RED-MAPLE SHADOW SQUIRREL SWARM: SUCCESS [LUNA] BONUS OBJECTIVE (ZERO REFUGEE DEATHS): SUCCESS [LUNA] BONUS OBJECTIVE (KILL ALPHA): SUCCESS [LUNA] BONUS OBJECTIVE (LOOK COOL DOING IT): DEBATABLE [LUNA] REWARDS: BANDIT BANNER UNLOCKED [LUNA] BUT FIRST: DON’T DIE FROM BLOOD LOSS ♥

"Right. Blood loss. Forgot about that minor detail."

Hunter’s vision swam. The adrenaline was wearing off. The reality of his injuries was catching up. His shoulder wasn’t healing fast enough despite Foundation Realm cultivation. Too much damage. Too much qi expenditure. Too much soul fragmentation that his body was definitely going to complain about later.

The world tilted. Colors bled together. Sounds became distant.

"Han," he said quietly. "I think I’m going to pass out now. Like, right now. Immediately."

"Don’t do that. You’ll worry the child. Also we need you conscious to explain what the hell we just saw."

"Not really a choice anymore. Biology is making decisions for me."

Hunter’s knees buckled. Han caught him before he hit the ground, which was nice because hitting the ground would have hurt and he’d had enough hurt for one day, thanks.

The last thing Hunter saw before darkness claimed him was Mei’s worried face and Han yelling for medical supplies and Qiu Hengdao already starting a betting pool on whether he’d survive the night.

The good kind of nothing where you don’t have to think about soul fragmentation or squirrels or terrible life choices.