The Master of Uradan

Rohan was sitting, catching his breath next to the inert beast. His gaze was fixed on it, he had ended up using four of his potions to kill the creature, but he didn't care. He had survived and now had a bag of meat to deal with.

He remembered reading a hunter's book a few years ago, and it described different methods of skinning, butchering and dismemberment. But he currently had three issues to resolve, before he could attempt to skin this creature.

The first was that he had never skinned anything in his whole life, the lack of experience would make the task unbearable. Especially when in front was a beast with such very resistant skin. Even using Strengthened Blow, it wasn't easy to pierce through it.

The second was that he had nothing at all to skin. He turned his gaze to the only weapon he possessed: his scabbard which stood upright, stuck in the eye of the beast. Butchering this beast with a sharp piece of wood was certainly not going to be an easy task.

The third and final point was that he had only read the book out of sheer curiosity. He hardly remembered anything that was written there! The only thing he was sure of was that magical beasts had a core at the level of its heart.

Magical Beast Cores were generally very popular, but were not that expensive in most of the continent. But in the south, so close to the Barren Lands, magical beasts were extremely rare, practically a myth, making the acquisition of these cores practically impossible.

These cores, of different qualities, contained a large amount of mana that was easy to absorb. So warriors and mages could use them to increase training speed. It was for this reason that there were many more warriors to the north, as access to these cores was much easier.

Without further ado, he set to work. He snatched his scabbard from the beast with a sharp blow, and turned it over on its back with his foot. He leaned down, and holding his makeshift weapon the closest to the sharp end, he thrust it into the tiger's chest.

He didn't try to skin it, he knew he wouldn't get anywhere with the means he had, but he wouldn't leave without the core of this monster. With such a size and power, it must definitely be a magical beast !

After intense minutes of effort spent insulting a handful of gods, Rohan finally put his hand on the heart of the beast. A red organ that was drowned in red disgusting blood was in his hand.

He planted his scabbard in it and opened it in half.

But there was nothing. With an incredulous expression, he began to butcher the heart and cut it in many small pieces. But he couldn't find anything among the bloody pieces.

He looked away and returned his gaze to the carcass of the beast. A muscular body, almost two meters long, even three taking into account the tail. A height comparable to his. Powerful limbs ending on murderous claws. A short scratch on the side, a cut on the eye level, a bloody hole instead of the other eye, and another gruesome hole at heart level.

"Don't tell me… This thing is not even a magical beast ?"

Rohan irritably threw away the pieces of heart, again in his hand, and cursed out loud. After calming himself, he was now considering whether he should drink another potion of mana or not ?

Since he had started towards the neighboring kingdom, he had never resumed his meditations, so his maximum mana was still 26. He would not dare to do them in the wild in this way under any circumstances, if a beast disturbed him during this time, he would risk ending up badly injured before a fight even began.

Intervening while a warrior or mage was in meditation was a big taboo: a simple little distraction could cause you to lose control over mana and seriously injure yourself.

So he decided to get out as quickly as possible without drinking more of his potions. Night was going to fall in a few moments, and the farther away he would be from this place and the smell of blood enveloping the area, the better it would be.

He already had only 6 mana out of his 26, and it would only take two hours before he could cast one of his skills.

Even though all of his mana was regenerating, getting attacked by another beast would be catastrophic and he didn't want to test his luck.

Like that, he continued his long walk toward the east, crossing the forest in the middle. In the evenings, before the sun had completely set, he would climb a tree to get through the night without a random attack.

Getting woken up with drools on his face and claws in the jugular wasn't exactly what he liked.

That was one of these times when the sun was setting, and he was there, on top of a tree, looking at it. He opened the bag of food the innkeeper had graciously offered him, and, thanking him in his head again, began to munch on a piece of dried meat.

The days went on like this, walking tirelessly to reach the next kingdom, never meeting any living souls.

Until one day, following a road snaking through the interior of the great forest, he suddenly heard the sound of voices in front of him.

The closer he got, the louder and louder the noises grew, until the clash of weapons and yells could be heard distinctly.

Rohan paused for a moment, before deciding to go take a look. He moved to the side to enter the edge of the forest, and advanced discreetly while staying lower.

After a few minutes spent pushing aside the branches and being careful not to step on branches or roots, the scene was visible to him.

A caravan of several carts, maybe five or six were positioned in a column. Around these, a fight was taking place. About ten people, most likely mercenaries who were defending the caravan, were fighting against twice as many bandits. Dead bodies were already on the ground.

Inside the carts, other people could be seen, and even children were in it, trembling and hiding in their mother's arms or in the middle of objects.

It was obviously a merchant caravan.

But what shocked Rohan the most about this sight was the rank 1 Debutant Warrior who fought among the bandits. He knew right away that he was only rank 1 in the way he used his strength. Much stronger than a normal man, but much weaker than Rohan. The mercenaries didn't stand a chance against him.

Rohan looked down at the piece of wood with a sharp point colored with dried blood that had once served as a scabbard. Should he go help them?

He returned his gaze to the fight, the mercenaries continued to defend themselves as best they could, but they were beginning to fall under enemy force.

"Hahaha, bunch of weaklings!" The warrior laughed as his sword dug into his opponent's limp stomach. "Kill them all! Keep only the fat bacon alive!"

* sigh *

Rohan sighed in his head as he thought about the shit luck he had. First a black tiger, a beast in that lost hole that was supposed to be as rare as a god's teardrop, and now a band of bloodthirsty bandits.

But he still couldn't let them slaughter a bunch of women and children. Plus, as a rank 2 Beginner Warrior, he should be able to pull through without worry.

He continued to move to the battlefield, still hidden among the trees and behind the bushes. Then suddenly, when he had come close enough behind the enemy's back, he rushed towards the nearest bandit.

As he was about to strike at the enemy's neck with all his might, time seemed to slow down to the limit.

Did he really have to kill him?

That was Rohan's thought as he watched his arm move on its own, inch by inch towards the man who was still unaware of the impending danger.

A wave of flame reducing hundreds of men to ashes burst into his mind. The screams and tears echoed in his mind.

"Never forget that feeling of disgust you felt when you killed that man." These were the words his father had said to him.

He strengthened his resolve, and continued his blow, only slightly changing the trajectory of his weapon.

A painful howl came from the man's throat as the scabbard Rohan held shattered his right shoulder and collarbone. He collapsed to the ground in shock and pain, and dropped his sword which fell to the ground.

Some of the bandits turned around hearing the sounds, and when they saw a young man with an appearance that shouted the fact that he had lived for weeks in a forest picking up a sword, they all burst out laughing.

One of them, nor in combat against a mercenary, approached with a broad smile showing his rotten teeth.

"Hehe you think you're tough eh little boy? You wanna dance with me?" He spread his arms as if to invite the young man, and glanced at his companions for a laugh. "Come on, I'll show you how ...!"

However, keeping your eyes on your opponent was one of the most basic rules. And this bandit, apparently unaware, couldn't finish his sentence correctly when his arm flew in the air before falling to the ground with a thud.

He stared at his bloody stump, shocked at the turn of events, before screaming in pain, kneeling on the floor.

Silence settled among the mercenaries and the bandits for a few seconds, leaving the scene to two individuals. The first wriggling on the floor with his right side shattered, and the second kneeling, holding his bloody stump and hanging over it while cursing and sobbing.

Rohan didn't even look at him anymore, he continued on his way towards the other bandits, passing by, at an even step.

It was his response.

He would destroy them all, but he would not kill them. During the war he could not do otherwise because he was surrounded by his countrymen and the enemy, restricting himself was not possible.

But there he was all alone, and the difference in strength meant that he could go at his own pace.

But if he needed to kill. Then he will do it.

Not for his life, but because he has something to do before dying.