Chapter 403: The Hunter, the Hunted, and the Blade That Split the Storm
The distant rumble of battle still echoed faintly as the two colossal beasts shrank into the horizon, their roars gradually swallowed by the triumphant cheers rising from Beastfall City’s battered but resilient residents.
"Shall we go, Jed? Come sit with me for a while?" Regis smiled gently, turning to the grim-faced Uncle Jed.
Truth be told, Jed was itching to follow the action, to witness the aftermath of the titanic clash. But the truth was written in the stiffness of his stance and the shallow rise of his breath. The shockwave from the monster’s roar had injured him more than he let on. Still, after seeing the sheer power Ethan unleashed, he trusted the young man could finish what he started—especially against a beast already crippled.
"Let’s go, Regis..."
A full century separated them. Uncle Jed, just past forty; Regis, well over one hundred and twenty. And yet, their friendship was deep, forged through fire and time. On Umbral Star, ordinary people could easily live to see two centuries. For warriors like them, a hundred years marked only the early Chapters of life.
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Far to the north, one pursued and one fled. Ethan barreled after the giant beast like a hurricane on two legs, his monstrous transformation straining at its time limit. The Pincer-tailed Sand Badger King—massive and wounded—darted across the desert with staggering speed, each stride erasing miles in seconds. It tried, time and again, to burrow into the earth, but Ethan would always catch up and yank it out by its tail.
"Damn it, Uncle Jed, where are you?!" Ethan shouted into the wind, breath ragged with fury and desperation.
The countdown was almost up. His time in this monstrous form was measured in seconds now. And the Badger King wasn’t slowing. Despite its injuries, it still had enough strength and instinct to run like death was licking its heels. Ethan closed in with a burst of speed, landed a brutal strike—only for the creature to stagger forward again, slipping from his grasp like smoke.
"Hey, don’t run..." he growled between clenched teeth, the words half-mocking, half-pleading.
The beast gave no answer. It didn’t need to. The malice in its flight said enough. It wanted him dead. It wanted his beast core, and it had no intention of going quietly. Even wounded, it knew how to use its charging ability to gain ground, and each time Ethan got close, it surged away again like a wounded phantom.
Was it time to give up?