The battlefield had become a furnace.
Every breath seared Hunnt's lungs; every step cracked the scorched ground beneath him.
The air shimmered, bending the ruins of the village into ghostly mirages. Somewhere beyond the smoke, Alder still breathed faintly, but Hunnt could no longer hear him over the roar of the monster before him.
Glisarin Ignis, the Ember Veil, refused to fall. Her wings hung in tatters, glowing veins crawling along her sides like rivers of lava. Each breath sent embers streaming into the wind. The wound Alder had carved into her chest flared brighter with every movement, pulsing like a dying sun.
Hunnt stood opposite her, arms trembling beneath his own weight. His gauntlets were cracked and fused to his hands; soot streaked his face, hair plastered to his skin.
But his eyes remained sharp—steady, burning with the quiet fire that had carried him this far.
Flames flickered between them. Neither moved.
Then the wind shifted, carrying the faint sound of wings.
Alder stirred.
Through blurred vision he saw Hunnt standing alone against the inferno. For a moment his mind refused to believe what he saw. The young man moved with a rhythm too fast, too precise for human sight.
The wind shifted again—and Hunnt vanished.
Soru.
Alder's eyes widened. "What in the—"
Hunnt reappeared in a blur, twisting upward—Geppo—climbing invisible steps of air as if the sky itself had weight. Flames curved away from him. When the monster's tail swept up, he bent with it, sliding through the strike—Kami-e.
Alder could hardly comprehend it. Hunnt's movements were too clean, too measured, like every strike was guided by something unseen.
He landed; his stance hardened—Tekkai. The next blow hit full force, yet he didn't move. He counter-punched, the impact bursting outward in a concussive wave.
The ground under Glisarin split. Her body lurched, molten blood spraying from the wound.
Alder whispered through torn breath. "That's … not human."
Hunnt advanced, fists gleaming dull black—Armament Haki crawling across the metal, heat bleeding from the edges. Each hit rippled the air. The monster staggered, claws carving trenches as she tried to steady herself.
The battle had turned. Where two hunters once fought to survive, now one man drove the fight forward, every movement deliberate, merciless. He no longer retreated. Each time she lunged, he was there—redirecting, striking, breaking her rhythm piece by piece.
Glisarin's attacks grew frantic. Wings flared, feathers of fire raining down. Hunnt's Observation Haki pulsed outward; he felt each coil of muscle, each flicker of intent. His body moved before thought, weaving through the falling flame.
Alder watched, dazed. "This kid … what is he?"
Hunnt struck again—both fists driving into her chest. Pulse Drive.
The shock rippled through her frame; scales split, and the heavens rang with her scream.
She stumbled, wings beating unevenly. Her molten eyes darted toward the open horizon. Instinct screamed for flight.
Hunnt felt it. Observation caught the subtle pull of fear, the urge to flee. He straightened, lowering his fists. The air thickened. The smoke bent inward around him as if drawn by gravity itself.
Alder's eyes widened. "What is this … ?"
The air began to tremble. Sparks swirled inward. Glisarin froze, her breath catching.
Hunnt's will expanded like a storm breaking open.
It wasn't fury; it was command—pure, unshakable, absolute.
Conqueror's Haki.
The world bowed beneath its pressure. Cracks webbed across the ground; flames dimmed to whispers. Even the air seemed to kneel.
Glisarin tried to move, but her body refused. Fear—real, primal—filled her molten eyes. The ancient predator looked on a greater predator and knew.
Hunnt walked forward through the dying fire, ash rising in circles around him. His gauntlets glowed faintly, black steel veined with crimson light.
He could hear her heart inside the flame—one final, broken rhythm.
He matched it with his own breath, then moved.
"You should've stayed asleep," he said, voice calm and level.
Glisarin reared back, light bursting from every crack in her body.
Hunnt didn't flinch.
He stepped into her shadow, drew his arm, and struck.
The impact sounded like thunder.
His gauntlet drove through the molten wound, vanishing into the blaze.
Pulse Drive detonated from within, a shockwave tearing through her core.
For one blinding instant, the world was only light.
Then the fire went out.
The Glisarin's roar choked into a single, broken breath. Her wings sagged, smoke pouring from the fractures across her body. The molten glow dulled to ember, then to red, then to black.
She staggered once—twice—and fell, shaking the ground as she crashed into the ruins. The impact rolled a cloud of dust and steam across the square.
Hunnt stepped back, watching. The massive form lay still, heat rippling off her body in waves. No roar, no light—only the slow hiss of cooling scales. The smell of burnt metal hung heavy in the air.
The Ember Veil was dead.
The heat fell away all at once. For the first time in hours, he felt the weight of his own body—the ache in his spine, the sting of open burns, the tremor in his hands.
Slowly he turned.
Alder lay a few meters away, Great Sword half-buried beside him.
Hunnt limped over, every step a grind of pain. He knelt, pressed two fingers to the man's neck.
A pulse—weak, but alive.
Hunnt exhaled a long breath. "Still breathing. Good."
He sank down beside him, looking up into the smoke-streaked sky.
The fires were guttering out; ash drifted like snow. The world smelled of iron and soot.
Beyond the hills, dawn cracked the horizon—a faint, clean light pushing through the haze.
Hunnt let his head rest back, eyelids heavy, a faint smile cutting through the grime.
"No bounty … no recognition," he murmured. "But the village lives."
His gaze slid toward Alder. "You did good, old man."
Then, softer: "No Quest. No Reward."
He breathed out, almost laughing. "Still worth it."
The wind shifted, carrying the smell of cooling earth instead of burning air.
Sunlight filtered through the smoke, turning every drifting ember to gold.
Ash swirled around Hunnt's boots, rising into the morning wind.
Somewhere beyond the valley, the world waited—scarred, breathing, alive.
Hunnt closed his eyes for a moment, letting the warmth of dawn touch his face.
For the first time, there was no roar, no fire—only wind.
He exhaled, the tension leaving his body with the breath.
The hunt was over.