Chapter 34: The Summit and the Simharaksha
I stared at the top of the mountain, its silhouette illuminated by the pale midday sun. It wasn't a steep climb, oddly. The slope curved upward gently, almost like a natural staircase carved by design. As if this mountain had been made to be climbed by someone specific—me.
I took a breath and stepped forward. The stone was warm beneath my palms. I coated myself in a layer of mana skin, reinforcing my grip and shielding my fingers from being torn open on jagged rock. Each movement was calculated. Climb, brace, pull.
Hunter stats weren't defined in absolute numbers. Instead, ranks dictated the quality and quantity of mana and the potential to sprout the fabled World Tree Seed—a mystery to most. From Rank 1 to 5, the enhancements were physical and energetic, a magnification of one's natural capacity. It was only beyond Rank 5 that the truth of mana transformation and seed awakening came into play.
Physically, I was above average. A rank 1 hunter could outmatch a regular athlete. Rank 5 hunters were said to match elephants in sheer strength. Add in a special constitution, constellational blessings, or elite resources, and you could skew those expectations wildly.
I climbed in silence. Each foothold took effort. My limbs trembled slightly—not from exhaustion, but from the mounting pressure I felt the higher I ascended. The seal at the center of my chest burned hotter, more intense. Its pull was undeniable now. The key was here.
The mountain stood roughly 2 kilometers tall. From below, I'd estimated the summit to be around 200 square meters—flat and likely deliberate in its construction. Perhaps once a ritual site.
The higher I climbed, the more twisted the terrain became. Loose rocks, sharper ridges, and narrow ledges demanded caution. I could feel something pulsing above. A monstrous presence—wild, heavy, and ancient. My instincts screamed in warning. Whatever awaited me was no ordinary Rank 1 monster.
Mutants. I'd read about them in the Hunter Academy. Rare creatures that evolved unpredictably, bearing traits not found in their base species. Some gained extra limbs, elemental affinities, or unique powers. Others lost coherence and degraded. It was a coin toss.
One key characteristic of mutant beasts was the coagulation of mana. Unlike novels that described a mana core, real monsters didn't operate from a central point—mana flowed freely. But mutants? Their mana condensed, forming unstable cores. Dangerous. Lethal.
I pressed on. Sweat drenched my brow. My gloves were torn in places. After nearly an hour of grueling ascent, I reached the final ledge. Bracing myself, I hurled upward in one final leap, landing on the summit.
The moment my boots touched the stone surface, the world shifted.
The Eye of Alignment activated on instinct.
Lines of battle paths traced the ground like veins. My perception slowed. My body screamed in silent alarm.
Move.
I darted to the left, rolling behind a jagged boulder.
A deafening crash echoed behind me.
A massive trident had embedded itself into the ground where I'd stood moments before, the stone cracked from the sheer force of impact. Dust scattered like a sandstorm.
I peeked from behind the rock.
And froze.
The creature standing at the summit's far end was… monstrous.
At least five meters tall, its lower half was leonine—thick with muscle, golden fur rippling with each breath. Its paws dug into the rock with massive claws. Above that, the torso of a man, sculpted like a statue, but overgrown with a thick mane of wild, flame-colored hair that reached its waist.
It had four arms—two holding curved scimitars, wickedly sharp, and two bare, likely to wield the trident.
Its skin shimmered faintly with mana, a rich bronze hue pulsing with heat.
Its face was part man, part beast. Sharp feline eyes burned crimson. A nose like a lion's muzzle, but a jaw that clenched like a warrior's. Tribal tattoos etched across its chest glowed with a faint orange light.
Behind it, carved into the mountain stone itself, stood a massive statue of Goddess Durga.
Her eyes were closed. Eight arms rested at her sides, each holding symbolic weapons. She stood still, petrified, as though sealed in slumber. Her expression was serene, but there was a subtle tension in the stonework—like she awaited something. Or someone.
The creature stepped forward and roared.
A name appeared above its head.
Simharaksha / Leonarch — the Eye of Alignment translated it into glowing red glyphs.
So that was its species. A mutant beast, born of rubied lion blood but something entirely different now.
Ashratal appeared in my hand, heavier than before. It thrummed in response, fire instantly coating its blade. Lightning surged down my limbs. My mana skin thickened as I pushed power into my core.
Above, dark clouds began to gather. A storm churned—my storm.
The Leonarch raised its hand. The trident flew back to it, caught between its fingers with effortless grace. Its tail lashed behind it.
This fight wouldn't be easy.
But I didn't come this far to retreat.
"Come on then," I whispered to the wind.
The second seal awaited.
And so did my trial.