Legend of the Misfit

[I must think of something, else I'd be dead.]

He continued panting heavily; the leaves brushed his face as he shoved himself through them. The demons kept him at arm's length, whistling to each other as they closed in.

[Yes!]

Using his necklace artifact and smaller frame to his advantage, he shoved himself down a pit beneath a tree's root and covered it with leaves. 

He breathed steadily, squatting while gripping tightly around the dagger. 

His heart raced, his body trembling yet determined. He sniffled and brushed at himself repeatedly, trying to ignore the foul odor of the cloak.

A few minutes passed, and it felt like his escape had been successful—until he sensed an aura looming over him.

He braced himself, eyes wide open, ready to attack the moment he was discovered.

[Please, don't find me.]

He prayed, hoped, and did the best he could, but his prayers were unanswered. In a flash, the leaves were brushed off the pit's cover; in an instant, his dagger was thrust into the demon's neck.

[I never knew I could react that fast… damn.]

He shoved the demon away from the cover, managed his way out of the pit, and began dragging the corpse to a distance.

Just as Killian was dragging the corpse, an aura loomed over him. Before he could react, a demon stood before him with a bow drawn and ready to strike.

"Swoosh"

[Damn… missed.]

Seizing the moment, Killian charged forward, giving no time to reload. Propping himself off a tree, he leaped toward him, delivering a kick to his jaw and twisting his neck.

In an instant, Killian shoved the dagger into his forehead.

[I must leave.]

He hurriedly stripped off their cloaks and bolted away without a second thought.

After hours of running with no signs of the demons, he finally paused, propping his hands against his knees as he panted heavily.

His heart raced, and his temperature spiked.

He sat on the ground, leaning against a tree.

He raised his hand and checked his ink.

[Still red, huh?]

He thought, struggling to catch his breath.

After a while, he sniffed the two cloaks he had taken, chose the one with the least foul odor, and changed into it, tossing the other into the bushes.

[Whoa… I'm near the border.]

His head tilted upward as he stared at the thick, smoky haze filling the air. He was near the border between the Cursed and Forbidden Forest.

Realizing he was only a few days away from Morningstar's mansion, he decided to rest before continuing his journey.

He relaxed his limbs and his body, leaning his weight against the tree as the thick air brushed against his skin.

He lay there as his eyelids grew heavy, and his mind wandered—wondering if he should go back, despite not turning black or feeling any stronger.

Before he could find an answer to his question, he drifted into sleep.

After barely an hour, he instinctively jolted awake. A massive aura loomed over him, and he could feel it as the creature's stomps made the ground tremble.

He sat on the ground, his head snapping up as his eyes darted around. Gripping his dagger, he hurriedly dashed into the bushes.

[I never knew ants were this huge. And an aura?]

What approached him was a giant ant—its head, thorax, and abdomen all resembling a normal ant, only massive in scale.

[Perhaps, this might turn me black.]

Without a second thought, Killian dashed toward the ant, leaped on its leg, and sliced his dagger against its cuticle.

[Whoa… no damage.]

He instinctively fell back, creating a distance between himself and the ant.

In an instant, the ant let out a shrill alarm, raised its body, opened its jaws, and charged at Killian.

Killian slid between its legs, slashing its abdomen as the ant's greenish hemolymph splattered across his face.

Killian knelt on one knee, wiping his face in disgust.

[So the abdomen would work. Hah.] He smirked as he watched the ant move erratically before curling up.

In an instant, it splashed acid everywhere. Killian reacted just in time, narrowly avoiding the burning liquid. 

He stood frozen, eyes wide open and heart racing, as he watched the acid dissolve the leaves it touched.

[Whoa… I must kill it.]

Killian stood still, watching as the ant continued to move erratically, curling its body in distress.

He waited for the right moment, then seized it—dashing toward the ant. With precise timing, he pushed off its leg and leaped onto its mesosoma.

He braced himself as the ant curled, then drove his dagger into its abdomen repeatedly until the creature finally collapsed to the ground.

Killian calmly sat on the ant's corpse, sighed, and checked his ink.

[I guess I will need something bigger than an ant.] He shook his head.

He collapsed on the ant's thorax, back first, and stretched his body.

[Should I go back?] He shook his head. [No, no… I'm not stronger yet.]

He had spent more than a week, killed more than the average, yet his ink remained red.

Doubts crept in, and his fate wavered, but he knew this wasn't where he wanted it to end.

After resting on the ant for a while, he hurled himself down and began putting distance between himself and the corpse.

Killian suddenly paused midway. Though he had put enough distance between himself and the corpse, that wasn't the reason he stopped.

He scanned the area for a warm, gentle spot and settled. Wasting no time, he dove into his training routine.

Pushing past his limits, he resolved to surpass all his previous records.

After nearly a full day of training without food or water, he shattered all his previous records.

He pushed past his limits—450 push-ups, 500 squats, four hours of shadow boxing, slicing a falling leaf four times before it touched the ground, and finally, calming his nerves with a three-hour yoga session.

With his previous records shattered, Killian decided to return to Morningstar and the others. Yet, despite his relentless training, he still couldn't shake the lingering feeling that he still wasn't strong enough. 

He left his journey in the wildlands behind, but the path to becoming stronger remained wide open.

[I must learn more about my core.]

Despite his decision, he needed rest. He sat with his back leaning against a tree, slowly drifting off. 

In no time, he had completely drifted into sleep.

Killian slept for nearly a day. When he woke, his body screamed in pain, and the wound on his chest had partially healed.

He pressed himself against the ground and leaped to his feet. Holding his waist, he let out a deep sigh.

Without a second thought, he grabbed his dagger and set off on his path back home. 

[What if they aren't there?]

As he thought, his stomach rumbled. He steadied his movements, scanning the area for food.

After hours into his journey, his stomach remained empty, and not even an insect crossed his path. 

With his lips dry and his stomach devouring itself, his movements grew unsteady, and his vision blurred.

But in an instant, a massive swarm of aura jolted him back to his senses. 

He could tell it wasn't from the demons he encountered earlier—It was far too overwhelming for a lower demon. 

[These are upper demons.]

His interest piqued, and he took steady steps toward the aura. Once within reach, he peeked through the bushes.

Before his eyes stood upper demons, clutching countless artifacts as they shoved themselves into an underground tunnel.

[A route to the circuit?]

Killian remained hidden, watching as all five upper demons entered the tunnel and sealed its cover.

Once they were gone, he hurried to the tunnel's cover and began his observation.

[I might make it to the circuit after all.]

He grinned.

He scanned the area, memorizing its location to inform the others.

[Sh*t.]

To his horror, he found himself surrounded by dozens of the same demons from before. But this time, they hadn't come alone—they had brought in an army. 

They were all red inks, armed, and the scars on their bodies and the fury in their eyes told Killian everything he needed to know—they were battle-hardened.

Killian stood in the midst of them, his body trembling as he calculated his way out.

[Tackle the weaker one and flee.] He nodded.

Out of the corner of his left eye, he spotted a kid his size, clutching a small stick.

[Easy!]

He charged toward the kid, but he could strike, "Swoosh."

An arrow pierced his chest.

[Archers in the woods?]

He instinctively yanked out the arrow, but his vision blurred, and his movements faltered.

The demons erupted into laughter, but the louder they laughed, the more distant their voices seemed to Killian.

"I'm poisoned."

He murmured as his eyes drifted shut. But in that instant, an urge surged through him—forcing his eyes open. When he did, he found a crushed skull in his inked hand. 

Yet, his eyes closed again, and the next he felt was his body collapsing on the ground.