NOVEL NEXT Chapter 40 – The First Hunt
Recap
Previously, Jemil and his wives stepped into the silent settlement, only to find a blue-flamed brazier guarded by a hooded stranger. But peace shattered as monstrous, twisted figures crawled from the shadows — their glowing eyes locked on the group. With the ground trembling and the air thick with killing intent, Jemil's smirk promised only one thing: the hunt was about to begin.
Scene 1 – The First Strike
The air seemed to fold in on itself before the first creature even moved.
One heartbeat, it was crouched low, its pale limbs shivering as if resisting some primal urge. The next heartbeat — gone.
Jemil's instincts screamed, and he pivoted just as something cut the air beside his face. He caught a flash of black claws, each talon long enough to pierce through steel. The sound was like a sword cleaving air, sharp enough to make his ears ache.
His lips curled into the faintest smile. "Fast."
The creature landed behind him, but Jemil didn't bother turning. His right hand shot out, fingers wrapping around its wrist in a grip so tight the beast snarled in surprise. Blue arcs of energy leapt from Jemil's forearm to its twisted flesh, crackling like a storm desperate to escape.
"Not fast enough."
In one brutal movement, Jemil yanked the creature forward and used its own momentum to swing it overhead. It hit the stone wall with a thunderclap of broken masonry. The impact carved a crater in the bricks, spiderweb cracks running outwards like the aftermath of an explosion.
Dust filled the air. Through the haze, Jemil could see two more figures clinging to the edge of the rooftop, their hunched silhouettes trembling with anticipation.
From the shadows above came the eerie tik-tik-tik of claws scraping against tile, and then — a synchronized leap.
Scene 2 – The Wives Unleashed
The two creatures dropped like living shadows, claws outstretched, jaws open in a chorus of raspy screeches.
Kaela was already moving. She didn't wait for them to touch the ground — her sword flared into a blade of pure crimson fire, each ember twisting like it was alive. With a single step, she vanished from sight, reappearing in mid-air. Her strike wasn't just a cut — it was a blazing arc that split the darkness itself.
SHRRRKK!
The first creature never landed. It was cleaved clean through, the flames consuming it before the halves hit the ground.
The second landed hard, knees bending, ready to spring—
—but Liora's bow sang.
The arrow she loosed wasn't wood. It was light itself, compressed into a shaft so bright it left a trail across the night. It struck the beast in the shoulder, detonating in a burst of golden shards. The creature spun, screeching, before slamming into the dirt.
Mirella's voice rose behind them — not loud, but resonant, every syllable curling with ancient weight. The staff in her hands pulsed once, twice, and a halo of intricate symbols spun into existence around her. They weren't just floating — they shifted and rotated, locking into patterns like the tumblers of a divine lock.
A spear of light erupted from the ground in front of her, then another, forming a glowing barricade. Three more creatures charging from the side crashed into the wall, blinded by the radiance before being hurled back as if struck by an unseen giant.
"Keep them busy!" Kaela called, her blade still burning. "Jemil's warming up!"
The air smelled of scorched stone, blood, and something older — like burning incense from a forgotten temple.
Jemil smirked from where he stood in the middle of the chaos, eyes locked on the hooded figure who still hadn't moved.
Scene 3 – The Stranger Moves
The hooded figure's head tilted slightly, as if observing Jemil's every breath.
The fighting around them didn't seem to matter — not Kaela's blade tearing through monsters, not Liora's arrows ripping the air, not Mirella's radiant wall.
"You stand too calmly," the stranger's voice came, deep and smooth, as though echoing from somewhere far older than his body. "Either you are a fool… or you are dangerous."
Jemil rolled his shoulders. "Why can't I be both?"
That was the moment the stranger's hand moved. No flourish, no build-up — just a flick of his wrist. The ground beneath Jemil cracked in a perfect circle, chunks of stone lifting weightlessly before detonating outward.
Jemil's feet slid back, boots grinding against the shifting earth. His eyes narrowed, locking on the stranger's now-visible weapon — a double-ended glaive, its black metal inlaid with glowing crimson veins, like molten rock trapped beneath glass.
The stranger stepped forward. Not ran. Not lunged.
One step — and the space between them vanished.
The glaive's tip came for Jemil's throat, humming with a resonance that made the air vibrate. Jemil ducked, the blade missing by a hair's width, but the force of it carved a deep groove into the stone wall behind him.
He pivoted, fist already surging with crackling blue energy, and aimed for the stranger's ribs —
—but the man twisted, intercepting the strike with the shaft of the glaive. The impact sent shockwaves through the courtyard, scattering dust and sending the nearby creatures stumbling.
"Better," the stranger said, as if appraising a new blade fresh from the forge.
"But not enough."
A sudden pull — not physical, but gravitational — yanked Jemil toward him. The stranger's other hand flared with that same crimson light, his palm opening like it was calling to something deep inside Jemil.
And for the first time, Jemil's smirk faltered.
Scene 4 – The Power He Shouldn't Have
The pull intensified, like invisible chains hooking into Jemil's chest and dragging him forward. His muscles strained against it, every nerve screaming in protest. The air warped around the stranger's hand, heat distorting the space as if reality itself was bending.
Kaela lunged in, blade flashing —
—but the stranger's eyes flicked toward her for only a heartbeat. That was enough. A wave of crimson force burst from him, slamming into her like a hurricane. She hit the ground, rolling twice before digging her sword into the dirt to stop herself.
Liora's bow twanged, three arrows loosed in a blink. The stranger spun his glaive in a lazy circle, and each arrow shattered mid-flight, exploding into harmless motes of light.
Mirella's incantation surged into the air — the symbols around her spun faster, merging into a massive sphere of holy energy —
—only for the stranger to open his palm wider.
The sphere faltered. Then, impossibly, the glow began flowing toward him.
"No—!" Mirella's voice cracked. "That's… that's sacred mana! How—?!"
Jemil's eyes sharpened. So he can steal magic directly… but why mine?
The pull grew sharper, dragging at something far deeper than his flesh. Not just mana. Not just strength.
It was reaching for the sealed core inside him — the thing he swore never to touch.
The air around them exploded into arcs of blue and crimson lightning, lashing out like furious serpents.
Dust swirled in a cyclone, forcing the wives to shield their eyes.
The stranger leaned closer, his voice low but cutting through the storm.
"I know what sleeps inside you, Jemil.
And I will wake it."
That was the moment Jemil's control began to crack. His vision bled white at the edges, the pounding of his own heartbeat drowning out the chaos around him.
Somewhere in the storm, a single word ripped from his throat —
"ENOUGH!"
The ground erupted.
Stone pillars shot up like the teeth of an ancient beast, the courtyard splitting open under his feet. The pull on his core shattered, replaced by an outward burst of raw force that threw the stranger back several meters.
For a fraction of a second, everyone froze.
Then Jemil took a step forward… and his eyes glowed with a light no one had ever seen before.
Scene 5 – The Unveiling
The light in Jemil's eyes wasn't the electric blue his wives knew.
It was deeper. Wilder. Almost… alive.
Energy coiled around him like a storm given shape — twisting strands of black and silver, flickering with occasional bursts of searing white. The air grew heavy, the kind of heaviness that made every breath feel like lifting a boulder.
The stranger, still standing with glaive in hand, tilted his head.
"…So it's true."
Jemil clenched his fists, and the ground responded like a living thing. Hairline cracks spiderwebbed outward from his boots, glowing faintly before vanishing as quickly as they formed.
Kaela's voice broke through the tension. "Jemil… your eyes—"
He didn't answer. He couldn't. The power pressing against his skin was barely under control, each pulse threatening to spill past his limits.
The stranger spun his glaive once, planting the blade into the ground. "You've been hiding this from them, haven't you?"
His smirk deepened. "How… selfish."
The words didn't sting. Jemil was too focused on keeping the roaring energy from tearing free.
A gust of wind swept through, carrying dust, sparks, and the metallic taste of ozone.
Then, without warning, Jemil moved.
To everyone watching, it looked like teleportation — one moment he was there, the next he was in front of the stranger, fist already in motion. The impact landed squarely against the glaive's shaft, but this time the weapon screamed under the pressure, cracks spidering along its surface.
The stranger staggered back, eyes narrowing for the first time. "Interesting…"
But Jemil wasn't done. His second strike came from above, his hand wreathed in coiling tendrils of silver fire. When it met the ground, the impact unleashed a shockwave so violent it ripped through the courtyard walls, sending shards of stone flying in every direction.
Kaela shielded Liora with her body, Mirella throwing up a barrier just in time to block the debris.
The dust cleared slowly, revealing Jemil standing alone in the crater, breathing hard —
—and the stranger, still on his feet, but finally without that smug calm.
He chuckled, low and dangerous.
"Yes. This is what I came for."
And then, with a single twist of his glaive, the stranger's body dissolved into a streak of crimson light… vanishing from the battlefield entirely.
Jemil's power flared once more, then dimmed, his knees nearly buckling. Kaela and Mirella rushed to his side, but the look in his eyes wasn't relief.
It was dread.
Because the stranger hadn't been trying to win.
He'd been testing the lock.