Martial Demons Ascension

Rhyka's golden gaze stayed fixed on the hollow in his Martial Vision, that strange patch of nothingness spread like a wound across the web of threads. It gnawed at him, unnatural. Too deliberate. He had extended his sight again and again, forcing the golden lines to sharpen, but the void refused to yield its secrets.

Then, movement.

Not in the forest. Not in the mist.

From Cerys.

A tiny twitch in her cheek. A narrowing of her eyes as she scanned the fog to their right. Too small for most to notice. But Rhyka did. His Martial Vision caught the subtle change in her breathing rhythm, the flicker of tension running through her muscles.

She had seen it too. Or something else. And like him, she was pretending.

The thought barely had time to form before Rhyka's body screamed at him.

Not his golden vision. Not the web of light. His body.

The heightened senses forged through months of Martial Essence coursing into his heart roared awake. His skin prickled, every pore alert. His ears caught the faint displacement of mist. His nose flared with the sudden stench of musk and rot.

His muscles moved before he could think.

Rhyka threw himself sideways, spear gripped tight. A shadow tore through the space he had occupied an instant before.

Claws.

The impact of the strike ripped through the mist with brutal force, a clawed hand swiping past his shoulder. Pain bloomed as three shallow cuts carved across his flesh, the skin splitting despite its hardened resilience. The sting was sharp, the warmth of blood seeping fast.

Rhyka landed in a crouch, spear angled defensively, his golden eyes flashing.

And then he saw it.

The thing stood where he had been a heartbeat earlier.

At first glance, it resembled a hound, lean, four-legged, with a predator's gait. But the closer he looked, the more wrong it became. Its proportions were twisted, stretched too long at the limbs. Its fur was black streaked with grey, matted and oily. And its face,

Too human.

The snout was shortened, the jaw too flat, the eyes too forward-facing. Its mouth pulled back in a grotesque grin that revealed rows of yellow, serrated teeth. The eyes, sickly pale, ringed with black, intelligent in a way no beast's should be.

It watched him. Followed his movements with deliberate precision.

The thing's claws flexed, stained with his blood. It lowered itself, shoulders rolling unnaturally like a man preparing to spring.

The dull ache in Rhyka's shoulder pulsed, but he ignored it. Pain didn't matter. What mattered was the truth.

The hound had come from nowhere.

But the void in his Martial Vision, it hadn't moved.

They weren't the same.

The realization churned in his mind, sharp and cold. The void remained exactly where it had been, untouched and static, while the hound prowled just outside its borders. Two anomalies. Two problems.

Rhyka's voice cut through the mist, sharp and controlled.

"On your left!"

Cerys's spear darted, catching the hound's flank as it lunged toward Rhyka again, its attempt to switch targets failing. The beast twisted mid-air, claws scraping against the shaft, the impact ringing like steel on steel. It landed heavily, circling them both, its too-human eyes flicking between them.

Rhyka's golden web expanded again, threads racing to map its intent. The beast's movements lit up in jagged lines of crimson possibility, each lunge and swipe painted before it happened. He could see where it would strike.

But his body's instincts whispered something else, it was stronger than it looked.

The shallow cuts on his shoulder throbbed with proof.

He shifted his stance, spear leveled, golden eyes burning.

One threat at a time.

The void could wait.

The hound, grotesque and grinning, padded through the mist toward them, claws glinting faintly as if eager for more blood.

Rhyka smirked despite himself, teeth bared faintly.

"Alright, then," he muttered. "Let's see how fast you really are."

Cerys's spear twitched in her grip as her gaze tore from the void Rhyka had been watching, back to the fog. Her lips parted, a curse barely forming before she snapped her weapon forward.

Whsshh—!

Two compressed bullets of wind roared out, sharp enough to shear bark from a nearby tree.

Both were deflected.

Not by chance, by claws.

The mist parted in twin streaks of motion as two more hounds stepped out. Their twisted, too-human faces gleamed faintly in the gloom, pale eyes wide with that same grotesque intelligence. Their fur rippled black and grey, muscles bunching under their lean frames.

Three of them now.

One circling with a grin already bloodied from grazing Rhyka's shoulder. Two flanking, claws twitching, as if savoring the hunt.

And in that heartbeat, Rhyka understood.

Cerys hadn't seen the void at all. She had seen them. She had known there were more. And she hadn't told him.

The thought burned hot, but there was no time for anger. He shoved it into the back of his mind, the golden lattice of Martial Essence blooming across his vision in full.

Threads stretched outward, painting every possible line of motion. The hounds were fast, faster than most Rank 3 beasts he had read about, but the lattice mapped them. The lattice always mapped them.

Danger surged across his senses like ringing bells.

Rhyka moved first.

He burst forward, spear leveled, the long shaft singing as he spun it into motion. The hounds reacted instantly, their too-human eyes flashing as they split, circling.

The first lunged low. Rhyka's spear whipped down, the butt end slamming into its skull with a crack. The beast yelped but twisted unnaturally, its claws still raking the air. Rhyka pivoted, the spear's length carrying him out of reach by a breath.

The second darted in from the flank, claws extended. Rhyka shifted his grip, sliding the weapon into a thrust that met the beast's chest, only for the impact to jolt up his arms. The hide was tougher than it looked, the spear biting shallow before being forced aside.

The third didn't attack at all. It prowled behind them, waiting for an opening, pale eyes flicking between Cerys and Rhyka with unsettling focus.

Cerys cursed under her breath. Her spear blurred in practiced arcs, wind mana wrapping around its edge as she deflected a swipe that would have gutted her thigh. She moved fast, but her breathing had already sharpened.

"Keep up!" she barked at Rhyka, though her eyes didn't leave the beasts.

Rhyka almost laughed. His body was already running hotter than hers, mid Rank 2 in raw physicals, and in endurance and senses, beyond even most Rank 3s. Every pore of his skin screamed warning. Every shift of the hounds' weight lit golden in his vision.

He didn't answer. He just fought.

The spear's length was his advantage. He spun, pivoted, stabbed, using the reach to keep the beasts at bay. His strikes weren't wild, they were precise, each angle calculated to push the hounds off balance, to control space, to give himself breathing room.

But these weren't normal beasts.

They learned.

The one with the grazed clawed his spear aside with uncanny timing, forcing Rhyka to twist or lose his grip. Another darted low, feinting a lunge before snapping back, its pale eyes glinting with recognition as it tested his reactions.

The lattice burned brighter, lines of possibility crisscrossing faster, sharper. His body thrummed with the effort to keep up.

One mistake would be fatal.

And Cerys, her spear clashed against claws again, wind bursts scattering mist as she forced one back. She was good. Skilled. But he could see it, her rhythm breaking. Her breathing ragged. These things were pressing her, learning her patterns too.

Rhyka grit his teeth, his golden eyes narrowing as his spear spun in a blur.

Three Rank 3 beasts. Too fast, too cunning.