Looking from afar, her eyes lit up. She gave Eleanor Clark a hard slap on the shoulder and said, “Learn well from me. In less than a cycle of cold and warm seasons, you’ll become an outstanding hunter. Maybe you’ll even have a chance to be promoted to a warrior. At the very least, I won’t have to worry about you anymore.”

Eleanor Clark couldn’t help but feel both amused and exasperated. He had already recovered a bit of his strength—just a fraction of his peak, but taking down the girl would be a matter of lifting a finger.

Yet in the girl’s mind, he was still that weak man who always needed protection. And it wasn’t just her; judging by the looks from the other villagers earlier, it seemed everyone thought the same.

Once they were ready, the two of them passed through the tall grass at the entrance and entered the forest.

Strangely, the moment they emerged from the tall grass, Eleanor Clark once again felt as if he was passing through a thin membrane, stepping from one world into another. The transition between the two worlds wasn’t seamless; there was a barely perceptible gap. Through this gap, Eleanor Clark seemed to catch a glimpse of something.

He straightened up, and suddenly a wave of dizziness hit his mind. Abruptly, he saw a man in the distance staring at him.

That man was even taller than Eleanor Clark, every muscle on his body as hard as iron. The lines on his face were chiseled as if carved by knife and axe, each one so sharp it seemed it could pierce anything. Even his slightly messy stubble formed an unforgettable image in memory.

But the most striking thing was the man’s eyes. They were indescribable—hollow, cold, indifferent, ruthless. In those eyes, there was only destruction, the end of all worlds.

At that moment, it felt as if a heavy stone was pressing on Eleanor Clark’s heart, so heavy he couldn’t breathe, making even breathing a struggle. An inescapable sense of powerlessness instantly spread through his body, as if he were trapped in the deepest nightmare.

He struggled to breathe, but his chest heaved without drawing in a single breath of air. In this terrifying nightmare, there was also an uncontrollable rage.

That rage crashed around in his chest, making him want to roar, to scream, to pounce and tear that man to pieces. But despite the anger, he still couldn’t shake off that deep sense of helplessness—so helpless it was almost despair.

“What’s wrong with you? Wake up!” The girl’s voice sounded in his ear, faint at first, then gradually clearer.

The image of the man in the distance became distorted and blurry, slowly fading away. Only then did Eleanor Clark return to reality. He looked around, then at the girl. Her mouth was moving the whole time, but he couldn’t hear a thing.

“Are you alright? Why did you suddenly collapse?” The girl dragged him to a big tree and helped him sit against it.

He reached up and touched his forehead, which was covered in large beads of sweat, sticking his hair to his brow. Supporting himself on the tree, he slowly stood up. Only then did the sense of powerlessness that had tormented him in the nightmare gradually fade, and he regained control over his body.

Eleanor Clark’s lips curled up slightly in a smile. “I’m fine, just… a bit tired.”

The girl looked puzzled. “Didn’t you eat enough?”

“No, it’s nothing. I’ll be fine soon. Let’s go, but we’ll need to go a bit slower now.”

The girl nodded, showing a rare bit of consideration. “Alright, I’ll try to go slow. Before we reach the hunting grounds, let me tell you about some hunting techniques. These are all basics—you should be able to pick them up quickly.”

Eleanor Clark nodded and silently followed the girl through the woods. She kept talking, but he didn’t take in a word. At that moment, his mind was completely occupied by that man’s face.

He had already remembered: this man was his nemesis from ten thousand years ago, the spiritual leader of the rebel army, said to be the person closest to a god among the three thousand star domains, possessing an immortal body…

But then Eleanor Clark suddenly realized that no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t recall the man’s name. Yet related memories kept surfacing one after another.

They were all fragmented images, with no clear sense of time or connection between them. Most were blurry, only a few still recognizable as meaningful scenes.

One image was especially clear: a battlefield, corpses piled everywhere.

Eleanor Clark was lying among the bodies, unable to move, his senses almost gone. The only clear feeling left was the still-warm blood constantly flowing over him. It was the blood of comrades, and of enemies, now mingled together.

In the distance, several mysterious figures in black robes were walking away. One of them seemed to sense Eleanor Clark’s gaze and suddenly turned back.

In that instant, all that remained in Eleanor Clark’s memory were those eyes—eyes filled with the deathly silence of a world’s end.

The images in his mind gradually blurred, and a hand appeared in front of Eleanor Clark’s eyes, waving up and down.

Chapter 9: The Scaled Shadow Beast

“Hey, I just said so much—were you even listening?” The girl’s face was full of anger. Clearly, she’d noticed she was being ignored and was starting to get mad.

Eleanor Clark nodded.

The girl glared at him, stomping her foot hard and saying resentfully, “There’s never any expression on your face! It’s so annoying! Can’t you smile? Or at least cry!”

Eleanor Clark looked at her quietly, staring until the girl grew a bit uneasy and looked away.