Then Archery is my path

"I found you."

The man in the coat approached the bridge with confidence, the faint glow of aether illuminating his path. His sharp eyes scanned the area until they settled on the cave, where light had briefly flickered moments ago.

"I found you. Get out now so we don't waste any more time."

When silence was his only response, he prepared to descend. His confidence remained unshaken; after all, he'd seen Kail's armor earlier and judged it to pose no real threat.

As he landed on the ground with a heavy thud, an arrow shot toward him with startling speed. Relying on his instincts, he extended his hand, certain he could deflect it.

BAM!

The arrow tore through his aether armor, its immense force slamming him into the wall behind him.

"What the hell?!" he roared, writhing in pain. Disbelief clouded his face. He had been sure of the boy's previous capabilities—nothing suggested the potential for such power. How had this happened?

Another arrow whistled toward him. This time, more cautious and alert, he concentrated his aether into his uninjured arm, intercepting it with a focused punch. The arrow stopped short, its energy dissipating on contact.

A third arrow flew in his direction. He managed to sidestep it just in time, the projectile embedding itself into the stone bridge above. But before he could catch his breath, yet another arrow followed, this one finding its mark in his left thigh.

"You son of a beach!" he spat through clenched teeth, staggering slightly from the injury.

More arrows followed, one narrowly missing his head, another lodging itself into the bridge once more.

...

And then, suddenly, the arrows stopped.

Panting, blood dripping from his wounds, the man smirked.

"Finally! Out of arrows, huh? So, what now? Will you come to me, or should I come to you?"

This time, there was an answer—delayed but undeniable.

"It is not necessary."

The voice was faint, barely audible.

From the depths of the cave, a green light began to shimmer—a glowing arrow forming in the shadows, its brightness steadily intensifying. The light crept closer to the cave's exit, and Kail's silhouette emerged. He looked exhausted, his breaths labored, his body swaying slightly as he struggled to remain standing. His aether armor was reduced to two minor components and one medium piece on his right shoulder.

"Hello," he said weakly, a hint of sarcasm lingering in his tone. "Are you ready to die?"

The man's eyes locked onto Kail, his expression shifting to one of disbelief. Before he could react, Kail moved. His figure blurred to the upper left with surprising speed. The man could see him, but his body, weighed down by injuries and exhaustion, couldn't respond. All he could do was watch helplessly as Kail ascended two meters above the bridge.

For a brief moment, Kail's speed decreased. Balanced precariously mid-air, he pulled back the bowstring, an arrow nocked and ready.

With a sharp release, the arrow streaked toward the bridge—not the man. It struck with a thunderous force.

Stage 2: Wind Slash – 1 Blade.

The bridge groaned and buckled. In a matter of seconds, the structure collapsed, debris crashing into the river below. Kail, unable to keep his balance any longer, fell onto his back. The last remnants of his armor flickered and disappeared. His breathing was uneven and heavy, his body trembling as it finally gave in to exhaustion.

For a moment, the night was silent except for Kail's ragged breaths. Then, faint noises stirred from the rubble below.

"No... please," Kail muttered, his voice barely above a whisper. "I really can't move..."

Despite the pain wracking his limbs, he forced himself upright. His legs trembled violently, but with the bow in his hands, he reached into his quiver. Slowly, he retrieved another arrow.

There are still four arrows left, he thought grimly, each breath a battle. It would be better if there are no more unexpected surprises.

Kail approached the edge of the crumbled bridge, peering down. His enemy was still alive. Bloodied and battered, the man clawed his way out from under the rubble, his hand gripping the edge of a shattered beam. His face was a grotesque mask of desperation, his body trembling under the weight of his injuries.

He looked up and saw Kail standing above him, arrow drawn.

"Don't kill me!" the man pleaded. "I'll give you money! My agency has a lot of power—"

Thud.

The man's words were cut off as an arrow buried itself deep into his skull.

Kail exhaled slowly, lowering his bow. "Please, whoever—or devil or god—don't give me any more challenges today. I won't be able to resist for sure."

Kail sighed heavily. He needed to report to the agency immediately; losing consciousness now would mean being out for at least four hours.

„Mission complete. Body is on the 4th floor of an abandoned multi-story car park. The person who received the information is in the nearby park. Cleanup of records is necessary.„

„Information received. Please move away from the location for at least two hours. A specialized team will be dispatched.„

Great," Kail muttered bitterly, it's being taken care of, but now I have to drag myself out of here when it's hard to even take a step.

And that was how Kail turned 17.

April 25, 3108

I slept for an entire day and only woke up in the morning on the 25th.

While I was sleeping, I received a message from the agency:

Your mission has been confirmed and validated. The reward for the completed work has been transferred to your account.

Checking my account, I noticed my balance had increased to 70,000 VA. Initially, I had 15,000 VA. Of that, 5,000 went toward expenses for the first mission. Last month, I'd received 20,000 VA for that work, which meant this mission rewarded me with 40,000 VA—double the amount of a regular assignment. Though, considering how much harder this mission was—about a hundred times harder—it made sense.

The Windstorm Transformation played a key role in saving my life. It temporarily increases the speed of the aether circuit and the amount of aether discharged, but under normal conditions, using it requires at least three medium armor components. It serves as an intermediate stage between the second and fourth stages of the Tempest Flow technique, granting me a critical, albeit temporary, boost.

That was also the first time I managed to execute Wind Slash. It wasn't stable; the wind blade that should have formed as an extension of the arrowhead instead fractured into numerous smaller blades, which damaged the bridge's structure. Fortunately, the arrows I'd embedded in the bridge earlier amplified the effect.

Despite its instability, I can count that as a successful use of Wind Slash. It's another step forward, at least.

"Time to head back home."

Forest Elderwood, Evening

"Master, I'm back."

"How was it?"

Master never changes. It feels as though time freezes in this forest while the outside world keeps moving.

"There were some complications, but overall, everything went well. I managed to open the armor on my right shoulder and even used Wind Slash."

Master slowly turned his head, his sharp gaze cutting through me like a scalpel, analyzing me down to my very molecules.

"Bravo. Show me tomorrow."

And just like that, the moment was over. Without another word, he returned to his reading.

Later that day

The time has come.

I approached Master, locking my gaze onto his eyes with determination.

"I want to enter Altgard Academy."

The air grew heavy as silence stretched between us, a pause that felt like it might crush me.

"That will be hard."

"I know."

"Even if you enter, the chances of graduating even the first year are very small."

"I know."

"You have no allies to sponsor you."

"Yes. I want to try anyway."

Another pause, as if the forest itself was holding its breath.

"When do you plan to take the entrance exam?"

"Next year."

"You'll only have one attempt, and you're choosing to apply a year before the recommended age?"

"If I wait until I'm 18, there's a chance I'll end up in the same year as the representative from Cindercrest."

Master raised one finger, his expression unyielding.

"Condition: You must manage to hit me at least once during our improvised hunts."

"Acceptable," I thought, already imagining some time to relax after agreeing. But Master wasn't done yet—he raised a second finger.

"You must also open your head armor."

"Why? That one is usually the last to open!"

"Do you want to try or not?"

I gritted my teeth, the bitter taste of his condition filling my mouth.

"Yes."