The Primal Hunter 9: A LitRPG AdventureAudiobook

Chapter 1

Focus Perfected

Duskleaf appeared beside the Malefic Viper and joined him in staring down at the young human within the time chamber.

"Did you ask me to come by simply to confuse me?" Duskleaf asked the Viper while looking down at Jake.

He had a break from assisting his master, as he could handle everything there himself for now. This had allowed Duskleaf to send his clone back to help the little elf girl catch up and make sure she stayed on top of her studies without any of his personal projects being affected. He even had time for this brief excursion to see what Jake was up to. At first glance, he didn’t learn much…

Though there was one thing.

"Why has he embedded the weapon in his chest?" Duskleaf asked. He saw that Jake had the weapon he had created firmly stabbed into his own chest—or, more accurately, into his own heart. At first, Duskleaf thought he was absorbing some of the curse energy from it directly into his body, but he felt no movements of energy.

"Good question," his master said, smiling. "Sadly, I have no bloody idea. What I do know is that what he wants to accomplish is linked to that mythical weapon of his."

"Further strengthening his connection to a Sin weapon does not seem wise,” Duskleaf said, disapproving. “It may influence his Path and lead him somewhere he did not intend to go.”

"It will only become a problem if he allows the curse to influence him too much. Besides, from my understanding, what he is doing is more than merely strengthening the Soulbound connection.”

Duskleaf looked a bit at the young man below and sighed. "How long has he been in there, anyway?"

"From whose point of view?" the Viper asked.

"His."

"I would say… about forty years, give or take?"

Duskleaf frowned. Not that long for himself, but a notable amount of time for a D-grade. "Has he⁠—"

"Yep. Every single goddamn second."

The old alchemist nodded. He stared at Jake and saw how he still remained focused. Not a single disturbance could be detected in his aura. There was only a sensation of serenity and focus from his master’s Chosen as he worked on his task.

Duskleaf had lived for… a while. He’d had many students during this time, having not taken the position of Grand Elder of the Academy in the Order just for show. Throughout the years, one learned things.

There had been heaven-sent geniuses. Individuals who had formed several legendary skills in F-grade, alchemists who had crafted as if they were three times their own level, living encyclopedias, and absolute monsters of mana control. Yet none of these had ever made it to godhood. They had made it far, gotten powerful and respected, but ultimately, they had fallen short despite everyone saying they would no doubt ascend.

A foolish assumption on their part that they would make it. An arrogance born of talent. In some ways, Duskleaf even pitied them, because geniuses tended to all run into the same problem down the road. They became impatient.

For a prodigy in magic, forming legendary skills, amazing all your peers, and showing off by killing foes in higher grades were all expected. They would be hailed and respected, but as they got stronger and stronger, things began to change.

Rather than compete with individuals that were D-grade and had trained for a century, they would meet C-grades who had lived for millennia. They would meet B-grades who had lived for tens of thousands of years. Even if this heaven-sent genius was only a few hundred years max, could he truly make up the gap formed by fifty thousand years of experience and practice? Most couldn’t.

Not to misunderstand, they were still talents. These people would catch up, becoming stronger than the old expert in a fraction of the time, but they rarely did. They got frustrated. They saw magic a mage had spent ten thousand years making and couldn’t comprehend how they hadn’t perfected it themselves in a decade. In a way, their talents became their downfall, as they had never learned the act of patience.

Never learned to struggle. Never learned to truly focus. Never stood before what seemed like an insurmountable barrier and, rather than giving up or trying to find a way around, slowly and methodologically figured out a way to climb it, a single inch at a time.

Duskleaf smiled as he looked at Jake below. The young Chosen did not need to struggle. He could cruise relatively easily through these grades but chose not to. In all honesty, Jake was not the most talented person Duskleaf had seen—far from it. He was good, definitely top-tier, but there were some true monsters nearly beyond comparison out there.

However, what set Jake apart was that his talent also seemed to include a different mindset. A mind that was able to have a singular focus on a task. He remembered hearing the assessment from the trial dungeon, where Jake had gained the highest possible assessment from that part of the alchemy test. Coupled with his inability to give up once he set a goal for himself, it truly set him apart.

It was like he loved every task set before him. As if the more challenging he found a task, the more enjoyable he would find it, and if the difficulty of a task was the mundanity of it, he would simply view overcoming his own boredom and lack of stimulation as just another challenge to beat. In a way, he truly was a born hunter, regardless of whether the object of his hunt was killing or success. Even if Jake was not talented, he would go far through sheer force of will.

This part of Jake reminded Duskleaf a bit of…

"I remember this one student I myself took in," the Viper spoke. "Not to mince words, but damn, did he suck. His mana control was all over the place. He took months to even figure out how to make the basic potions, and even longer to properly learn how to make poisons without constantly hurting himself. Oh, and don’t even get me started on rituals. The only thing he was even faintly talented in was using his Alchemical Flame."

The old alchemist shook his head and stroked his beard. "Master, I⁠—"

"Man, was he a dunce. I was amazed at how bad he was, yet this idiot kept trying. Kept attempting to craft things even after failing a thousand times and kept improving himself one small step at a time. Usually, we talk about people meeting barriers in their Path, but this guy was running an obstacle course from day one. Yet he kept slowly trodding forward. Shit, he was downright crawling at times. He was just a stubborn fool who loved alchemy far too much to give up, no matter how badly he sucked at it. Though I guess he did become decent at it after spending a long enough time bashing his head into the cauldron."

The Malefic Viper looked at Duskleaf with a smile.

"Wouldn’t you agree, my dear dunce of a disciple?"

Two katars clashed as the two identical men slid back, both also raising a hand and releasing a blast of energy. Simultaneously, they dodged and circled around to clash again. Every hit was blocked or dodged, with both fighters looking for an opening.

Finally, one presented itself. Both katars were aimed at the thigh of the opponent, but suddenly, both men froze, their eyes flashing yellow. The fight paused for half a second as both disengaged from their attack and drew bows, nocking and firing two arrows in unison.

The two arrows collided in mid-air, falling to the ground where they had met. Two more arrows flew, curved in opposite directions so as not to clash. Dodging them both was effortless for the two men, as they switched tactics in concert.

They both stormed forward and clashed weapons, blocking and dodging. Rather than a fight, it looked more like a choreographed dance, and in some ways, that was a more accurate description of what their bout had devolved into.

The weapons stabbed and swiped, yet neither man was hit as they got closer and closer, each blow missing by mere millimeters. Then they both swung, their two katars meeting with a hard impact. Both men decided to dive forward to tackle the other. Both failed as the other countered, and once more, both froze.

Two katars, each at the neck of the other. All either had to do was slightly move forward to find purchase. Yet, the first to move would also be the one to incite a response, and if everything went as it had the other times, that person would end up the loser.

"Another tie," Jake spoke.

"Nine hundred and ninety-two in a row," sim-Jake answered. "We don’t need to reach a thousand."

Jake wasn’t sure how long it had been, but it felt like neither had landed a decisive blow on the other for more than a year. In fact, it had been months since either had even inflicted a wound. Trading blows had entirely stopped, as both knew that committing too far to actually deal damage would result in a worse counterattack.

"This has indeed become meaningless," Jake agreed. There was nothing more to learn and nothing more to teach.

Sim-Jake and Jake had exhausted all there was to learn from the other about combat. Sim-Jake had learned to use the bow merely by observing and copying Jake, and Jake had done the same with the melee fighting style of sim-Jake.

It hurt for Jake to admit, but sim-Jake had reached his level of archery far before Jake reached sim-Jake’s skill level in melee combat. However, now—and for the last few… years?—there has been no difference between them. Outside of magic, neither could do anything the other couldn’t. Sim-Jake had even learned to use a few important skills of the regular Jake here and there, including Gaze.

There was no debate that the real Jake had benefited the most from this. It had not been the initial plan, but Jake had naturally learned all there was to the fighting style. Both of them had kind of hoped to improve it together, but they’d found it impossible within the Soulspace.

Jake and sim-Jake were both the kinds of fighters who needed experience to improve. They needed actual combat. In fact, even trying to improve the style by only fighting each other could end up worsening it, as it would be adapted to fighting against someone with his Bloodline. No, they needed new opponents to improve.

Sim-Jake and Jake looked at each other for a bit, as they both knew. Both felt it.

"It’s time."

"It’s time."

Having spoken in unison, they smiled. There was nothing they could do, nothing more to learn. Sim-Jake’s body already gave off a sensation reminiscent of Eternal Hunger, and the cursed beast no longer attacked sim-Jake whenever he got close, even if it did still want to eat the regular Jake.

"You finish up here and head towards the dungeon,” sim-Jake said. “I will finish up the final attunement progress and prepare for the final merge."

Jake smiled, somewhat melancholy. "I guess this is goodbye, then."

No matter what happened next, sim-Jake would not be the same. Once the skill was made, and he was fully integrated with Eternal Hunger, his Records would fully join and become one with Jake’s. Jake felt a bit bad seeing his other self go, even if he knew it was for the best.

In the outside world, the bone that held sim-Jake’s existence had already begun to show signs of failure. Microcracks covered it entirely, and even if it remained sturdy enough and was still useful, Jake knew it was close to the end of its lifespan.

Sim-Jake staying a separate entity forever had always been impossible; they had discussed it so many times. His other self had even sped this up by giving away his memories and Records. Sim-Jake had admitted that he could no longer remember a damn thing from before the system in his simulated reality—nothing aside from what Jake had seen during his vision, anyway. Even the tutorial was just snippets here and there. His only reasons for retaining an ego now were his inherent will to survive, and the fact that he had actively worked to remain separate.

But all things must come to an end.

"It does seem like that," sim-Jake said, nodding in response. "Though I think goodbye is a bit too strong of a word. It is more that I will change. In some ways, wasn’t this what I wanted? To evolve to something that didn’t need a profession? Something more than human? Being an embodiment of an ancient curse must qualify there."

"Well-argued.” Jake smiled.

"Besides, aren’t you afraid that I am going to pull a fast one and try to take over your body at the very last second?" sim-Jake teased.

"We both know I would see that coming," Jake teased back.

"And my intuition is saying it wouldn’t work anyway.” Sim-Jake shrugged. "Now, get going. We have a hydra to kill and a skill to create. And stop being so damn gloomy. If everything works out, you will never be completely rid of me."

"Rather than goodbye, then… see you around."

In the outside world, Jake opened his eyes. The katar in his chest disappeared, the wound healing nearly instantly. Jake stood up, noting that his body was slightly rigid from sitting down for… years? Jake didn’t know how long had passed. It didn’t matter right now either.

"I’m done," Jake spoke.

He felt the odd sensation from the time chamber slowly grind to a halt as his eyes opened wide. He felt dizzy, and the world started spinning. His body began hurting all over, but he gritted his teeth and tried to soldier through. Nearly fifteen minutes passed before his body had adapted, making him feel normal again—just in time for Villy to teleport in.

"I assume it has been fruitful," the god said.

"Yeah… can we talk after I am done?"

"You don’t even wanna know how long you were in there? How much time passed in the real world?"

"Later. For now, please help me get to the dungeon.” Sim-Jake, within his Soulspace, was ready. They both were. Delaying them would only reduce their chances.

The Viper simply nodded as the two teleported away, appearing before a gate.

"Good luck," Villy said, not asking further or saying anything.

Jake nodded, placed his hand on the gate, and accepted the prompt to enter. In the very next moment, he disappeared. He had been told of this combat dungeon. It was a gauntlet of sorts, with several images of old, powerful members of the Order saved. The strongest of which was naturally the Lord Protector.

He had no interest in any other target.

Appearing within a hall, a projection instantly popped up in front of him. "Welcome to the⁠—"

Without hesitation, Jake released his aura, as well as everything that indicated his identity.

"I am the Chosen of the Malefic Viper; take me to fight the Lord Protector’s image," Jake said, having no desire or time to delay.

The projection merely waved its hand, and Jake was teleported once more. He appeared in the same swamp as last time. In the distance, he saw his target.

Jake then pulled out two things: the bone katar and another item he had been saving for this occasion.

[Partly Digested Phantomshade Fang (Unique)] – A Phantomshade Fang granted by the system to the newly integrated 93rd Universe. Contains a vast amount of energy and Records that will allow any compatible beast that consumes it to grow far faster and gain magical skills and abilities related to dark and space magic. This fang is already partly digested, having only a bit of the original energy left.

He just needed its energy to stabilize the bone long enough for them to succeed while also giving sim-Jake a good boost of energy. As the energy within was already primed, Jake easily tossed the katar and fang into a cauldron and used Touch to temporarily strengthen the weapon.

It took less than ten minutes before Jake pulled out the improved katar, which now had all its minor cracks filled with dark energy. The weapon wouldn’t last much longer, but it should be enough. Jake took it in his left hand as Eternal Hunger appeared in the other. The hydra in the distance noticed Jake the moment he let his aura loose and began walking towards it.

[Two-Headed Hydra of Perennial Consumption – lvl 199]

Time for a proper rematch, Jake thought, smiling to himself as he shot forward to face the beast in melee combat.