NOVGO.NET Chapter 56: First Strike
Chapter 56: First Strike
The familiar, weightless sensation of spatial displacement washed over Atlas, dissolving the quiet darkness of his dormitory room into a swirling storm of deep violet mana.
His boots touched down firmly onto the damp earth at the peak of the grassy hill. The cool, oxygen-rich air of the simulated domain rushed into his lungs, carrying the sharp scents of pine needles, wet soil, and lingering ash.
Beside him, a sudden surge of blue soul-fire flared into existence as Skull materialised, his bone-plated jaw clicking softly as he fell into a low, vigilant stance.
Atlas didn’t waste a second. His dark green eyes immediately scanned the sky above the ancient canopy below.
In the real world, hours had passed, but inside this simulated slice of the Forest of the Ancients, time was a fixed loop.
The sky was still painting itself in deep shades of twilight, the lingering violet light slowly drowning beneath the creeping blackness of night.
"Last time, we got caught off guard because we treated this domain like a daytime hunt," Atlas said, his voice quiet as he crouched beside Skull.
He reached down, patting the smooth, cold bone plate between the hound’s eye sockets.
"The Chimera didn’t just stumble onto us. It waited for the sun to sink, using the dark to hide its heat flare and stalk us while we were exhausted. It’s a nocturnal apex predator."
Skull let out a low, crackling rumble deep in his ribcage, his glowing eye-flames narrowing to sharp points.
He remembered the blinding heat of the molten maw just as vividly as Atlas did.
"We aren’t running tonight," Atlas declared, standing up and unbuckling his gear straps. "We’re setting a trap."
They descended the slope, heading straight for a narrow rocky clearing nestled between two steep limestone ridges about a mile out from the riverbank.
It was a natural chokepoint — surrounded on three sides by sheer stone walls, leaving only a twenty foot wide entrance framed by towering, ancient oaks.
If the Ember-Scale Chimera wanted to hunt them tonight, it would have to march straight through the front door.
"First step: suppression," Atlas instructed, kneeling near the center of the ravine floor.
He pulled three dull, grey soul-stones from his storage space — condensed mana catalysts he had forged during his early trials.
"We can’t hide our energy completely, but we can scramble it."
Atlas drove his practice blade into the dirt, carving precise, intersecting arc lines into the soil.
He placed the soul-stones into the triangular points of the array, channeling a thin thread of shadow energy into the centre.
The carved lines lit up with a dim, flickering dark light before sinking into the earth.
Instantly, the ambient mana inside the narrow clearing felt heavy and warped, creating an artificial energy dead-zone that muffled physical vibrations and suppressed soul signatures.
"Skull, you take the high ground," Atlas directed, pointing his blade toward the ridge on the right.
"You hide your fire until I draw its first breath attack. The second its throat ignites, you drop from above and strike the soft scale joint beneath its left shoulder. That’s where its heat core vents."
Skull didn’t bark. He simply turned, his skeletal paws clicking soundlessly against the stone as he bounded up the craggy rock face, vanishing into the deep shadows of the upper cliff.
With the ambush layout set, Atlas turned his attention to his own preparations. He stripped off his heavy leather outer coat, leaving himself in a lightweight linen tunic to maximize his flexibility and heat dissipation.
He knew the temperature near the Chimera would exceed hundreds of degrees; heavy armor would only trap the heat and cook him alive.
He pulled out a handful of dry timber and stacked them near the mouth of the ravine — not for warmth, but for bait.
He ignited the wood with a small, contained burst of mana, letting the orange flames send a steady column of bright smoke drifting into the evening sky.
To a monster that hunted by tracking heat and life signatures in the dark, a lone, flickering campfire in an open ravine was an irresistible invitation.
Atlas sat down cross-legged ten paces behind the fire, resting his practice blade across his knees. He closed his eyes, taking slow, rhythmic breaths.
He pushed his consciousness deep into his nervous system, tracing the flow of his internal energy. He didn’t let the shadow mana surge wildly;
instead, he forced it into a tight, dense coil right at his sternum, holding it like a compressed spring ready to snap.
Minutes bled into an hour. The last traces of violet light faded from the sky, leaving the forest submerged in a dense, pitch-black night.
The woods grew unnaturally quiet. The chirping of night crickets ceased. The distant howls of lower-tier beasts vanished.
A suffocating, heavy silence fell over the canopy, broken only by the crackle of Atlas’s small campfire.
Then, the air shifted.
A wave of dry, blistering heat rolled through the narrow entrance of the ravine, turning the cool night breeze into a scorching draft.
The leaves on the surrounding oak trees withered and curled up in seconds, dropping to the dirt as brittle, black flakes.
Atlas opened his eyes.
At the mouth of the ravine, forty yards away, two slitted, burning yellow eyes materialized out of the pitch-black woods.
The Ember-Scale Chimera stepped out from the treeline, its massive, obsidian-armored frame silhouetted against the dark forest.
Liquid fire dripped from its heavy jaw, sizzling as it hit the dirt and igniting small spots of brush. The creature paused, its nostrils flaring as it tested the air, its long, serpentine tail flicking side to side with dangerous precision.
It looked down at the small campfire, then raised its massive head, its glowing eyes locking directly onto Atlas.
Atlas didn’t flinch. He didn’t scramble backward, and he didn’t reach blindly for his weapon in a panic. He simply stared back into the burning yellow eyes of the second Forest King, his hands resting calmly on his blade.
"Took you long enough," Atlas whispered, his voice steady in the rising heat.
He slowly rose to his feet, shifting his stance until his weight was perfectly balanced on the balls of his feet.
The shadow array beneath the dirt hummed softly, ready to burst, while high up on the limestone cliff, a faint, ice-blue spark flared in the dark.
This time, there was no surprise attack. No desperate scramble through the mud. Atlas stood his ground in the center of the trap, blade raised, waiting for the monster to take the first step.