Ranger who controls magic

This was the leeward slope of the Grey-Ridge Hills; a muddy five-kilometer track separated it from the bustling town of Blackrock, yet a buffer zone of less than three kilometers lay between it and the ominous Grey-Whisper Forest.

A small wooden cabin stood on the slope, silent and solitary, far removed from the clamor of civilization.

Inside, the air was thick and humid, heavy with the acrid stench of burnt cheap herbs, the musty odor of aged leather, and—most unsettling of all—the foul, cloying reek of rotting entrails.

Victor held a basin of murky, blood-stained water, deftly wiping the cold sweat from the old man’s forehead with a towel.

He was an orphan from the town, taken in five years ago by Old John—a man known for his reclusive nature. It was less an act of adoption and more a way to secure cheap labor for chores like processing game pelts, cooking, and chopping wood.

Three days ago, a sudden, raging fever had claimed the life of the original Victor; the body was now inhabited by a soul from Earth.

"Cough... *cough*..."

On the bed, Old John’s chest heaved violently; every breath sounded like the wheezing of a broken bellows.

The old hunter—infamous in town for his foul, stubborn temper—now looked as fragile as a sheet of thin paper. A festering, blackened wound marred his abdomen, a grim souvenir left by a mutated Steel-Bristle Boar just yesterday.

In that clash, Old John had managed to blind one of the beast's eyes, but the cost had been half his own life.

"Stop fussing... Victor."

Old John’s eyes snapped open; those grey orbs—usually clouded and bleary with drink—now burned with an unnerving intensity. His skeletal hand shot out, gripping Victor’s wrist in a tight, desperate hold.

"That beast... is here."

"Who?" Victor’s heart skipped a beat. "That wild boar... its nose is keener than the greediest tax collector in town." Old John gasped, black, frothy blood trickling from the corner of his mouth. "It tracked the stench of my rotting wound... It’s come for revenge."

Victor instinctively glanced toward the heavy, tightly shut wooden door. Amidst the sound of the thunderstorm outside, there seemed to be the distinct, heavy thud of footsteps crushing the mud.

"Listen, lad."

Old John’s voice grew fainter. He stared intently at Victor, his eyes revealing a complex emotion never seen before—a mix of fear of death and a deep-seated, decades-old sense of bitter regret.

"In the cabinet... that 'Blackwood Bow'... it’s yours now."

"When I was young... I had the chance to try out for the 'Silver Star Rangers'... I was so close... just one step away..." The old man’s fingers spasmed and tightened, his nails digging into Victor’s flesh. "Then I grew old... my legs failed me... and I resigned myself to my fate... but this bow... I couldn't bear to let it just rot away in the dirt..."

"Take it... and stay alive!"

Those final three words seemed to drain the very last drop of vitality from his soul.

Old John’s hand went limp and fell heavily against the bedframe. His grey eyes remained wide open, fixed on a point in the void, as if gazing at the glory he had never managed to grasp in his youth.

A thunderclap exploded outside.

Victor stood frozen by the bedside. Although he and the old man had barely exchanged a dozen words over the past three days, a profound, chilling dread—the kind that comes when one’s own fate feels inextricably linked to another’s—suddenly washed over him.

He instinctively reached out to close the old man’s eyes.

But the moment his fingertips touched Old John’s rapidly cooling forehead—

*Hum!*

A line of text glowing with a faint blue light suddenly sprang into his previously dim field of vision, as sharp and clear as a brand burned onto his retina. Victor’s pupils contracted sharply.

[Acquired White-tier Trait: Unfulfilled Silver Star]

A wave of sorrow and grim resolve slammed into his mind. He seemed to see a vision of Old John in his youth—snapping his longbow in despair after a single mistake during the Ranger trials, weeping bitterly in the pouring rain.

Immediately, a semi-transparent panel unfolded before his eyes.

[Name: Victor]

Status: Adrenaline Surge

[Base Attributes]

Strength: 5.3 (Years of chopping wood have made you slightly stronger than the average person)

Agility: 4.5 (Run a little too fast, and you’re liable to trip over your own feet)

Constitution: 5.5 (Youth is your only asset)

Spirit: 6.7 (Having lived two lifetimes has kept you sane)

[Trait Library (1)]

[Unfulfilled Silver Star (White)] (Pending Enchantment)

*Thud!!!*

Before he could even savor the arrival of this long-awaited "cheat," a dull, thunderous boom—like a heavy hammer striking his chest—instantly snapped him out of his thoughts.

The entire wooden cabin shuddered violently, sending dust raining down from the ceiling.

Victor whipped his head around.

He saw the massive oak door—fully two inches thick—bulging inward, along with the surrounding wall.

The monster was simply too huge!

An ordinary doorway couldn't possibly accommodate its bulk!

*Thud! Crack!*

Another impact.

The sturdy door bolt snapped, and the mud-brick masonry on either side of the frame exploded outward.

Amidst the flying splinters and clods of earth, a colossal black head forced its way inside.

It was the mutated Steel-Bristle Boar he had encountered yesterday.

Its height nearly matched the door lintel, and its shoulders were as broad as a wall. It didn't burst all the way in—its massive bulk caused the front half of its body to get wedged in the shattered doorway.

It thrashed wildly like a bulldozer tearing through a structure; every struggle made the wooden cabin groan as if on the verge of collapse.

One of its eyes was a gaping, pitch-black bloody socket, while the remaining eye locked onto Victor inside the room, its throat emitting heavy, ragged wheezing sounds.

No words, no communication.

Only a pure, primal bloodlust.

"D*mn it!"

Victor knew he couldn't let it break through; once this heavy tank of a beast entered the cramped interior, he’d have nowhere left to hide!

He snatched up an iron-tined pitchfork from beside the door—the same one he used to till his backyard vegetable patch.

"Get out!"

Victor roared to steel himself, gripping the pitchfork tightly with both hands and thrusting it hard at the boar's massive, thrashing head!

*Clang!*

The pitchfork struck the boar's forehead—covered in coarse bristles and some sort of black, armored plating—and rang out like metal striking metal!

Victor felt a jolt of numbness shoot through the web of his hand; the pitchfork nearly flew from his grasp. That layer of bristles was like a steel brush; ordinary farm tools couldn't even scratch it!

"ROAR!"

Stung by the pain, the boar grew even more frenzied. It jerked its head upward, and its half-meter-long tusk—acting like a battering ram—ripped the crossbeam right out of the doorframe.

*Crash!*

Half the roof teetered on the brink of collapse, sending a cascade of roof tiles and rainwater pouring into the room.

Amidst the chaos, the boar finally managed to force the front half of its body inside.

Just as that mud-caked, blood-stained tusk was about to sweep into him, Victor’s eyes narrowed; instead of retreating, he seized the split second when the boar opened its mouth to roar. "Eat this!"

He suddenly thrust the pitchfork in his hand like a javelin, driving it viciously into the wild boar's gaping maw!

*Squelch!*

This time, he finally drew blood.

Although the pitchfork failed to pierce the throat, it drove deep into the boar's tender gums and tongue.

"Aroooo—!!!"

The excruciating pain made the boar thrash its head wildly; the immense force snapped the pitchfork's handle. With a sharp *crack*, the broken shaft whipped against Victor's shoulder, sending him flying backward.

Victor slammed heavily into the oak cabinet behind him, grimacing in agony; he felt as though his bones were about to shatter.

Yet, that brief moment of delay gave him his only chance.

Ignoring the pain, he reached back and yanked open the cabinet door.

A longbow, pitch-black and smelling faintly of pine resin, lay quietly inside.

[Black Fir Hunting Bow (Fine Quality)]

His "cheat"—that mysterious system—manifested right on cue, displaying the weapon's full name.

This was Old John's prized possession—his final legacy.

Victor snatched up the bow and simultaneously pulled a barbed, iron-tipped arrow from the quiver nearby.

By now, the mutated boar had spat out the broken fork and fully forced its way into the room. It was drenched in blood, the red glow in its single eye so intense it seemed to bleed; its hooves pawed the floorboards as it prepared for a final charge.

A mere five meters away.

At this range, even a novice like Victor couldn't possibly miss.

But the problem was... power!

Victor gritted his teeth; holding the bow in his left hand and nocking the arrow with his right, he strained every muscle to pull back the string.

*Creak—*

The bow bent.

But he lacked the strength; he could barely pull this powerful bow halfway back. An arrow loosed with such weak force would strike the boar's hide—thick as plate armor—and do nothing but enrage the beast further. “I must... I must land a killing blow!”

Watching the wild boar lower its head for the charge, Victor saw the reflection of the Grim Reaper’s scythe in his own pupils.

In this life-or-death crisis, he finally recalled the “Affix” from his cheat ability.

His consciousness reached out like a tentacle toward the interface, tightly grasping that sphere of white light—[Unfinished Silver Star].

“Old John, I hope your lingering obsession can save my life!!”

He roared inwardly, and with near-instinctive force, he slammed that ball of light into the black fir hunting bow held in his hands.

[Enchanting in progress...] [Target: Black Fir Hunting Bow] [Enchantment Successful!]

[Silver-Light Demon-Hunting Bow: Final Echo]

[Effect: A final counterattack against past cowardice. Once enchanted, the next ranged attack will channel the user's entire spirit and vitality, boosting damage by 400% and adding a "Piercing" effect. Upon completion of the attack, the weapon will inevitably shatter, unable to withstand the power.]

*Hummm*—*Crack, crack, crack!*

A sudden transformation occurred.

The bow’s body, originally made of sturdy black fir, suddenly emitted the sound of wood splintering under unbearable strain.

Blinding silver-white cracks instantly spiderwebbed across the entire bow. It was as if the weapon had come alive; it was burning, exhausting its very structural integrity to unleash a strike that transcended all limits!

Empowered by this force, Victor felt the bowstring become incredibly smooth to the touch.

A violent surge of power guided his arm, pulling the bowstring to its absolute limit—and then pushing it even further!

A full draw!

The bowstring let out a mournful whine, on the verge of snapping.

At the arrowhead, silver-white light converged into a single point—so dazzling that it was impossible to look at directly.

At that moment, the wild boar’s tusks were barely a meter away from Victor’s chest.

A foul, gamey stench washed over him.

Victor did not dodge; his eyes were locked solely on that hideous, single eye. "Go to hell."

The fingers released.

*BOOM!*

The deafening blast drowned out even the thunder rolling outside.

It was not merely the sound of an arrow leaving the string, but the explosive crack of the entire hunting bow shattering.

Black splinters burst outward in Victor’s hand like shrapnel, drawing blood.

But none of that mattered anymore.

The arrow had already transformed into a silver streak—a shooting star.

It moved with such velocity that not even a blur remained in its wake.

*Thwip!* *Boom!*

The projectile pierced precisely into the mutated boar’s single eye.

An instant later, a dull, explosive report rang out.

A fist-sized hole was blasted right through the back of the boar’s skull—bone as hard as granite shattered in a heartbeat.

Red and white matter sprayed outward, coating the wall behind it.

Massive momentum carried the boar’s carcass sliding forward; the heavy body—like a collapsing mountain of flesh—slammed into the ground beside Victor with a thunderous crash that made the floorboards shudder.

After a brief spa