Forsaken Hunter-Chapter 8: Stepping Into Strength

Here's the rewritten version of your Chapter, crafted into a gripping fantasy Manhwa-style novelkiss with deep emotion, visceral character reactions, and lush, immersive world-building. The dialogue is sharp, intense, and brimming with personality, with dramatic pauses heightening the stakes. Action moments surge with dynamic energy, while the pacing flows naturally, slowing for emotional beats to let hesitation, tension, and inner conflict breathe. Descriptions weave a vivid world without overloading, and key moments linger to amplify their weight. The language stays smooth and engaging, avoiding heavy English, with key words highlighted for emphasis.

The hospital room was a sterile prison—white walls pressing in like a vice, the air sharp with the sting of antiseptic, a bitter edge that clawed at Beno Mark's senses. Machines hummed softly, their relentless rhythm ticking like a countdown to something he couldn't name. He perched on the bed's edge, rolling his shoulders slow and cautious, testing the limits of a body that still remembered the dungeon's wrath. A week had dulled the bruises to faint shadows on his skin, the pain a distant echo—but every twinge whispered of survival, a scar etched deeper than flesh.

Dr. Roy stood beside him, clipboard gripped in steady hands, his graying hair glinting under the harsh fluorescent light. He scratched a final note, then flicked his gaze to Beno—a knowing smile crinkling his eyes, warm but weathered. "You're good to go, kid." His voice was gravelly, laced with a tired kindness. "Just... don't push it, yeah? You're like my old mutt—stubborn as hell, but tougher than you let on."

Beno blinked, caught off guard, a flicker of confusion breaking through his haze. "Cling—what?"

Dr. Roy waved it off, a dry chuckle rumbling out—exhausted, but genuine. "Forget it. Point is, listen to me for once. Pull another reckless stunt, and I'll chain you to this damn bed myself."

A faint grin tugged at Beno's lips—weary, but real, cracking through the weight he carried. "Noted, Doc. I'll behave... promise." His voice scraped like boots on gravel, rough from disuse, but a spark of amusement flickered through.

"Good." Dr. Roy's tone shifted, heavier now, his smile softening into something almost fatherly—a quiet ache beneath it. "You're free. Take it easy out there... okay?"

Beno stood, a sharp wince flashing across his face as his muscles groaned in protest. He steadied himself, masking it with a quick nod, but the motion stirred the storm inside—unspoken questions, shadows of blood and hounds clawing at his mind. "Thanks, Doc. For everything."

"All the best, Beno," Dr. Roy said, voice low, sincere—a farewell that lingered like a weight.

Beno dipped his head, hiding the tightness in his chest, the dread he couldn't shake. "Yeah... I'll be fine. Take care."

His boots clicked against the tile, each step echoing in the small room—a rhythm of escape. One last glance at the sterile white, the cage he'd survived, then he pushed through the door. The air outside hit like a cold slap—raw, untamed, whispering of a world far wilder than the one he left behind.

A thin ray of sunlight sliced through the grimy window, spilling across Beno's face like a blade of warmth. He groaned, burying his head deeper into the pillow, the rough fabric scraping his cheek—a lifeline against the ache screaming through his body. Muscles burned, bones weighed heavy— echoes of the brutal training he'd forced on himself last night. Hundreds of push-ups until his arms trembled. Squats until his legs blazed. A ten-kilometer run through Veno City's shadowed streets, lungs clawing for air under a sky that offered no mercy.

His mantra pulsed in his skull: Get stronger. Be ready. Don't be weak. Weakness was death—he'd learned that in blood.

But right now? He'd kill for five more minutes of sleep.

BZZZ! BZZZ!

His phone jolted awake on the nightstand, buzzing like a furious hornet. Beno ignored it, yanking the blanket tighter, a fortress against the world.

BZZZ! BZZZ! BZZZ!

Still ignored.

RIIING!

A call. He cursed under his breath—low, guttural—his hand fumbling blindly, knocking over a glass before snagging the phone. He answered, voice a hoarse rasp, eyes still shut. "...Hello?"

"YOU IDIOT!!"

Beno flinched, yanking the phone from his ear as Luna's voice erupted—sharp, furious, a war cry that could wake the dead.

"Where the hell are you?!" she roared, each word a blade.

He blinked, brain slogging through fog. "Huh? I'm... home. Why?"

A pause—thick, dangerous. Then, venom dripping slow: "You. Forgot. Again."

His eyes flicked to the clock—9:45 AM. Realization slammed into him like a freight train. "SHIT!" He bolted upright, sheets tangling as he nearly toppled off the bed. The Hunter License Test. 10 AM. Today.

"YOU OVERSLEPT?!" Luna's scream was a thunderclap.

"No, no! I was just... meditating!" He lied, scrambling into a shirt—one arm stuck, hopping as he hunted for shoes, panic a live wire in his veins.

"MEDITATING MY ASS!" Her voice cracked with fury. "Get your dumb self out here NOW! You've got FIFTEEN MINUTES!"

Click. Silence.

Beno moved—chaos unleashed. Shoes half-tied, jacket snatched from a chair, he shoved the door open—

And froze.

A sleek black vehicle idled outside, Noak Guild's emblem glinting like a predator's eye. A man in a dark gray uniform leaned against it, arms crossed, smirking like he'd bet on Beno's failure and won. "Took you long enough."

Beno gaped, words stalling. "Uh... what?"

The man scoffed, pushing off the car with lazy grace. "Franky sent me. Said you'd probably screw this up and need a ride." He jerked his head toward the door, voice flat. "Get in. Now. Or don't—I don't give a damn."

Beno hesitated—half a heartbeat, weighing the surreal—then dove in. The door slammed, engine roaring to life, tires screeching as they peeled away.

The drive was a blur, but Beno's pulse thundered—Noak Guild wasn't just any guild. It was a titan, one of Lebius Country's Five Strongest—a fortress of elite hunters forged in blood and steel. And he'd been invited into its jaws.

The car rounded a bend, and it loomed into view: Noak Guild's headquarters—a towering monolith of glass and steel stabbing the sky, its edges sharp as a blade. Banners fluttered, emblazoned with a snarling wolf beneath a crescent moon, rippling in the wind like war flags. Below, a courtyard pulsed with life—hunters training, blades clashing in flashes of silver, shouts cutting through the morning air.

Beno swallowed, throat dry as ash. "Am I... really gonna work here?"

The driver smirked, eyes fixed ahead. "If you pass."

They screeched to a halt at the entrance. Beno fumbled the buckle, adrenaline spiking—then—

"You're late."

He turned. Luna stood there, arms crossed, foot tapping a furious beat against the pavement. Her dark hair whipped in the wind, eyes narrowed to slits—blue fire blazing with impatience.

"Not my fault!" Beno stumbled out, voice cracking. "Franky should've told me to set an alarm!"

Luna's scoff cut like a whip. "Oh, so it's Franky's fault you sleep like a damn corpse?"

He sighed, shoulders slumping—already defeated. No winning this war.

"Come on," she snapped, jerking her chin toward the towering doors, her tone brooking no argument. "You barely made it. Test's starting."

Stepping inside was a punch to the gut. The grand hall stretched vast and endless—marble floors gleaming under massive chandeliers that cast a golden glow, digital boards flickering with dungeon missions and rankings in cold blue light. To the left, a training ground roared—blades ringing, hunters clashing, sweat and grit thick in the air. To the right, a reception swarmed with nervous examinees, voices a low hum of fear and hope.

But the exam arena stole his breath.

Hundreds filled the space—some stretching, muscles taut; others muttering prayers, heads bowed; a few glaring at rivals, eyes sharp with hunger. A giant screen loomed overhead, names scrolling in icy blue—a silent judge. The air buzzed, electric and heavy, tension coiling like a storm about to break.

Then—silence.

A towering figure stepped onto the platform—broad shoulders, a deep scar slashing his face like a battle trophy. Franky, the Guild Master. His presence crushed the room, a force that demanded stillness. He gripped the mic, voice a low rumble shaking the walls.

"Welcome to Noak Guild... weaklings."

No one dared breathe.

"Today, you either prove you're hunters—or crawl home as failures. No second chances."

His gaze swept the crowd—lingering on Beno for a heartbeat, long enough to twist his stomach into knots—before sliding away.

New n𝙤vel chapters are published on novelbuddy.cσ๓.

"The Hunter License Exam. Four stages."

He paused, letting it sink in—each word a hammer strike. "Mana Affinity Test—an orb gauges your raw mana. Too weak? You're done. Written Exam—dungeon lore, boss tactics, system rules. Flunk it? Out. Combat Test—one-on-one. Real fights. Real stakes. Dungeon Survival—a live raid. Survive... or don't come back."

Franky's eyes gleamed—predatory, glinting with dark promise. "Think this is a game? Leave now."

No one moved—frozen, breathless.

He smirked, a slash of teeth. "Good. Ten minutes. Eat, piss, pray—whatever keeps you alive."

The room erupted—nervous chaos, voices rising, bodies shifting.

Beno exhaled slow, heart slamming against his ribs. This is no joke. His fists clenched, nails biting his palms. "Since when has anything been easy?" he muttered, voice low, resolve hardening. Time to prove he belonged.

The waiting hall thrummed with restless energy—examinees pacing, whispering, stretching, each chasing the same jagged dream. Beno stood among them, rolling his shoulders, cracking his knuckles—a ritual to steady his nerves. Luna jabbed his arm, smirking. "What, still meditating, genius?" Her tease was sharp, playful, cutting through the tension.

He laughed—a rare, rough sound, light against the weight pressing down. "Yeah, deep thoughts about not screwing this up."

But he didn't see the eyes watching.

Across the room, a red-haired man leaned against the wall, cloaked in a long magician's coat—black with silver runes stitched along the hem, swaying faintly as he shifted. His posture screamed casual—too casual—but his fingers gripped a crumpled photograph, knuckles white, veins bulging under pale skin. His sharp gaze locked on Beno—unblinking, burning with a quiet, seething hatred.

"So this is how you live..." His whisper was low, venomous, swallowed by the crowd's hum. "Carefree... like nothing happened?"

His smirk twisted—bitter, dark—as he watched Beno laugh with Luna, oblivious. The photo crinkled further in his fist—a frozen moment of a past Beno didn't know was clawing closer. "You disgust me."

A dark chuckle slipped free, cold as dungeon stone. He tilted his head, red hair falling over one eye, voice a murmur dripping with menace. "I'll kill you... make you pay for what you did to my life."

Beno turned, still blind to the threat, following Luna toward the arena doors—steps steady, unaware.

The red-haired man straightened, slipping the photo into his coat with a slow, deliberate hand. His eyes glinted—predatory, alive with a promise.

The exam was starting.

And so was his revenge.

[To Be Continued...]