Chapter 36: Chapter 36 — The Festival of the Hunt Part VII
I pumped my fist in the air like an idiot, adrenaline surging through my veins.
I’d just one-shot a Predator-rank monster. From a distance. With a bow I’d never used before in my life. And I’d made it look easy. If this was what the gacha system could pull out on a random spin, I couldn’t wait to see what else it had in store.
I took a few moments to catch my breath and let the excitement settle.
Then I made my way down the rest of the ridge, sliding over loose rocks and weaving through the underbrush until I reached the monster’s corpse. Up close, the Hiyak was even more grotesque. Its face really was almost human—a twisted, bestial parody of a man’s features stretched over a bear’s skull. The eyes, now glassy and vacant, were a deep amber color that seemed to still hold a trace of predatory malice.
Its description had mentioned that its race was the result of third-party intervention. Some kind of mutation or experiment, maybe. In a world full of dark mages, necromancers, and ancient cults, it wasn’t hard to imagine someone creating something like this on purpose. Another thread to investigate later.
I pulled a hunting knife from the system’s storage and got to work. The process of dismembering the corpse wasn’t nearly as bad as I’d expected. I’d gotten used to watching Dorko and Domack do this kind of thing during our training sessions, and while the first time had made me nauseous, this was... manageable. My hands were steady.
My stomach stayed calm. I made clean, efficient cuts, separating the head from the body with the practiced precision of someone who’d seen it done a hundred times.
The head went into a reinforced sack, which I then shoved into the system’s dimensional storage. Proof of the kill. The rest of the carcass, I dragged over to the remains of the stag, and I set them both alight with a small burst of flame from Runi’s power.
The fire caught quickly, consuming fur, flesh, and bone in a matter of minutes. It was cleaner that way—less likely to attract scavengers or other predators. Samira had taught me that.
I stayed until the last ember died, watching the smoke curl up toward the gray mountain sky. Then I turned and continued deeper into the range.
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The terrain shifted as I moved further up the mountain.
The soft, mossy ground gave way to jagged stone and loose shale, the trees thinning out until I was surrounded by bare rock faces and the occasional stubborn shrub clinging to life in the cracks. The air grew colder, thinner, and the wind carried a low, mournful sound as it swept through the crags.
I was looking for my next target—something a bit more challenging, maybe another Predator-rank if I could find one—when movement caught my eye. I ducked behind a boulder and peered out, scanning the rocky terrain ahead.
That was when I saw her.
At first, I thought it was another monster. The figure was tall and unnervingly still, her skin the color of cold ash. Her silhouette was humanoid, slender but wiry, with long limbs that ended in elegant, almost too-long fingers. I pulled out the pamphlet Miss Pineda had given us, flipping through the pages as quickly as I could. But no matter how many descriptions I checked, I couldn’t find a match. Whatever this creature was, it wasn’t listed.
I looked closer, and my breath caught in my throat.
She was female. The curves of her body were unmistakable beneath the simple, tattered fabric she wore draped over her frame. Her ears were long and pointed, extending far past the crown of her head, and her hair—a waterfall of ash-gray silk—cascaded down her back in waves that shimmered faintly in the pale mountain light.
She was sitting on a large, flat rock near a small mountain spring, utterly absorbed in her task. With cupped hands, she scooped water from the spring and let it cascade over her hair, her movements slow and deliberate, almost ritualistic. Droplets of water traced glowing paths down her neck, her shoulders, the delicate curve of her spine.
Then she turned her head, and I saw her face.
Her eyes were the color of molten amber—deep, luminous, and impossibly beautiful. Her skin, wet from the spring, glistened like a field of tiny stars scattered across an ashen sky. Her features were sharp and angular, yet strangely delicate, a beauty that felt alien and ancient and utterly captivating.
I was staring. I knew I was staring. And I also knew, with absolute certainty, that I was being a complete and total pervert.
"Shit," I hissed internally, jerking my gaze away. "Shit, shit, shit."
I’d seen naked women before. Hell, I’d seen Samira and Chimera naked plenty of times—and enjoyed every second of it. But that was different. That was under their consent. That was with women who wanted me to see them. This? This was me, hiding behind a rock like some kind of creepy voyeur, spying on a woman bathing in a mountain spring. This was the exact opposite of cool. This was the kind of thing that got people slapped—or stabbed, depending on the woman.
I had to get out of here. I had to turn around, walk away, and pretend this never happened. Slowly, carefully, I began to ease myself back from the boulder—
And then I noticed the legs.
They were right in front of me.
Ashen-gray legs, attached to an ashen-gray body, which was attached to an ashen-gray face that was currently staring down at me with an expression of cold, unwavering seriousness.
The second woman was identical to the first in almost every way—the same tall, slender build, the same pointed ears, the same ash-gray skin. Her hair was shorter, cut just above her shoulders, and her amber eyes held none of the dreamy softness of the one bathing. These eyes were sharp. Assessing. And very, very unamused.
I was in deep, deep trouble.
"...Hello," I said, my voice cracking with nervousness.
The woman’s eyes narrowed.
And then she swung.
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