Chapter 300

Kieeeek───!!

At the moment the Eight-Headed Bird let out a monstrous cry, underestimating Kurt.

Kurt threw something at the distracted Eight-Headed Bird’s head.

Thwak!

It was Iot’s spear, shattered during their second clash.

A broken spear thrown by a mere Lizardman youth who didn’t even know how to throw a spear properly.

No mana control, sloppy posture, and a clumsy strike with no real force behind it.

But for the Eight-Headed Bird, who had completely dismissed Kurt as helpless prey, this unexpected hit was more than enough to irritate it.

Kieeeeeek───!!

Kieeeek───!!

Kieek───!!

Eight monstrous cries echoed simultaneously, like a reverberating echo.

Confirming that the Eight-Headed Bird’s attention had shifted from Iot to itself, Kurt immediately turned and began to run without hesitation.

Enraged by the audacity of this prey that dared to provoke it, the Eight-Headed Bird turned its gaze away from the prey it had already caught and began chasing after the insolent one.

.

.

.

Though the Eight-Headed Bird had been furious at Kurt.

Not long after the chase began, the monster soon felt a sense of joy.

The prey, despite its brazen provocation, had a pitifully slow running speed.

At this pace, it wouldn’t take long for the prey to fall into its grasp, and when that happened, it could leisurely crush the despairing prey underfoot.

As the Eight-Headed Bird imagined this future, it wore an unpleasant smile.

Plop.

Suddenly, one of the Eight-Headed Bird’s legs sank deep into the ground.

Kieek?

“It’s a Drill-Hoof Deer’s pit. Drill-Hoof Deer use their drill-like front hooves to dig deep into the ground for roots and mushrooms, and some pits are deep enough to easily trap a Lizardman.”

Of course, even if the pit was deep enough to trap a Lizardman, for the Eight-Headed Bird, which was over 5 meters in size, it was nothing more than a slightly deep ditch.

Kieeeek────!!

The Eight-Headed Bird let out an annoyed cry, pulled itself out of the pit, and continued chasing Kurt.

However,

Kurt, though seemingly on the verge of being caught, never was.

He wasn’t exceptionally fast.

His speed was, at best, that of an average Lizardman.

In fact, as he ran, his stamina seemed to dwindle, and he gradually slowed down.

But he cleverly slipped through gaps in the trees too narrow for the Eight-Headed Bird, used traces left by other wild animals or monsters to trip up the Eight-Headed Bird, and even lured it to areas where wild Boiling Oil Mimic Plants grew, setting the monster ablaze.

Each time, the Eight-Headed Bird would smash through the trees Kurt hid behind, crush the traps, and freeze the Boiling Oil Mimic Plants with a spray of ultra-cold liquid, relentlessly pursuing Kurt.

Yet, Kurt continued to evade, using tricks, hiding, and whatever means necessary to escape the Eight-Headed Bird’s grasp.

He desperately employed every bit of knowledge he had learned from Iot, engaging in a nerve-wracking chase where he seemed on the verge of being caught but never was.

How long did this chase last?

An hour?

Two hours?

For a juvenile Lizardman, it was nothing short of a miracle—or perhaps genius—to outwit the Eight-Headed Bird like this. But eventually, the end came.

Kurt, with no stamina or means left to escape, was completely cornered.

Kieeeeeek────!!

Kieeeek────!!

Kieek────!!

The Eight-Headed Bird let out triumphant cries, feeling a sense of accomplishment as it closed in on Kurt.

But on Kurt’s face, there was no fear, despair, or emptiness.

“Finally… I made it. I’m not too late.”

Quite the opposite.

“This is the end for you.”

A faint smile appeared on Kurt’s face.

The Eight-Headed Bird, filled with joy at the thought of crushing its troublesome prey, couldn’t help but feel puzzled by Kurt’s confident demeanor. Slowly, it turned its eight heads to survey its surroundings.

Kie, kieee…

The unfamiliar scenery.

Though the Eight-Headed Bird ruled over a vast territory, the surroundings were strangely unfamiliar.

As if…

It was seeing them for the first time.

Or…

As if it had entered someone else’s home.

Kie…

Only then did the Eight-Headed Bird realize.

‘This isn’t my territory.’

Realizing its location, the Eight-Headed Bird, with its limited intelligence compared to its massive size, began to think.

Kieeeek.

‘The eastern forest is on the opposite side of the western forest, so it can’t be that. Then this must be the northern or southern forest.’

The northern and southern forests.

Remembering these two regions, the Eight-Headed Bird desperately wished.

Please, let this not be the southern forest…

But Kurt coldly laughed at the Eight-Headed Bird’s desperation.

“That’s right. This is the southern forest.”

Rustle.

Rustle.

The southern forest of the Verde Jungle.

The most fertile land in the Verde Jungle, and the most peaceful of its four regions.

But also, under certain conditions, the most dangerous.

This was due to the nature of the monster that ruled the southern forest.

A peaceful monster that didn’t bother with minor disturbances in the forest, didn’t attack other monsters or harm humans. But there was one exception.

One situation where it would never stand idly by.

When a being with enough power to threaten its forest unleashed killing intent within its territory.

Rustle.

Rustle.

Suddenly, the bushes around Kurt, who had been cornered, rustled and shook. The Eight-Headed Bird, sensing danger, stiffened all eight of its heads.

Kieeeek…

Thump.

Thump.

But what emerged from the bushes was a single rabbit with pure white fur.

A One-Horned Rabbit, known as the weakest among monsters.

Kieeeeeeeek───!!

Kieeeek──!!

Ki, kieek.

Kieeeek…!

But the Eight-Headed Bird’s reaction to the One-Horned Rabbit was intense.

So intense that, for the first time, its eight heads displayed a mix of emotions—threat, panic, pleading, and the urge to flee—instead of the usual unified expression.

Yet, the One-Horned Rabbit simply stared at the Eight-Headed Bird with round, indifferent eyes.

Thump.

Then, lightly.

Very lightly.

It hopped up.

And with a single horizontal slash of the horn on its head…

Whoosh.

Thud!

Thud!

Thud!

All eight heads of the Eight-Headed Bird rolled to the ground.

The ruler of the southern forest.

An Awakening Species of the One-Horned Rabbit, known as the weakest among monsters, yet possessing unimaginable power in its original form.

The Decapitating Rabbit.

Also known as the strongest in the Verde Jungle.

In an instant, the Decapitating Rabbit ended the life of the Eight-Headed Bird, the tyrant of the western forest. After a brief glance at the stunned Kurt, it showed no further interest and disappeared back into the bushes.

Rustle.

Rustle.

.

.

.

“That… that’s the strongest in the Verde Jungle…”

I was so shocked by the Decapitating Rabbit’s overwhelming power that I nearly collapsed, but I couldn’t just sit and rest.

My goal wasn’t just survival or killing the Eight-Headed Bird.

“Iot… Just wait a little longer. It’s all over now…”

With that, I whipped my exhausted body and returned to the western forest.

Every movement of my half-melted left side sent waves of pain through my body, but it was fine.

A Lizardman’s vitality wouldn’t let me die from this.

So Iot must surely…

.

.

.

By the time I returned, hours had passed, and it was nearly evening.

As the cold of winter seeped through the ground, I found Iot lying exactly where he had fallen.

“Iot… I’m back. Let’s go home.”

But Iot didn’t respond.

“Right. It’s cold, so he must have fallen asleep…”

I had no choice but to sling Iot’s body over my shoulder.

The weight pressed against my melted skin, and I bit back the pain.

“Ugh… This hurts like hell… Making your son suffer like this. You’ll pay for this later, right?”

The only saving grace was that Iot’s body was lighter than usual.

If it had been his normal weight, no amount of willpower would have let me carry him.

“Don’t worry about your legs. It’ll take time, but… they’ll regenerate, right? It might be slow because of your age, but…”

Step.

Step.

With each step, my overworked body screamed for me to stop, but I ignored it and trudged on.

“You won’t be able to hunt for a while, but don’t worry. I’ll take care of us. I’ve learned from you… Feeding two Lizardmen won’t be hard.”

Step.

Step.

“I’ll… become a hunter. Like you said, I’ll quit being a chef… and become a hunter…”

Step.

Step.

“So…”

Step.

“Please…”

Step.

“Don’t die…”

Step.

“Iot… Dad…”

With that, I carried Iot, who was barely more than a torso, back to the village.

.

.

.

After that, my memory is like a broken film.

How I got Iot back to the village, how the villagers swarmed me with questions, how I answered them.

Even though my eyes were open, it felt like my mind was elsewhere.

Creak.

The house, which I had left this morning, felt strangely unfamiliar, as if I had returned after years.

Step. Step.

The scenery hadn’t changed, but the inside of the house felt alien.

I just wanted to sleep.

To wake up and find that everything had been a terrible nightmare.

To wake up and find myself back in the days when I hated my Lizardman body and foolishly dreamed of being a chef.

Like a soul leaving my body, I numbly walked toward my bed.

As I walked, something caught my eye.

“What’s… this…”

On the dining table was…

“A piece of… wood?”

It was a small log, looking as if it had been freshly cut, placed on a large plate.

Covered in a translucent liquid that made it glisten, it looked almost like food.

“Why is there a log here…?”

I muttered in confusion at the out-of-place object.

Next to the log was a small note.

I numbly picked it up and read it.

—

“I can’t understand why you want to be a chef.

You might not know this, but it’s not easy for a Lizardman to become a chef.

I’m worried.

About how hurt and pained you’ll be if you fail.

That’s why I want you to be a hunter, not a chef.

But if you still want to cook…

I can’t support you becoming a chef, but I’ll cheer you on if it’s just a hobby.

P.S. I tried making that Buche de Noel thing from your cookbook. I heard it’s a sweet dessert, so I coated the log with honey. I’m not sure if I did it right. I hope it’s the correct recipe.

From Dad -”

The note was written in messy, childlike handwriting, barely legible.

The content was as disorganized as the handwriting, making it hard to understand what he was trying to say.

“Not only is he bad with words, but he’s bad at writing too…”

I muttered, realizing this for the first time.

Come to think of it, even though we’re family, I know almost nothing about Iot.

With that thought, I picked up the poorly made Buche de Noel.

As I lifted it, the sticky honey clung to my hands, but I ignored it and took a big bite.

Crunch.

Of course, it was just an uncooked log, so the texture was unbearably hard, and the hastily spread honey stuck to my mouth, stretching like sticky threads with every chew.

“Idiot… You got it all wrong.”

This is supposed to be a Buche de Noel?

It’s just a log coated in honey.

Crunch.

But I didn’t care and took another bite.

Crunch.

And another.

“Ah…”

Plop.

“Ahh…”

Plop.

“Ahhh…!”

Plop.

Plop.

“Ahhhh…!!”

Only then did everything I had been feeling unreal become vividly real.

I finally realized what I had lost today.

My stubbornness and arrogance.

The irreplaceable sense of loss.

Regret and sorrow.

All of it swirled together like dough, overwhelming me.

I realized how much of a sin it was to yearn for what was out of reach while neglecting what was in my hands.

As I thought back on everything that had happened today, I cried and ate the honey-covered Buche de Noel.

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