“Are you really sure you’ll be okay?”
“Yeah.”
Noah couldn’t fathom why Alice was so willing to stake her life for that cantankerous old man.
Asking someone to hunt a monster solo wasn’t the kind of request you’d make unless you had a twisted sense of humor. It wasn’t that Noah doubted Alice’s abilities. Hunting, however, was inherently unpredictable—variables could emerge at any moment. No matter how skilled Alice was, she needed someone by her side to guard against unforeseen dangers.
“Should I come with you…?”
“No, I’ll go alone. You can take on other quests in the meantime, Noah.”
But Alice steadfastly refused.
What’s so great about that old geezer? Noah thought, puffing out her lips and scrunching her brow in frustration.
Antico had plenty of other workshops besides that old man’s. Noah even had a few she’d wanted to suggest. Yet Alice had shot them all down, insisting it had to be him. Not knowing what drove Alice only deepened Noah’s exasperation.
“…Noah, are you upset?”
Noticing Noah’s mood, Alice reached out and took her hand.
“Oh, no. It’s just…”
“…I’m sorry.”
You don’t need to apologize. If anyone should feel bad, it was that old man, not Alice.
“But you saw it too. He’s not a bad person.”
“…Yeah.”
Noah couldn’t argue with that.
The armor and weapon Alice now wore came from that old man. Despite his constant grumbling, he’d personally tailored them to her measurements. Was he kind or just eccentric? It was hard to tell. Suddenly, Noah pictured him hammering away alone in his forge.
Maybe Alice had seen something in him. Unlike the thriving forges, his was old and dilapidated, seldom visited. Perhaps Alice was extending a hand to him in a way no one else had.
If he truly didn’t want customers, he wouldn’t have left the door ajar. He could’ve locked it and gone about his day. The more Noah thought about it, the more contradictory he seemed.
“Trust me.”
So, Noah had no choice but to put her faith in Alice’s choice.
—
I finally managed to soothe Noah, who’d been dead-set against letting me go alone. In the end, she relented, accepting my stubbornness, which was a relief. To prove my decision was right, I had to become the kind of hunter who’d meet Matilo’s expectations.
Challenge!
That was the heartbeat of this game—and the mindset Matilo prized in hunters.
If you don’t know, you’ll take a hit. But don’t give up—keep challenging and claim victory.
The game leaned harder on that first part, but the philosophy itself was almost comical. I’d learned it the hard way, taking countless blows, yet still came out on top.
In the end, while others clad themselves in armor, I was the veteran hunting monsters in my underwear…
For someone like me, a Kakaari was no big deal.
Leaving Antico behind, I stepped back into the waterlogged forest.
I touched the map and the tool-stuffed waist pouch Noah had packed for me. Feeling its heft reminded me of her concern for my safety.
Since Noah was waiting, I’d better wrap this up fast.
I ventured into the forest. I’d been so desperate to escape this place before, but now I was walking back in by choice. This was a routine I’d repeat often as a hunter.
The rustle of leaves and the chirping of birds filled my ears once more. Nature’s murmurs whispered that the real hunt was about to begin.
My first quest target: the Firebird Kakaari.
The Kakaari was a bird-like monster native to the Mihok water forest. It didn’t attack on sight, but it was fiercely territorial, aggressively confronting anyone bold enough to trespass.
It could spew fire, ram with its rigid crest, or slash with razor-sharp talons. Leave quickly, and it wouldn’t give chase—but that didn’t matter to a hunter here to fight.
Its territory centered precisely around its nest. Find the nest, and finding the Kakaari would be a breeze.
But in this sprawling forest, that was easier said than done. That’s why hunters tracked traces.
“…There it is.”
Sharp claw marks marred a tree.
Unlike the chaotic scratches of a Lugarak, these were orderly, slanting uniformly to one side—like a bird sharpening its talons. This was a Kakaari’s mark, identical to what I remembered from the game.
A territorial sign. By leaving it, the Kakaari warned other monsters and creatures to steer clear.
I reached out to the claw marks. The scraped bark crumbled under my fingers. The marks were firm, and judging by the tree’s state, they weren’t fresh.
Still, if it left claw marks, its footprints should be nearby. I scanned the ground carefully.
Tracks from small monsters and critters abounded. Among them, I sought the Kakaari’s distinctive, oversized prints—trident-shaped bird tracks.
…There.
Kneeling before the footprint, I felt the soil. I snapped a twig from a nearby bush and pressed it into the track. It sank in but met resistance—not a fresh print.
The trident’s tips pointed deeper into the forest. The footprints were leading me further in.
By spotting traces, analyzing their direction and range, I was gradually tightening the noose around my prey.
The thought of closing in made my heart race. This felt different from battling the Lugarak or Pienos.
Tracking my quarry with my own hands was exhilarating, pure joy.
In this monster-ridden forest, I felt truly alive in this world.
What I was doing wasn’t just a game anymore.
I was living a new life here, fully immersed. That’s how much I loved this.
My eyes and hands kept following its trail.
The sun was already high overhead. It felt like I’d just entered the forest, but time had slipped away. I pulled jerky from my pouch, chewed it, and pressed on.
At some point, I noticed the Kakaari’s traces seemed to loop.
I’d marked each footprint with a twig-poked hole, but ahead, every print bore my mark.
That’s right—I’d been circling.
Had I misread the tracks? I calmly puzzled it out. While chasing the Kakaari, I’d looped widely back to my starting point.
That meant either the Kakaari and I were circling together, or the space within this broad loop was its territory. Step inside, and I’d become an intruder, triggering its attack.
Trusting my reasoning, I stepped in without hesitation. The Kakaari’s aggression didn’t faze me.
After all, I was here to kill it.
—
The Firebird Kakaari patrolled its territory on a regular schedule.
In its ground-level nest lay three eggs. The Mihok water forest teemed with thieves eyeing those eggs, keeping the Kakaari busy guarding them from intruders.
It had just completed a patrol. No trespassers in its domain today.
A peaceful moment.
A chance to catch its breath.
It scratched the earth with its keen talons and flapped its wings.
Preening with its beak, it smoothed its feathers and squeezed oil from the red gland beneath its neck.
It rubbed its hard crest against a tree to scratch an itch.
—Karruu…
Savoring the rare calm, it settled slowly onto its eggs, head held high, never dropping its guard.
The Mihok water forest demanded constant vigilance.
Intruders could strike at any time.
Thud. Thud.
The Kakaari’s head jerked at the unnatural footsteps cutting through nature’s symphony.
The sound, jarring the forest’s harmony, drew closer. Its round eyes scanned the surroundings.
Then, it saw her.
“…Found you.”
The Kakaari rose from its nest.
A pale human. The massive weapon slung across her back betrayed her intent.
Her impassive eyes locked onto the Kakaari.
—Karururu…
With a low growl, it parted its beak slightly.
Wings flared just enough to puff up its frame, neck bent forward. Small flames flickered from its mouth in warning.
Back off. Stay out of my territory.
But the human didn’t retreat. She advanced. Unfazed by the Kakaari, she gripped her hefty weapon, her gaze sharpening. Their eyes met—her pale pink irises against the Kakaari’s.
A wave of pure killing intent engulfed the Kakaari. Only then did it understand.
This human wasn’t after the eggs.
The eggs meant nothing to her.
All she wanted was its life.
—Kyaaaa!!!
The Kakaari unleashed a piercing cry.
The roar from its avian throat rippled through the air, its hostility aimed at one human alone.
After the cry, it clawed the ground.
Then, it charged, crest aimed forward.
Boom!
Hunter and monster collided.
—
