Shieldday, 23th of Verdantcrest, Year 1064 V.E. (Vaeltharian Era)

  Asherean stared ahead as the monsters moved one after another, their long arms with sharp claws at the end scraping against the soil—into a cave that was slightly protruded. He was covered in mud that was mostly dried while hiding behind a wide tree, diagonal to the cave.

  The last monster halted at the threshold, turning its head from side to side before stepping to the edge of the cave mouth and dropping onto the ground.

  I certainly didn't expect a monster to stand watch.

  These creatures were unlike anything he had encountered before. It seems they migrated recently from the inner regions of the Trygar forest.

  According to the guild information log that he has acquired, these monsters are called Beraels. Some adventurer who ventured deep into the forest once logged the information into the guild information log. It says; Two-legged—Thick brown furred—Have knife-like black claws with long, thick arms.

  Like a gorilla, he mused. But brown—and far more monstrous.

  He counted five of them entering the cave, but there could be more inside. Their sheer muscle mass and razor-sharp claws made them formidable.

  Outnumbered and alone, he had only one option that is to do it in the hunter's path. Setting a trap and killing them all, but he needed time to gather more information about their movements and their exact numbers.

  The quest time limit was exactly two weeks (10 days). It's already been two days since he reached this place and found their hideout by following them from a distance caked in mud to mask his scent.

  So, he has eight more days.

  A bit excessive but more than enough, Asherean thought in a confident manner befitting of a high iron-rank adventurer.

  He waited three more hours, watching as the sentry remained at its post—until another Berael barked from within the cave, calling it inside.

  Silence followed, settling over the forest. The rustling leaves and distant chirps of unseen birds were the only sounds that broke the stillness of the early evening.

  Two more hours passed before another berael emerged. This one was shorter but stockier, with a longer mane of thick brown fur. Like the first, it similarly stood watch.

  It's still unnerving to watch man-eating monsters behave like humans, Asherean thought, unease prickling at the back of his mind.

  Asherean lingered for another hour before silently retreating the way he came. It took a quarter-hour to reach his impromptu camp, which is just a big tree called Ironwood Tree—a dense, dark-barked tree with a faint metallic scent. It's leaves produce natural oils that repel most beasts and monsters, similar to how certain plants detered insects. It's slightly uncomfortable to sleep with the scent, but it's quite a bargain for protection against monsters.

  After settling onto a wide branch, Asherean retrieved a mattress from his rucksack he had left there earlier before leaving to scout the beraels—and secured it tightly to keep it from slipping while he slept.

  Seated on the mattress, he rummaged through his sack for a papyrus scroll. Finding it inside a small wooden box, along with a thin charcoal stick, he began recording the Beraels’ features and behaviors—their clever hunting tactics, their use of sentries, and other notable observations.

  One of the guidelines of the Adventurer's Guild dictates that when encountering new species of monsters, it is imperative that the Adventurers collect and provide valuable information to the guild and there's also additional reward for doing so.

  After completing the description, he neatly folded and secured it into the wooden box, which went into the rucksack.

  After doing all of those, he sat down on his back on the tied-up mattress and looked longingly at the night sky, which he couldn't describe in words and was so much more different from where he was from.

  The sky stretched vast, and the unfamiliar stars burned bright, untouched by pollution or haze. Some shone in eerie blues and silvers, while others flickered red like embers. A full moon hung in the sky—its light was cool and steady, casting a faint silver sheen over the land. Its surface, marked with deep scars and ridges, hinted at ancient impacts, yet it glowed softly against the endless dark.

  Ah, I'm getting poetic. He exhaled, shaking off the thought before it could settle.

  It wasn't that he couldn't accept the fact he was somehow reborn in this new world, but the sheer incredulity of it still sent shivers through him. The memories of his previous life that he recollected bit by bit during his early age confused him many times, but it all crashed down when he was about ten years old. At that time, For two weeks, he remained holed up inside his family’s newly built home (through the government scheme of the Agensal Queen).

  His parents, worried and superstitious, assumed someone jealous of his looks had cursed him. In response, they gave him a so-called remedy, a tonic that left him with nothing but a dreadful stomachache. Thinking about that memory still made him chukle.

  Anyway, he genuinely liked this new life, though many aspects of the world remained bizarre.

  One of the strangest was the Fogwall—a colossal fog barrier stretching across the entire northern reaches of the continents of Vaeltharia and Nrela, even extending into the surrounding seas. He knew this because the Agensal Kingdom lay in the northeastern part of Vaeltharia, with the Fogwalls looming just beyond its northern border.

  Though the area was under military control by Agensal’s reserve forces, he had glimpsed the barrier from a distance. A towering mass of black fog made up of swirling darkness, stretching endlessly like a wall.

  Something about it felt deeply, fundamentally wrong. He pushed the thought aside, forcing his mind onto more mundane things.

  The monsters in this world were also vastly different from those in his past life. Many had humanoid shapes, which was strange. In his two years of adventuring, he had hunted all kinds of creatures, both two-legged and four-legged—but mostly the former.

  Maybe if I could find a bestiary on them somewhere, I could figure it out.

  Life here had become fairly simple for him. Wake up, take on quests—mostly hunting monsters—collect proof of his kills, and get paid. He was also somewhat well-off for a middling adventurer, having avoided wasting money on booze or other indulgences—mostly.

  He also needed to visit his parents after this quest. It had been over a month. They’d be crying all over me if I didn’t return. Better go before that happens.

  Sleep overcame him gradually, and before he realized it, he was sound asleep.

  Asherean woke to the sounds of birds calling in the distance, their chirps and cries signaling the start of another day.

  Blinking away sleep, he sat up, stretched his limbs, and instinctively scanned his surroundings. The forest remained still, save for the rustling of leaves in the morning breeze.

  Satisfied that nothing had crept too close during the night, he checked his rucksack, ensuring everything was in place.

  After taking a few measured sips from his leather water container, he made his way to a nearby stream. The cool morning air carried the faint scent of damp earth as he approached the water’s edge.

  Crouching down, he washed his face, letting the crisp water refresh him before tending to his morning needs.

  Once finished, he scooped up a handful of moist mud and applied it over the dried, cracked mud layer on his skin.

  This practice had become second nature to him—masking his scent and blending in with the terrain were crucial for staying undetected. The mud clung coldly at first but soon dried, forming an uneven coat over his exposed skin.

  With preparations complete, he set off toward the Beraels’ cave, his movements careful and calculated. The day ahead would be long.

  From dawn to dusk, Asherean observed the creatures, hidden beneath thick foliage or crouched behind sturdy tree trunks as he followed their movements.

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  He noted how they emerged from their cave, their heavy footsteps pressing deep into the earth. Unlike the more mindless monsters he had hunted before, these creatures displayed caution, moving in coordinated pairs and using guttural sounds to communicate. The sentries rotated frequently, ensuring there was always at least one standing guard.

  Despite their intimidating size, they rarely strayed far from the cave.

  he had also witnessed them tearing into the remains of a long-dead animal—one far past fresh, something most predators would avoid.

  Unlike the aggressive, roaming beasts of the wild, these creatures seemed to be lazier or perhaps more territorial. That didn’t align with what the guild’s information log stated—reports claimed they preyed on travelers along the dirt road connecting town of Erstonia with several villages and towns. Had something changed recently?

  By the time he returned to his camp, the sky was streaked with fading hues of orange and purple. Exhausted but satisfied, he noted down his findings on the papyrus, carefully storing it in the wooden box.

  With that done, he lay back on his mattress, gazing at the familiar stars, allowing his thoughts to drift like they always did.

  The next day unfolded much the same.

  However, this time, Asherean confirmed their total numbers—six fully grown Beraels and two smaller ones. He also learned that they rarely hunted in the morning and preferred to remain close to their cave for most of the day. That meant their attacks on villagers and merchants happened in the evenings or due to some reason, they avoid to move far away from their cave.

  Either way, with all these knowledge, a plan began to take shape in his mind. Simple and effective.

  A slow, confident smile tugged at his lips as he closed his eyes, drifting off to sleep with the certainty that by tomorrow, these monsters would be dead.

  The third day began for Asherean in much the same way as the previous ones.

  After checking his surroundings, ensuring no unwanted visitors had disturbed his camp, he methodically applied a fresh layer of damp mud over his skin. The dried, cracked remnants from the day before flaked away as he worked, refreshing his camouflage.

  Satisfied that his scent was masked, he made his way back to camp, retrieving two crudely made vials filled with a thick yellow-white liquid from his rucksack.

  He tucked them securely into his pocket, ensuring they wouldn't break, then fastened the rucksack tightly against the tree branch with a rope. Another length of rope was secured around his waist before he set off, this time in a slightly different direction from the cave.

  Moving through the undergrowth with practiced ease, Asherean scanned the ground for signs of movement, searching for tracks left by Eryndor Stags. These creatures were abundant in the region, favoring the lush pastures that stretched between the dense forests. It wasn’t long before he found what he was looking for—a series of hoofprints pressed into the damp earth.

  Still fresh.

  Following the tracks with silent precision, he soon heard the distant bleating of deer. Slowing his pace, he crept forward until the herd came into view.

  They were grazing, their heads dipping and rising as they remained ever watchful for danger. Their sleek bodies, built for bursts of speed, were well-adapted to avoiding predators. But endurance was not their strength—something he would use sometimes to his advantage depending on the situation.

  Drawing a small pouch from his belt, he extracted a handful of ripe, fragrant fruits. Slipping a few ripe fruits from his pouch, he scattered them along a narrow pathway leading deeper into the underbrush.

  Then, crouching low, he waited.

  Minutes passed. Then, one stag, larger than the others, lifted its head, nostrils flaring at the scent of the fruit. Cautiously, it stepped forward, then another followed. Soon, two of them were completely isolated from the rest of the herd.

  Now.

  The moment they lowered their heads to feed, Asherean struck. He moved swiftly, his blade flashing in the dappled morning light.

  The first stag barely had time to react before his sword pierced its throat, cutting off its cry before it could alert the others. The second bolted in alarm, but he was prepared—lunging forward, he slashed at its hind legs, severing the tendons and bringing it crashing to the ground. A swift thrust to the heart ended its struggle.

  The kingdom had strict guidelines regarding hunting—killing juveniles was prohibited to maintain the population. As such, he made sure to select only mature stags.

  His work wasn’t done yet. He needed a third one and using the same method, he patiently set up another lure. Within minutes, he had his third kill, and with it, the final piece of his plan.

  Tying three carcasses together with the rope he’d brought, he hoisted them onto his shoulders and carried them to a thick bush, ensuring they were hidden from scavengers before proceeding with the next step.

  Drawing his sword once more, Asherean methodically hacked at the carcasses, ensuring blood pooled around them. Then, retrieving the vials from his pocket, he carefully uncorked them and poured the yellow-white liquid over the wounds, making sure it seeped deep into the exposed flesh.

  This was Repeia venom—a potent paralytic extracted from highly venomous snakes. Normally, it was diluted and used to incapacitate monsters captured alive. In its pure form, it was far deadlier.

  To further mask the venom, he mixed the extract thoroughly with the blood using the edge of his sword, ensuring the stench of fresh meat would overpower any faint traces of poison. As a final measure, he struck the carcasses a few more times, spreading the blood further. The scent would carry, drawing the Beraels to the feast he had prepared.

  That should do it. He mused, satisfied

  After cleaning his blade against the soil, he swiftly lifted the bait and took off toward the cave. Time was short—if another predator caught wind of the scent first, it could ruin everything.

  Near the cave’s entrance, he carefully laid the carcasses on the ground, ensuring they were in clear view. Without wasting a second, he retreated to his previous hiding place—behind the wide tree.

  Breathing heavily from the exertion, he opened his waterskin, pouring some onto the soil and creating fresh mud. He smeared it over his body again, reinforcing his scent cover. Now, all that was left was to wait.

  Time stretched painfully slow. The forest remained still, save for the occasional rustle of leaves. Then, after more than twenty minutes, a distant roar shattered the silence, followed by the heavy pounding of footsteps.

  Peering from behind the thick foliage, Asherean watched as a tall Berael emerged, flanked by two others. Their yellow eyes gleamed with hunger as they skidded to a halt near the carcasses.

  The lead Berael, let out a deep, guttural roar, gesturing towards the remains with a clawed hand. The other two responded in kind, grunting their understanding before hoisting the bodies onto their shoulders. Without hesitation, they turned and carried the poisoned meat back into the cave, the tall leading the way.

  Asherean let out a slow breath, only now realizing he had been holding it. Even with experience, moments like this still sent a chill down his spine. One misstep, and I’d be the one being carried into that cave.

  An hour passed. At first, Asherean considered entering the cave to confirm whether the poison took effect—but it proved unnecessary. A strangled roar shattered the silence, followed by the unsteady shuffle of four Beraels as they staggered into view.

  Their movements were sluggish, their limbs faltering under the venom now coursing through their veins.

  It worked. Not all of them, but enough.

  Asherean readied his sword, adjusted his breathing manually, and waited for an opening. It happened when three of them turned towards the opposite direction, and the last one crouched down, vomiting down the soil.

  He shot forward like an arrow. Before the first one could react, his blade drove straight through its throat. A sharp gurgle, then silence. Asherean withdrew his sword with a slick schlick and immediately pivoted, driving the tip into the eye socket of the second Berael.

  The third one managed to lash out, claws swiping toward his chest. He barely dodged, the wind of the strike brushing against his cheek.

  He tried to strike again—aiming for the eyes or neck—but this one was smarter, raising its arms defensively and refusing to give him an opening.

  It’s buying time for reinforcements. He could already hear shouts from within the cave.

  Changing tactics, he feinted toward his opponent before abruptly shifting his aim. Instead of attacking the defensive Berael, he lunged at the crouched one still retching on the ground.

  The standing Berael made a critical mistake—it reacted, swinging its claws in a diagonal arc toward Asherean’s chest. He ducked just in time, using the opening to thrust his sword into its abdomen.

  Twisting the blade, he drove it deeper, ensuring a fatal wound. The Berael fell to its knees, clutching at its spilling entrails, and he finished it with a clean stab to the neck.

  The last Berael, the one still writhing on the ground, locked eyes with him.

  There was something in its gaze—something almost human.

  Two years ago, it might have made him hesitate. But that Asherean was long gone.

  His blade ended it swiftly.

  Without wasting a second, Asherean bolted toward the cave entrance but skidded to a sudden halt.

  Inside, four remained. Three lay unconscious—two smaller ones and a larger one, likely from the poison. The last one was still awake, crying out weakly in pain, dragging itself toward the others.

  It was not the scenario he had expected.

  For a brief moment, hesitation gripped him.

  Then, with a steeled resolve, he did what had to be done. He ended the suffering of the limping one first—a swift, merciful kill. The unconscious ones followed.

  His hands trembled slightly as he wiped his blade. Despite his experience, despite knowing these creatures had killed innocents, something about this felt too human. The last one—clearly a female—had been crying over the smaller ones before he ended her.

  He tightened his grip on his sword.

  They wouldn’t have shown me mercy. They would have torn me apart without a second thought. Pushing down the gnawing thoughts, he methodically collected the claws and ears as proof of the hunt.

  At last, the quest was done.