Chapter 8: The Hunter.

Nero woke up, so that was a good sign, his last thoughts were him wondering if he’d ever have the privilege of doing that again.

That however was where the good news ended. His body still bathed in agony and his head still felt woozy. Nero opened his eyes to find a wooden ceiling where the sky should have been.

He was in a small room, laying on a bed on the far end of a room. He shifted in place and groaned in pain. His stomach still hurt, he’d nearly forgotten what that eight legged bastard had done to him.

Well… Now seven legged.

“Careful not to hurt yourself, Nero.” He heard Ember call out and saw her floating above him, concern etched into her face.

“I’m alive.” He sighed. God, how bad must my life be going for that to be the highlight of my day.

“Where am I?” He asked her.

“Stradale, someone found your unconscious body and patched you up.” Ember said.

“Really?” He raised an eyebrow.

“Yeah, they were a hunter, at least I think they were a hunter. They had a half circle thingy with a string attached and a pointy stick.”

“You mean a bow and arrow?” Nero asked.

Ember scoffed. “Sure, if you want to be verbose.”

“How do you know what verbose means and not-” Nero sighed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. “Okay, so this is their house I’m guessing?” He asked.

Ember nodded. “I think they went out or something.”

“Gotcha…” Nero nodded and pulled himself up to his feet carefully. He raised his shirt to find a runed bandage wrapped deftly around his stomach. That, it seemed, was what had kept him from bleeding out. There were others around his other nicks and cuts too.

Nero opened the door and stepped into a room that looked more like an armoury. Weapons laid across tables but most of them were hung up on the wall. For the most part they were clearly made for use at range.

What struck him however was how modern they looked. They weren’t guns, and he wasn’t an archer, but he knew a compound bow when he saw one. Putting aside the primitive materials, the designs he was seeing could have come right out of the twenty first century.

“You’re snooping around.” Ember whispered, as if at risk of actually being overheard.

“I’m investigating,” He corrected.

Nero walked over to the wall and lifted the bow carefully free. It looked like something he’d expect to be used in the olympics. Only heavier. Nero pulled back the string to find it was amazingly stiff.

He reckoned with his enhanced strength he could use it with no problem, but a normal man might have cut his own finger off in the attempt. Which told him that his hunter friend probably had some sort of strength enhancement as well.

It seemed to be a common facet of Hell. Something in the air, perhaps. Or a consequence of eating things that lived in Hell? He couldn’t use himself as a benchmark- he knew just enough to know he was something of an outlier with what he could do- which left his opportunities for logical reasoning irritatingly scarce.

Nero’s eyes were caught by the runes on the bow and its string, similar to those he saw on Atix’s sword. The symbols were different, not that he could read them, but he assumed that meant something.

Nero stepped over to a drawer, pulled it out and found several arrows within it. They were heavy metal things with polished edges. No regular human could reliably shoot these, which lended further credence to his theory that the user had magic as well.

The arrows weren’t runed though, which made some sense. It seemed running was something done to give objects special attributes, that would mean it was valuable, and shooting valuable things at appreciable fractions of mach speed was a great way to lose lots of money.

Though, I could imagine a few circumstantial exceptions.

“Should I excuse you?” A voice rang through the air.

Nero jumped and turned around to see the source. It was a woman; pale skinned, white haired and perhaps a few years his senior. Her eyes were purple, like the clouds of Hell, and she wore a set of practically-fitted furs, equipped with a bow, arrow and quiver.

The woman did not look upon Nero approvingly. He saw Ember snickering above her head. The cunt had known she was coming and chose not to warn him. He’d find a way to pay her back for that, in time.

Nero smiled. “I apologise.” He said politely. “I was just curious.”

“Too curious.” The woman responded, tone flat. She seemed to look through Nero and not at him, in a way that made him feel uncomfortable.

“You saved me, I’d like to thank you for that.” He told her.

“Perhaps start by dropping my shit?” She asked.

“Ah, yes, good idea.” Nero winced, nodded and set the bow and arrow down.

The woman seemed to relax a shade at that. “You faced off against a Mother Sinner and came out alive.” She said.

Nero assumed from her tone that it was an impressive feat. But he had very little idea exactly how impressive, or why. Only arriving here a week ago would do that, but that was no reason to clue her in.

“Dying, I came out dying. And you rectified that predicament, thank you.”

“You had other wounds too… many that couldn’t have been done by Spinner claws.” She added. She was questioning him, there was suspicion in her, she hid it well but he could feel it.

She’d be a fool not to be suspicious, judging by the map there were a few settlements close to Stradale,but he didn’t know enough about them to confidently tell a lie he’d need to keep going for as long as he stays in this town.

This meant that he was a man trekking through the wilderness, alone.

That was often the fate of very dangerous people trying to escape some sort of punishment.

Those kinds of people brought trouble and it was always smart to stay out of trouble, no matter the scenario.

He couldn’t tell her the truth, his number one priority was fitting in with the locals.

He could lie and say bandits got him, but he’d already shown himself to be abnormally powerful in her eyes, and didn’t know how many people in this world were actually a match for him. Probably a good number, she’s a hunter, a common vocation, if someone with strength like her was one in a billion she’d be in a throne room.

Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

Still, there were too many variables and an obvious lie was far more damning than a suspicious truth.

Nero made a decision.

“Yes.” Nero shrugged. “The Dark Forest is a den of many nightmares.” Not a lie, but not the whole truth either.

“And why were you heading through the Dark Forest?” She asked, eyebrow raised.

“Personal reasons.” He told her. He was allowed some secrets after all, and being casual about it was one way to ease the tension.

“I see.” She nodded. “Alright then, can you walk?”

Nero smiled and nodded. “Still have a bit of a limp but I should be able to.”

“Alright, best you head off then, and use the backdoor, I don’t need anyone knowing that I helped you, this place isn’t a nursing home and I can barely take care of meself.”

Nero blinked, whiplashed from the change in topic. He nodded and smiled however, knowing better than to infuriate the few people in this world who he knew meant him no harm. Or I can at least be certain she doesn’t, you can’t ever be too careful with people Nero, remember they all share nearly the same genetic material as you. And you wouldn’t be foolish enough to trust someone who’s ninety nine percent you now would you?

“Of course,” Nero nodded and made his way for the door. He couldn’t exactly think up a way to make her cater to him while he gathered his bearings. You should have pretended to have a fever. But the time for that was gone now and all he had in front of him was a door that led to a terrifying world.

After the trials of the forest, Nero was beginning to get used to deciding his own way forward, which was why it came as a surprise when the woman offered him one.

“Head north to the potion’s shop, Gunther could use someone with your Might, the pay is cheap but at least he pays.” She told him.

Nero nodded. “Thank you.” He said and stepped out the door.

Night had come, so the air was gaseous ice and the twin moons hung in the sky. Fuck, I passed out for that long?

The buildings around Nero were humble wooden things, they looked like they might fall over at the slightest gust of wind. It added up when he saw the citizenry that owned them.

The streets were packed full of people, shuffling their way around to get to one business or another. Many of them wore dirty rags on their short, thin fragile frames that made Nero’s torn, blood caked shirt look fit for a ball.

Lower nutrition meant a shorter population, and judging by the fact that he seemed to tower above most people in this town with his relatively average earthling height, the populace of Stradale were well past undernourished.

Despite their state, they all looked to be thriving compared to the homeless. There were homeless back on earth, Nero had seen them in passing, heck he was responsible for a lot of them, and he’d bet any of the one’s here would trade places with earth’s in an instant.

Huddled on the side of the streets, they looked on the verge of dying, each and every single one of them. Cheeks gaunt, skin cracked and eyes distant, like reality was too much of an experience to bear.

Other people seemed to ignore them, in that there was a commonality to the world he knew and the world he’d found himself in.

“We should help them.” Ember pressed, face low and eyes wide.

“How?” He asked, but she said nothing, and he set his mind to more pressing issues.

Nero made his way through the streets and headed in the direction the lady had suggested

It didn’t take long for him to make it to what seemed to be a market. Stalls were pressed against the far side of the walls and merchants waved goods in front of people’s faces.

It didn’t surprise him to see it, a hunter’s home should be close to the markets.

Nero walked past a good few stalls with foodstuffs on display which made his stomach grumble and his tongue salivate. Observing them up close, they looked utterly horrifying. One was a fish with seven eyes and a tentacle for a tongue, the other was a crab with too many mouths, and the last was a potato that seemed perpetually on fire. Still, he was so hungry for anything actually crafted by human hands that he would have given anything to eat one.

Judging by the state of the people here however, he was half certain that if he reached for one without the money to pay for it, he’d lose the offending hand.

All the more reason to get the job done for whoever this Gunther fellow is.

Ember swam around people’s heads, inspecting them like they were action figures. She looked absolutely delighted to finally be around others after all this while.

It almost made Nero feel like his survival was a net-positive.

On his way he walked past a large building in the town centre, it stood out not just for its polish but the fact that it was two stories high. Given what he’d seen of much of the architecture, such a thing was a lot of effort for this civilisation’s architects.

“Who lives here?” Ember asked, similarly fascinated, though he guessed she just liked the pretty building.

“Probably the person responsible for other people living on the streets.” Nero replied.

She was silent at that, and he felt no reason to break that status quo. The rest of the walk was uneventful, though it gave him a good look of the town.

He walked past what seemed to be soldiers, though these ones weren’t anywhere near as equipped as the ones who’d attacked the tower. They carried spears and wore what looked like wool. All had runes on their weapons however, and that further solidified the opinion that those had the benefit of adding magical effects to materials.

If Mercury came looking for him here, the law enforcement would be the first in line to collaborate. That was what law enforcement was for after all- Nero had benefited from it well enough back when he’d been the one at the top. So he decided to keep his head down and eyes front as he made his way past chattering soldiers.

Once he’d thought he’d gone sufficiently north, he asked around for Gunther and was informed he’d gone too far north and should turn around. Grumbling, he did so and found the potion shop not too far behind him.

It was a small thing, better maintained than most of the buildings he’d seen but the patches of work around it told that it had been well kept not through an excess of wealth, but an abundance of effort.

Nero walked up and knocked on the door, it creaked open and he stepped in. The shop bled with a heat to banish the chill of the night. Pots of all sizes stood on lit stoves, bubbling away and giving off what Nero could only define as the optimum pungent aroma.

He resisted the urge to puke. Ember zipped around, utterly oblivious to the smell.

A man was sitting in the corner, hunched over a small boiling pot and pouring beakers filled with varying colours into it.

Nero hesitated a moment before speaking. “Are you Gunther?” He asked.

The man turned around as if he’d been pricked and got to his feet. He was in his forties, wrinkled and short, shorter even than most citizens of Stradale. He looked up at Nero with inquisitive eyes. “Yes, but we’re closed right now.” He said distractedly. “Unless it’s urgent, come in tomorrow.”

“Well, I guess you’d be the one to tell me how urgent it is.” Nero began. “I was sent here by…” Fuck, he didn’t get her name. “A woman.”

“Oh, a woman, well that changes everything, I ain’t know it was a woman sent you, come on, help yourself to everything I have.”

Nero huffed. “A hunter, she said you could use someone with my attribute.”

“Oh, Selvas.” His eyes brightened with recognition. “Well, you should have said that to begin with, we head off in three minutes, try not to lag behind.”

Nero was about to ask what they were heading off to do when the door creaked open. He turned to see a man standing at the entrance. He was huge, bigger than Nero even, which he knew would be a rarity in this village.

A long scar cut through his face where someone had tried and failed to kill him. By the coldness of his eyes Nero very much doubted that person was still alive.

“You again…” Gunther frowned.

“Not here for any trouble, unless you make trouble.” The man began. “You know what I need.”

“I know what you want, Tommy, and what you need is to stay away from it.” Gunther replied, glaring up at the giant. “You’re not injured no more, I only gave you it to get you through recovery.”

Tommy reached into his pocket and pulled out a long, crude blade. It too had that characteristic rune marking alongside it that Nero was getting used to seeing. The big man’s lips were drawn into a thin line. “I said, you only get trouble if you make some.”

Gunther laughed. “You think you’re the first lad to pull a knife on me?” The man asked. “Go ahead, stab me then, have fun explaining to the townspeople why their healer was murdered.”

The big man glared but it was one of impotent rage. He turned and shoved a pot of boiling liquid to the ground with a roar.

Gunther’s lips were drawn into a thin line of annoyance at that. “That was a day’s work you just ruined.”

Nero sighed. “Sir, just leave.”

He hadn’t expected all that aimless rage to be drawn to him so instantly as he spoke, but he welcomed it. The man’s focus slammed into him. “Did you fucking say something?” He spat and a globule of saliva slammed into the side of Nero’s face.

‘No.’ The answer was no. He knew people well enough to know when posturing was just that. This man didn’t want a fight, he just wanted someone to shove around, someone to make feel small so he could feel better about himself, and Nero was the closest person.

All he had to do was keep his head low, let the man think he’d come out of this with a victory and step aside. He would have, too, had he been back on earth where he couldn’t cleave off half a tree with a punch. But Nero didn’t need to tolerate grunting morons like this anymore.

“Just ignore him, lad.” Gunther urged.

Nero cleared his throat, he was tired of scurrying around, he’d had enough of that from the Dark Forest. “I said, get the fuck out. Do you have a problem with that?”

Tommy came for him, dagger in hand, though seeming to favour the closed fist of his other arm rather than a stabbing motion. He was fast, fast as X, but with how swiftly Nero could react now, he was also slow, far too slow to be a threat. Nero grinned, ready to meet the bastard with his own fists.