On a new winter's day, a hunter marked his newest prey...

Far east of the Fericire countryside were the Black Woods of the Killarney Province. The region was colloquially named as such by its residents due to the abundance of trees in the area.

The trees were black as coal, large and tall as their branches stretched uncontrollably and entangled into other trees like vines. The leaves were so thick that it could block out any ray of sunlight, leaving the inside of the woods shrouded in an eternal darkness.

Elsewhere, an old merchant drove his truck toward the edge of the forest, right by the nearby village of Veltz. Beside him on the passenger sat a hunter, a pale man of nineteen years, staring blankly against the window.

His short ashen grey hair was graciously brushed back, and round spectacles with blue lenses were tightly concealed around his violet eyes. He wore a black jacket underneath a matching overcoat. Around his neck was a dark blue cravat tied with a small emblem of a lion. His sword, a tall yet thin beauty of a blade with a simple swept hilt, was attached to his belt.

"We're nearly there, sir." He spoke to his passenger beside him. "Best be cautious. I heard numerous people from the nearby villages have gone missing around this area for the past few months. The Magistrate had already sent for five other hunters in this mission but none have returned so far."

"A great swell of pity for those unfortunate souls," the hunter replied. "No wonder the Magistrate doesn't have much faith in my arrival. So what do you think lurks in that forest, good sir?"

The merchant was silent for a moment. "I don't know much, the locals in this region believe that a witch lives in the forest, luring the masses into the darkness to use their able bodies as food to feast upon. Others say it was a hideous monster, with the forest as her territory."

"Have they ever sent anyone to investigate this forest?" The hunter asked. There wasn't any hint of concern or sincerity in the tone of his voice, just a cold calmness.

"There was, sir." The merchant continued. "The local military led an expedition through these woods a week ago in search of some missing villagers. But not a single man has returned. They say these woods are enchanted by the witch; they have a way of drawing anyone deep into its wretched heart and trapping them inside without a way out."

Normally, stories like these would give his previous passengers dread upon hearing them. But the young hunter remained unfazed. He simply replied with a gentle nod.

The merchant was surprised by the hunter's nonchalant behavior, but brushed it off to keep his composure. "Say, lad, aren't you a little scared to take on an assignment like this? Anyone, even outsiders, pissed their pants just mentioning it. Not a single soul ever set foot outside those woods ever lived to escape it."

"If that is the case, then where do these stories of this witch come from?" The hunter asked, still not looking away from the horizon. "Somebody must've survived long enough to tell a tale."

"You're a peculiar one, lad." The merchant said. "Most hunters I've ever met only boast about the deal of gold they procure from their prey."

"Most people with that mindset don't tend to live long," the hunter retorted, still looking at the horizon. "My grandfather once told me that a hunter shouldn't look for gold and riches in the pursuit of a monster, but rather in how dangerous they are.

"The smaller, less threatening ones, a common soldier can handle just fine. But it's the ones that lived long that I need to look out for. Monsters that inspired countless bedtime stories, folk tales, and the lot have earned their reputation by how they've managed to survive for so many years. That's what hunters should be aware of. A worthy foe that more than lived up to their influence over time."

Without even looking back, the hunter stared at the merchant through the reflection at the car window, his violet eyes gleaming brightly through his glasses. He needn't say another word, but the merchant nervously swallowed up his worries.

Soon the black woods came into view from a distance. As if out of instinct, the merchant stepped on the brakes and the truck stopped. He began to shiver terribly, as though a terrible presence surrounded those woods.

"This is where I must leave you, hunter." The merchant spoke to him as the hunter stepped out of the truck. "These woods attract a malevolent aura that even the wildlife are too afraid to go near. Evil lives in that forest."

"I can tell just by looking at it." The hunter remained unfazed by what the merchant was trying to tell him. "Need not worry, sir. I won't be long."

With an uncertain nod, the merchant stirred the engines open and turned the truck around, leaving the young hunter all alone by the edge of the forest. A trail of a foul stench, possibly that of a monster, led deeper into the darkness.

"Only one way out of this." He simply uttered under a deep breath. His hand was already placed on the hilt of his sword. He took a step into the forest, feeling the light of the sun grow dimmer with each step inside. He felt the monster's stench fill the air around him.

And soon enough, the hunter was completely cradled in darkness. The hunter snapped his fingers together and sparks ignited from the tips. Eventually, he concentrated his mind a little harder and a small orb of fire appeared floating from his palm as a light source.

Blood was all around him, the hunter thought as he sniffed. The scent was strangely originating from the trees surrounding him. It was curious. The hunter took a closer look at one of the trees. He removed his left glove and touched the bark.

It was warm, no, it was pulsating like it was alive. Then the hunter had an idea. From his right boot, he pulled out his dagger and carefully pushed it into the wood. Blood began to drip from the cut, cold and thick. The hunter heard a faint moan of pain carried by the wind as he drove the blade deeper.

"Fascinating," the hunter said, wiping the bloody dagger with his handkerchief.

The hunter ventured further into the woods when he caught a whiff of freshly-dribbled blood from the distance. A survivor and a wounded one at that, the hunter deduced. He ran toward the source when the faint sounds of a man's painful moan became louder.

Eventually, the hunter came across a soldier sitting on his knees. He seemed to be asleep, though the heavy bags under his eyes meant that he hadn't slept for a long time before. His body was covered in tree branches, sprouting dark red leaves. Some managed to grow its way into his mouth and his left ear.

His mouth all the way down to his body was painted in dried blood, but he kept dribbling out more. He woke in a daze when the light from the Hunter's fire flashed near his eye, but as soon as his eyes met his, once hopelessly dim now flickered with desperation.

"Oh no..." The soldier gasped in confusion. "How long have I slept?"

"Save your breath." The hunter told him, undisturbed by his words. "I'm here to kill the witch. Have you seen it?"

"It was no witch! And there is no killing her!" The soldier coughed up blood. "It was a monster. She took a cut from a sword and healed instantly from it. She was so fast, we barely saw her when she ambushed our scouting party and... And..."

"You're the only one standing." The hunter noted. "Or rather, she's saving you for last. Can you move?"

The soldier shuddered before he spoke. "I can't move my damn body... She forced something in my throat after I was defeated... A seed..."

The hunter stroked his chin and eyed his surroundings, carefully assessing the situation. At his feet were skulls and bones He returned his gaze to the soldier. "I can cut you free. I still have the time, after all." The hunter gripped on his scabbard.

"No... No, kill me now..." The soldier mournfully replied. "It's a better fate than-"

And before the hunter knew it, the soldier suddenly stopped talking and vomited over the ground. Out came a puddle of blood, but floating amongst it were black leaves. He returned his eyes, now brownish and wet with sap, toward the Hunter, who kept observing with inhuman calm.

"No, she's turning me into one of them! Kill me before she takes me, please-"

He pleaded to the hunter before his body shook violently. Before the hunter knew it, he saw the soldier's skin dry up and turn into bark. His limbs became stiff and cracked loudly, his body stretched and contorted as he grew and transformed uncontrollably. His fingers grew longer as they reached out, each turning into a branch or more adorned with black leaves.

As the hunter observed carefully, the body of what was the soldier twisted and turned until it completely hardened into a giant blackwood tree just like all the others surrounding the hunter. A cold humid air shrouded the darkness. The hunter took a deep breath, and placed a hand on his scabbard.

"Ah, another hunter sent to destroy my beloved garden." A soft yet maddening voice whispered into his ear, but the hunter was all alone. The staggering smell of blood filled the air like a thick fog, clouding his sense of smell.

"Beautiful, isn't it? You could never see such art in the world outside this forest. Age has thoroughly ruined their youth, their blood. I... simply gave them a little spell to make their lives deliciously better for all eternity."

As your personal blood bags, the hunter thought. Now he realized why the trees bleed as he cut through the bark. But the answer only left him mildly satisfied rather than scared. Judging from the abundance of blackwood trees in the forest, she got used to poor peasants and foolish soldiers as food. Like clockwork, he immediately assessed the right tactic to use against her.

"I must say, what interesting pieces you have here," the hunter lied flamboyantly, even forcing a smirk to fool her. "It'd be a waste to kill me now when I'm just now admiring your work."

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The woods around him hissed in the winds. The hunter knew that his words got to her; the witch would never expect someone who couldn't break down at the mere sight of her "art".

"Well? Nothing to say?" The hunter taunted. "Still, before you inevitably kill me and turn me into a tree as well, I like to personally see the artist behind this piece. She should be well congratulated, no?"

The woods were silent for a mere moment. "So be it, hunter," it answered.

Just then, the hunter heard the sound of twigs snapping and the dirt crunching under foot. The overbearing stench dissipated and the hunter can track her scent more clearly. She smelled of poison oak and swamp water. He turned around and saw her, steadily walking toward her.

The Beast that hounded the black forest of Killarney was no more than a fair maiden clothed only in muddy rags. Her hair was as pale as her skin, and twigs and leaves were tangled around her locks. The pool of human remains crunched against her bare feet which have long been painted in dirt and dry blood. Her pink red eyes were wide open, locked in a glassy stare against the hunter's.

The hunter needed to see the witch with his own eyes but now that he saw her, he found himself mildly shaken by her ghastly aura. He was taught that vampires use fear to tenderize their prey, so that was reason enough not to give her any.

"So both tales are true." The young hunter spoke. "They each spoke of a witch and a monster. But here I see you as you truly are... A vampire. Hundreds of years old at most."

"Interesting..." The hag tilted its head as it circled the hunter. "You are not like the other hunters... I smell no glint of pride in you... And neither does fear..." It sniffed hoarsely at his scent. "Human blood runs in your veins and yet... you are farthest from humans than any who wanders here."

"I suppose you've never met a real hunter before." The young hunter replied. "Fear is but an obstacle that the mind shall master."

The hag leaned closer toward the young hunter, staring hungrily against his fleshy body. "Your breed is hard to come by. Feeble little peasants are getting fewer by the hour. Gullible hunters are very much the same. But a fearless, splendid creature in my garden, I have yet to taste."

Before the hag could lunge at him with her fangs bare, the young hunter unsheathed his sword concealed in his overcoat and pointed its sharp tip at the hag, forcing her to stop and hiss at such an unexpected move.

"I'm not edible." The hunter said.

The hag snorted at the blade and flinched terribly. "Silver. The wolf's metal in your terrible blade. You are of the Butcher's kin?"

"You speak of my grandfather," the hunter simply said. "Are you acquainted with him?"

"The Butcher was but a foe. A terrible one." The hag sang horribly. "We've fought in years past when It has killed my mate years before..."

"Then I'm here to finish up what he started. I'm his grandson, his only student. Please do not resist and I'll make sure your fate ends quickly."

The hag snarled at him. She touched the nearest tree next to her and an arm sprouted from the bark. She held it and pulled it just as quickly, revealing a steel sword that she aimed at the hunter's neck. "Foolish little human, you will regret ever setting foot in my forest."

Like a predator, she circled the hunter with eyes staring hungrily at his body and her weapon raised. The hunter likewise steered around her, keeping his sword pointed at her eye. Both were patiently waiting for the other to strike, but finding the opportunity was like catching lightning in a bottle.

The witch snapped her fingers suddenly and from behind the hunter, a tree snapped off its stump and fell to meet him. He quickly jumped out of the way, momentarily lowering his guard as the witch thrust her sword upon him.

The hunter parried her blade away, followed by a hard slice to her neck. But the witch swerved away from the silver's touch, as if her body was carried by the wind. The hunter approached her, and with a graceful pirouette the momentum amplified the strength of his swing. The witch blocked it, but the force was enough to lose her footing and staggered backward.

It seemed that this witch was no master with the sword. In rapid succession, the hunter delivered a plethora of quick thrusts and jabs toward her chest, hoping to catch her off-guard and find a killer opening. But she weaved and tumbled herself out of the blade's reach, with moves as delicate as a ballerina.

Eventually the hunter made the mistake of taking a step closer with a hard lunge. Not only did the witch evade his advance, she managed to catch his sword hand and caught him in a chokehold, locking his arm behind his backside. Despite her scrawny stature, the witch was considerably strong.

She stroked the hunter's ash gray hair and leaned closer to his pale neck. "You would make a handsome little tree, good hunter." She opened her mouth and out came her yellowish fangs and a green thorny vine with black seeds sprouting out of it took the place of her tongue.

From up close, the witch was emitting a fragrant, hypnotizing and quite an intoxicating pheromone. Maybe it was from getting most of it clogged into his senses that the hunter unwittingly opened his mouth as the witch began to join it with her own, her tongue eagerly twisting and drooling with saliva.

So that's how she transforms them into her garden pieces, the hunter mused in his mind. But before she gave him a grotesque kiss, he loosened his free hand and dropped his sword from the other. He caught the handle as it fell from his back and with no hesitation, stabbed the witch in the gut.

The witch flinched as she dropped the hunter from her hold. Not giving her a chance of recovery, he unleashed a horizontal cut through her abdomen. The witch's stomach tore open and out came intestines and her internal organs.

The witch's body was merely inches away from the ground when her ribcage immediately bent and turned into long sharp tendrils that shot out and nearly missed the hunter's head in the process. He backed away as he witnessed eight tendrils sprout off her belly and planted themselves firmly into the ground.

The lower half of her body fell to the ground, but her upper half was carried up with the tendrils. The witch, still alive, cackled madly as slits at both edges of her mouth open all the way to her ears, revealing a rather nasty set of protruded teeth. Then opened smaller slits around her eyes, revealing six smaller eyes. Her arms mutated, her flesh ripped apart as her bones stretched and her fingers turned into long and sharp claws.

"You cannot kill me with mere weapons, good hunter!" The witch howled. "I am the heart of this forest! For as long as my garden thrives, I shall live forever!"

The hunter knew there were no chances of defeating her at the moment. Another killing blow and she might regenerate and continue fighting until she ensures her victory. He managed to cut one of her legs before he started to run into the forest deep while the monstrous witch gave chase, her lanky legs of bone tried to impale him as they outran him.

The hunter was nimble with his feet. He weaved around the trees to try and lose her sights on him. But a spider like her would not let go of prey that easily. She began to climb on the trees and as she crawled toward him through the tall branches, she slashed down a blackwood tree and sipped on the blood that gushed out of the stump. The hunter heard a shriek coming from the tree before it quickly died out as the tree fell to the ground dried and withered.

At once, her leg regenerated and with a sigh of pleasure, she returned to the chase much faster than before. Blood, the hunter deduced. The witch has a series of blood bags disguised as trees. For as long as they stood, he had no chance of winning against her.

But the hunter did not expend every trick on his sleeves just yet. After summoning another orb of fire on his palm, he aimed it at the trees around him, causing it to burst into a volley of flames. The hunter heard blood curdling screams everywhere. The flames managed to incinerate a great number of trees while keeping the witch at bay.

With his foe incapacitated, the hunter ran amok in the blackwood forest. As he ran, he sprayed fire around the forest, burning every blackwood tree he came across. He managed to scorch a good half of the forest before the spider witch caught up to him. He was already exhausted, but he managed to deflect her legs as they pounced on him.

But the hunter was caught off guard by the witch's tongue, which grew elongated and pierced his glasses. The hunter lurched away, spraying a pillar of fire behind so the witch wouldn't give chase. Luckily, his blue-tinted lenses were so thick that the attacker managed to merely crack it.

Left with no other choice, the hunter took the glasses off and put them in his coat pocket. He turned to face the witch once more, but she began to shiver, mortified by what she saw.

The glasses were meant to conceal the mark of a curse laid upon him when he was born. He had deep crimson eyes that glowed in the shadow of the sun. He began to smile horribly as though he was possessed by a wicked demon completely.

"You bear the Hollow's mark, you impostor!" The witch gasped.

The hunter said nothing. In his silence, he grasped his blade with a deep concentration, his hand caught fire and lit the sword aflame. The witch was hesitant to attack, not only because her garden of sacrifices was burning down to a crisp, but also the maddening aura surrounding the hunter.

"Come on!" The hunter roared, his voice was louder and monstrous than before. "Don't get cold feet now, witch! Isn't this what you wanted?!"

At once, the witch dubiously made a desperate lunge toward the hunter, who ran to approach her as well. But as soon as her claws raced to impale him, he ran toward a tree and leapt from underneath her, slashing off her arms in midair.

As he landed, the hunter drove his sword through her body and bisected her torso. The witch wailed as she tried to escape, but the hunter immediately tore off her legs at such inhuman speed, crippling her.

The witch lay dying on the blood-soaked ground, as the hunter simply walked toward her. He wiped the blood of his sword with his sleeves before placing it back on his scabbard.

The very moment his eyes met hers, the witch quickly turned her gaze away. She whimpered as she tried to crawl away from him in anguish. Bloody tears spilled from her eyes.

"Look at me." The hunter knelt in front of her. "Feels ironic, isn't it? I can imagine that some of your victims died just like this. Alone, cornered, wounded. While you stood over them with a smile. Judging from the size of this forest, you've killed too many to keep yourself alive. So fat and satisfied from their misery. It's only fair that I do the same to you."

The witch was silent for a moment. "You're a monster, too... You've got their eyes, don't you? Why pretend to be something you're not... when you know that 'they' won't accept you regardless? You could've been... one of us..."

The hunter pondered on her words, before he pulled out his revolver and cocked the firing pin. "You know, I'm not quite sure myself. I'm neither a human nor a demon, yet at the same time I'm both. It's my decision to choose which side to favor."

He aimed the revolver at her head and calmly pulled the trigger. The forest burned away, as the light of the sunrise peered through the crumbling black leaves.

⚜️

"Here," the hunter dumped a bloody pouch onto a large, startling both the Magistrate and his council and disrupting a seemingly important meeting. "The head of the witch, just as you asked."

The council had various reactions to such an indecent act. Most were shocked at the barbaric display, some screamed in terror over a traumatic moment, yet only one among them remained still with a faint smile on her face.

The Magistrate, the man who sent him off to hunt the witch in the first place, was dumbfounded when he saw what was inside the pouch and winced away in disgust. "Sharon, call the bank. Give him the reward money as quickly as possible."

"My lord, I-"

"You have my orders, go!" The Magistrate ordered more sternly, and the woman left the room in haste. He turned his attention toward the hunter. "To be honest, I did not expect you to both survive and kill this witch. So many hunters before you have all tried and failed to-"

"Spare yourself, m'lord." The hunter interrupted. "It was merely my duty. And I followed it to the letter."

"Absurd! How do we know that this is the head of the witch." A general stood up from his seat in protest. "Do you have any proof of your claim?"

"You could go ahead and check the black forest," the hunter retorted. "Or at least, whatever remained of it. The forest was the source of her power, so some extreme measures had to be taken."

The Magistrate furrowed his eyebrows, still frozen in utter disbelief. "I cannot thank you enough for this brave and courageous deed. We would offer to give you a proper soldier's welcome in the square if-"

"No, that won't be necessary." The hunter interrupted again. He remembered how the Magistrate shrugged him off when he left to hunt the witch, without a care if he survived or not. "The reward money is enough. I will leave just as quickly as I came."

He was just right in front of the door when the Magistrate stood up. "At least give us your name, good sir!" He exclaimed. "Something little to remember you by."

The hunter merely sighed. He did not want to attract any attention to himself. To them, he was just a lowly hunter. If word came out of what clan he was born from, which magician conceived him, and what old hunter raised and trained him all his life, the Magistrate and his merry men will never not let it go. Eventually he turned around to meet the Magistrate, who was anxiously waiting for an answer.

"Theodore," he simply spoke. "Just call me Theodore."