Chapter 340 - Debts and Dues IV

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Dear Diary,

Today is the last day of the winter festival. The first half was really fun because we got to eat all of our favourite foods, but I had to sit in a corner after Uncle visited. He tried to touch Lina's tail, so I enraged and kicked his butt. Master wasn't very happy about it, and neither was Mom, but it's his fault for being a creep.

Yesterday, we met Ms. Olga, Master's ex. She’s a middle-aged huskari lady with really pretty fur. She kind of invited herself, but Master was the only one that minded. She brought us a lot of food and gifts, including a pair of matching swords for Lina and I, so everyone else was happy to have her at the table. She still seemed to like Master quite a bit, and though he was really awkward around her, he didn't really seem to dislike her either. It doesn’t look like they broke up for real.

She's going to be joining us when we set out tomorrow. Master said it's a long trip. We're going south, and I think we're even going to be visiting Ms. Olga's home. She said it's in a beautiful city that's half underwater. How does that even work? I can't wait to find out.

Lia

___

“Your abilities are far too expensive.” The first thing Arciel did, as she confirmed the kill in her log, was to complain to the bleeding lyrkress. “Why is it that staring at a rabbit incurs a four million point cost?”

“I don’t know,” said Claire. “You’re probably staring too hard.” She removed the blade in her gut as her missing arm floated over and froze itself to its bloody stump.

“While I do not doubt that there was fault in my use, its cost remains absurd.”

“It’s not that bad,” said Claire. “The realm is worse.”

The squid twitched. “I do not understand how it is you manage without a staff.”

“Boris works.”

“I suppose he must.”

“Should we really be letting down our guards?” asked Krail. “The raccoon mentioned that there were two of them, if memory serves correctly, and I’d guess that the second assassin is going to be trying to finish us off.”

“Shouldn’t be a problem,” grunted Ace. “I’m pretty sure his partner’s a priest.” Like everyone not named Claire, the lizardman had been fully healed by the Cadrian’s defeat. With their fatigue recovered, some of the members had already started on some task or other—Matthias was practicing counters against an imaginary foe, while Jules was placating the surviving merchants and adventurers. It was a task at which he proved surprisingly adept, in spite of his rough demeanour.

“Priest or not, he could still be a decent fighter,” said Krail. “One of my old parties was nearly wiped out by a priest during a quest where we were supposed to clear out some cultists, though if you ask me, everyone is basically a cultist these days. Indoctrinated, the lot of you, I swear.”

“If he was going to attack us, he would’ve done it with the rabbit,” said Claire.

The elf grimaced. “If you were fully healed, maybe, but looking like that, you’re practically begging for him to finish us. Did he not give you enough experience to level?”

Claire shrugged. The man had only given her about a quarter of a racial class level, and the idiots she slew in the dungeon the other day only amounted to half that number. Her titular class was somehow even worse off. Its third level was still missing a tiny sliver. And in the first place, it was not as if leveling up would have helped, with her ascension’s penalty being what it was.

“It is hardly a problem,” said Arciel. “My mana has been restored and my faith stands firm. I shan’t lose to any other priest.”

The queen puffed out her chest, but Krail was not quite as confident. He continued to frown, even as Ace lightly thumped him on the shoulder.

“You’re worrying too much, Mister Greenwood. How’s about you kick back a bit? That last one might’ve caught us off guard, but we’ll be fine as long as it doesn’t happen again.”

“Don’t remind me. I should’ve known that there would be an ambush of sorts,” said Krail. “Normally, I’d have sensed it in my bones, but it looks like I was off today. You know, this reminds me of that time some hundred and fifty years ago, when my fri—”

“That is enough of that,” said Arciel. “It is necessary for us to discuss our plans. We must hunt the second Cadrian agent if we wish to prevent him from informing his allies of our abilities,” she looked at Claire, “and our identities.”

Claire nodded. “I’d love to. But my tracking skill isn’t picking him up. Is yours?” She looked at Sophia. She wasn’t actually sure if the shark had the skill in question, but it seemed apt enough for a member of the secret service.

“Negative. I cannot detect him.”

“Don’t worry, I’ve got that part covered.” Panda’s voice suddenly came from a dark corner where no one happened to be looking. Stepping out from within it, the raccoon rubbed his dirty little paws together and continued in a casual tone. “I know exactly where he was holed up and exactly where he’s heading. I can do something about his letters, but it’s up to you to make him pay his dues.” He looked around the crowd. “But one word of caution, he’s probably stronger than the one you just beat.”

“Why do you know?” asked Claire. “And where did you come from?” Her eyes were even colder than usual.

“Trade secret,” he said. “You’re just going to have to trust me.” He clearly knew that he was asking for the impossible, and the shit-eating grin on his face reflected the sentiment.

“I refuse.”

“While I certainly understand your concern, Claire, I do believe that we haven’t another choice,” said Arciel.

The lyrkress only averted her eyes.

Taking her silence as tacit approval, the squid looked around the room. “Are there any objections?”

“I can’t go.” Lana presented her broken axe, which had wound up as more of a jagged stick. Its missing blade was, arguably, even worse off than its handle. The cottontail’s sword had melted right through the metal with little to no resistance. The few bits left uncut were equally unsalvageable; they were covered in the same cracks that decorated its supposedly hardened body.

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“My main sword’s done too,” said Ace. “The piece of junk was pretty much standard issue, unlike Miss Penhorn’s axe, but I’ll still need it swapped before I can jump back into action.”

Claire rose to her feet. “Then go back to town. I can handle the runner myself.”

“You shall be doing no such thing until you have healed,” said Ciel. “Perhaps it is time for us to rely on S—”

“I’ll be fine.”

“If it’s just you, the shark, and the mages, then you’re probably better off not going,” said Panda. “So whatever she’s thinking is probably the best bet.”

Claire pretended not to hear him. She did know the truth, of course. Engaging was risky. Their opponent was a level eight hundred that they barely knew anything about, and they had only barely managed to eke out a win against what was most likely his weaker partner. They were better off giving up. But she couldn’t allow her identity to slip.

The secret wasn’t just a strategic advantage that she could leverage at a later date, but also one of the few things that ensured Rubia’s continued existence. There was a chance her father would come clean and outright remove the homunculus in the case that the secret leaked too far. Even if he refrained from killing her, he was sure to take her out of the life that she so clearly enjoyed.

But at the same time, she felt like revealing Sylvia’s abilities was equally mistaken. Panda might have had a grudge against her father, but he was only working with them because their interests aligned. For all she knew, showing her cards was no different from donning a noose.

“What race is he?” she asked.

“Three daggers and I’ll tell you,” replied the raccoon.

Claire rolled her eyes. “Put it on my father’s tab.”

The fake panda breathed a sigh and raised his shoulders with an exaggerated shrug. “Cloudrunner.”

“Thunderhoof?”

“Blackmist.”

“Then we’ll be fine,” said Claire. “I can take him down.”

She couldn’t trust the rat, but she was confident in her own ability. Blackmist cloudrunners were primarily attuned to infiltration, and Ephesus’ men were clearly not elites. Breaking his neck would be a simple task.

___

Lucius held his breath and studied his heart as he eyed his prey from over a hill. He was over three hundred meters away, well outside the range of the animal’s upwind detection. Just two days ago, he would have needed to be ten times closer, but his god’s blessing had bolstered his skills’ efficiency. Still, even though he was confident he could kill it, the hunter refrained from culling his mark. It was not a concern with his accuracy that drove the inaction. He was simply following his master’s instructions.

Kael’ahruus did not approve of hunters incapable of adapting their strategies. There was always an optimal way for one to subdue one’s quarry, the broad strokes of which could vary based on any number of factors. In the first place, the goal itself was a moving post; different needs meant different optimal solutions. To kill an animal for food meant bleeding it out without wasting too much of the meat, and as such, destroying its heart was often discouraged. On the other hand, cardiovascular damage was practically ideal for population control. Pelt-focused harvesting called for strangulation, whereas capturing the target’s young typically involved the use of traps.

To arrive at a reasonable conclusion—to provide an ideal solution for each desired outcome—was precisely the thrill of the hunt.

Even a creature as simple as a deer was a clean canvas for artistic expression, a way to refine one’s skills and differentiate oneself from the one-note fools that always called for pitfalls and projectiles.

Lucius felt nothing but shame knowing that he had only just graduated from his theological illiteracy. For his whole life, he had failed to consider his prey, settling for traditional methods whenever they were applicable. But no more. His time of ignorance had come to an end. That was why he began by observing his target. He watched its movements as it stretched its head towards a tree and drank the sweet sap from its lactating knobs. He watched its bones as they creaked through each of their positions and revealed the weaknesses in its skeletal structure. And he watched its spirit as it raised its eyes and scanned for predators.

In a way, it was like him, unable to identify a threat even as it was being watched. He knew his own failures. And he wouldn’t be repeating them again.

Gripping his weapon, the massive bee drew closer and closer and closer; the deer didn’t notice his approach until its skull was struck by the back of his hand. It was more of a tap than it was a punch; he hit the beast with just enough power to destroy its spinal cord without damaging any of its vertebrae. There were no open wounds nor even any bruising underneath its skin. It was a perfect, silent kill, executed with all of the techniques that his god had hammered into his body ever since the time of their meeting.

With the beast slain, Lucius immediately fell to his knees. Clasping his hands in his lap, like any good Cadrian zealot, he closed his eyes and waited.

He said no words of prayer. Though he was not entirely uneducated, the former huntsman was no one of note. He did not know any words powerful enough to express the extent of his worship, so he simply remained silent so that his master would infer them.

He could feel the immortal lion smiling upon him. He could feel the warmth of his presence and the pure kindness reserved only for members of his pride.

And then, when he finally opened his eyes, he found that all of it was true.

The god of the hunt stood before him with his arms crossed and his lips twisted into a grin. His form was more translucent than it had been when he last possessed a body, but there was no helping it. All of the accompanying flesh was gone, consumed by the thorae following the god’s explicit instruction. Though he had only inhabited the shell for a few minutes at most, remnants of his power had leached into the vessel and transformed it into a steroid well worth its weight in gold.

“A good kill,” said Kael’ahruus. “You’ve done well to master my power.”

“Thank you, Lord.”

“No, Lucius. Thank you,” said the god. “Thank you for becoming the instrument through which my will is done.”

“You saved me, Lord. There’s nothing more valuable than blood and honour, and warriors always pay back their debts.”

The lion laughed. “You are no longer a warrior, Lucius. You are a hunter.”

The bee-ogre only nodded.

“But while I do love all my children and brethren, I feel that it wouldn’t be quite right to simply lump you in with all of the others,” said the god. “You’re better suited for this than most, more talented by leaps and bounds.” A smile crossed his lips. “That’s why I’m making you my champion.”

Lucius didn’t even have time to question the declaration. A pillar of light descended from the heavens and enveloped his body in its golden embrace. Power flooded through his veins, raw power that his body couldn’t quite contain. It almost felt like his flesh would burn right off his bones, like it would all be stripped with nothing left behind. But then, just as he was about to howl, kick, and scream, it came to an end. The god’s light faded, leaving only a faint golden glow that pulsed through his holy tattoos.

Once again, he had received the deity’s blessing.

And not just any blessing, but a more powerful form thereof.

His classes changed in response. The miscellaneous abilities he had gathered over the years merged into a single, titular entity.

He had become the hunter of fables.

“Our brethren will recognize you as our champion. Every institution has already been informed.”

The ogre silently nodded. He wanted to speak, but he couldn’t find the words, at least not with his joy and gratitude fighting for control of his heart. But all that vanished when he recalled a certain individual’s face. Replaced by a thirst for revenge.

“You’ve obtained several times her power. You could easily crush her underfoot,” said the god, “but there is something you must first do.”

“Of course, Lord. What is it?”

“I would like you to head north,” he said. “Visit the churches in Fornestead and Zarkaahn, save their nations, and prove your might to the people.”

“Yes, Lord. By your will,” said the ogre. He was a little disappointed, but he refrained from protesting his orders.

“Don’t worry,” said the big cat, with an even bigger grin. “She’s heading north too. You’ll just be beating her to her own quarry.”

Lucius pressed his head to the floor in an immediate display of reverence and apology. He had only felt it for the briefest of moments, but the man could only chastise his lack of faith. There was no reason to doubt. His lord had taken all of his interests and hopes to heart.