The Central Forest of Justicia rarely found itself inhabited by dangerous creatures. Wild animals such as the Spiked Boars, Razor Antelopes and the Threaded Bears were the worst that the Central Forest of Justica had to offer.

But this was mitigated by the mandatory presence of a Huntsman or an equivalent-levelled village guardian to prevent these animals from wiping out their settlements. The hired Huntsmans of the Arachnida Association played a vital part in controlling the population of dangerous animals.

Like their namesakes suggested, they were akin to territorial spiders who fed on unwanted visitors.

However, Huntsmen were comparatively weak compared to their peers in the Arachnida Association. Furthermore, the Green Rangers Branch of the Arachnida Association was comprised of roughly a few hundred Huntsmen of varying skill. They oversaw the protection of the Central Forest of Justica and its neighbors under the client – Justica Arms.

The levels of danger in this region did not require the presence of stronger personnel. If something were to occur, then Justica Arms were close enough to deal with the threat. Where the Huntsmen used a crossbow and bolts, those who carried weapons similar to Red’s utilized teleporting crystal bullets.

But a Corrupted Zone changed everything. A Corrupted was one thing, and monster were another. But a world dictated by the fathoms of a Corrupted was impossible to predict, let alone be prepared for.

“They said it’s only a Trickle-level Corrupted, but that could mean Green, Yellow or Blue. I’d be able to singlehandedly deal with a Green Trickle, but if it’s Yellow or Blue…”

The gruff voice of a hardy man uttered. He managed to squeeze these words out through his clenched teeth as she finished slaughtering a small band of Bitter Thorns. Though their brambles were too hard for his blade or crossbow bolts to penetrate, the parts that were still human were vulnerable.

He removed his blade from the chest of a man tangled in the black tendrils before kneeling to close his eyelids.

“We’re not rated to fight the Corrupted. This is madness… Cursed beings. Theses people are from nearby villages.”

None of their faces matched the people from Hearth Village. He waged to guess that they were able to leave safely before the Corrupted Zone fully closed them into this dark world.

Just hours ago, the caravan carrying the villagers of Hearth were struck down by the living branches of the trees. However, thanks to some luck, the bottles of oil had set it alight, allowing the villagers to escape on foot.

Of course, they didn’t leave unscathed, and Mr. Huntsman vividly recalled the lacerations that ran along their backs as they were whipped by the flailing tendrils. Were it not for Snow, then many would have bled out within minutes.

But due to Snow’s diligence and kindness as a Healer; her chance to escape was lost. Mr. Huntsman didn’t know if Snow had left or not, as his back had been turned to her at the time before the flames separated them.

“This one isn’t Snow either.” He meticulously checked the bodies, closing their eyes one by one and checking their hair color, hoping that he wouldn’t find a strand of white.

He could have also escaped, but he was loyal to his cause to protect Snow no matter the cost. Failure would result in immediate termination (death), often in the form of being fed to an Octanid; an Anid that lived by turning people into living slurries of pure, liquified biomass which would function as its blood.

Of course, one would still be alive and conscious as long as the Octanid was alive, but in his heart, he was more afraid of losing Snow. He carried a pendant with a picture of a girl with black hair. She looked nothing like Snow, but whatever he felt towards this person in the pendant was directed to Snow.

“Sorrow will get a man nowhere. It would be too dangerous to call out her name. Besides…”

He clasped at his left hand. Blood dribbled from his shoulder down to his fingertips, pooling within his glove.

“… I won’t last long if I keep on fighting like this.”

Huntsmen like Mr. Huntsman of Hearth Village were run of the mill Huntsmen – who were generalist soldiers with respectable strength.

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He was not like the Red Backs and the Black Widows who specialized in poison and espionage, or the Golden Orbs who were the administrative personnel of the Arachnida Association, never mind the Tarantulas or the Funnel Webs who were the most powerful members with levels as high as 80.

He was visibly rattled by the situation. His Association was not built to deal with the Corrupted. Generally, this fell into the hands of Adventurers, hired arms, Ateliers, and other significant bodies. After a certain threat level, the sacred beings called the Moons of the Nexus would be dispatched to deal with them.

But no one would bat an eye for a Trickle Corrupted. Help would not arrive immediately, if at all. He could only pray that the villagers who escaped would alert someone of the Corrupted Zone.

Otherwise…

“… We’ll have to survive for as long as possible. Red… That girl. If she were still alive, then Subjugating the Corrupted would be our goal.”

Despite his fears, he was mentally calm and still had the capacity to make rational decisions here. He kept his head down and removed any armor that was either too heavy or made too much noise. A Corrupted of this caliber would tear through his armor like it was nothing. If anything, wearing such armor would only be detrimental to his survival.

A blade, his dual crossbows, a reserve of 50 bolts, simple tools, a flint and steel striker as well as a few bottles of oil were all he kept on his person as he navigated through the forest. He kept to the darkness, holding his blade close to his chest.

Hunters were experts in stealth. They were opportunistic hunters, after all. A direct confrontation was rarely necessary. A single strike in an animal’s vital was all they needed.

But how would one do this with a Corrupted?

He slayed Bitter Thorns along the way. Bolts that penetrated the hearts of the people they took over did not kill them. Neither did destroying their heads fully bring them down. It was not until a certain amount of blood had been drained that they could no longer move, but the way their blood spilled was too slow, like it had been thickened.

It threw a hunter like him off. Vitals were the most prized targets for living beings. This was the same for people, animals, monsters… even certain fungi and living plants were the same.

However, the Corrupted did not operate on logic. They opposed the logos of the living and the world. Such irrational existences could not be dealt with by ordinary people. It did not help that each Corrupted were so vastly different from another. It was impossible to take the lessons learned from one and apply it to another.

Thankfully, it was possible in here. Otherwise, he would have already secummbed to the Corrupted.

Blackened blood marred his body as he trudged onwards, lamenting the loss of Red, and praying for the survival of Snow.

Eventually, he came across a small creek. There was no one in sight, and the tall grass provided enough cover to let him rest for a moment. He used the short moment of respite to clean his arms as well as wash out his left hand.

It was cut deeply. Normally, he would not have used a creek to wash out his wounds at the risk of an infection. But considering this was within a Corrupted Zone, it was safe to assume that it was clean.

He took a small swig of it in his palm.

“Putrid…”

And he nearly wretched at the taste. But his body confirmed that it was indeed safe for now, so drank as much as he could, sipping on the disturbed surface like a dog.

Suddenly, a silver glimmer caught his eye. A strand of white hair floated atop the creek. He immediately grabbed the strand, studying it close to see if it was merely spider silk or if was truly someone’s hair.

His eyes brown bloomed agape as he realized who this belonged to.

But before he could say a word –

“Rockie? Wait… you’re not… Rockie!?”

– Snow’s voice was cut off by the mangled screech of a beast.

The Huntsman cleaved the long grass as he chased down the sound. He trudged through a small marsh before finally stumbling across a field of bodies. Each were wrapped in thorny tendrils. They dug into their flesh, syphoning blood. It was funneled to a large, 2-meter-tall Rock Bug, whose legs were replaced with branches, and its shell cracked open like a broken egg.

Snow was among the many bodies, but she was not trapped like them. Few of the bodies in fact had not yet been ensnared, most of which were beautiful women, much like the entity that took Red down.

“Mr. Hunter!?” Snow wore a shocked expression, like she couldn’t believe that he was still alive.

But more than that, her face was wracked with pain, though her body thankfully didn’t show any visible wounds.

“Snow!? Ghk… Move! Quickly! It must not know you’re there!”

The Huntsman knew that escape was impossible. Only one of them could leave alive. There was no way to tell how strong that creature was, but even so –

“I’ll distract it while you run!”

– He began clanking his blade against his metal bolts, alerting the Rock Bug of his presence.

“I can’t! Mr. Huntsman – you’re the one who needs to run! It’s collecting us! But it hasn’t hurt us yet!”

It refused to change its target despite Snow’s claim.

Its beady eyes followed the barefoot Snow run a short distance before its mandibles began to salivate. Suddenly, it lunged forward. It was sluggish, but it would easily catch up with the speed of a regular Healer like Snow.

Although it may not have wanted to kill Snow, it was dead set on capturing her.

As a result, there was only one thing the Huntsman could do.

He fired a steel bolt at one of its eyes. If it were an ordinary beast, then it would have retched in agony. However, it simply continued moving onward, caring little of its injuries as it trampled over the deceased, impaling them with its thorny legs.

There was no telling what they wanted Snow for, nor the others who it had yet to infect with its brambles.

But it was clear that their fate would be worse.