What is the Queen of Sweet and Bitter Thorns talking about? The apple of everlasting miracles?
Suddenly, the 50 Sweet Thorns shone a beam of light through the forest.
Those beams were pointed directly at Snow.
“SNOW! YOU SHOULD START MOVING NOW!”
“But something’s happening to Mister Huntsman!” She cried.
“YOU SHOULD BE WORRIED ABOUT YOURSELF!”
“Aha… Aaa… Aaaaaa… ugh…” He slurred gutturally.
“Mister… Huntsman?” Snow held onto his shoulders as his body shivered.
His legs which had been rendered unusable began to wiggle as though they were worm searching for a place to burrow.
“Heal – I’m going to heal you right now –!”
“SNOW!” He roared, frightening her as his limp hand suddenly latched onto her shoulder. “Snow…!”
“Ngh…” She winced. “What’s gotten into you all of a sudden!?”
The fingers that were supposed to be missing within his gloves clasped down on her shoulder.
“Snow… move… move away… as quickly as possible…!”
“Huh…?”
“Run…”
“But I can’t just –!”
“RUUUUUUUUUUUUUUN!” He roared with one final breath.
Snow tried to move, but his grip on her was like a vice. His mouth stretched wide as dark brambles burst out, licking the air with malicious intent. Then, they froze and swooped downwards, wrapping Snow’s throat
“Ghk!? Agch… No… It’s can’t be…”
A golden apple slowly appeared from the recesses of his throat. It slowly rolled into his mouth.
She knew right away what it was intending to do.
< “Begone these thoughts. Bygones left unsaid. My misery of the old comes hurling back as these brambles hold onto me.” >
This voice –! It’s the Huntsman’s! But how come… I can hear it coming from everywhere at once? Why is it… also appearing as a prompt?
There was no time to think about this. Snow was in trouble.
Red dashed towards Snow as fast as she could with her blade in hand.
“Mister… You’re still there… right? You have to be… Please… please…”
< “The Wicked Witch placed a bounty on the head of the child.” >
The golden apple left his mouth. It dripped with a foul, sickly liquid. The apple rumbled. Maggots bore from the inside, revealing a hollow, putrid interior. The Huntsman was trying to feed Snow the apple.
“Please!”
“GET AWAY FROM SNOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOW!”
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Red slashed the brambles and the arm that kept Snow in place. She tackled Snow to safety, rolling around in filth. The poor girl was far too shocked to make an effort to stabilize herself as Red skidded away, ready to take on the Huntsman.
“WHAT’S WITH YOU!? DID YOU LOSE YOUR MIND OR SOMETHING!?”
“No – Red! It’s not that! Mister Huntsman… The infection…” Snow trembled, laying in the dirt with tears streaming down her eyes. “It’s taken over him. We… *hic* We were…”
“Mr. Huntsman… isn’t Mr. Huntsman anymore…?”
“I don’t know… I don’t… Mister… MISTER! MISTEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEER!”
Snow’s voice was strained to the point where she spat out blood. She clawed at the ground in a vain attempt to reclaim what little control she had left.
“Come back… You’re still in there… I can still heal you… Please… We’re almost there…”
Despite her words, the Huntsman only continued to transform.
“What… is happening to him…?” Red had to ask.
Brambles shot out from his legs. His lower half was an amalgamation of nothing but black branches. They intertwined, creating the body of a horse.
“… Corrupted… The infection… this place – it’s turning him into a denizen of the Queen of Sweet and Bitter Thorns.”
Snow didn’t read this from her diary.
She knew this by heart.
His arms were reconstructed into a pair of twisted logs. Stemming from his thick hands as a pole. Brambles slithered along it, creating the head of a grotesque great axe. The head alone was as large as his body, and the handle was 2 meters long.
In his other hand was a crossbow. His tendons were used as its twine, and his only remaining fingers as its anchors. He stood at an imposing 3 meters tall, and another 2 meters long due to his lower, horse-like half. Razor sharp brambles stuck out from all over his body, promising to impale anyone foolish enough to face him head on.
Most iconically was his head.
It had become a giant golden apple.
* * *
Since from a young age he had hunted wildlife to provide for his family. Without a father or siblings, he was the only person who could look after his sickly mother. The disease that ate at her transformed her flesh into crystals. It spread throughout her bloodstream. There wasn’t a crevice in her body that didn’t have a crystal growing in it.
This disease was called Silicon Rot. His agony was incomparable to his mother’s. His last memory of her was her silent scream as her lips were sealed away by the crystal spines. How it eventually pierced her brain, and then, her heart.
He was only 13 years old at the time. The memory caused him to lose all semblance of attachment for the next 20 years of his life. Despite excelling at his role as a Hunter, he was still a small fish in a sea of sharks.
Skills did not translate to strength. He worked tirelessly to gain strength. Only then did he believe that he would one day atone for his incompetence. He lamented the death of his mother.
The fault of it was his own. He vehemently believed that if he was just a little stronger then he would have been able to protect her and loved ones in the future. Emotions did not belong to the weak.
One day, he was approached by a woman in black.
And she offered him one simple task in exchange for the secret of her strength.
That request led him to Hearth Village.
There, he met with a ravenous Snow who drank from the blood of a corpse.
And in his hand was a loaded crossbow.
* * *
< “She came to me with an offer I promised to accept.” >
“Can we stop him!?” Red cried out.
Snow whimpered helplessly with:
“Once you Corrupt… Once you lose yourself…”
//////// < WARNING > ////////
< TRICKLE >
< THE ARBITER’S TRUMPET SINGS >
< “She handed me an apple of a poisoned oath.” >
< “And I was supposed to let that child bite from the apple.” >
LEVEL : 40
The Huntsman
< The promised rider. The fated deliverer. O’ Queen. O’ Benevolent ones. I shall deliver the apple as you have ordained >
ATTRIBUTE : Sorrow
ORIGIN : Vestige HP : 31,000
ATT : 800
MAG ATT : 650 AGI : 40
“… Then there is no coming back!”