Ackster followed the tracks he had found for a while. He occasionally lost them since they would lead through small streams or across stones, but he often refound them almost at once, thanks to his sharp senses. So, despite the darkness that had accompanied the descending night, Ackster did a good job tracking down his would-be prey.

And before he knew it, he had stumbled upon a glade where a couple of deer were grazing and snacking on various plants on the ground.

Ackster made sure to hide downwind so that they didn’t notice him. He was sure that he reeked quite a bit, thanks to going around hugging poisonous fingers and ingesting poison that made him feverish and sweaty.

He had washed away the blood in one of the streams, but that wouldn’t be enough to hide his scent.

Ackster watched the deer couple while lying on his stomach and peeking through a bush.

‘Those are… Not mentioned in the original story.’

After looking at them for several moments, Ackster could confirm that the specific type of beast he had encountered and hunted down wasn’t something he was familiar with, despite his extensive knowledge of Millmeria through reading the original story.

It wasn’t weird. Millmeria was a big place, and if the author had bothered writing a compendium or a story detailing every single creature that lived on the planet, he would have never finished.

And the deer in front of Ackster weren’t obviously special or noteworthy enough to be part of a story about The Hero, so it was understandable that Ackster hadn’t read about them.

But it wasn’t all bad.

In accordance with his wish to test his limits and break them to the point where he’s on the verge of death every other hour, fighting an unknown enemy, well, two of them, would be a more challenging task.

Since Ackster didn’t know if the beasts had any innate skills or how they fought, he would have to be on constant alert and read their movements and react in real-time to what they were going to do. He wouldn’t be able to anticipate or guess what was going to happen.

So, after watching the two grey-tinted but mostly brown deer with sharp and straight antlers on their heads for a little while, Ackster had a basic idea of what to do. He would just go for it.

The deer didn’t look like they had any innate skills, and they certainly didn’t look like they were magic beasts. The only thing Ackster had to fear were their physical capabilities. And based on the lean muscles that Ackster could see in the darkness, thanks to the two moons’ light and the glossy fur, that was the deers’ area of expertise.

It was the perfect opponent for someone like Ackster, who, so far, had only brawled. He didn’t use long-distance weapons, or any weapons for that matter, or magic, and he wouldn’t know how to deal with something like that.

Ackster wondered if maybe he should consider getting his hands on a solid weapon in the future. If he got the Sea God’s Manual, he could try and pick up one of the better tridents on Matar. But that would have to wait for the future. For now, he was going to pummel some deer.

With a decision made and a plan to target the smaller of the two deers, Ackster braced his muscles for the mad sprint he entered as soon as he pushed himself off the ground.

The deers’ ears twitched as soon as they heard the rustling in the bushes behind them, and they turned to look while starting to dash away. They were a little different from deers who took off at max speed as soon as they heard a branch crack and snap or who stood and looked head-on at incoming traffic, daring the headlights to outshine their glassy eyes.

The deers that Ackster decided to call Sharp-horned Deer, for simplicity’s sake, darted away and turned to look at the source of the sound at the same time. A mix of vigilance and fright put the two deers at the other side of the glade, but since they turned around to face the potential predator, they wouldn’t escape Ackster, even if they decided it wasn’t worth the fight.

When they saw the pale Ackster with purple saliva dripping down the side of his chin, not fighting him sounded like a good idea. However, it was already too late for them to make that decision.

Ackster had shot out of the bushes like they were a cannon, and he dashed toward his target while holding his hands and arms like a grappler.

And when his target reared to smack him with its front legs, Ackster pushed off from the ground and dove forward. Since the deer was about as long as him, he could be sacrificing his legs if he failed.

But considering the difference in strength and numbers, he had to take one of them out as quickly as possible, even if he risked getting injured.

So when the opportunity presented itself, Ackster threw himself forward, arms outstretched, and grabbed the deer’s hind legs as he slammed into the ground.

Before the deer could begin to panic and stomp his head in, Ackster stabbed his toes into the ground with bent legs and shot forward even more.

The deer lost its balance as Ackster pushed its only two legs, solidly resting on the ground, out from under it. It whinnied in panic as it scrambled in the air with its front legs before crashing down on the ground, all of its legs splayed out.

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A heavy grunt from Ackster revealed that the deer didn’t crash on the ground. It landed on him with its full weight.

The pain of his ribcage cracking under its weight got Ackster’s adrenaline production in full swing, and he snaked his arms around the deer’s legs while it frantically tried to stand up and broke them.

Ackster’s arms bulged with effort, and he grunted as he used as much strength as he could muster to snap the stubborn legs and cripple the deer.

At least he was protected from the other one while his target flopped around on top of him.

And then, finally, before the deer could roll off and out of Ackster’s grip, he managed to break one of the legs with a satisfying crack that was a lot more audible than the cracking of his ribcage.

The deer cried out, and Ackster rolled away from the rest of its kicking legs before one of them could hit him somewhere vital.

Once he stood up, he could tell that the adrenaline had stopped him from noticing the deer’s kicks to his legs. At least they didn’t feel broken.

The deer continued kicking its legs until it confirmed that Ackster was too far away, whereupon it began crawling behind the cover of the other deer while trying to stand on three legs.

The other deer moved in front of it and glared at Ackster while scratching the ground with its hooves.

“Touching.”

The uninjured deer, infuriated after seeing its injured companion suffer while it had only been able to watch, didn’t waste time staring down Ackster. It charged, its head lowered, ready to skewer Ackster with the two antlers on its forehead.

Ackster could see the deer’s eyes still locked on him, despite its lowered head, and he realized that he couldn’t dodge or run since the deer would follow him like a homing missile.

But, Ackster hadn’t planned on dodging. His legs were too injured for him to rely on when running.

However, there was one thing Ackster could force his legs to do for him, despite his injuries.

His experience with the other deer had shown Ackster the way to deal with foes with only legs and who relied on all of those legs to move, stand, and attack.

Without intact legs, the deers were useless.

And, naturally, when the deer charged toward him, there were only two legs Ackster could go for.

So, when the deer was close enough, Ackster crouched before throwing himself forward in a dive again. This time, he didn’t sacrifice his rear. Just like he had learned from his success, he had also learned from his mistakes.

And Ackster was pretty sure that the Sharp-horned deer driving its sharp antlers into his legs or back would be a lot less pleasant than the other deer smacking him a couple of times.

Ackster grabbed one of the deer’s legs before it could react. It was quick enough to start lifting the legs and rear on its hind legs, despite being in the middle of a charge. But its forward momentum made it almost impossible, even if it drove its hind legs into the ground in an attempt to break.

Ackster flew forward, twisted by the clashing momentum of the rest of his body and the deer’s leg, with his arms wrapped around it. But he had succeeded in forcing the deer to the ground before he proceeded to hastily snap the leg over his knee as soon as he found balance on the ground.

The deer’s leg, twisted out of position and broken, dropped to the ground as Ackster let go of it and put the deer in a headlock instead.

He had a hard time getting a good grip around the deer’s neck since he had to beware of its thrashing, which threatened to make Ackster two eyes poorer.

But despite the deer’s struggles, Ackster’s hands found each other, and they held on tight as he used his arms to squeeze the deer’s neck.

The deer’s struggles intensified as it sensed what Ackster was up to, but with a broken, flailing leg, and a deep panic setting in, it couldn’t get up.

However, Ackster realized that he was fighting a losing battle.

He was taking too many hits from the deer’s legs and head. He was also rapidly losing strength. But he didn’t know what else to do. If he let go, the deer’s thrashing would prevent him from getting close.

He could try and find a thick and heavy branch somewhere in the forest, but the deers’ blood had already been spilled. Other predators, who might not be interested in Ackster due to his poison, could gather and take his prey away while he looked for something to use.

But, right as he was about to take that risk, Ackster realized the answer was right in front of him.

He gradually adjusted his grip around the deer’s neck further up and moved his entire body closer. It brought him closer to the deer’s pointy and hard head. And while it was dangerous, since he could be skewered at any point if he wasn’t careful – it could happen even if he were careful – it was exactly what he wanted.

After finally getting far enough, Ackster raised his legs, narrowly avoiding guaranteeing a fate without heirs, and somehow snaked them all the way around the base of the deer’s neck.

It would be nearly impossible to choke the deer at that part of its neck since it was so sturdy and muscular. But that wasn’t his goal. He just wanted leverage for when he finally managed to grab onto the handles on top of the deer’s head.

Thankfully, the deer’s heavy breathing and limited range of movement due to Ackster’s double chokehold made it easy for him to control and guess where it would try and attack him.

So, when he saw the opportunity, he let go with his arms and met the deer’s head with an elbow to its jaw. It wasn’t enough to knock it out, not even close. But it did stun it a little. It was the split-second he needed to put both hands around the deer’s antlers and pull.

He grabbed the antlers with both hands from the direction the deer would have the hardest to twist its head in. It was literally an underhanded move since he grabbed the deer’s antlers from below while it lay on its side.

Ackster grunted in exertion as he used the last of his energy to pull on the antlers.

He felt through his legs how the deer’s neck and muscles tautened and tensed, both because of the head that had already bent too far and the deer’s efforts to stop Ackster from continuing to twist its head.

However, Ackster was at an advantage. He had his entire body moving in a singular direction to twist the deer’s head beyond its breaking point.

But the deer only had its neck to fight against Ackster’s strength. It was now the deer fighting a losing fight.

Neither was willing to give up, especially not Ackster, who wouldn’t be done, even after he finished the deer in his hands. The other deer was injured. It had a broken leg. But it wasn’t just fish on the chopping block. He would have to exert some effort to kill that one as well.

But eventually, the deer reached its breaking point. It just wasn’t the breaking point Ackster had hoped for.

The cracking sound wasn’t from the deer’s neck. It was from one of its antlers.