The sun rose over the Northern Heartland Plains. It was a vast expanse of wilderness stretching across the northern reaches, commonly used as a training ground for new and aspiring slayers. Scenic vistas and rolling hills overtook the grassy plains below. Tall golden grasses sway in the wild, while clusters of wildflowers and low shrubs dot the terrain.
To the south, the wilderness borders large chunks of farmland and grazing lands, where local farmers and ranchers tend to their crops and livestock. These areas serve as a buffer region between the wild plains and the more developed settlements, ensuring that the natural wildlife doesn't encroach too far into human territory.
Velos and Sterling arrived at a humble forward camp, tucked within a large crater of empty land between narrow cliff sides. The camp was modest, with only a handful of tents, a single watchtower standing tall in its borders, and supply crates scattered about. It was a utilitarian setup—perfect for housing rookie slayers on their training assignments, but far from a permanent outpost.
“I expected more,” Sterling muttered, taking in the simplicity of the setup.
“It's a forward camp, not a fortress," Velos replied, his eyes scanning the surroundings. "They’re not expecting us to stay long and we’re not the only team in this region either.” Velos scanned the area, spotting makeshift benches built next to millstones.
A camp guard, a grizzled man with sharp eyes and a halberd resting on his shoulder, approached them. “You two here for something specific?”
Sterling shot Velos a glance before answering. "Here for the promotional. We’re assigned to capture a Darau."
The guard raised an eyebrow, his attention sharpening. "Ah, a promotional. You’ll need to sign in before you head out." He gestured toward a table beside the watchtower where a clerk was seated, scribbling notes on parchment. "Once you sign, your assignment officially begins. Three days. No more."
Velos scribbled his name onto the parchment, handing it to Sterling who did the same. “Three days?” Sterling asked, raising an eyebrow.
“Yep. Three days to head into the plains, track a Darau, capture it, and bring it back here. Fail to do that within the time, and you’ll be paying the division for wasting resources.” The guard smirked. “Don’t worry. We’ve got all the basics set up for you.”
He gestured to a small tent and a wagon already waiting for them nearby. “Camping supplies, containers, ropes, basic foraging tools and a small wagon to haul it back once you’ve tied it up. No food or water, though—you’ll have to forage for that yourselves.”
Velos looked at the wagon, a humble thing with wooden wheels and barely enough space for a Darau if it were tied down tight. He wasn’t sure how they were going to haul something that size back, but that was a problem for later. Right now, the plains stretched out before them, and sunlight leaked from the fringes of trees, shining a light in their eyes as though beckoning for their attention.
Though first, a different priority made way in Velos’ mind. "Do you happen to have any shovels or nets?" he asked the guard. Both the guard and Sterling raised one eyebrow, bemused.
—
Velos and Sterling moved in silence, boots crunching over fallen twigs and leaves as sun streaks shined on them through the dense forest canopy. Velos was visibly on edge—eyes darting at every rustle in the underbrush, ears straining for any sign of movement. The shovel strapped to his back bobbed with every step.
“What's with the shovel, anyway?” Sterling finally broke the quiet, his voice a rough presence amidst the wilderness sounds. “You planning to dig us both a grave out here?”
Velos glanced at Sterling, adjusting his grip on the crossbow in his hands. He tried to manage a chuckle. “Not exactly,” he muttered. “It’s for... well, precaution.”
Sterling raised an eyebrow. “Precaution for what, exactly?”
“Darau have a strong sense of smell,” Velos began, his voice shifting into that of someone recalling one of too many books they've read and spent far too long memorizing every detail. “They usually hunt in packs, led by an alpha, but smaller Darau tend to scavenge or pick off smaller animals when they stray. If we’re going to lure one out, we need to aim for one of those, not the whole pack.”
Sterling snorted. “And what, you’re gonna dig a hole and wait for one to stumble into it?”
“Actually, yeah,” Velos replied. “We could kill a small animal, or fish—something that’d be noticeable enough for the smaller Darau but not large enough to attract an alpha. Hang it from a tree, maybe... use it as bait.”
Sterling scratched his head. “Still not seeing the connection to the shovel.”
Velos rolled his eyes. “If the bait’s hanging up, there’s a chance the Darau might yank it down and run. But if I dig a pit underneath—deep enough to trip one up—it’ll have a harder time getting away. While it’s stuck trying to get out, we take the shot.”
Sterling stopped walking for a moment, looking at Velos awkwardly. “The ground’s solid as hell out here. That shovel of yours ain’t gonna dig deep enough.”
Velos didn’t stop. “Other slayers have probably tried something similar in this area. We just need to find where the ground’s been disturbed—look for a spot that’s already been dug up. It’ll save us time.”
Sterling sighed. “And I guess I’m on bait duty?”
Velos gave a nod. Sterling huffed, shaking his head as they finally stepped out of the trees and into a clearing. The sight that greeted them was breathtaking—on the far edge of the forest, a wide waterhole glittered in the afternoon light, framed by a range of mountains in the distance. Along the water’s edge, a herd of large, reptilian quadrupeds dipped their heads to drink. Their thick, shield-like skulls gleamed in the sun, some of them crowned with horns.
“Kagra,” Velos whispered. “Or cragbeasts. They’re not aggressive, but if we mess with them, it’s an easy way to get killed.”
Sterling eyed the creatures. “Bait?”
Velos shook his head, quickly dismissing the idea. “Did you hear what i just—no! I was thinking fish.”
Sterling grimaced. “I know, I know. I was messing with you.” he tossed a half-hearted shrug.
Sterling kicked off his boots, rolling up his trousers before dowsing barefoot in the water. Velos, meanwhile, sat by the water's edge, scribbling notes and occasionally glancing at the Kagra.
Time passed as Sterling waded deeper into the water, net in hand. Every once in a while, Sterling's voice would resound across the pond, screaming expletives and other sounds of frustration each time a cod slipped out of his grasp. Velos focused on the Kagra. He was primarily interested in their behaviour, and how they tend to shield their youngest in the centre of the herd. Velos wondered if this behaviour would be good against predators.
Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.
A while later, Sterling’s voice shook Velos’ focus away from his notebook. Sterling trudged back, water splashing around his legs. He tossed two small fish onto the bank. “This all you wanted, Captain?”
Velos raised an eyebrow. “That’s it?”
Sterling shrugged. “You want more, do it yourself.”
Velos squinted his eyes, unsure whether Sterling is slacking off, or if this was the extent of his abilities.
Sterling continued, “Listen, i get that you’re the brains of this mission and all, but i spent an hour wading through the mud for you while you’re sitting here collecting doodles.” Sterling tossed the fishing net onto the dirt.
“Or are you gonna run away from this one, too?” Sterling crossed his arms.
Velos bit back a retort, standing up and grabbing the net. “Fine.” He kicked off his boots and waded into the water, hoping to make quick work of it. But as the cold water soaked his pants and the fish darted away from his clumsy attempts, frustration mounted. He lunged too far forward, losing his balance, and planted his face directly into the water. Sterling’s laughter echoed across the clearing.
Velos sat up, spluttering, wiping the water from his face with a scowl. He spent another half-hour doing the same thing Sterling did, only this time with significantly less expletives. Time passed until something caught his eye at the far edge of the pond. A bipedal, green-scaled creature was quietly lapping at the water, standing on clawed feet with a sharp talon protruding from its foot. Feathers bristled along its neck.
A Darau.
He froze, his pulse quickening. The creature hadn’t noticed him yet, too focused on the water. Slowly, Velos began to back away, careful not to make any sudden moves. His eyes darted toward Sterling, who had taken the opportunity to doze off, leaning against a nearby tree.
“Sterling. Sterling, wake up!” Velos whispered into the distance, gauging how loud a whisper could even be.
Frustrated, Velos reached down into the pond, picked up a small rock and hurled it towards his partner’s direction. A thunk can be heard, as the pebble bounced off of Sterling’s visor and rocked the slayer awake. His mouth stood agape, head cocked like an owl in every direction, before landing onto Velos.
Velos gestured urgently toward the Darau. “The crossbow!” he barked with gritted teeth.
Sterling’s eyes widened as he saw the creature. He scrambled to grab the crossbow, quickly loading a tranquilizer bolt as Velos quietly moved to the side, trying to keep his distance from the Darau without scaring it off.
Sterling took aim. The Darau continued drinking, oblivious to the danger. Velos watched as Sterling held his breath and squeezed the trigger.
The bolt sailed through the air—and missed. It clattered against a rock, tumbling into the water.
The Darau’s head snapped up, and without hesitation, it bolted into the forest, disappearing into the trees before either of them could react.
The two stood there in silent frustration, before simultaneously releasing one large sigh.
Sterling lowered the crossbow, scowling. “I’ll stick to fishing.”
—
As evening approached, the two sat around a small fire, cooking the fish Sterling had caught. Velos sprinkled a pinch of salt from a small pouch, stolen from the Archives' eatery, over his meal. Sterling, however, sat with his back turned to him, his shoulders hunched.
Velos frowned. “Why are you eating like that?”
Sterling didn’t turn around. “I just like my space when I eat. Got a problem with that?”
Velos didn’t push the issue. Something about Sterling seemed off, but he couldn’t put his finger on it. He finished his fish quickly, then got up, dusting his hands. “I’m gonna bury the leftovers.”
Sterling glanced over. “What now?”
“To cover the scent. Last thing we need is some predator sniffing it out while we’re not paying attention.”
Sterling shrugged and turned back to his meal, while Velos quietly buried the leftover fish near the wagon.
As the sun sank lower, casting long shadows through the forest, the two ventured deeper into the trees. Eventually, Velos stopped at a patch of land, overgrown with grass and weeds, but slightly indented.
“This is it,” he said, nodding at the spot. “Someone else must have dug here before.”
They worked silently for a while, gathering wood and leaves to cover the pit, carefully layering them so it would be invisible to anything that wandered too close. By the time they were done, night had fallen. Hidden beneath a layer of grass, dirt, and leaves, the two slayers waited in tense silence. They were prone, with Velos holding the crossbow, tranquilizer bolt loaded.
Sterling glanced over at Velos, who was visibly shaking. “You sure you’re the same guy who worked six months in the Archives? You’re doing all this survivalist crap.”
Velos didn’t look at him. “I have my reasons.”
Sterling watched him for a moment longer, noticing how Velos’ hands trembled despite everything. “Yeah, tell me more about that later.”
Velos didn’t respond.
Hours passed in silence, broken only by the sounds of the forest. Finally, a rustle in the underbrush signalled the approach of their quarry. A Darau crept toward the bait, sniffing cautiously. It was close now, close enough that Velos could see the way its muscles tensed, ready to pounce.
“Take the shot,” Sterling whispered, his voice low.
Velos lifted the crossbow, his hands shaking so badly he could barely keep it steady. The Darau was just about to step onto the pit, teetering on the edge. Velos’ hand cupped the trigger, sweat trickling across its dark, metallic surface. He held his breath—
A howl raged through the air. It was coarse and rhythmic, and was a sound the Darau recognized all too well. Its alpha was calling, and the Darau had little choice but to oblige if he wanted the share of what the alpha had hunted. The Darau turned as quickly as the howl came.
In the panic, Velos gripped the crossbow tight. The bolt sailed through the air, narrowly grazing the Darau’s thigh before embedding itself in the trunk of a tree. The Darau sprinted into the trees, dripping blood across the underbrush as it fled.
“Shit! I’m sorry.” Velos remarked, moving into a crouch. “I panicked! I should’ve taken the shot—”
But Sterling wasn’t listening.
Without a word, he bolted into the underbrush, his two-handed axe in hand. His body moved like a coiled spring, armor clinking as he chased the Darau headlong into the dark. His path cut straight toward where the alpha’s howl had come from.
“Sterling, wait!” Velos called after him, but Sterling was already gone, disappearing into the depths of the forest, and into the alpha’s territory.
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Slayer's Notes
Property of Velos Rendhal
Kagra (ceratoplax majora)
* Classification: Reptile
* Rank: ☐ (Markless)
The Kagra are massive, plate-headed reptiles—herbivores by nature, but their horns make them far from harmless. With their shield-like frill extending from their skull, they’ve got an intimidating look to match their size. Two thick, sharp horns jut from the sides of their face, pointed outwards like natural spears. At first glance, they seem peaceful as they graze, but reports suggest that provoking a Kagra herd has often led to fatal outcomes for reckless slayers. Their defense mechanisms are no joke.
When a Kagra herd feels threatened, they pull their young into the center and form a ring of outward-facing horns, ready to charge if necessary. It's an effective defense. I've heard stories of predators smart enough to take the hint and steer clear. I can’t say I blame them; it’s a solid deterrent. Honestly, I’m just glad we don’t have to fight them head-on.