Chapter 53: Hunting

“Screeech!!”

The agonizing screech tore through the darkened forest, echoing off the towering trees and sending a shiver through the air. In the dim light, shadows darted between the thick trunks, moving with frantic speed. Three figures were fleeing, their movements desperate as they attempted to outrun their pursuers. But as their panicked sprint reached its climax, they were forced to stop—a wall of stone rose before them, impenetrable and blocking their path. The forest thinned out around them, revealing the scene more clearly as their last hope of escape evaporated.

The three figures—Rattans, hunched and grotesque—were in terrible shape. Their bodies, usually fierce and resilient, were now marred with deep wounds. The cuts and gashes that crisscrossed their flesh oozed dark blood, but what made it worse were the green veins spreading from each injury, pulsating with a sickly glow. The poison coursing through their bodies was making it harder for them to stand, let alone fight. Their breaths came in ragged gasps, and their beady eyes were filled with a cocktail of anger, fear, and pain.

Turning to face their pursuers, the Rattans' fury faded into dread as two figures emerged from the shadows of the trees. Niko, standing tall and eerily calm, gripped a staff in one hand, his eyes cold and focused. Behind him, Ivanic followed, a cruel-looking green knife clutched in his one hand. Blood still dripped from its blade, evidence of the battle that had led them here.

It was a scene that would have sent even seasoned survivors into shock. Normally, facing off against three Rattans would be a nightmare, even for a well-prepared team. Their resilience, speed, and viciousness made them formidable opponents, but here, two men—one young and unassuming, the other older and missing an arm—had managed to corner them with almost effortless grace. The sight would’ve been impossible to believe if anyone had been there to witness it.

A slow, chilling smile spread across Niko’s face as he raised his staff. The Rattans, who had moments ago snarled with hatred, took a step back, their eyes now wide with terror as they pressed against the stone wall behind them. They knew what was coming.

“Kill,” Niko whispered, his voice a death sentence.

From the shadows, ghastly figures began to materialize—spirits summoned by Niko’s will, their ethereal forms glowing faintly in the fading light. The Rattans, already too weak to fight, let out one final screech as the spirits descended upon them. What followed was a brutal, savage attack. The spirits tore into the Rattans with reckless abandon, ripping flesh from bone, their eerie forms swirling around their prey like a macabre dance of death.

The forest echoed with their dying cries, but soon enough, the screeches faded into the stillness of the evening. Blood pooled on the forest floor, dark and thick, as the last of the Rattans fell silent.

Niko stood there, unfazed by the carnage before him. The sight of blood, of death, no longer rattled him as it once had. This world had hardened him. He had seen enough death, been through enough battles, that this—this massacre—was nothing more than routine now.

"This is what it takes to survive," he muttered to himself, his grip on the staff tightening.

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Ivanic, standing beside him, wiped his knife on the grass before sheathing it. His expression was equally composed, though the years of battle etched in his face showed that he too understood this brutal reality. There was no room for hesitation, no time for pity.

“Three days,” Ivanic said, his voice steady. “We’ve been at this for three days, and we’ve come far.”

Niko nodded. He had reached level nine, and Ivanic wasn’t far behind at level eight. They had been relentless in their efforts, hunting every monster they could find near the castle. Niko’s collection of spirits had grown as well—sixteen in total now, mostly Rattans and other rat-like creatures from the surrounding forests. His plan was coming together. The more spirits he controlled, the stronger he became. Soon, he would be unstoppable.

Even Ivanic had grown more adept in combat and despite only having one arm, his agility and skill with the knife had improved dramatically. He fought with a grace that made him unpredictable, his movements quick and precise and as a surprise, his knife always caught the rattans off guard as they weren't expecting a flying knife to fly from the bushes and strike them.

“Let’s head back,” Niko said, his voice cutting through the quiet. “It’s getting dark, and we’ve had enough for today.”

Ivanic nodded, his face set in agreement. They had harvested enough from today’s hunt. It was time to regroup. Tomorrow, they could do it all over again, and continue the grind.

Before they began their journey back to the castle, Niko sent out a silent command. His spirits—ghastly figures that had been lurking in the shadows—spread out, fanning around the perimeter of the castle. They would keep watch through the night, alerting him to any potential intruders. He kept only a single Rattan spirit and his trusty bee spirit by his side. The rest would act as his eyes and ears, ensuring the safety of his newfound home.

As they made their way back to the castle, the evening sky began to deepen into shades of purple and orange. The forest around them, though beautiful, was filled with hidden dangers. Niko couldn’t afford to drop his guard for a moment.

By the time they reached the castle, the sun had dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows across the ancient stone walls. They entered the large front doors, the familiar echo of their footsteps filling the castle’s halls. Making their way to the kitchen, they began preparing the three-horned deer they had hunted earlier. Both men took comfort in the routine of cooking, a small reprieve from the violence they faced daily.

They sat at the long dining table, a grand chandelier hanging above them, casting a warm glow across the room. The food was simple, but it filled their bellies, and for a moment, they could almost pretend that life wasn’t so dangerous, that their next battle wasn’t always just around the corner.

As they ate, Niko asked about Fumito, the quiet Japanese man who had stayed behind during the battles.

“I haven’t heard from him,” Ivanic replied, shaking his head. “He hasn’t left his room.”

Niko frowned. He feared the worst. Fumito had lost people close to him, and this world was not kind to those carrying such heavy burdens. If left unchecked, grief could lead to despair. And in this world, despair was a death sentence.

“Tomorrow morning,” Niko said, setting his utensils down. “We go see him. He’s been alone long enough.”

Ivanic nodded in agreement. They needed to check on Fumito before it was too late.

The night passed uneventfully, the castle quiet except for the occasional creak of the old walls and structure. Niko retreated to his room, readying himself for sleep as tomorrow they had plenty to do.

...

When morning came, Niko woke suddenly, his heart pounding in his chest.

Someone had entered his territory.

He felt it, a disturbance in the delicate web of control he had over his domain. His spirits had alerted him, sending a warning that set his nerves on edge. Sitting up in bed, he whispered to himself, “Whoever they are… they’ve made a mistake.”