Ilven’s face was stone cold as he made his escape. Sticking to the shadows and under the giant roots of the trees.

Fenri, I’ve let you live for long enough.

Ilven felt his lower back ache, the old scars throbbing in nostalgia.

The source of his current poverty and the looming danger all stemmed from this former brother of his.

Months ago, he had been left nearly dead because of him, it took all his savings and pawning several items in order to cover medical expenses to make a full recovery.

Once, they had been partners—which when you thought about it, was quite normal. He was just a mere mortal; how dare he try to be a lone wolf?

It was a stone-cold fact that there was strength in numbers.

Even nature demonstrated this through creatures like the Thorned Rats and Ivory Head Rhinos.

But everything changed after that incident. When they had luckily harvested a rare spiritual herb that qualified as a natural treasure, Fenri was overtaken by greed, wanting the profits all for himself. He attacked Ilven and left him for dead, making off with their bounty.

That day, Ilven's heart grew several degrees colder as he witnessed the darkness within humanity despite being so cautious, he was still burned by the vicious flame of human desire.

He seemed to hear his mentor lecturing him, “The human heart is the most ruthless and unpredictable, the seventh scavenger creed: Never trust those you encounter on an expedition, even your comrades. Greed can transform even the most trustworthy of men into scum. In fact, it’s even worse the more moral the person is, we all have people we care about, if we can take care of them by sacrificing a bit of our morals what’s there that cannot be given up?”

Against his mentor's wishes, he began his career as a lone scavenger. He had always been wary of other scavengers, but after that betrayal, his trust plummeted into the abyss, making him avoid teams altogether. Fortunately, due to his talents, he was able to eke out a living alone to this day.

Suddenly,

Swish!

Several arrows suddenly whistled through the air, homing in on his position. Ilven dodged in an ugly maneuver.

The arrows sliced through the air, but Ilven's body was already in motion.

His movements were fluid, refined by years of survival in the wasteland.

"There he is!" Galdor's voice boomed from behind. "Don't let the little rat escape!"

Ilven's cold eyes flickered as he assessed his surroundings. The sound of heavy footsteps grew closer—Galdor was closing in, his metal arm gleaming in the dim light, bone axe raised high.

"Still trying to run? After all these years, you're still just a coward!" Fenri's voice carried on the wind, followed by the twang of his bowstring.

But Ilven was faster. Just as the arrow seemed destined to pierce his shoulder, he dropped into a sudden roll, letting it whistle past overhead. The loot on his back shifted, but his movements remained precise, controlled.

“A word of advice, you suck at acting, its fine for people who have only met you a few times but anymore and its obvious when you’re acting abnormally!” Fenri shouted, sending another volley of arrows his way.

Should I be more snake like, like you?

He thought sarcastically.

Instead of continuing his retreat, Ilven suddenly changed direction. His hand slipped into a beast skin satchel, emerging with his new trusty broken bone fang.

Galdor's eyes widened as Ilven darted toward him, closing the distance in an instant. The larger man swung his bone axe in a deadly arc, but Ilven was already moving, ducking under the swing. Taking advantage of his smaller stature, he thrust the fang upward, aiming for Galdor's throat.

The veteran scavenger jerked backward, his metal arm coming up to deflect the strike. The fang scraped against the metallic surface with a screech, but Ilven was already moving again. His left hand produced a small blade, targeting the gap between Galdor's leather greaves and boots.

Galdor was shocked seeing his expensive metal arm that he bought after years of savings and loans get scraped by a simple bone dagger. He froze for an instant, but this created an opening that Ilven could use.

Metal met flesh with a wet sound. Galdor roared in pain as the blade found its mark, blood seeping into the wasteland soil as it broke off into Galdor’s flesh, his shoulder the color of blood.

Before the others could react, Ilven had already disengaged, his wolf-like eyes calculating as he scaled up a nearby stonewood tree. The dying light cast long shadows across his face, but his expression remained sharp, predatory—a reminder of how he'd earned his name.

There was a rustle above when he dashed into some thick leaves, but the others ignored it.

“Boss, are you okay!?” One scavenger exclaimed.

Galdor was raging, “That fucking cockroach rat! Kill him for me! Now!”

To think he was actually injured by an unmodified human who didn’t even consume a gene potion. He felt the weird gazes from his team which further enraged him.

Galdor was like a raging flame, the members quickly followed his orders and scaled the tree after Ilven but when they caught up, they found a decoy made of a hodgepodge of items. Fenri’s face was dark.

“Brat!!!!!” Doused with oil, Galdor screamed out to the sky losing his composure. The pain from his wounds seemed insignificant in the face of his shame.

“Find him! Find him now!” He screamed at Trevor who nodded, “It’ll take a little while, the kid must have noticed something or its out of habit, he changed his scent, I need to find it again. In the meantime, boss, you…”

Trevor's hesitation was soon explained as several beast calls sounded from the distance, growing closer. Galdor's shouts had drawn unwanted attention.

They quickly formed a defensive position and executed evasive maneuvers.

***

Ilven was now a long distance away, he stopped when he was sure he had lost his pursuers, he made sure nothing and no one was around as he went to one of his hiding spots, a hidden tree hole amongst a thicket of tangled roots.

Galdor of Steel huh? He lives up to his reputation, he should have taken a strength type or defensive gene potion.

Ilven rubbed his arms that were still numb from the clash, his palms were ripped open from the strength of the resistance and his muscles sore from overexertion.

If I didn’t have the broken bone fang, I wouldn’t have been able to hurt him at all. Even then I was injured.

Now more than ever his weaknesses were highlighted, he needed a good mid-range weapon, he also needed to supplement his weak physique. Ilven rubbed some homemade sap from a vial in his satchel on his palms and took a rest.

Although the battle wasn’t that long it was quite intense, and his body wasn’t in good shape to begin with after remaining still and starving for days.

He munched on some dry rations stashed in the hidden tree hole.

After a while, he felt his energy was somewhat restored and he left the hiding spot.

“My rations are almost gone. The next spot should have some water in stock. I should head there after I weave through the terrain to throw off my trail," Ilven spoke to himself as he stretched his muscles which had him wincing in pain.

His nose also couldn’t stand the stench much longer, while this was a good hiding spot due to the stench of the carcass fused with the tree outside, this stench was further elevated in the hidden cavity where he hid becoming unbearable over time.

Ilven slowly walked beneath the giant trees whose impressive girth couldn’t be matched by even fifteen men hugging it. He had left his loot in a tertiary hiding spot within the box. Instead, he carried out some much lighter decoys.

He made it a significant distance away when suddenly his senses raised an alarm. They had caught up to him.

How was that possible!?

They shouldn’t have caught up so fast or at all, I was careful enough and our current position is miles away from where we initially met!

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Did I happen to meet someone else?

The snap of a twig was his only warning. Years of survival instinct took over. Ilven dropped and rolled as a runic bullet shattered the bark where his head had been but even that was a trap as an arrow embedded itself in his thigh anticipating his escape route.

"Found you, cockroach rat." Galdor's massive frame emerged from behind an ancient tree, his bone fang axe gleaming dully in the filtered moonlight, a smoking gun attached to his hip. Blood still stained his boot from their earlier encounter. "Nowhere left to run."

Something moved in the canopy above. Ilven caught a glimpse of Fenri's familiar silhouette, bow already drawn. Two arrows hissed through the leaves. Ilven twisted between them, but one scored across his shoulder, drawing third blood.

His hand found the grip of his broken bone fang, simultaneously breaking the edge of the arrow in his thigh but not removing it. His hand raised the bone fang but before he could counter, Galdor was on him, his thick muscles glistening with sweat and explosive power, his large copper eyes filled with cruelty.

The axe came down in a devastating arc. Ilven sidestepped, feeling the wind of its passage, only to meet Galdor's metal fist driving toward his face. A flurry of quick blows followed, he managed to dodge most of them, but his injury affected his mobility causing him to stagger, in an instant a fist grew larger in his eyes.

He barely managed to deflect it with his forearm, the impact sending him staggering back through thorny undergrowth. He quickly used his arm to make a flip placing his back towards some treebark.

"You've gotten slower," Fenri called from above, but Ilven heard the tension in his former partner's voice. "Your back is sensitive; did I leave a mental scar for you my dear sworn brother?”

Ilven said nothing but his cold pupils fell on Fenri like a vicious viper eyeing its prey.

Another arrow forced Ilven to dive down from the branch towards a massive root. His shoulder slammed against bark with a grating sound, reopening the wound from earlier.

Blood soaked into his tattered leather vest.

"The boy's moving northeast!" That was Trevor's voice, the strange bamboo-thin tracker, his green nose hairs twitching in the darkness.

By now Ilven had caught on.

An ability user, so that’s it. He was no ordinary scout! I heard Galdor was in with Grover the landowner, but they are still from Grey Tulip so their connections must be limited for potions. So which ability is it Aromatic Trail? Smell Enhancement? Or is it…

Ilven stopped thinking about it, the information he had was too limited, he hadn’t been qualified enough to enter circles with such information. Even if he guessed it would likely be wrong, his best bet was the ignore the specific ability and focus on the effects.

Galdor's axe bit deep into the root as Ilven rolled away. Splinters flew. But Ilven was already moving, his bone fang flashing out. The blade scored across Galdor's metal arm with a screech that would have severed flesh.

His large bone axe was agile when wielded by his metal arm, Ilven dodged by a hairs breath before swing his bag of loot towards Galdor’s face who sidestepped the attack, but this was a feint, the weight of the bag pulled Ilven out the way and allowed him to almost cut open a deep wound in his foe’s face with the knife in his opposite arm.

"Tricky little bastard!" Galdor's next swing came faster, forcing Ilven to backpedal through the thorns. Each dodge left new cuts across his arms and legs from the awaiting archers who seized every moment, but it was better than taking that axe head-on.

He also had to keep the right amount of distance allowing him to dodge the secondary firearm, fortunately bullets were precious, so he didn’t have to worry too much about a bombardment. Ilven mimicked Galdor’s whirlwind axe strike with his bag of loot using the force to propel him down to a thicket of tall bushes.

His hand shot to his fourth unused beast skin satchel. The scavengers rushed forward not caring about the low firepower acorns. But instead of shot acorns, he hurled red powder into the dry undergrowth.

"Renar, clear the…" Galdor's order came too late.

The powder ignited setting the thorny bushes ablaze. In that moment of chaos, Ilven struck. His bone fang moved like liquid silver as he lunged at Galdor. The blade, sharp enough to pierce desolate beast hide, drove toward the larger man's throat.

Galdor’s face distorted in shock as he barely managed to get his metal arm up. The bone fang carved a groove in the metal but didn't find blood. An arrow slammed into Ilven's thigh with puff. Fenri had read his attack pattern perfectly.

Pain exploded through his leg, but Ilven was already moving. His bone fang swept back across, opening a deep gash in Galdor's side before he could bring his axe to bear. But this wasn’t the main goal, he attached a thin climbing vine to the handle of the fang with practiced precision and swung it towards Trevor.

Unfortunately, the scavenger team read his moves, Trevor was a clear target once his ability was exposed, although he wasn’t a rare healer, any competent foe would surely aim to take him out first. With that being the case, two team members were responsible for his safety at all times.

One took a thick wooden shield from their back aiming to deflect the blow, the other positioned herself to his rear and aimed Ilven with her bow.

What they didn’t expect was…

Splat!

Ilven knew Trevor wasn’t easy to get to, his target from the beginning was the man with the shield, he was of a stout physique and carried a lot of bags akin to the porter of the group.

Seizing the opening he created, the bone fang sliced through the man’s neck with only the sound of blood and a thin sound of bone with nearly zero resistance against the broken beast bone fang.

“Renar!!!!” Three team members screamed in grief, one even shed tears. Apparently, this was not the run of the mill team tied by common interests but was a real close-knit group formed by countless life and death experiences.

Ilven didn’t waver however, at the same time he repeated the trick with shot acorns filling the area with smoke, with Renar out of commission it would be harder to disperse the smoke than before.

Fenri familiar with Ilven hadn’t let his guard done and fired some arrows at his position but it was too late and visibility was compromised. Their night goggles were useless as the shot acorn’s smoke was one of several banes to this low level device.

They had underestimated Ilven despite Fenri’s warnings and overestimated their strength in numbers paying the price for it.

Now Galdor had thrown the thought out of catching Ilven alive, he only hoped that he could flay his skin, pull out all his tendons and grind his bones into powder to satiate the rage in his heart.

“Boy! You’re fucking dead! You hear me! Dead!” He screamed once more.

Ilven by now had created a lot of distance but he didn’t advance and instead retreated.

As an ability user with tracking abilities, I should assume he will be able to find my hiding place, then I would have nowhere to cry when I’ve lost everything, I need to go back.

Ilven did as he thought and quickly retrieved his stowed away treasures, breathing a large sigh of relief finding it intact.

“Still the difference between ability users and ordinary people are truly outstanding, not as much as desolate beasts but still very fearsome.” Ilven felt a lingering awe on the abilities of Trevor capable of tracking him down from such a distance away.

Now such a person was his enemy, after the last encounter no doubt they would be on him like a Blood Maned Hound.

Yet he was not afraid.

If they thought he was scared of them, then they didn’t know him well enough. He had given in to others before taking a long-term view, some things once used were gone forever.

This didn’t mean he was helpless against them. Quite the opposite, they simply weren’t worth wasting his truly lethal methods.

Fenri was very familiar with him, but not only had he changed significantly since then, his current expedition was a very recent plan and he had mapped out the area thoroughly, furthermore he knew for a fact that their team was active in the Wandering Woods region of Greenstone forest not here; he had been keeping tabs on Fenri trying to find a suitable opportunity but never did.

With the advantage of terrain, he had another sharp weapon in his hands.

I do hope you all chase after me, as close as possible. Especially you, Fenri.

Ilven’s dark pupils narrowed into slits as he tenderly touched his pierced thigh.

What was to follow was a cat and mouse chase with the mouse venturing into dog dens.

***

As expected, Galdor and Fenri’s group caught up with Ilven in no time at all.

Soon afterwards with a close chase, he led them into the den of the Flame Rage Iceworms. They were only an inferior black iron race, but they gathered by the dozens, their cold flame venom was feared by even superior black iron races. Furthermore, they were not picky eaters and didn’t care that humans weren’t nutritious.

Unfortunately, while furious the tracking team was not completely led by him and helpless, they managed to survive the encounter, were this the only trick up his sleeve Ilven might have made his retreat at that moment but he had a few more aces hidden.

They were not easy to deal with, anyone who had survived years as a scavenger had their means of getting out of trouble.

Three days passed.

The chase continued but both parties were nearing their limits.

Ilven stopped on a large branch, another of his hidden checkpoints but unfortunately the last of them. His hair was disheveled, he was drenched in sweat and covered in blood red, blue and black, as well as some grime mixed with feces. His complexion was pale and haggard. His chest rose and fell heavily.

Although exhausted he kept moving, not slowing down until he came to stop beside a well-hidden wooden box covered with vines.

Inside were several strings connected to some toy contraptions, he watched them closely as he swallowed a few nutrition bars and drank some water.

Pop!

After an hour, the string on a toy shaped like a wolf burst causing it to stand up. Ilven’s eyes narrowed but he continued to rest, then…

As expected.

Half an hour later the second toy shattered with a similar mechanism.

The traps he set were being triggered in succession, they weren’t lethal but still it shouldn’t have been so fast. It seems he had truly pushed them to their limits, awakening their sharp senses and intuition.

“This can’t continue for much longer, in a battle of endurance. I’ll lose.”

Ilven was well aware of his weaknesses. Even after leading them by nose for so long, he was still at a disadvantage in numbers and means. They had taken the edge with his leg injuries and their arsenal of weapons.

I need a breaking point.

His brows wrinkled as he thought where he could break the impasse.

Something, somewhere… somewhere?

Ilven’s mind wandered to a hidden taboo. The thought sending shivers down his spine. There was one option but…

I don’t want to, is there really no other way?

He sighed deeply.

Soon the last of the toys was triggered, they were close, he had to move.

“I have to go there after all,” Ilven helplessly grimaced, his face contorted still unwilling to make the decision.

“The Human-Faced Blue Flame Hornets, I’d hope to never cross paths with them again. Now I’m doing so willingly.” The irony of the situation wasn’t lost to Ilven.

The Human-Faced Blue Flame Hornets were a superior black iron race, their hive members numbered in the thousands. They were practically unmatched in the outer layers of the Greenstone Forest, perhaps even the middle layers.

Even a herd of thick-skinned Ivory Head Rhinos would fear these fist sized hellspawns.

They also killed for pleasure, in a horrific manner at that.

Yet he had to deliver himself to their door.

Vrum! Vrum!

Before he helplessly led himself to the jaw of a tiger, a sudden noise caught his attention, normally he wouldn’t care but the type of sound was something very uncommon and unnaturally loud in a place where one usually avoided attention.

What is that? He quickly removed his sight enhancement googles and used the stronger telescope to search for the source.

Soon he found the source, his mind grinded to a halt.

Ilven was silent in thought.

He took out a weathered map and checked his position to confirm something, so I was near a piece of the trail.

Perhaps he didn’t have to deliver himself to a pack of hornets after all.

This was a good thing; that was a risk where he had a high chance of capsizing in the gutter with his victims.

Unlike the previous monsters’ dens with slow monsters, specific flaws in beast behavior or gaps in the environment and so on. The hornets were incredibly fast and far too numerous, he also had limited knowledge of the layout of their hive area.

This new development was more promising at the least the margin for error was not death… at least he hoped so.

Ilven made a final sprint heading to the clearing nearby, the Wild Hunt Trail.