The forest’s trees were like tall stone pillars blocking out an already dim sunlight, casting their roots into almost pure darkness. In certain areas, it was completely pitch black, and within the darkness lurked a great many horrors.

Fortunately, despite appearances, it was still daytime now, and the more dangerous desolate beasts were still asleep. With only a dim light from his waist to guide him, Ilven shuttled through the forest like an adept ranger.

His eyes and ears in tune with his surroundings, he couldn’t even allow the faintest thing to escape his senses, each step within the Greenstone Forest was one took with death’s trail. His mind that was usually silent couldn’t help but wander with the weight behind him.

We should get enough food for over four months with this loot, and there is even enough to get all my equipment replaced. I can even take a decent break since…

Now that he thought about, ever since he became a scavenger five years ago, he never really had a good break where he rested well. The standard off period was spent preparing items for the next expedition and gathering information, after all beasts were known to migrate and you wouldn’t want to unknowingly enter the domain of the more territorial kinds.

While the thought of rest warmed his soul, the thought of new equipment filled him with long lost excitement.

Although Ilven had never shown it, he was always envious of those better equipped scavengers; reliable equipment was equivalent to a stronger and sturdier life. Even hunting some injured beasts was a possibility with the right tools.

As for food, it went without saying that it was the flame of life needed for every living thing. In Grey Turlip they mostly ate cheap cold processed food given by the higher ups, hunting and even farming was out of reach for the average man.

Gray Haven was an unforgiving wasteland in the southeast corner of the Four Symbols Desolate Continent. The land was barren with few resources, a harsh environment for survival yet it was still home to a great many safe havens for humans as there were not as many desolate beasts here compared to other places.

While called safe havens, most were not truly safe.

True safe havens were rare, scattered like fleeting dreams in a nightmare world. Most human settlements, like Grey Tulip, where Ilven lived, were fragile, flickering flames in the howling winds of despair, barely keeping their inhabitants alive. In Grey Tulip, survival was a constant struggle.

The inhabitants scraped together just enough to eat two meager meals a day, and even that meager ration came at the cost of relentless toil.

Nutritious warm food was a luxury they could only imagine. Beyond the inner walls, wild refugees fared even worse—starvation claimed lives every few weeks, a grim reflection of the unforgiving world outside.

But hunger wasn’t the worst threat. The desolate beasts roamed the wilderness like death incarnate. Outside the protection of the settlement borders, even the slightest mistake could be fatal. A single encounter with a wandering desolate beast, or even a venomous insect, could mean a swift and brutal end. Without the militia’s watchful eye, life beyond the settlement was nothing short of a gamble with death.

Even then, inside the borders, fear was ever-present, like a shadow cast over every dwelling. The knowledge that just one powerful, desolate beast could annihilate the entire settlement lingered in the back of every mind. Grey Tulip, like so many others, was always just one monster away from total destruction.

Ilven knew this all too well. That’s why he felt a strange heat, an unsettling thrill when his hands touched the corpses of fallen beasts; creatures capable of erasing his home with ease. To him, they weren’t just dead monsters; they were prized treasures, symbols of the precarious line between survival and annihilation.

With this loot, I’m one step closer, a small step but better than remaining stagnant like before.

Other than avenging his parents, Ilven’s greatest wish was to bring the old man to a shelter paradise away from this difficult life. His mentor had paid so much for his sake yet never got anything in return, it was time he did, the shelter paradise was the perfect return.

Sadly, this was but a pipe dream, he never heard of anyone achieving this impossible feat in all the years he had lived, it was simply too difficult to enter such guarded domains.

True safe havens were akin to detached fairylands—places that could withstand the wrath of desolate beasts, where people could sleep soundly without fear, eat their fill, and wear warm clothes in winter and light ones in summer. They were places where real families could form, where people could marry and have children without the constant dread of being wiped out by the next monster that appeared.

Sadly, reality was often cruel, the reason most settlements were in precarious situations was simply due to an inability to face several of the dangers that were rampant in their environment.

It was the natural order of things. While dozens of humans could eke out a victory against a few species of desolate beasts, for some more difficult beasts, humans had a slimmer fighting chance as their basic weapons were unable to even pierce their hard scales and thick skin.

But the true danger of these beasts was their ability to harness the vitality of heaven and earth. Great Desolate Beasts were capable of many inhuman and supernatural feats; able to cause tsunamis, shrink the earth and travel great distances, set the sky ablaze, bend space, move mountains and rain seas.

If there were none among the humans who could harness supernatural powers, then mankind would have long gone extinct.

I should be able to restock my supplies when I return. Even upgrade a few of my equipment, maybe it's time to finally buy a gun. Having no attack power at all has long been my greatest weakness.

Ilven thought in a rare good mood, this windfall was beyond his wildest dreams.

His stock of powders was all but finished, scent covering, beast warding, pathfinding, fasting and rage-inducing. The five essential powders of a scavenger were all finished.

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Oh, there were also healing pills. A luxury he had always hoped for, before even the less potent healing powder was something he couldn’t afford.

He continued his careful trek through the forest minimizing the sound of his steps, soon he came before a stiff dried corpse its arm ripped off leaving an empty socket.

The corpse was dressed like a scavenger, he died with his eyes wide open, his remaining hand clutching a locket engraved with words.

Ilven’s steps faltered, normally he would bury this fallen comrade out of respect and duty, moreover there was also the crimson moon.

In life he might have been wary of this fellow traveler but in death… a sense of kinship touched his heart. Was this the fate that lay in wait for those like them living life on the edge?

No matter how cautious you were or how many desolate beasts you faced and survived, it only takes one ounce of bad luck to end it all.

He drew closer and closed the man’s eyes muttering, “Rest in peace, may your soul not know the color of your blood.”

There was an opening in the section of the canopy above that let through light, he looked up and saw the dull red moon still visible during the day.

Ilven lowered his gaze taking a few more steps forward before his senses snapped into focus, and his heart skipped a beat.

He chose this as his primary escape path because the field of view was unobstructed in four directions along the majority of the path, this would allow him to react quickly to approaching enemies, but sure enough, this wasn’t going to be a smooth journey.

Trouble had found him.

About seventy or eighty feet away was a group of seven men and women, spread out in a loose formation. They wore tailored armor made of reddish-brown leather, and all of them had bags and sacks on their person with one standing out. Furthermore, they all bore weapons and were well equipped.

Some held bows and arrows made from desolate beasts parts and spirit wood, while others had axes, spears, ropes and swords.

A tall muscular bald figure with an eye-catching metal arm, wielding a large bone axe suddenly chuckled, “You were right Fenri, it is this kid. The famous Cockroach Wolf. I thought the brat would have long been dead by now but here he is still kicking.”

The man cracked his neck, “You know the rules boy, hand over the loot and we’ll let you live.”

Another scavenger with blonde hair and a handsome face wielding a bow and arrow scurried closer to the bald man, “Sir Galdor, the kid has been a solo scavenger for three years, in total I guess we should call him senior since he’s been a scavenger for over five years since last unidecember. Isn’t that right old friend?”

Ilven didn’t reply but instead secretly started to survey his surroundings, his right hand hovering over his left beast skin satchel while his left hand held the loot tied with rope on his back.

Ilven spoke to the youth his eyes cold, “It's you, you wouldn’t dare face me even with backup since you know my personality, I guess the reputation of Galdor of Steel is not all talk.”

“Hm?” The blonde teenager’s green eyes shone brightly noticing something.

“Boss quickly, we have to surround him and block his escape!” The blonde youth shouted his expression changing greatly in a few seconds.

“Huh? What’s with you getting so bent out of shape kid this kid is—.” Galdor’s human arm suddenly grabbed the pistol at his waist, but it was too late.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

With a swift arc, several acorns fell close to the group, the archers had already seen it coming and successfully shot down a few of them but they were all launched at weird angles and mixed with decoys, so some made it through to them.

One fell in front of Galdor’s face in an instant he reached out and grabbed the explosive with his metal arm, it exploded into a cloud of smoke leaving some heat in his palm.

A cacophony of explosions assaulted the group forming a large cloud of smoke enveloping the scavenger group. While there was no damage, visibility was completely blocked.

Galdor waved a few times with his vision blocked and shouted, “Renar, get rid of the smoke.”

Responding in a second, a dull whistle sounded as the smoke was instantly dissipated.

“This was what you were worried about? you disappoint me Fenri, such low-level means are nothing but a mongrel’s bark.” Galdor said in annoyance.

“Boss he’s gone.” One of the others quickly informed seeing the empty space ahead but didn’t seem too worried.

“Oh? The name cockroach wolf is well deserved, but I think cockroach dog is more like it with how fast he ran with his tail between his legs.” Galdor cackled and took a whisk out of his flask.

The blonde youth called Fenri looked anxious, “Boss we have to chase him hurry!”

“Forget it, we stopped since he was coming but we have more important things to do while the strange beast behavior continues, some lone scavenger without any weapons isn’t worth even stripping naked, he’s a man no less.” Galdor was about to signal their departure, but Fenri grabbed his arm with force causing his eyes to narrow dangerously.

“You’ve been passing your place more and more lately kid, we let you join us because of Lord Grover but if you think you’re hot shit then—”

“No. Boss!” Fenri interrupted.

“You don’t know the kid like I do! Scavengers die almost every expedition even in groups, but that kid was able to survive this long for a reason, he’s very cautious and meticulous, furthermore after that incident he hates me to the bone even if he was scared of you, he wouldn’t ignore me just speaking some empty words as a diversion!” Fenri waved his arms like he was injected with chicken blood. Normally the glare from the captain was enough to shut him up but he could care less now.

“What are you trying to say?” Galdor grew serious, although Fenri was annoying, and his handsome face irritated him at times he wasn’t a fool and was quite skilled otherwise even with Lord Grover’s will, he would not have allowed him to join their elite group.

Fenri calmed down a bit, but his face was still red, and he spat out words like bullets, “He’s very cautious, no matter how precious the prey he never carries over a certain load to avoid affecting his escape speed. Furthermore, the kid is self-aware and knows when to bend rather than break, he’s also vengeful and keeps a diary of enemies he needs to kill. He avoids the limelight and is wary of attracting trouble, yet he dared use shot acorns on us to get away not worried about pissing you off.”

Catching his breath a little, he continued, “For normal loot, he wouldn’t break so many of his ingrained habits to keep it. He is also very stubborn, I won’t be ashamed to admit that if this was any other group I wouldn’t dare face him, he must wish for nothing more than to devour my flesh after that incident and is capable of rampaging like a mad dog to ensure he gets to me alone even if he’s severely injured and has to lure a desolate beast our way. He’s—”

“Get to the point.” Galdor quickly cut him off, maybe ordinary scavengers would be wary of making enemies with the Cockroach Wolf as many of his enemies end up dead mysteriously but wasn’t that the same for himself?

In fact, his records were even better, his favorite pastime was torturing his foes to death. He was confident his body count was several times that of Ilven. Furthermore, they were better equipped than he was, the cockroach wolf was notoriously poor, both of connections and wealth.

Fenri calmed down and said seriously, “He has something, something great.”

Galdor was doubtful, no matter how competent Ilven was, his individual means were limited after all, the hides of many high-level desolate beasts were impenetrable by normal methods, furthermore, even they could only guarantee hunting inferior black iron races that were injured and alone, even on good days if they happened to meet a medium black iron beast they could only barely handle it if it was injured severely before running away.

“Believe me, the kid would never break his own creeds so easily for normal loot, the value of what he has is likely… pinnacle grade! Or at least several superior grades.” Fenri declared.

Galdor’s eyes narrowed. Pinnacle grade, even they had never gotten such loot yet that kid has done it. Their goal this time, the Brain Ball Fruit was just a rare spiritual fruit roughly equivalent to a medium grade resource by itself.

Pinnacle grade… that was something worthy of offering to the ‘adult’ and even the one above him might be moved by the display.

“Trevor, where is he?” He turned to a bamboo pole-like figure with green hairs growing out of his nostrils.

“He’s about 200 meters that way.” Trevor pointed.

Galdor’s pupils flickered with desire. He exchanged glances with the rest of the team.

“You heard him, after the kid!”

They quickly rushed after Ilven.