084 Drenched in Blood

I lost count of how many cryptids we killed.

Leora was a demon of war, slicing through them like she was the protagonist of a hack-and-slash game. Her katana carved bloody arcs through the air, and every swing left a trail of bisected bodies. She moved faster than the eye could follow—one second she was in front of me, the next she was across the rooftop, sending limbs flying.

Meanwhile, I was playing a different game entirely. A first-person shooter.

I stayed at the edge, firing round after round, guiding my bullets with Homing attribute, making sure each shot counted. Some of the cryptids jerked mid-movement, their bodies twisting unnaturally as bullets buried into their skulls. Others staggered for a moment before getting back up, their healing factors keeping them alive. Annoying bastards.

Still, we were holding our ground.

Until I heard a click.

My rifle was empty.

I quickly checked my ammo pouch. Nothing.

Shit. The buggy was too far away to grab more supplies.

Leora, of course, was still going at it like a lunatic. I didn’t have the luxury of sitting back anymore.

I pulled out my daggers and joined the hack-and-slash.

Leora’s movements were wild but controlled, full of experience and instinct. I, on the other hand, moved with calculated precision, covering her blind spots and striking down anything that tried to get too close. My aura threads extended from my daggers, allowing me to feel and anticipate movements in the chaotic battlefield.

I went for the necks.

One clean slice, and they stayed down.

The more we fought, the more the sheer number of cryptids started to sink in. The Forbidden Region was no joke. These creatures weren’t just monsters—they were an ecosystem of their own, thriving in the absence of human civilization. If we hadn’t been experienced fighters, if we hadn’t come prepared, we would’ve been dead ten times over.

Eventually, we stood atop a mountain of corpses.

To our side was a building, its interior teeming with even more cryptids. Their shimmering, nearly invisible forms twitched and writhed in the shadows, watching us, waiting.

Leora took a deep breath and wiped her blood-drenched hand on my pants.

“Hooo~ that was intense,” she said with a grin.

I frowned at her. “Seriously?”

She shrugged. “Why? I’m completely drenched in here. Get it? Drenched?”

I sighed. “You and Selena share a single brain cell when it comes to humor.”

“Booo~! So boring.”

She pouted, but I could still see the excitement in her eyes. Even after all that bloodshed, she was enjoying herself.

We were standing on a pile of dead Invisible Men.

Well… not invisible anymore.

Five minutes after death, these cryptids reverted to their original forms. Their bodies were thick and muscular, covered in patches of orange fur that contrasted sharply against their albino skin. Their eyes, now lifeless, were a distinct shade of orange. They looked like Neanderthals—broad, heavy-browed, and primitive.

And yes… they were very male.

All of them were in fact male.

Moving on.

It was lucky that none of them had developed aura yet. Invisible Men were a type of cryptid that started by genetically enhancing themselves, and only later—after reaching a certain maturity—did they begin touching aura. If even one of them had been an aura user, this fight would have been a lot worse.

In the original Hunterworks story, Leon would have fought two aura-wielding Invisible Men at the same time. I frowned, thinking about that.

If we didn’t do something, my son’s life was going to be absolute misery.

I exhaled and looked down at my hands, feeling the lingering traces of my technique still at work.

“I’ll deal with the rest,” I said.

I had been using Soul Marionette since the fight began, slowly spreading my influence through my aura threads. By now, I had control over a small but sizable number of Invisible Men hiding throughout the village. My threads had suffused every building, weaving through the streets and alleyways, allowing me to detect even the faintest movement.

The coin in my breast pocket was still teeming with aura. Good. That means I have enough reserves to maintain control.

One positive thing that came out of sealing Leon’s memory had been it was a very good aura practice for me. In more ways than one, my aura control had improved by leaps and bounds. It sucked that I wasn’t able to experiment or derive new abilties, since discovering my theme, but this was also fine.

Leora wiped her bloodied katana on her sleeve and stretched her arms. “So what now?”

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I shrugged. “I don’t know. We continue searching?”

She groaned. “Ughhh. This is the worst treasure hunt ever.”

So we did continue searching.

The situation was less than ideal—standing on a pile of dead cryptids, drenched in blood, and surrounded by buildings that likely housed even more of them—but I knew the artifact had to be here.

The World Compass.

A Maker Artifact, one of the rarest and most powerful tools in existence. Unlike the other World Artifacts that held dominion over entire organizations, this one had a different function—it could point me toward whatever I desired.

I had no interest in treasure hunting for gold or relics. But if the World Compass could point me to the Prophet, then I’d gladly take it.

In fact, I would have prioritized it. But there was a problem. Just like how the Seven Extremes and I were blind spots to the Prophet’s foresight, the Prophet would be a blind spot to the World Compass.

That was wy the World Compass hadn’t been a priority to me, until now.

As I wiped the blood off my assault rifle, Leora called out.

"Hey, you said it was a compass, right?"

I glanced up. "Yeah. You found it?"

Leora pointed down at the pile of corpses. "Among the dead cryptids."

Well, that explained it.

Back when I wrote the Hunterworks side stories, introducing the extra World Artifacts, there were some things I never fully explored. Some mysteries I left unsolved—like where the World Compass had been before it reached Verde Village.

In the original arc, it simply wasn’t important.

But now?

The evidence in front of me said otherwise. The World Compass had been in the possession of the Invisible Men.

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Leora handed me the World Compass.

It was a strange thing—smaller than I expected. Roughly the size of my palm, it had a thick, circular frame made of an unknown black metal. It wasn’t smooth but had intricate carvings, like veins running through obsidian. The center housed a floating needle, hovering above a swirling pool of liquid silver. The needle didn’t rest on anything physical, but rather, it suspended itself in the air, constantly shifting, as if alive.

At the edge of the frame, barely visible, were tiny glyphs—each one representing something, though their meaning was lost on me.

I felt something just by holding it.

A hum. A faint pulse of energy.

It wasn’t like a standard aura artifact where energy radiated outward. This one was subtle, reserved. It was like it was waiting—waiting for its next command.

I closed my fingers around it. "It’s gonna take me some time to affix to it with my aura."

Leora wiped her bloodied katana on the nearest corpse and sheathed it. "Then let’s go find a place to rest and lie low."

I nodded. "Good idea."

Leora and I rode the buggy through the wilds, leaving behind the ruined village of Verde.

The Forbidden Region stretched endlessly before us—rolling hills of untamed greenery, thick forests that swallowed the horizon, and crumbling remnants of the old world, all battling against nature’s reclamation. It was a land of chaos and opportunity, where factions staked their claims and where cryptids thrived in the absence of human dominance.

After an hour of driving, we spotted a cluster of floodlights in the distance, casting a faint glow against the darkening sky.

A Government Outpost.

Out here, there were no real laws—only the authority one could enforce. It wasn’t just the Government that built bases like these. The Hunter’s Association, mega corporations, private militias, and even smaller city-states established footholds in the Forbidden Region, using them as supply hubs, research centers, or even black market trade posts.

This one belonged to the Government.

The outer perimeter was surrounded by high concrete walls reinforced with steel plating. Mounted turrets stood at the corners, and at the entrance, a massive sliding gate blocked passage. Above it, floodlights tracked movement with eerie precision.

We slowed down as we approached the checkpoint. A small booth sat just beside the gate, with a bored-looking guard standing in front of it. He wore a gray tactical uniform with the Council of the People’s insignia—a broken chain wrapped around a sword—stitched onto his chest.

He barely looked up from his tablet as we pulled up.

"Credentials," he muttered.

I fished out my Hunter ID and handed it over. Leora did the same. The guard scanned both cards, took a glance at our buggy—still stained with cryptid blood—then tapped a few things on his screen.

"You’re clear," he said. "Please, no harassing the barmaids—"

I frowned. "Do you think I’d harass barmaids? Huh? Don’t you see I have a wife?"

Leora sighed, grabbed my arm, and forced a smile. "Sorry about that, officer."

As she pulled me aside, she whispered, "What’s your problem?"

I rubbed my temples. "I don’t know… For some reason… I suddenly feel very emotional. It’s not me, promise."

The guard sighed, unimpressed. "You’re free to go. Ma’am, please keep a leash on your husband. You’re lucky I’m a chill guy or I’d have abused my authority and kicked you out for shouting at me. I have a delicate heart."

Leora shot him an apologetic look. "Thank you, sir."

The gate creaked open, and we drove inside.

The outpost was alive with the hum of commerce and the ever-present chatter of hunters, mercenaries, and opportunists looking to make a quick profit. As we navigated through the main street, voices bombarded us from every direction.

"Fresh pelts from cryptids! High-quality fangs and bones for crafting—come take a look!"

"Need a team? Looking for experienced hunters for an escort mission to the Shore! Pays well!"

"Got potions! Stamina boosters, aura recovery, painkillers—don’t head into the wilds without stocking up!"

But the loudest voices belonged to a group of hunters standing atop a makeshift platform. They wore mismatched armor, some dented and battle-worn, others gleaming with expensive modifications. A tall, broad-shouldered man, who looked like he had seen one too many fights, raised his hands and shouted over the noise of the crowd.

"Join us for an expedition into the Deep! We’re heading beyond the Shore—beyond the safe zones! Riches, glory, and the chance to make history!"

Leora glanced at me, raising an eyebrow. "Still the same old song, huh?"

I nodded. "Yeah… I remember when this trend started. I never thought they were still on it. Back when you just returned to the Hunter work, there was some kind of arrangement where groups were trying to organize expeditions."

“ I heard.” She sighed. "And none of them ended well."

Occasionally, there were people who dared venture further into the Forbidden Region. It was divided into three major sections:

1. The Shore– This was the outermost part, hugging the World Wall. It made up only about 2–3% of the total Forbidden Region. Of all the territories, this was the safest. Hunters could operate here without constantly looking over their shoulders, and outposts like this one thrived.

2. The Deep– A land of chaos and mystery. Vast, cracked landscapes where reality itself seemed unstable. This place was largely unmapped, shifting unpredictably due to forces not yet fully understood. Strange anomalies, unpredictable terrain, and cryptids beyond comprehension roamed here. Even the best-equipped hunters struggled to return from its depths.

3. The Fringes– The farthest reaches, where the Forbidden Region blurred into something else. The Fringes weren’t just dangerous; they were unreal. Gravity twisted unpredictably, time flowed strangely, and no one who ventured in ever came back to tell the tale.

And yet, here they were, calling for volunteers to push deeper into the unknown.

"Come on!" the expedition leader shouted. "Think about it—fame, fortune, and discoveries no one has made before! We’ve got the gear, we’ve got the plan! All we need now is you! Join us, and let’s make history!"

A few hunters murmured among themselves, tempted. Some even stepped forward.

Leora scoffed. "Idiots."

"Not our problem," I muttered.

We walked past the gathering, ignoring the excited voices and the hopeful fools ready to sign their death warrants.