Hunter’s Blade

C26 – Endless Hunting

Shire went to find Rocher.

The soldiers hastily established another makeshift camp. Their spirits were low, the events of the day emphasizing the devil’s formidable might.

Initially, Shire had assumed that on their journey, he might have a role to play. Armed with spears and bows, he had anticipated defeating demons. However, the reality quickly debunked this notion. The devil’s outer shell proved impervious to ordinary weaponry. Furthermore, these creatures displayed cunning and a diverse array of abilities. It became evident that only the Devil Hunter, adept in various techniques, could effectively counter them.

Concurrently, Shire’s thoughts took a peculiar turn. What if he formed an army solely focused on hunting devils? No… this was unfeasible. The eight Devil Hunters themselves struggled within Twilight Forest. Expanding their numbers to eighty or even eight hundred was impractical. It seemed the Devil Hunter’s solitary approach was necessary to avert disruptions from others.

Given these circumstances, the Devil Hunter must possess immense strength. Only then could they face the multifaceted challenges. Shire realized he needed to amass all available resources to augment his capabilities. Enhanced armor, superior crossbows, an abundance of magical elixirs, and more potent spells – he had to meticulously equip himself from head to toe. Both his physical body and his soul required readiness to maximize his odds against the demons.

As the soldiers observed Shire, their hushed conversations reflected mixed sentiments. They exchanged whispers, casting complex gazes in his direction. Joy, fear – their emotions varied.

Camp was established, yet it lacked enclosures or illuminated torches. They merely intended to pass the night here. Amidst the darkness, Shire expended effort to locate Rocher. The knight stood a distance from the camp, and twelve lifeless bodies lay orderly on the ground, each swathed in a thick white cloth.

“Why didn’t you light the torches?” Shire asked.

“If the Winged Devil comes back, I hope it doesn’t notice us.” Rocher said softly.

“Demons perceive the souls of living beings. Can souls be concealed?” Shire shook his head.

The several personal guards accompanying Rocher instantly regarded Shire with unwelcoming glares.

“I’m not comprehending. I appreciate your reminder,” Rocher nodded. “To be frank, we require your assistance.”

“My capacity to assist is quite limited. I only recently gained the title of official hunter,” Shire clarified, “Nevertheless, I’ll give it my all. Hunting devils falls under my responsibility.” Since the Winged Devil’s escape from the Holy Church, we should have been able to keep it under surveillance.

Rocher nodded.

Teibout didn’t rest. He suddenly walked over and said to Shire, “I’m sorry.”

“What’s wrong?” Shire was perplexed. Receiving Teibout’s apology was an unexpected turn of events.

“Do you truly expect me to elucidate it for you in person?” Teibout’s cheeks reddened. “I apologized because I was rude earlier. The fact is, you’re right. Hunting devils and hunting dragons are distinct undertakings.”

“It’s good that you understand.” Shire sighed.

“We all wagered you wouldn’t make it,” Rocher stated, arms crossed over his chest. “If that was the case, Gray Tree Hall would never have a serene day. It’s astounding that you managed to survive.”

“I’m rather resilient,” Shire replied. “As long as the devil is undefeated, I can’t just meet my end. Moreover, if we’re to vanquish it, we must collaborate. Where is it now?”

“It fled into the nearby woods. Its wings were injured, rendering it flightless. At least our scouts haven’t reported sightings of it soaring. There are scorch marks along its path. It appears to be traversing the forest on foot, scorch marks abounding,” Rocher murmured, “That forest belongs to the Temple.”

“Teaching production?”

“Even dating back to the agreement made 335 years ago, the GreenDew Forest was designated as the personal domain of the Rampus priest,” Rocher mused as he gazed at the expanse of the forest under the night sky. “The demon seems to know precisely where it should conceal itself. Venturing into the forest poses risks of delay, which could provide the priest grounds for condemnation.”

“But we are hunting the devil!” Shire found it unbelievable.

… “Certain things in this world hold greater significance than a demon’s life or death, such as power, or sovereignty.”

“Yet, wouldn’t the devil bring destruction and ruin, leaving nothing to be ruled over?” Shire inquired in astonishment.

“Even ruins possess value,” Rocher countered. “Furthermore, with the safeguard of a Heavenly God, the devils won’t inundate the world.”

Shire held an aversion toward priests. Their manner often reeked of sanctimony as they presumed to convey God’s will, demanding obedience to their directives and beliefs. Defying them was deemed blasphemous against God.

“Nevertheless, we must pursue it,” Shire thought of Proulx, who had vowed to teach him horseback riding. Now, Proulx likely lay beneath the white shroud before him. How could the lives of all beings be trampled on by the demon so heedlessly? Proulx’s demise had to be avenged.

“My scouts are hesitant to draw close. As you can observe, the devil has inflicted potent mental pressure upon my men. I must remind the Count that an excess of common folk is futile. They lack the fortitude to confront the demons,” Rocher expressed with disdain. “What we require are skilled individuals.”

“The Devil Hunter organization rests upon this principle. We don’t recruit masses, nor do we appeal to the lords for aid,” Shire clarified. “We solely depend on ourselves in our struggle against the demons.”

“It’s admirable.” Rocher nodded.

“If I can…” Teibout said hesitantly. “Can I go to your place and take a look?”

“Go to our place? Are you talking about Hunter Palace? “

“Yes, I think I should be able to help if you guys are rich.” Teibout explained, “I can help you design some equipment and facilities, this is what I do…”

“Why do you suddenly have such an idea?” Shire found it interesting.

“Well, because…” Teibout began, “The devil is absolutely terrifying. If it were to unleash its havoc, it could spell the end of everything. Hence, by aiding the Devil Hunter, I believe I’m contributing to preventing this disaster. Plus, we also require funds. Our area is quite impoverished. I’ve been leading groups to tirelessly seek jobs and bounties to ensure our hometown folks can lead better lives.”

“Your crossbows are of impressive quality. If an opportunity arises, I’ll definitely seek you out,” Shire asserted with conviction.

“Exactly. I’ve observed your crossbows. The design is admirably straightforward. Having me around could help you craft an even better and more potent version,” Teibout expressed keen interest in craftsmanship, displaying a fondness for precision design.

“Will you be taking over Hunter Palace in the future? After Master Frederick’s passing,” Rocher mused.

“That’s right. I’m the one. I have the key,” Shire instinctively checked his backpack, confirming the presence of the secure silver key.

“I’m here to offer my apologies to Sir Shire. I’ve been remiss. Being the master of Hunter Palace and displaying such bravery in combat, you certainly deserve everyone’s reverence,” Rocher bowed before Shire. Although her personal guards seemed reluctant, they too bowed briefly to Shire.

“Only by defeating the devil can I truly accept everything with a clear conscience,” Shire humbly stated, masking his inner contentment.

Truthfully, the devil had already struck these people with profound fear. If Shire hadn’t awoken tonight, they would’ve likely abandoned their posts and returned home. They would rather flee back to Gray Tree Hall to defend the city, allowing the devil to unleash chaos in the countryside.

But, knowing that their sole hope hinged on reviving Shire from near death, they decided to regroup and mount another assault on the Winged Devil.

Its condition was dire, having been seared by Shire’s dark green flames. The impact of the Blood Bride’s arrow had significantly weakened its strength. Additionally, Rocher and his soldiers were mentally prepared this time, facing the devil. Unlike the previous scenario where they were pummeled until they abandoned their armor and fled like rats, they were ready to stand firm.

Rocher handpicked the finest warriors to accompany him as they ventured into the forest. Scouts led the way ahead. Shire and the mercenaries followed, ready to lend support at any instant. In one hand, Shire wielded the magic sword, Gradiu; in the other, he held a torch to light their path.

Moonlight filtered through the dense forest, casting elongated shadows. The surroundings were eerily quiet. The sound of footsteps crunching leaves and branches broke the silence, along with the crackling of torches. Visibility was poor, making it difficult to see into the distance.

For reasons unknown, a longing for the city, taverns, and inns suddenly welled up within him. He reminisced about the warmth of a cozy bed and the pleasure of indulging in sumptuous meals. His mouth felt parched, and the thirst for a drink consumed him. He yearned for rest, the grip of a rope replacing his daytime musings. As the Winged Devil swung above like a pendulum, he relived the bone-chilling experience, the lingering fear and pressure mounting. An urgent need for release gnawed at him.

Now, with his inner turmoil unaddressed, he plunged straight into the frontline to confront the Winged Devil. Naturally, Shire grappled with anxiety.

The duty of a hunter seemed ceaseless. This was because the demons were ceaseless, an eternal presence.

Imprisoning the demons proved the most effective means of combating them. From what Shire understood, the more potent the demon, the quicker its resurrection in Hell. After destruction, powerful demons needed only several decades to a century to reconstitute their bodies and strength, reentering reality anew.

The weaker demons, conversely, found resurrection in Hell extremely arduous due to their feeble nature. If vanquished in the physical world, they were eradicated effortlessly.

The hunters likely pondered the same question: did the escape of the Winged Devil from the Holy Church imply that other fiends in the dungeon had also been set free? The subterranean region of Hunter Palace was extensive. Concealing a single devil within was improbable.

Thinking of this, Shire felt an even greater headache.

Before him, the fire flickered and the surroundings buzzed with noise. Shire rushed toward the scene and discovered another victim.

A deer lay torn in half. Its belly and both hind legs were consumed, leaving behind a gruesome residue. The creature’s head was partially exposed, its dark eyes devoid of life, as though it had been devoured while still alive. The sight was profoundly horrifying.

Filled with concern and a sense of resignation, everyone resumed their journey, tracing the burned marks in search of the Winged Devil. Only Rocher stayed behind, lost in thought.

“Shire,” she inquired, “The devil wears a mask and is bound in shackles. Did you arrange this?”

“Certainly, I used them to confine him,” Shire replied, not comprehending Rocher’s reason for asking.

“With that sort of fully-covered metal contraption on its face, how can it possibly eat?”

Shire was stunned.