The Primal Hunter

Across the planet, the chaos brought on by the United Cities Alliance and Ell’Hakan continued. Beasts attacked like never before, and millions died within only a week as many settlements fell, unprepared and too weak to resist. Those who held on still took losses, and the survivors all had a newfound hatred. The work that had been made to establish positive relations between monsters and humanity was thoroughly broken.

The problem was that people did not see the actions of beasts as those of individuals but that of a monolith - as a tribe. They put all monsters in a box and vilified them in their minds as aggressors. This was not much different from what humans did to other humans before the system. People loved to hate others, and it was just easier to hate an entire religion, country, or appearance than recognize that each person was an individual making their own choices.

And this feeling was reciprocated by the monsters.

They, too, viewed humanity as something they wanted to wipe out. Their reasons varied, but their goal was the same. Some saw humans as destroyers, having ruined their natural habitats before the systems and thus nothing but a scourge on the planet. Others had been mistreated and abused by humans all their lives. A small part just looked down on humans as weak and pathetic creatures not worth keeping alive. Others still did not truly care much; they just wanted to hunt without restrictions. As with any good hate group, they didn’t need a unified ideology, just shared hatred.

With every beast that killed a human, humanity’s hatred of beasts grew. With every human that killed a beast, the beasts’ resentment of humanity grew. One would maybe think that monsters getting angry at humans killing beasts while defending themselves wasn’t fair, but how was it different from what humans usually did?

Human hunting parties entered the territory of monsters often. They killed hundreds of beasts or elementals or whatever they came across that gave them experience before retreating to their cities. It was so normalized no one questioned it. The monsters didn’t even question it, as fighting and the law of the jungle were just the rules of the multiverse.

What they did question was the Fallen King then coming and trying to tell them they had to leave all human settlements alone. Leaving some alone was fine, but all of them? Would the humans have accepted the same terms? A unilateral ban from entering and hunting monsters within their homes?

The answer was no.

This was not a question of right or wrong but simply reality. Humans and monsters both needed to kill to progress, and humans had a tendency to want to avoid killing other humans, making them target monsters instead. This was how the universe had worked for Eras, and there would never truly be peace between all the different races. Especially when the enlightened races kept their sense of superiority, thinking the life of a human or elf was more valuable than that of a beast. War and conflict were simply inevitable.

Unless, of course, a powerful enough influence could make humanity and all monsters back down and search for prey elsewhere than their own planet.

Miyamoto felt the token in his spatial storage vibrate once more and decided to take it out this time. He had chosen to wait out and assess the situation before making any further moves, but it appeared it was time to discuss their circumstances.

“Ms. Wells, to what do I owe the pleasure?” he answered, allowing her to take the initiative.

“It pleases me to know you are doing well, Sword Saint. To the world, you are still considering missing in action and potentially dead,” she said.

“I am aware,” he answered as he smiled to himself. “And it is intentional. So please, do me a favor and keep it as such.”

“Alright?” Ms. Wells said with some confusion. “May I know what happened after you were presumably attacked?”

“A fight followed by information,” the Sword Saint answered as he remembered what had happened.

Two powerful individuals charged at him. The Sword Saint had his blade ready as they circled him. Both of them were melee combatants like him, and from their small initial clash, he became fully aware they would not be easily taken down.Exclusive © material by Nô(/v)elDrama.Org.

One of them wielded two blades of ice while the other was a pure fighter without any obvious magical characteristics. Seeing the opponent using ice magic, he quickly realized these people were aware of his abilities. One of the greatest counters to water was not extreme heat but extreme cold. It would make his attacks rigid and impede the flow. This opponent was here to counter him directly; that much was evident.

Flanked on each side, he blocked one as he stepped back to avoid the blow of the other. His original assessment that they were about as strong as the Judge from the Court of Shadows was correct. The difference was that they were both already using their boosting skills, wanting to finish this battle quickly, and even if that made their strength explosive, it was far from the level of the Judge when he went all out. They were more at the level of his usual fighting strength.

Blades of ice began to revolve around him as the ice swordsman took a step back, and the other engaged with a curved sword in each hand. The man’s speed was impressive, and the Sword Saint was forced to block until one of the ice blades attacked from behind. Angling himself a bit, he was hit in the lower part of his back. A non-vital area.

Using his boosting skill, he only activated it at a low level. His opponents still attacked with an upper hand as they pushed themselves to their extremes. The Sword Saint took injury after injury as trump cards were revealed from the other side, and soon enough, he was blasted back as his left arm was severed.

“We expected more,” one of them said as he approached with the tip of his ice blade pointed at the Sword Saint. Injured and a bit tired, but otherwise, fine. The man had continually frozen and interrupted Miyamoto’s magic and stopped his attacks for the other side to get the advantage.

“Why are you even doing this… the Noboru Clan is not part of any religious faction. We are an independent force. Would the United Cities Alliance not want us on their side?” the Sword Saint asked with heaved breath.

“No one cares about your pathetic little clan,” the other attacker spoke. “You are the only one worth killing here. With you gone, they will fall into shambles, and we are already aware of the internal struggles your family faces. It won’t be hard to convince them to back the alliance with their Patriarch dead and gone.”

The Sword Saint nodded before answering with gusto. “I will never let that happen!”’

He released a massive wave of water that pushed back the two of them and temporarily allowed him to escape their sights and retreat. The old man ran through the plans, but he was simply too slow. A blade of ice flew from behind and hit him in the shin, making him fall over. He rolled to the side to avoid the non-magical warrior’s scimitar but still took a nasty cut. In a final gamble, he tried to take down one of them with him, but he was too slow. He managed to cut the shoulder of the ice warrior but was stabbed in the heart by a scimitar. The old man tried to do something, but before he could, the second scimitar swept up and severed his head.

“Got the notification?” the ice warrior asked.

“Yes,” the second warrior nodded.

Acknowledging, the ice warrior took out a token and seemed to communicate through it. A few seconds passed before he smiled. “It has been conveyed. Let’s get out of here before-“

The corpse of the old man suddenly moved as a spear appeared in his hand. The second warrior was stabbed in the back as his eyes opened wide. The corpse quickly stood up as he healed, a head regrowing and his body changing. Rather than an old man, a figure with red eyes and black hair stood there. He smiled as his fangs showed.

Swiftly, the ice warrior took out the token again, but before he could relay anything, his arm flew into the air, still holding the token. He screamed as he turned and saw the Sword Saint standing there, an arm still missing but otherwise looking unharmed.

The ice warrior tried to retaliate as the old man bent his knees.

“Thousand Waves Slash.”

A wall of ice appeared but was cut through like paper as the warrior was blasted back. The Sword Saint followed up and landed several blows before cutting off the head of the man he identified as a Nahoom. Turning to the other warrior who was struggling with the former Monarch of Blood, he quickly went over and teamed up, cutting off the man’s legs and arms.

After knocking him out but keeping him alive, the Sword Saint looked at the former Monarch, who sat down on the grass, breathing heavily.

“Who would have thought me acting as your doppelganger for so long would come into play like this,” Iskar, the former Monarch of Blood, said.

Miyamoto and Iskar had, for a long time, acted together. Both were old souls and had a lot in common, with Iskar having a wealth of knowledge stashed away in his head. He did not remember everything, but with time, the former A-grade recalled details. His existence was an interesting one due to its link with the Divine item left by Sanguine, but he was a fully-fledged lifeform when outside of it, and not a weak one either.

His skill set was incredibly vast and varied and included high-level illusion magic coupled with hypnosis. Enough to fool the two attackers into thinking they had actually killed Miyamoto.

“Let us leave,” the Sword Saint said as he saw movement from the direction of the Noboru Clan. He planned on staying dead in the eyes of the public, and leaving behind only one unrecognizable corpse should keep up the illusion, at least for a time.

Moreover, leaving just one corpse meant he had a prisoner - a prisoner likely holding a lot of valuable information.

Miyamoto explained this to Ms. Wells, not believing there was a need to keep it a secret from her. Jake trusted her, and so far, she had shown herself worthy of that trust.

“I don’t understand why you need to fake your own death even to your clan… do you fear it would leak if they knew?” the City Lord of Haven asked.

“Yes and no. The main reason is quite a bit more straightforward. The Noboru Clan is not truly a faction but just people rallying behind me; at least, it has begun to feel like that. They require me to be their Patriarch to continue their existence and rely on me far too much. Moreover, there have been more internal struggles as we have grown. There were even those pushing to join the United Cities Alliance. So I wish to see how the clan will act when I am believed dead. I want to see if the clan is worthy of keeping alive as it currently is or if I will have to reconsider my approach,” the Sword Saint answered.

Miyamoto had considered it for a long time. After his duel with Jake in the Treasure Hunt, he realized he needed to be more selfish and truly pursue what he cared about. His power would be the power of the clan, but it had become too much. They had begun to treat him as more than an elder. However, he still did not want to rule the clan with an iron fist. He could have, but he wanted autonomy and for himself to have some freedom. He wanted to know his clan would not crumble if he was to die.

After a bit, Ms. Wells asked: “There is bound to be an internal struggle… and with the recent beast attacks, many will die. The Noboru Clan may not survive without you.”

“Death and life are simple realities of the system. No faction is not built upon a mountain of corpses, and should the Noboru Clan fall simply due to my absence, then as much as it pains me, then I must recognize it is unworthy of existing. Even if it ceases to be, our heritage will not. However, should the clan come out whole, it will be stronger than ever,” Miyamoto explained.

“I see,” she simply answered, recognition in her voice. She seemed to understand.

“Now, Ms. Wells, I do not believe you contacted me only for an exchange of information. I have interrogated one of my ambushers and learned of their plans to make Arthur the World Leader, as well as Ell’Hakan’s desire to defeat Jake. From what you tell me, Jake also seems to have a plan, so please, do share. What do you intend to do to handle this Ell’Hakan? He seems like a tricky one to deal with,” the Sword Saint asked.

“So, Jake proposes to…”

She explained, and the Sword Saint could not help but smile after she was done. It was simple, and it gave the Sword Saint something he would very much like. Hence, he was more than on board. “It shall be my honor and privilege.”

Vilastromoz observed as Jake began his hunting spree, not wanting to interrupt. He was busy with his own matters anyway as he also had to make preparations for what was to come. This was part of the reason he had not contacted Jake for a while, though the primary one was that he was unsure how Jake would react. The god had to be honest… feeling genuine worry about how someone else would react was something he hadn’t felt in a long time, and he had kind of missed it.

The Viper would lie if he said he didn’t feel a slight level of responsibility for what was happening, but he would equally be lying if he said he didn’t think this conflict was a good thing. Strife would push one forward, and a slight level of urgency could be healthy at times. Not that he feared Jake would become complacent as he seemed to still have the same internal drive for progressing he had the day they met, but it could help speed him up without any negative consequences.

Simply forcing Jake to think a bit differently was good. He would meet many who were like Ell’Hakan in that they didn’t have any interest in fighting him in a fair fight but still wanted to make trouble for him. The Viper had many such foes during his rise to power and even had many such foes now. He also understood that this entire conflict with Yip of Yore’s Chosen was entirely due to Jake being the Chosen of the Viper.

Yip and his Chosen relied on stories. Legends. It gave them power, made them progress, and the Viper saw the mirror image that was being made. Because he knew that Jake was not the only one being targeted in this conflict. While the Chosen wanted to fight and likely kill Jake to prove himself and his Path…

So did Yip of Yore aim to kill a Primordial to prove his. And Villy was his chosen target for that - a logical one too. He was the perfect target if he evaluated it a bit himself. Yip needed a villain, and the Viper was quite villainous when he wanted to be if he had to say so himself. The Viper also knew that Yip was not doing this haphazardly. Everything was part of a greater framework. A larger story.

A grand epic, if you will.

Honestly, it made Vilastromoz a bit sad he was targeted. Because while Yip and his Chosen were very similar, Jake and Vilastromoz were most certainly not. They were nearly exact opposites.

Jake preferred to face his opponents head-on. As for Vilastromoz? Well, so far, all he had done since returning from seclusion had been to handle his issues head-on. But this was not because he preferred to do it this way; it was just simpler and faster.

However, if he faced an opponent worth the effort?

That is why he found it sad that Yip had chosen him. Sad that people had forgotten who he truly was.

Because if Yip of Yore thought he was a meticulous planner, he had not met the schemer known as the Malefic Viper.

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