Having reached this point, he no longer hesitated and naturally joined the hunting party.
After the group searched the prairie for some time, the hunters were dismayed to find that the prey—usually seen in abundance—seemed to have vanished by mutual agreement.
The once-vibrant prairie was now as silent as a dead sea, save for the occasional insect darting by and the rustling of the wind through the grass.
The young hunters had completely lowered their guard and began chatting animatedly with the new member of their team; after all, encountering a stranger in these parts was quite a novelty.
“Hey there, silver-haired buddy, you really don't remember your name? Judging by your appearance, you're not from around here.”
“Check if you have any wounds on your head. I heard someone from the neighboring village lost their memory because they hit their head while hunting.”
“You're not a magical beast in disguise, are you? I remember the village elders saying that some high-level magical beasts can take human form!”
“Stop joking. If a transformed magical beast appeared here, would we even be alive? Besides, can a magical beast really be this handsome?”
As the silver-haired man pondered how to answer them, Sam, who was at the front of the party, suddenly stopped and signaled for everyone to be quiet.
At the same time, the silver-haired man keenly noticed that the wind direction on the prairie had abruptly shifted. The breeze sweeping across the meadow brought a faint scent of rot—the smell of death.
A few minutes later, the group carefully parted the long grass before them and entered a clearing.
Once they left the tall grass, the pungent stench in the air suddenly intensified. What met their eyes was a crooked-neck tree, a rare sight on the prairie.
With that tree as the center, no grass grew within a radius of dozens of meters. A large pile of mangled carcasses was heaped haphazardly beneath the tree, the source of the foul odor.
Sam was instantly horrified by the countless animal skeletons and remains before him. He quickly turned and shouted to the group.
“Turn back, now! It's a magical beast! There are at least a dozen prairie bison carcasses among those bones—no ordinary predator could do that! Everyone, get out of here!”
Hearing this, the young hunters' faces paled. They turned to run back into the meadow, but a massive dark shadow silently and slowly stepped out from the grass, blocking their path.
A pale-yellow magical beast, several times the size of an ordinary lion, appeared in their sight. Its long mane gave it an imposing, majestic air.
Looking closely, its face even bore a hint of human-like mockery, as if the humans before it were merely a snack that wasn't particularly filling.
“Damn it! It's a Cirrus Lion! This beast knew we were coming long ago! It hid downwind—did it think we were just playthings like mice?”
Sam cursed under his breath as he skillfully unstrung the hunting bow from his back. The calmness honed by years of experience firmly suppressed the panic in his heart.
He drew his bow and notched an arrow, aiming at the beast's eyes in one fluid motion.
The bowstring hummed twice as two long arrows streaked out—one toward the Cirrus Lion's head and the other toward its heart.
However, the Cirrus Lion simply shifted its body slightly, easily letting the arrow aimed at its eyes graze past and disappear from sight.
The other arrowhead hit its body with a thud and bounced off, failing to even pierce the skin.
“No way! These steel-tipped arrows can pierce a wooden board two fingers thick. They didn't even break the skin? Just what rank is this thing!”
Seeing that his two shots had achieved nothing, Sam's heart sank even further. He immediately barked at the others.
“Spread out! we can't outrun it! Draw your weapons and prepare for close combat. I'll hold it off!”
The Cirrus Lion looked at the prey still attempting to struggle, and the mockery on its face deepened.
Suddenly, its body transformed into a cloud of mist, enveloping everyone.
Before the hunters could react, several sprays of blood erupted from their bodies as if they had been sliced by something sharp—though none of the wounds were fatal.
Indeed, the Cirrus Lion intended to toy with the prey that dared to attack it, savoring their terror before they died.
Just as the Cirrus Lion was deciding which mouse to execute first, it suddenly discovered something incredible.
One of the prey was completely unstained by blood. Not only was his breathing as steady as ever, but he didn't show even a trace of fear.
In its experience, those struck by its claws should be wounded even if they didn't spray blood everywhere, rather than staring back so calmly.
Animal instinct immediately caused it to view the silver-haired man as its greatest enemy. It coiled its body and pounced toward him like a spring.
This time, its target was the man's throat; no prey could survive after having its vitals attacked.
The man watched the rapidly approaching Cirrus Lion and exhaled slowly. When the sharp lion claws were only centimeters from his head, everything around him seemed to suddenly slow down.
He leaned sideways, pulled a gleaming dagger from the belt of a blood-soaked hunter beside him, and pointed the tip toward the mid-air Cirrus Lion.
As a faint green light shimmered from the blade, the ordinary dagger was transformed in that moment into something akin to a dragon-slaying weapon.
The Cirrus Lion watched in despair as its massive body hurtled forward helplessly. Time seemed stretched, each second becoming agonizingly slow; it could feel the scales of fate tipping.
It felt like an ant trapped in honey, while the short blade in the white-haired prey's hand swung toward its underbelly with effortless grace.
In the next moment, time seemed to resume its normal flow. By the time the others regained their senses, the Cirrus Lion's massive body had already tumbled over their heads and crashed heavily behind them.
The beast that had just been so arrogant was now sliced open from head to tail. A torrent of blood and organs gushed from its abdomen; it clearly wasn't going to survive.
Only then did the man slowly lower the dagger. The light on the tip had already vanished, and it was completely unstained by blood.
In the hunters' eyes, it seemed as if the not-so-bright Cirrus Lion had charged headlong into the silver-haired man's raised dagger and, failing to stop, had accidentally disemboweled itself.
It was all like a dream, nearly impossible to believe. When the group recovered from their shock, the Cirrus Lion behind them had glazed eyes and could no longer move.
An immense wave of joy then filled the hunters' hearts. First, they had miraculously escaped death; second, the value of a magical beast of unknown rank was enough for the entire village to live comfortably for a long time. Such prey was not something ordinary people could take down.
“How did you do that?”
Sam looked at the calm silver-haired man. He wasn't like the young hunters who would believe such a convenient coincidence had occurred.
He knew there were many powerful beings in the world, but what had just happened was unheard of and far exceeded his understanding.
“It's hard to say. I just held up the knife... and sliced forward? It didn't feel particularly difficult...”
Sam heard the jaw-dropping answer from the silver-haired man, but he didn't see even a flicker of emotion in the man's eyes.
Could it really have been just a coincidence? Or was the dagger he had borrowed actually some kind of treasure?
Sam's thoughts were soon interrupted by the clamor of the young men. With a complete magical beast carcass before them, the inexperienced youths didn't even know where to start, so they had to leave it to him, a veteran hunter of decades, to handle the processing.
The group spent several hours finally butchering the Cirrus Lion into a portable state.
Even in death, the hide and flesh of a magical beast remained extremely tough; ordinary hunting knives and daggers could only slice through them bit by bit.
Aside from some useless organs, its bones, meat, teeth, and even its eyeballs were top-quality materials. Once a merchant caravan arrived, they could be sold for a very high price.
Although none could explain what had happened, the silver-haired man was recognized as a great hero by everyone. If not for the "coincidence" he spoke of, the people present would likely have become magical beast dung.
The young hunters now looked at him with a degree of awe and didn't dare make any more jokes about him being a transformed magical beast. Even their way of addressing him changed to the respectful "Sir Silver-hair."
In this complex and eerie atmosphere, after a day of trekking, they finally saw the familiar village of Taro in the distance.
Rate on N.U.
