This was a magic tool crafted by the auditing organization, modeled after the divine artifact, the "Omniscient Compass."
By gathering through node after node, it subsequently expanded a perception barrier capable of covering a hundred li around.
Not only could it sense the activity and presence of demons inside,
it could even distinguish between different types of demons through various conversions—
including the prey they were hunting.
The elder's fingers trembled slightly.
Those light points were each a perception node.
And in this valley spanning a hundred li around, those perception nodes were being lit up one after another.
All the families participating in the hunt set up this massive magic perception barrier from every direction.
Constructing the first hunting pool in a Forbidden Zone since the start of the Dark Age.
The last magic component was connected to the magic pillar.
It was a magic compass, its brass base plate etched with dense concentric circles.
The instant it was connected, the entire base plate lit up.
Faint golden light patterns expanded outward from the center, and red dots surfaced on the base plate one after another.
Densely packed, they virtually covered the entire compass.
Everyone's eyes were drawn over.
They gathered around, staring nervously at the information on the compass.
Those red dots were densely packed, almost filling the entire projection of the mountainous region.
They were all demons—hundreds upon thousands of demons.
Some red dots were extremely deep in color, representing Legendary existences.
At the edge of the compass, there were several nearly black dots standing motionless, yet filling anyone watching them with palpitations.
Those were Epic Demon Lords.
O'Brien pressed his hand onto the edge of the compass and channeled his mana inside.
The red dots representing demon energy were screened out one after another.
The light patterns on the base plate swirled, like a net being tightened.
The red light points grew fewer and fewer.
In the end, only a sparse handful of red dots remained.
O'Brien's gaze settled on a spot near the top of the compass.
A cluster of red dots was gathered there.
While there were virtually none around them.
Seeing this, his eyes dimmed.
"We're too late."
His voice was very soft, carrying a weary tone of resignation.
The magic families participating in the hunt could not all be weak like them.
For a family like theirs that was just making up the numbers, their best chance of getting a share
was picking up scraps that others hadn't noticed.
Yet looking at it now, not even leftovers remained.
As for the area where that cluster of red dots was gathered,
that was no longer something they could lay their hands on...
The surrounding rich playboys fell silent.
Just then, Josephine's shriek came through.
"Here!!"
She squeezed in, virtually leaning her whole body over the compass.
Her finger pointed at the very lowest position on the compass, her fingertip trembling slightly with excitement.
"Here! There's one left behind here!"
Everyone looked where she was pointing.
There was indeed a red dot there.
It was extremely faint, so pale it almost blended into the brass color of the base plate.
If she hadn't pointed it out, no one would have noticed it at all.
O'Brien stared at that red dot for quite a while.
Then he abruptly raised his head, his voice cracking slightly from excitement.
"It's near us! Not far away!"
He pointed at the faint red light point on the compass, then looked up and pointed toward a certain direction in the valley.
"Right over there!"
Everyone looked in that direction.
One of the rich playboys said:
"In that direction—I just saw Kyle run over there earlier!"
Josephine's expression changed instantly.
She grabbed her staff and viciously pushed her way through the crowd.
"Damned Kyle! That prey is mine!"
She practically sprinted out.
The hem of her mage robe was torn open by thorns, but she paid it no mind.
The other rich playboys snapped out of it as well, scrambling to chase after her.
Their footsteps were chaotic, sending loose gravel flying in all directions.
O'Brien watched their retreating backs and let out a sigh.
He sat on the ground, leaning his back against that silver-white magic pillar.
The prolonged drain of mana left him nearly collapsed from exhaustion, his fingers still trembling slightly.
"Leave the hunt to them. That prey's strength is extremely weak; there's no need for everyone to go over."
He looked around.
The remaining few were also slumped on the ground, some drinking water and others bandaging blisters on their feet.
O'Brien spoke up out of habit:
"Let's swap shifts. Sorry to trouble you for the next..."
His words caught in his throat.
He looked around, scanning once, and scanning once more.
That girl was gone too.
Kyle had been the first to dash out.
He hadn't made a sound or called out to anyone.
From the moment O'Brien took out that compass and filtered out the red dots, he had spotted that faint red point of light.
He memorized the location.
Then, while everyone was still staring at the compass,
he quietly slipped to the edge of the crowd, turned around, and ran.
He ventured deep into the hilly forest alone.
Swinging his staff, he crudely battered aside dead branches and bushes blocking his way.
With Sprint spells cast upon his legs, his steps were light and swift as he hurried toward the direction marked by the red dot.
The credit was his—it could only be his alone.
Those fools didn't deserve to compete with him—Josephine didn't, that black-haired bastard didn't, and even O'Brien didn't.
He had risked his life traversing the Forbidden Zone, walked for six whole days, and nearly been stomped into meat paste by a Legendary demon.
All of this could not go to waste.
As long as he captured this one—just one.
He would gain recognition from the family, stand on equal footing with the direct line, and never have to cater to anyone's whims again.
His heart pounded rapidly, not from the exertion of the Sprint spell, but from pure excitement.
In his mind, visions of his triumphant return carrying the prey had already begun to take shape.
The shocked look in O'Brien's eyes, Josephine's face twisted with envy.
And the approval finally surfacing on the family elder's habitually cold face.
Eventually, Kyle reached a grassy clearing within the dense forest.
Kyle knew the distance scale on the compass; a single brief glance was enough for him to roughly estimate the distance.
He had never expected that the mathematical calculations he had painstakingly studied just to curry favor with the direct line would prove useful here.
Stopping in his tracks, Kyle's chest heaved violently.
Impatiently raising his staff, he channeled mana into the shaft and recited the incantation for a High Rank perception spell.
As the lengthy incantation lasting several minutes drew to a close,
an invisible wave expanded from the tip of the staff.
It swept across every inch of ground, every rock, and every thicket of bushes.
The wave dissipated, yet it yielded no feedback to Kyle.
He froze for a moment, then began chanting again.
This time, he channeled even more mana, broadening the perception range.
The wave swept past, yet still there was nothing. No mana fluctuations.
No signs of life, no trace of concealment whatsoever.
Sweat began to break out on his forehead.
Another incantation, another lack of feedback.
Again and again.
Over half of his mana was drained, his arms trembling slightly from continuous casting.
The waves of perception magic expanded time after time, only to vanish into the air time after time.
There was nothing.
"Impossible, impossible!!"
He bellowed in frustration.
His staff swung wildly, smashing into bush after bush that could serve as a hiding spot.
Withered twigs and shredded leaves were shattered by the shaft, scattering in all directions.
"Come out! Get out here right now!!"
His voice echoed through the dense woods, hoarse and ferocious.
"If you don't want to die, get out here! I've had enough of this endless hunt!! Come out—"
"Come out!!"
His enraged roars were extremely loud, traveling far through the quiet mountain woods.
It was immensely loud, and in the wilderness, that was especially fatal.
Soon, rustling sounds echoed from afar.
Branches and leaves swayed—something was approaching rapidly.
Kyle's roars came to an abrupt halt.
He whipped his head around, his face turning pale in an instant.
Demons...
Recalling those terrifying things he had seen along the way.
Recalling that fearsome demon whose power far exceeded his teacher's.
Like a frightened rat, he scrambled on all fours into the nearby bushes.
His fingers trembled as he gripped his staff, his lips quivering as he recited the incantation for a Breath Concealment spell.
The incantation broke off on the third syllable; his teeth were chattering, and his tongue felt tied in knots.
He tried once more, but failed again.
"Damn it... damn it..."
Curled up in the bushes, he clamped his hand tightly over his mouth, the rims of his eyes turning red with fear.
The rustling grew closer and closer.
The patch of grass in front of him began to sway.
A green-skinned imp slowly crawled out from the grass.
It was only half a person tall, with dark green skin wrinkled tightly against its bones.
Its head held close to the ground, it sniffed as it walked, searching for who knows what.
Kyle froze.
Then, as if his bones had been removed, he collapsed limply to the ground.
A green-skinned imp—the lowest-tier demon.
Even a Low Rank mage could kill one at will, let alone a High Rank mage like him.
Pinching his own thigh, he panted silently, squeezing a distorted smile of surviving a near-death encounter onto his face.
It's fine. Just wait for it to leave. Once it leaves, everything will be fine.
However, the green-skinned imp did not leave.
It lay flat on the ground, its nose pressed to the dirt, sniffing carefully at something.
It was not aimlessly wandering, but tracking a specific scent.
And furthermore, it didn't seem to be his scent.
Kyle watched in confusion.
Watching it follow an invisible trail, sniffing back and forth several times.
Ultimately, it stopped before an inconspicuous patch of grass.
The grass there grew sparsely, without any mounds or hollows.
The green-skinned imp sniffed again and began scratching at the ground with its claws, emitting excited grunts from its throat.
Just as it was about to squeeze deeper into the bushes, a ghastly pale hand thrust out from beneath the ground.
That hand clamped onto its neck.
The fingers were thin as dead twigs, yet they dug dead into the green-skinned imp's throat.
The green-skinned imp didn't even have time to utter a scream before being dragged underground.
The soil and sod sealed back together, restoring everything to its original state as if nothing had ever happened.
Kyle crouched in the bushes, his eyes wide.
Staring at that patch of grass, realizing something, he swallowed hard with a gulp.
Then, tightening his grip on his staff, he stepped out from the bushes.
His legs were still weak, but he forced himself to take a step.
One step, two steps, three steps—each step steadier than the last.
He walked over to that patch of grass, squatted down, and reached out to lift the sod.
That grass wasn't growing out of the soil; it had been meticulously woven together.
Forming a movable camouflage cover.
Beneath the sod lay a small, low cave.
Kyle lay on his front at the entrance and looked inside.
The cave was tiny, barely big enough for a single adult to lie curled up.
It was dark and damp inside, giving off a scent mixed with earth and blood.
Then, his eyes adjusted to the darkness inside the cave.
He saw it.
A boy.
Curled up in the deepest part of the cave.
Emaciated as a skeleton, covered in wounds from head to toe.
On his arms, legs, and chest were dried bloodstains and fresh cuts everywhere.
His hair was a matted mess stuck to his forehead, hiding his face from view.
Yet in his hand, he gripped that green-skinned imp with deathlike tenacity.
His fingers were dug into the imp's neck, his nails embedded in its dark green flesh.
The imp's throat was already snapped, its body still twitching slightly.
Then the boy raised his head.
Blood-red eyes gleamed out from between the gaps in his messy hair.
It was a red deeper than rubies, carrying scorching hatred and ice-cold killing intent.
Those eyes stared dead at Kyle at the cave entrance in the dark, like a wild beast backed into a corner.
Kyle locked eyes with him for a moment.
He violently clamped a hand over his mouth, his shoulders trembling continuously from suppressed excitement.
Not from fear, but wild joy.
Blood-red eyes. Blood-red eyes.
He had found it.
He had found their prey.
Standing outside the cave entrance.
He looked at those blood-red eyes, his shoulders shaking nonstop from suppressing his excitement.
Blood-red eyes.
Blood-red eyes.
Eyes that were so loathed back at the academy had now become the sight he most longed to see.
Truly ironic.
With trembling hands, he fumbled across his body.
First the inner pocket of his mage robe, then the storage bag at his waist.
His fingers were so clumsy from overwhelming excitement that he fumbled in the wrong spots several times.
Finally, he yanked a metal collar from his waist.
The inner side of the collar was densely etched with binding runes, glinting with a cold silver light in the dim illumination.
A slave collar—an item specifically designed to bind people.
Once fastened, even the most powerful person would become a helpless cripple who couldn't even crush a chicken.
Grasping the collar, he stepped into the cave.
The cave was very narrow; his body virtually blocked the entire entrance.
Yet Kyle didn't care in the slightest.
The boy before him had an aura of merely Mid Rank.
And he was covered in injuries, curled up in the deepest corner, unable to even stand up.
One hand was still clutching the green-skinned imp's neck, his knuckles protruding from exertion, but that was already a spent force.
He said with a sneer:
"Don't struggle. I don't want to hurt you."
"After all—"
His gaze swept over the boy's wound-covered body, his tone carrying the cold detachment of inspecting merchandise.
"A damaged half-demon loses half its value."
The boy raised his head, his blood-red eyes nailing onto his face from between the gaps of his messy hair.
That glare looked as though it wanted to gouge his face out and etch it into his bones.
His voice was hoarse, squeezed out from the depths of his throat with hatred:
"You'll all go to hell sooner or later!"
Kyle gave a cold sneer.
"Save those words for yourself."
He took a step forward, his boot crushing down on the damp soil with a dull sound.
Raising the slave collar slightly in his hand, its runes began to glow with a faint silver light.
"Before long, I'll be reading about your contributions in a magic textbook."
He lunged toward the boy, grabbing his frail shoulder with one hand while using the other to slip the collar over that thin neck.
Pfft.
Warm liquid splashed onto the boy's face.
Kyle's hands froze.
The slave collar slipped from his fingers and hit the ground with a heavy metallic clatter.
In disbelief, he lowered his head to look at his chest.
The tip of a dagger protruded through his chest, dripping with his own blood.
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