Chapter 706: Act 65 – The Hunter Siblings I
After months of storing dried meat, it chewed like dry wood, both salty and bitter. But for Aruta, it was a rare delicacy in the forest. The further north one went in the Anlase Forest, the colder the climate became. In the woods near the northern edge of the forest, called the ‘Mist Weaving Forest’ by the older hunters, it would occasionally snow at night, and even during the day, frost could weave thin mist among the trees.
Here, the animals in the forest had also become quite scarce. Other than the occasional thick-furred rodents, even seasoned hunters found it difficult to replenish their food in the forest.
Aruta cut a small piece of dried meat and placed it into the boiling pot. The black iron pot was filled with wild vegetables, and steam rose, as if melting the snow accumulated on the branches.
Such food would never be eaten by those noble lords, but for hunters, it was everyday fare.
“The dry rations are running low…” The boy opened his fur pouch, finding only some blackened bread crumbs left. He sighed lightly, but it was expected; before this trip into the mountains, their home was nearly out of food.
His sister had said that after this trip, they would have enough money to go to Karasu to join their relatives there. He greedily inhaled the fragrant steam wafting from the pot, his stomach growling.
He lifted his head to look at the neatly arranged, beautiful tents on the other side of the glade, and the sounds of argument drifted from the camp. He knew that the hunters from the town had come to a disagreement with the noble lords, mainly because the hunters were unwilling to cross the river to the north and press on.
Just thinking about the river to the north made Aruta shiver involuntarily.
After passing through the Mist Weaving Forest and crossing the Nuga River, one would enter the Thornhill region to the north. This river connected Varlanden Lake with the Green Lake in the territory of Lantonrand downstream, and ice floes floated on its surface year-round. But there were even more terrifying legends; at night, strange ‘things’ would often linger in the Frost Dyeing Forest to the north, and anyone who had seen them never returned from the forest.
Such legends were passed down from generation to generation, and therefore, north of the Nuga River gradually became synonymous with forbidden territory.
Even Aruta frequently heard those frightening stories, such as the ‘Tree Man’ and the ‘Heartless Knight.’ He recalled those tales told by older hunters around the campfire, and he couldn’t help but shiver.
He glanced back toward the hills, remembering how over the last few nights, he had seen ghostly blue shapes hovering in the forest. He only told this to his sister, who dismissed it, saying he must have mistaken the crystal elk for something else. “By the way, maybe we will get lucky,” were her exact words.
But he knew that since that day, the number of night watch hunters in town had doubled. The closer they got to the north, the more palpable the tension in the air became, and conversations seemed to dwindle among the people.
Yet Aruta couldn’t understand why his sister would share everything with those townspeople, who clearly didn’t like them. Even if it was the hunter’s maxim that “united we can weather the storm,” solidarity shouldn’t be one-sided.
He had never liked the people in town, especially their contemptuous looks.
Suddenly he heard the sound of hoofbeats outside the hunters’ camp; only noble lords had horses—he looked up to see several tall knights accompanied by a troop of noble soldiers arriving at their camp.
What happened? Had the discussions ended?
With such doubts, Aruta’s gaze crossed the white steam rising from the iron pot, and through the mist, he vaguely saw a hunter approaching the knights, seemingly inquiring what was happening. But a noble soldier stepped forward and shoved him to the ground.
Aruta instantly stood up.
The noble soldiers began to spread out on both sides, surrounding the camp. He didn’t yet know what was happening, when he turned his head and saw a row of soldiers armed with longbows emerging from the forest. He watched as those noble archers, clad in leather armor and nearly hiding their faces, methodically drew arrows from their backs and raised their bows.
A primal instinct of danger welled up from the depths of his heart.
A pale-faced hunter rushed into the camp from behind, and Aruta recognized him; he had two little daughters, and once they had thrown sand at him—he’d always remembered the sneering look that guy had at the time. But the expression on his face then was certainly not as twisted as it was now.
“Those son of a bitches nobles are going back on their word!” the hunter shouted hoarsely, “Run—”
Then a sharp whistle rang out from the forest. As a hunter, Aruta was quite familiar with that elongated tone. The sound of a swift arrow flew through the air, piercing the hunter’s throat.
The sound stopped abruptly—
The sharp arrowhead broke through flesh, emerging from the other side of his jaw, blood gathering in a line, with the short fletching trembling slightly against the other side of his neck.
The hunter looked at him, his mouth opening and closing, revealing a mix of fear and resentment. He seemed to struggle to grasp his throat with his hands, but just as he lifted his arms to his chest, he collapsed to the ground.
Aruta swallowed.
He had seen hunters shoot arrows through their prey’s throats and even done it himself. But when the hunted became one of his own kind, he realized that the same scene could be so horrifying.
A person who had just been alive transformed into a cold corpse in an instant.
His heart raced, and he finally grasped what was happening. He had never experienced anything like this before; he never thought the nobles would dare to do such a thing—Aruta suddenly felt his hands and feet grow cold, but the first thing that came to his mind was his sister, with whom he had relied on each other.
“Sister…”
The archers on the edge of the forest simultaneously released their bowstrings, arrows sweeping through the camp like raindrops. Aruta felt a sharp pain in his calf and lost his balance, dropping to his knees. He fell beside a beast-skin tent, helplessly watching everything unfold around him.
Those familiar faces, even the most seasoned hunters from town, were falling one after another in pools of blood, like so many tipped wooden stakes. Finally, someone began to fight back; he strained to keep his eyes open and spotted the leader of the town’s hunters firing arrows at two noble soldiers next to a wagon.
Although he had always disliked that guy, in this moment, he couldn’t help but cheer him on. But just as the hunter leader drew his bow for the third time, a figure dropped from the sky—Aruta witnessed the long sword swipe across a person’s neck, flesh separating, and a head rolling to the ground as a fountain of blood shot up.
That familiar face crashed onto the ground, battered and ruined, and then smudged with grass ashes and snowflakes, as if it had lost all distinction of its former self in an instant.
Noble knights surged into the camp.
The camp was immediately filled with curses and screams. Aruta felt his head spinning, and he began to crawl backward, but hooves swept past him, and then he felt a sharp pain in his lower back, as if he were nailed to the ground.
He couldn’t help but let out a cry of agony.
A sharp, mocking laugh came from behind; he knew it was those noble soldiers. The knight drew a lance, and Aruta immediately felt all the strength drain from his body, becoming weightless.
He gasped for air, using his last ounce of strength to glance toward the noble camp—
He saw those twisted faces, bearing indifference, cruelty, or a sense of glee. From the direction of the camp came a distant chorus of wails.
“Sister… Sister…”
His vision began to blur; amidst the shadows, he noticed a faint blue figure turning away in the distance.
…
Five days had nearly passed since entering the Anlase Forest.
Brendel stood atop a hill, looking at the now grayish forest, where the Nuga River glimmered like a slender ribbon, intermittently visible among the trees. This area was called the Land of Silence in the game, for the forest had neither animals nor magical creatures; it could be said that apart from the snow-covered cedars, there was no life left in the woods.
The primary reason for this state was the Frost Dyeing Forest; due to specific circumstances, magical creatures were confined within its labyrinth, and living beings refused to approach this strange land, naturally leading to this scene on the outskirts of the Frost Dyeing Forest.
Brendel focused on the riverbank across the Nuga River. Beyond that not-so-wide riverside woodland lay the Frost Dyeing Forest dungeons. “Beyond those woods lies Milos’s Last Breath,” he thought inwardly.
In the game, ‘Milos’s Last Breath, the God’s Fall Land, the Weeping Forest, and the Wolf Blood Land’ surrounded the central labyrinth. Only by passing through any one of these four outer dungeons could one reach the Ringed Glaciers. The Ringed Glaciers was a term used by players; it was officially called Milos’s Desperate River in the game. It was said that the magical energy burst forth from the ground during the giant god Milos’s fall, creating this peculiar geography. The young dragon that dwelled in Thornhill resided in this area.
He shook his head, feeling he had strayed into deep thought. Entering this forest from the direction of Vieiro Varlanden, the first challenge was the Weeping Forest, which was the most challenging of the four dungeons. Theoretically, entry from the northern Wolf Blood Land was the easiest, but he had no time for detours, so the next best option became Milos’s Last Breath, which was only slightly harder than the Wolf Blood Land.
Moreover, Anlek seemed to have chosen this path as well.
However, even the areas considered easier among the four dungeons would not be easy to handle. The leisurely pace they had enjoyed in the Anlase Forest would likely not continue here. Brendel watched the team descending the slope and couldn’t help but think.
“Brendel, come look over here!”
Freya suddenly called out from the bottom of the hill.
“What have you found?” Brendel paused slightly, then followed the path opened by the guards down. Xi was silently accompanying him as always, and the two made their way down to the base of the hill, where they found a large crowd gathered around the caravan. He even spotted the Laurena couple squeezed into the crowd, and Brendel immediately thought of what had happened.
He parted the crowd and indeed frowned slightly.
Yet another one.
…(To be continued. If you enjoy this work, feel free to support it on Qidian (qidian.com) with recommendations and monthly votes; your support is my greatest motivation.)
