A Witch That Is Good at Hunting

Chapter 16: New Hunters (4)

Training continued.

By the second week, their stamina had stabilized, and the intensity of the training increased. Weapons practice, live combat drills, theory lessons, and studies on monsters and witches began.

“Alright you lots, attention!”

Instructor Carlton shouted from the platform. His bark jolted the weary minds awake.

The trainees straightened up from their post-lunch slump and focused on him.

“The virtue of a witch hunter is strength of body, but you must also have knowledge. Witches are not foes you can kill just by being good at fighting.”

“Brain. Tools.”

Nike nodded vigorously.

His peers silently thought, “He looks like the last person who would ever use his brain…”

“A hunter must be more cunning than a witch to survive. Engrave that in your heads.”

“Yes!”

“Yes, sir.”

At his signal, assistants unfurled a large parchment for all to see. It was a copy of an ancient record left by a monk.

“First you must know your enemy.”

“The witches, right?”

Ginter raised his hand. Carlton nodded but added that was not all.

“More precisely, the definition of witches. Their origin and history. This you must memorize.”

“Hm.”

Ginter stopped questioning and listened carefully.

On the parchment were sketches of three beautiful women.

“From the left, they are Ruin, Hatred, and Sin. These are the first witches who appeared on this land about five hundred years ago.”

The First Three Witches.

Their names were notorious, like fairy tales told since childhood, but this was the first formal lesson. All but Nike listened intently.

“Ruin and Hatred disappeared centuries ago, with no trace for nearly three hundred years. The last report of Sin, who was the most active, was about twenty years ago.”

Carlton’s voice lowered.

“They are the sworn enemies of all hunters. Only by killing them and severing their link to the Malefic Star can witches cease to be reborn.”

To every hunter who lost loved ones to witches, they were the true enemy. The source of all evil and misfortune.

“You must inherit the will of your predecessors.”

The heavy subject cast silence over the room.

None had come to Vilnogos lightly, but facing it directly carried more weight than they expected.

“Any questions?”

“M-Me.”

Lou Gehrig raised his hand timidly.

“What is it?”

“Has any hunter ever met them?”

Carlton stared at him for a moment before answering.

“…Just one. One man survived an encounter with Sin.”

“What?”

“Who!?”

“The great hunter Vigo. He once faced the Witch of Sin.”

Nike’s eyes went wide.

‘Boss!?’

Nike’s expression looked as if it was asking “Why was that name here!?”

He was genuinely shocked. The swindler boss was a bigger figure than he thought.

Whenever they traveled through the Order, Vigo was greeted with respect. That had seemed strange, but now Nike understood. Vigo was the only human to survive an encounter with the First Witch.

“When he was just a rookie. He did not fight directly, but he saw all his companions slaughtered by the Witch of Sin.”

That day made him grit his teeth and grow strong. Hardened, he survived and rose to greatness. No witch after that frightened him more than the Witch of Sin.

“He lived by luck, but even now he dreams of that nightmare. Because he knows Sin’s terror, because he understands witches, he has survived.”

Even so, after all he endured, the veteran had lost hope. No matter what he did, he felt he could never defeat the Witch of Sin. Knowing the end only sickened his spirit, and now his body was old.

For humanity, hope seemed lost. Defeat hung heavy, darkness filled the world.

‘However, he brought in this boy.’

But things had changed. Because of a single boy.

Carlton’s gaze rested on the silver-haired youth.

‘He always said new recruits only die pointless deaths, yet he himself brought this one.’

Was this boy truly the last weapon against witches?

Carlton did not want to hope. Too many promising disciples had died after he allowed himself to expect greatness. Each year brought more graves.

But still.

He could not help but watch this boy.

He just had that aura.

For one thing…

‘He is the first one to have ever fallen asleep during my lecture.’

The kid was more incomprehensible than any witch.

* * *

Carlton continued to take questions.

Nike showed no interest and Hestia stayed quiet.

Most questions came from Ginter and Lou Gehrig, but the sharp and useful ones were from Lou Gehrig.

‘That one can’t keep up physically, but his brain is quick. Perhaps not built for a hunter, but fit for other work.’

Carlton constantly assessed the cadets. It was his duty to place them well. After weeks, their strengths were becoming clearer.

When the questions ended, the instructors handed out small notebooks.

‘Journals!’

Nike recognized them instantly. Rowen always carried one after all.

“These are written in the blood of hunters. They contain knowledge and records of witches.”

Inside were drawings, symbols, and text. Enough to guess at the nature of witches.

“Uh… Instructor.”

Lou Gehrig nervously raised his hand.

“What is it?”

Ginter spoke instead for his brother.

“We cannot read.”

“Is that so?”

“Yes. We were born as farmer’s sons.”

Carlton turned to Nike.

“What about you?”

Nike flinched. He also wasn’t able to read. But to admit it wounded his pride.

“I-I can!”

So he lied in the end.

‘Rowen said he could not… he is bluffing.’

Carlton clicked his tongue inwardly and slammed the platform.

“That’s not my concern.”

“What…?”

“Shock!”

“I only train you. I don't teach letters.”

“But…!”

Despite protests, he did not bend.

“If you don't want to die ignorant, learn on your own. Those who are desperate always find a way.”

Nike’s mind went blank. Should he ask Rowen? But his pride resisted.

Carlton smirked at their reactions, then called,

“Hestia.”

“…Yes?”

“You can read, can you not? You are from a noble family, I heard.”

The platinum blonde beauty hesitated, then gave the slightest nod.

“…”

“You hear that? Hestia can read. If you want to learn, give her food, massage her shoulders, crawl like dogs. Do what it takes.”

Hestia frowned, a rare change in expression from her.

“…Why me?”

“They are your peers. You must learn to help each other.”

“…”

Carlton scratched his chin with his arms crossed.

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to. I will not force you. Even if they die illiterate, that is not your fault.”

“…”

Hestia sighed quietly so that no one could hear.

The pleading looks from her peers, including Nike, did not please her one bit.

Leaving her behind, Carlton concluded,

“Theory class ends here. Tomorrow begins mock battles.”

“Mock battles?”

Nike perked up, finally interested.

“You will hunt monsters. If you don't want to die cluelessly… memorize the journals tonight.”

With a smug chuckle, Carlton left.

The assistants continued the lecture.

* * *

“Theory class is so boring. Maybe I was meant to run and dig dirt.”

“I-I liked it…”

“Of course you did. You always liked that kind of stuff since you were young.”

“Training!”

“Ha! Nike, you are the athletic type like me, eh?”

“I am brainy.”

“You must be kidding.”

By now, Nike and the brothers were close. Like three siblings. Training and lessons together every day had forged camaraderie quickly.

From dinner until bedtime, they chatted nonstop.

Hestia, the only girl, still did not fit in. She rarely spoke, answering only with nods or shakes of her head.

It was not that she could not blend in, but she simply chose not to.

‘Perhaps it is her noble pride.’

It must have stung too. Once a noble, now sweating and toiling with commoners.

Ginter and Lou Gehrig had no reason to force themselves on someone unwilling.

“Peer!”

But Nike was different. He kept watching Hestia.

A natural loner, he understood her. It’s not that she rejected friendship, she just did not know how to get along. Just as his clumsy behavior had made others wary.

Until now he had let it be, but now stubbornness rose.

“…?”

“Peer. Introduction. Nike.”

“Nike, just leave her…”

“…”

Hestia frowned, as if wearing a sign reading “Don't talk to me.”

“Tia!”

“…”

“Peer!”

“…”

Tia was rather surprised by his attempt at trying to talk to her. She displayed this much coldness, but he wasn’t affected at all.

It was unsettling. He looked princely but acted like a monkey.

Hestia, who had never dealt with such a type, was flustered.

She stared at him. He stared back without avoiding eye contact. An unintended staring contest dragged on.

“…S-Stop.”

“Nike, come on. She- ”

“…Why.”

Just as the brothers tried to pull him back, Hestia finally spoke.

Nike beamed at having made her talk and held out the hunter’s journal.

She looked at it, then at him. Nike spoke what he wanted.

“Letters. Lesson. Please.”

Inside was a cookie he had saved at lunch.

“Cookie too.”

“…”

So that was it. A lesson.

She had enjoyed privileges, and it wasn’t from talent, but from noble birth.

But…

She despised that.

“…No.”

“Shock!”

She turned her gaze away, murmuring.

“…I am not good enough to teach anyone.”

“That is fine!”

“…I am tired.”

Nike’s arms dropped, dejected.

The brothers too showed disappointment.

Hestia sighed and turned away, pulling her blanket up.

“…”

The rustle of cloth filled the silence. She was a hedgehog of a girl, shutting out the world.

Nike sensed enough to stop pressing and returned to his spot.

‘I feel sick…’

Hestia loathed this. By refusing, she felt like a criminal even though she wasn’t obligated to anything.

‘What good comes of helping others anyway…’

Helping others. Trusting others.

That was for fools.

‘Only myself. Only I can be trusted… yeah.’

She pulled the blanket over her head. The stares behind her back made her want to cry, but she forced herself to sleep.

Time passed, but the boys still talked to themselves.

“One day… a familiar attacked our village. All of the villagers were slaughtered. Our parents hid us, so only us survived.”

Lou Gehrig’s heavy voice told of their past.

“Lou Gehrig and I will kill that witch no matter the cost.”

“…Can we find her?”

“We must. We will not die until then. Right, brother?”

“Y-Yeah.”

“We are the strongest brothers after all!”

“Shhh, big brother, you will wake her.”

“Pff, I don’t care... Why would I care about that selfish girl?”

Hestia blinked under the blanket, holding her breath.

Hearing them talk about her behind her back in real time made her heart pound.

She did not care much for their words, but bored and sleepless, she listened on.

“Nike. What is your story?”

“…I really wonder why you came too.”

She wondered too. This boy was unreadable and his identity was unknown.

“Witch. Hunt!”

“T-That is obvious.”

“Slaughter!”

“…”

So much for conversation.

Nike only spoke strange words. They gave no insight.

He was honest, yet no one believed him.

The night deepened as their chatter went on.

Though tired, the boys enjoyed it. They were at an age where just being together was fun.

“Hunger. Meat. Cookies. Candy.”

“By the way big brother, doesn’t Instructor Carlton look like a boar?”

“Yes! I thought that too!”

“Pff- ”

Hestia nearly burst out laughing under her blanket. It was childish talk, but strangely funny.

‘How humiliating…’

Soon the boys drifted off. Hestia missed her timing and failed to sleep. Their snores kept her awake.

Memories surfaced against her will because of it.

Tonight’s talk about why they became hunters.

‘I…’

Her own reason.

A past too shameful and bitter to ever tell.