NOVEL NEXT Chapter 2: Hunt or Be Hunted
While it was all confusing, there was one thing he was certain of: he was wounded, stranded, and hungry. He carefully stepped closer to the lifeless body of the one who attempted to hunt him, looking down at the masked corpse.
'I don't know if that guy is the only one around…Why was he shooting at me? That gun…It doesn't look like anything from modern times—it's archaic,' he observed.
The weapon at the stranger's arm resembles that of mangled pipes with a bulbous tube resembling a steam pipe. He nudged his boot against it, wanting a closer look before—rustle.
The noises of something, or rather, multiple somethings trying to be quiet in the bushes was distinct. It sounded not too close, but not far either.
'…I don't want to stick around if that's backup,' he thought, quietly backing away before hurrying off.
Without any sense of direction, he ran into the trees, breathing hard as his unused cardio was put to the test. He could feel his heart thumping away inside of his chest, slapping foliage out of his way. The pain throbbing in his ear and knee was enough to ignite his sprint, not caring how badly it hurt to move–
"Ghh–?!"
He pushed out from a bush, finding himself stumbling onto a dirt path; a clear road through the forest. It was a sense of relief, feeling as though a road itself stood as a "safe spot" of sorts before–
BANG.
Right through his shoulder, he felt the projectile bore past flesh and bone. It didn't hurt, though it sent a chilling shock through his body as he stumbled forward, dropping the sword he desperately had clung to.
'Shit…! They caught up?! It's fine–I can do that summon thing again…I just need a weapon like that pistol!' He realized, holding his hand out.
Once again, he sucked in a quick breath, shouting out the invocation, "Summon: Weapon!"
[Weapon Summoning Initiated | (N): 70% | (R ): 20% | (SR): 7% | (SSR): 2% | (UR): 1%]
[Chance Summoning complete…You've obtained…!]
A coalescence of smoke, filled by colorful flashes of light occurred by his hand as he awaited the random aid–
[Weapon Temporarily Obtained: (N ) "Steel Shield"]
Right into his grip, a heavy object nearly brought him down, tugging on his wounded shoulder as he caught his footing. A round, thick-plated shield arrived, though it seemed defensively sound, it was absolutely useless offensively.
'How the hell am I going to do anything with this?! I want another roll, dammit!' He questioned.
Hiding behind the shield, the "clang" of a projectile ricocheting off of its durable surface filled his ears as his feet slid back.
"--Summon: Weapon!"
[Insufficient command. | Temporary Summoning is currently restricted to (1) active summon.]
The prompt rejection left him with a sinking feeling in his gut, rattled as another shot bounced off of the shield. Even if only for a moment, he felt safe behind that piece of metal, it was all washed away as the harrowing sound of another shot came from behind.
He quickly spun around, attempting to block it, using the shield to barely defend against it as it struck the edge–CLANG.
'More–? From both sides?' He thought, glancing rapidly side-to-side at both ends of the road into the forest edge.
It felt like he was being toyed with; the masked men stayed past the bushes, letting off their shots as he tucked himself behind his shield. The longer it went on, the more certain his death felt.
Yet, he recalled one resource he still had–the "Permanent Summon" obtained from his level up.
"Permanent Summon…Let's try a Familiar!" He desperately shouted, hoping his system would oblige in the time of need.
[Advisory: You can only have one [ Permanent Familiar] at a time.]
[Familiar Summoning Initiated | (N): 70% | (R ): 20% | (SR): 7% | (SSR): 2% | (UR): 1%]
Right in front of him, a pillar of light touched down with dramatic grace, flashing between a spectrum of dazzling colors. At the very least, the sudden arrival brought the gunfire to a stop, as it was no doubt utterly perplexing for the hunters.
[Chance Summoning complete…You've obtained…!]
It dispersed aggressively, as if pushed away by a strong gust of wind in every direction. Standing before him was a feminine figure clad in sleek, glistening armor of a quartz complexion with a face hidden behind a helmet carved with the accent of roses.
[Familiar Obtained: (SR ) "Swordstress of The Silver Gale: Brunhilde"]
In both hands, the mysterious figure wielded swords, both of the same length, yet one of a snow-white blade and the other taking on a cerulean complexion to its steel. A quick succession of shots came from both sides, each aimed for Gael–
He tucked himself behind the shield, though found the graceful woman summoned to his side moving with quickness like that of moonlight touching down on the nightly soil. In a quiet, graceful motion, the swordstress used both her blades to cut away the fast-moving projectiles.
"Well met, Master Gael. I will handle the enemies promptly," Brunhilde calmly stated, speaking with a soft, silken voice. "Please just stay here for a moment."
"Right…Good luck?" Gael said, hardly able to process what was happening.
With inhuman swiftness, he watched the dual-wielding sword-wielder dash right into the tree line, hearing another gunshot before the sound of flesh being slashed at.
[EXP: +10]
[Level Up!] [2 -> 3] [9/15]
[BODY: +1] [MANA: +1]
[PERMANENT SUMMON: +1]
As soon as he got the "Level Up" sensation through his body, feeling his muscles briefly tighten, he witnessed the swordstress sprint out from the tree line, dashing across the road towards the other enemy.
It wasn't more than a split-second before hearing a gunshot before another set of quick slashes, followed by a notification–
[EXP: +10]
[Level Up!] [3 -> 4] [4/20]
[BODY: +1] [MANA: +1]
[PERMANENT SUMMON: +1]
[New Summon Category Unlocked: "Skill"]
'This is my familiar? She's strong–somebody like this…I can make it here,' he thought, turning around.
[Temporary summoning over.]
The shield vanished from his hands as he stood there, waiting for the one who had saved him from an untimely death to step back out from the trees. There was something that didn't feel right; a sickening feeling in his gut as he stood there, listening in, watching for any sign of victory being grabbed–
"Gah!"
–A pained scream grabbed his attention as he flinched, watching the familiar, armored figure lunge out from the forest.
"Brunhilde?!" Gael called out.
The swordstress was only holding one sword, lacking the other arm to wield the other as blood gushed out from the wound left from her missing limb. It was too much blood; so much so that he felt like spewing out the disgust inside of him right then and there.
"M-Master…We must retreat! The enemy–the enemy is too strong!" Brunhilde urged weekly, attempting to get him to go the other way.
Seeing the lethal wound set on the figure of such commanding strength, a sense of despair gripped his body, only imagining what sort of hopeless foe could accomplish such a thing.
"Right, let's–" He began to say.
Before he could so much as nod his head–BANG. Blood splattered against his face like lukewarm rain, seeing the other side of the forest through the hole piercing the helmet of the swordstress.
"Brunhilde…?" He muttered, catching the limp body in his arms.
[Familiar "Swordstress of The Silver Gale: Brunhilde" has died.]
The confirmation given to him by his own system felt like a cruel joke at that moment as blood rushed down his arms, looking down at the unmoving body.
"Hey, Brunhilde…Hey!" He desperately called out, hoping it was all some kind of twisted joke.
No such gifted reality came as he instead found the rustling of the bushes catching his attention. That hiss of wind; that distinct sound forced him to drop the person he held, throwing himself to the side–BANG. He saved himself from a splattered brain, catching himself on his feet as he breathed out, watching the silhouette arrive from behind the trees.
Similar to the other masked men, the stranger carried a steel-made, gun-like contraption bound to his arm, wielding a straight blade that extended from the forearm of his armor on his other hand. There was a distinct difference; this person wore a cloak made of bestial, black fur, wearing a hood of the same material.
The skull-faced mask dazzled as if made of moonstone, facing the rattled, young man. It was clear as day that this one was different from the rest; perhaps of higher ranking in whatever organization they belonged to. Without a doubt, a troublesome figure.
"I have to hand it to you, your kind always ends up being a pain in the ass to put down," the cloaked figure spoke with a raspy voice. "The systems of Outlanders are always so troublesome."
"Outlanders? System? Do you know what's going on?" Gael desperately asked, maybe hoping that he could avoid dying through some sort of discussion. "Why the hell are you all coming after me? What did I do–? I just got here–"
"That's exactly the issue. You came here uninvited, Outlander–this isn't your world. Your kind always shows up, wielding powerful "Systems"--problematic, undignified beings. That's why it's our job to eliminate your kind before you can grow," the masked figure explained without an ounce of mercy in his words. "That's our duty as Venator."
All of it seemed too unfair to make sense. It wasn't as though he had much choice in the matter–it was either coming to this world or death.
'At the end, it feels like it didn't even matter what choice I made–why the hell is this world out to get me, too?' He questioned.
"I know you don't all have a say in coming to Gaia. It's all just unfortunate, y'know?" The masked figure spoke, adjusting the steam-powered weapon on his arm. "At the end of the day, you have to die. That's all there is to it."
Seeing that the stranger had dealt with Brunhilde without so much as a stain on his cloak, it seemed that coming out alive in this encounter was a miraculous wish. With multiple holes in his body, gushing blood, it wasn't as if he'd make it very far if he somehow managed to run away, either.
Still, he didn't let himself fall, glancing down at the dirt road that was now drenched in blood.
'--I still have a chance here. A chance–that's all I need,' Gael resolved.
While he wasn't somebody that experienced a whole lot of conflict in his life, he didn't shy away from it. Somehow or another, he felt a distinct lack of fear in that moment–perhaps it was accepting death, or entrusting everything to his one option, he invoked it:
"Temporary Summon: Skill!" He shouted.
[Skill Summoning Initiated | (N): 70% | (R ): 20% | (SR): 7% | (SSR): 2% | (UR): 1%]
The fur-cloaked stranger dashed towards him, bearing his blade, "--Don't think I'll let you use that system."
[Chance Summoning complete…You've obtained…!]
[Skill Temporarily Obtained: (UR) "Cultivation of The Martial God"]
There was an immediate shift throughout his body; like a flow of refreshing warmth that simultaneously cooled him down. An utter calmness aided his mind as he focused, finding his body firm and brimming with power.
As the hunter approached him, lunging at him with speed that would be no more than a blur to him the moment prior, it seemed as if the enemy moved at the crawl of a snail now.
'Everything feels so slow now–no, everything is clear. This guy–I was trembling just a second ago. Now, I can't even remember why I was scared,' he thought.