Chapter 245: Verdant Hunt

Garrika slowed to a stop, tail stilling behind her. "We’ve arrived," she said, eyes sweeping over the dense clearing.

The area buzzed with activity. Dozens of hunters from different races filled the mossy ground — elves in light gear crouched by traps, dwarves dragging beast carcasses toward carts, and a group of humans arguing over a half-broken spear. The air was thick with the smell of sweat, blood, and iron.

Trafalgar took it all in with a slow glance. ’Too many people.’

He turned slightly toward Garrika. "So... what exactly are we hunting?"

She unfolded the parchment she’d kept tucked under her belt. "According to the request, we’re after Hollowspawn, Vyrkoth Beasts, and Graven Stalkers. All Flow-ranked. Their cores drop resin crystals used for enchanting tools."

"Sounds profitable," Sylven muttered, scanning the treeline. "And risky."

Trafalgar crossed his arms. "Flow rank. One tier above me. Guess I’ll get my training."

Garrika’s ears flicked at his tone. "Don’t get too confident, Traf. Hollowspawn move in groups and mimic sounds. If they trick you into chasing a false echo, you’ll end up surrounded before you know it."

He nodded. "Noted."

Nearby, a roar broke out — a team of beastkin locked in combat with a massive insectoid creature. Sparks and mana arcs flashed as they finished it off, the crowd cheering when its shell finally cracked.

Sylven sighed. "Outer zone’s too crowded. Every monster we find here will already have someone’s arrow in it."

"Then we move in," Trafalgar said simply, resting a hand near his hip. "I came to fight, not to watch."

Garrika folded the parchment, nodding once. "Deeper, then. South should be less packed — fewer camps, more beasts."

Sylven adjusted his bowstring. "Fine by me. But once we pass the mossline, no guarantees. My [Aether Trace] will guide us, but it won’t stop what’s already waiting."

Without another word, the three left the bustling hunting zone behind.

The deeper they went, the quieter the world became.

Only the wind moved — brushing through thick ferns and dangling moss like whispers. Shafts of pale light cut through the canopy, glinting faintly on the damp surface of the ground.

Sylven raised a hand, signaling a stop. His eyes narrowed, the faint glow of mana tracing along his irises. "[Aether Trace]."

The air shimmered faintly, and lines of energy appeared — faint, like afterimages of motion — circling them.

"Movement," he murmured. "Six... no, seven. They’re surrounding us."

Garrika crouched, claws already forming from her fingers. Her voice dropped to a low growl. "Hollowspawn. Smell like mold and rot."

Trafalgar stepped forward, exhaling softly as Maledicta materialized in his hand. The faint hum of its edge cut through the stillness. ’Finally.’

The shadows around him seemed to shift as his Shadowhide Leather Armor wrapped over his frame, dulling his presence into a low silhouette.

The first creature lunged from the side — a humanoid shape, its flesh slick and gray-green, its arms split into long, whiplike tendrils. It screeched, face blank but mouth wide, rows of teeth spiraling inward.

Trafalgar twisted to meet it. [Severance Step].

His body blurred, vanishing a meter to the left. Maledicta cut clean through the tendril arm as he reappeared, the strike clean and immediate.

The creature’s body convulsed before collapsing.

"Sharp," Garrika muttered, already sprinting forward. Her claws glowed faintly blue as she activated [Beast Claw Barrage], shredding another Hollowspawn before it could react.

Sylven’s bowstring thrummed — three shots in quick succession, each glowing with faint light. "Two more, behind the roots!"

Trafalgar spun toward the noise, but the ground shifted. One of the monsters erupted from the soil below, dragging him down by the ankle. He landed hard, twisting as the creature raised both tendrils to impale him. [Severing Fang].

The blade tore through the creature’s chest, leaving a diagonal trail of blue light. Its body fell still.

Sylven whistled lowly. "You weren’t kidding about training."

"Practice makes perfection," Trafalgar said, pushing himself up.

One last Hollowspawn charged Garrika from behind. She didn’t even look — her leg snapped back in a brutal kick that crushed its skull.

The air grew still again. The seven bodies twitched once, then melted into black ichor that sank into the soil.

Garrika leaned down and pried a crystal shard from one of them. "One resin. Lucky drop."

Sylven frowned. "Out of seven kills? Figures."

Trafalgar wiped the blade against the moss, flicking off the black fluid. "Doesn’t matter. We’re just getting started."

They advanced deeper, the light dimming to a faint emerald glow beneath the canopy. The moss underfoot muffled their steps, and the distant shrieks of beasts echoed somewhere ahead — sharp, hollow, almost human.

Garrika crouched suddenly, tail stiff. "Two o’clock. Three of them — bigger."

Sylven already had an arrow drawn. "Confirmed. These are stronger... Flow-tier, without question."

Trafalgar exhaled through his nose, rolling his shoulders. ’Nice.’

The first Hollowspawn lunged from the brush — a towering shape, its barklike hide cracking to reveal bone and sinew beneath. Trafalgar’s body blurred forward, [Severance Step] leaving only a ripple of disturbed air in his wake. He reappeared behind the creature, Maledicta carving upward in a clean diagonal slash that split its torso in half.

A second creature erupted from the soil — Garrika intercepted it mid-leap, claws glowing as [Beast Claw Barrage] shredded through its chest in a blur of motion. Black ichor splattered the moss, and her feral grin flashed.

Sylven’s bowstring twanged three times — [Spirit Mark] glowing faintly as arrows pierced the third Hollowspawn’s head, anchoring its movements before a final shot pinned it to a nearby tree.

Trafalgar’s pulse quickened. Mana gathered along Maledicta’s blade, humming deep, dark, and alive. He twisted his wrist, his stance flowing into the next motion — [Morgain’s Requiem].

The world around him blurred into motion. Dozens of black arcs erupted from his swings, slicing through the lesser Hollowspawn bursting from the undergrowth. Each wave carved shadow trails across the clearing, severing limbs and splitting bark-covered flesh in a rhythm that looked more like a dance than a battle.

Sylven froze for a heartbeat, lowering his bow. "That’s a Morgain family skill..." he whispered under his breath.

Garrika smiled proudly, eyes gleaming green. "Of course it is."

Trafalgar pivoted sharply, channeling the next surge of mana. His sword howled through the air, edge burning with condensed pressure — [Morgain’s Final Crescent].

A single inverted arc of black light tore across the clearing. Trees cracked in half; soil and ichor exploded outward. The last Flow-tier Hollowspawn was cleaved from chest to spine, dissolving into dark vapor before it even hit the ground.

The silence that followed was heavy — the kind that only came after absolute destruction.

Sylven exhaled slowly, lowering his weapon. "Efficient... terrifying, but efficient."

Trafalgar rested Maledicta against his shoulder, the faint shimmer of mana still radiating from his frame. "Burns more energy than I’d like," he muttered.

"Still worth seeing once," Sylven replied with a quiet smile.

Garrika crouched beside a corpse, pulling two glowing shards from the remains. "Two resins this time. We’re getting luckier."

Trafalgar exhaled, letting the tension bleed out of his shoulders. With a faint shimmer of mana, Maledicta dissolved into black motes that scattered into the air before vanishing entirely. The clearing was silent again, save for the faint hum of distant insects and the slow drip of ichor from the roots.

He looked around once more, gauging their surroundings. "That’s enough here," he said finally. "We’ll move deeper — see if we can find better targets."

Garrika straightened, tail flicking lightly as she tucked the crystal shards into her pouch. "Deeper already? You don’t even stop to breathe, do you?"

He smirked faintly. "Breathing’s overrated."

Sylven adjusted his bow across his shoulder, his calm tone carrying a hint of amusement. "Then I hope you plan to keep moving that fast, or we’ll lose you in there."

The trees thickened as they moved deeper, the air turning heavy and still. The hum of insects faded beneath the echo of distant roars — faint, rhythmic, almost like the forest itself was breathing.

Trafalgar glanced around, his voice low but even. "You two ever been this far in before?"

Sylven nodded once. "Once. Didn’t stay long — it’s where most hunters start getting stupid."

Garrika tilted her head, ears twitching. "You mean greedy."

"Same thing," Sylven replied quietly.

The brush ahead rustled — not the sound of monsters, but of boots on soil. Six figures stepped out of the shadows, each armed and armored in different styles. A mixed group — demon, dwarf, beastkin, and a pair of humans — their equipment clean, well-kept, and expensive. Professionals.

The tallest, a horned demon with silver markings along his neck, leaned his halberd against one shoulder. "You three look a little lost," he said, voice carrying a mocking calm. "Outer groups aren’t supposed to be this deep."

Garrika’s ears twitched back. "We’re not lost."

Another of the men — a human with twin daggers and a jagged scar over his jaw — smirked. "Then you’re trespassing. This part of the Hollow belongs to us. Took it last week."

Trafalgar’s tone stayed flat. "Didn’t know hunting grounds had landlords."

The scarred man’s grin widened. "They do when people like us are around."

Sylven’s hand moved subtly toward his bow. "We’re just passing through."

"Oh, you can pass," the demon said, stepping closer. "Leave the beastkin and your drops, and you can walk out breathing."

The silence that followed was sharp.

Trafalgar tilted his head slightly, studying them — each stance, each grip. His eyes darkened, a faint flicker of mana tracing along his veins. "You picked the wrong group to try that with."

The demon’s smirk faltered. "What was that?"

Trafalgar took a slow step forward, voice low. "You heard me. You want to threaten someone, go back to the outer ring. But if you take one more step toward her..." His eyes cut toward Garrika. "...you’ll regret it."

For a moment, the air felt like it froze.

The dwarf in the back muttered something under his breath. "Cocky bastard."

Trafalgar’s gaze flicked to him — a small, sharp smile tugged at his lips. "You have no idea."

The air tensed — the kind that warned of blood before it spilled.

A rough voice cut through the hush. "Hold on. That guy... doesn’t he match the description? Dark hair, navy eyes... the one from the Morgain mess last month."

Another hunter spat, uneasy. "Morgains are mostly blond, right? Still I heard that a bastard was the topic, but I don’t have the information about it because it’s very private..."

Trafalgar’s jaw tightened, just a fraction. He let his posture stay relaxed, but a small pressure built behind his ribs. He didn’t like being sized up like prey.

He let the thought run cold and precise. ’This could get ugly — a 3v6...’

Because he didn’t want to be surprised, he let his hand move. A faint hum answered the motion; Maledicta coalesced from shadow at his grip, its edge swallowing the light for a heartbeat.

The change in the clearing was immediate. Not because of the blade — the hunters’ eyes had already narrowed at his face — but the weapon made the air heavier, more dangerous.

The lead hunter swallowed. "You sure that’s—?"

Trafalgar watched them, voice low and controlled. "You’re well-informed," he said. "But calling someone a bastard in front of them, don’t you think that’s a bit much? Who are you to call me that?"

Tension sat like a weight between the two groups. One of the hunters muttered, "Let’s go," and the others, uncomfortable now, fell in line and backed away into the trees.

They left fast enough that no one argued.

When the boots faded, Trafalgar didn’t move at once. He let the shadow of the blade thin, then dematerialized it with a quiet motion, returning Maledicta to the inventory.

Garrika exhaled first. "Rumors travel faster than I thought."

"Good," Trafalgar said flatly. "If they keep idiots away, fine by me."

Sylven shifted his bow, curious. "You worry about numbers?"

Trafalgar gave a short, dry half-smile. "Not really. But it’s better to be safe than sorry. And I’m not in the mood to kill people; I prefer to avoid it if necessary. They were just fools who think they’re better than they are, so it’s best to ignore them."