At the break of dawn, a black figure darted through the forest. His speed was impressive, yet his movements were almost silent.
The figure wore a tall top hat, a cloak, a tailcoat, outdated long trousers, and black leather boots. His face was hidden behind a scarf and the cloak, leaving only his bloodshot, murky eyes and the grayish, worm-like veins crawling across his skin visible.
“Hehehe~ Do they really think they can catch me with just these few people?” The black figure pulled out a pocket watch and sneered. As the power of the dark gods continued to flow into him, more sores and rot appeared on his body. He could even feel maggots wriggling in his wounds.
But none of that mattered. He could feel immense power surging through him with every passing second, making him stronger!
Suddenly, the vows he had once made to eradicate Chaos seemed laughable. For over a decade, he had fought tirelessly against evil, battling cultists and upholding so-called justice and the protection of humanity.
Protecting humanity… Hah, I couldn’t even protect the woman I loved.
“Ugh~ Aaaah!” A searing pain shot through his body, forcing Belter to cry out. Having chosen the path of corruption, his body was now undergoing the agonizing transformation into a vessel for Chaos. Even with his high tolerance for pain as a Master Hunter, the torment was driving him to the brink of madness.
“Not yet!” Belter spat out a mouthful of black blood. Without bothering to wipe it away, he sprinted deeper into the forest. This was a critical moment in his transformation.
“Tsk, I need to endure,” the black figure muttered before disappearing into the depths of the forest.
On the ground, traces of bright red blood marked the path. This was the blood of another old hunter who had pursued him. Once, they had fought side by side to vanquish evil. Now, they were on opposite paths. The old hunter, Grant, had always been slightly weaker, and Belter, now empowered by Chaos, had easily overpowered him. Grant had been mortally wounded, but Belter, in the midst of his transformation, had no time to finish him off.
The heavy snowfall showed no signs of stopping. Leon stepped out of the town and ventured alone into the icy wilderness.
The Kingdom of Nord was densely forested, with most of its woods being coniferous. The heavy snow clung to the trees, and even the slightest movement could cause a cascade of snow, creating loud noises. Though Leon wasn’t afraid, he didn’t want to attract unnecessary trouble.
Step by step, he moved toward his destination. The forest was eerily quiet, and Leon couldn’t help but sigh deeply. The forest hadn’t always been like this.
Once, the forest had been beautiful and teeming with life. But after the descent of Chaos centuries ago, mutated beastmen had appeared. Wherever these beastmen tribes went, trees withered and died, animals mutated into new Chaos beastmen, and the land and water became polluted, turning foul and barren. Thus, Chaos beastmen and alchemists who caused pollution were the two most hated groups by the Church of Nature. Whenever they appeared, the Church of Nature would not hesitate to hunt them down.
The Kingdom of Nord was relatively fortunate. The extreme cold kept the beastmen at bay. In the south, in Bretonnia or the Empire, powerful beastmen tribes were a constant plague. These tribes, numbering in the hundreds or thousands, left destruction in their wake, killing everything in their path. The Empire had fought several wars against them, with the emperor himself leading the royal guard into battle in the forests near the capital.
Thanks to these Chaos beastmen, forests had become extremely dangerous places. Unless confirmed safe, the depths of the woods were home to powerful monsters. Lords often forbade hunters from venturing more than two days’ journey into the forest. Even so, many towns lost a hunter or two every month.
Two hours into the forest, the corner of the knight’s mouth twitched. “A corpse?”
The sun had already set. Under a large tree not far away sat an old hunter with his stomach ripped open. The man appeared to be in his fifties, his ashen face and dried blood indicating he had been dead for some time. The silver sword that should have been on his back was missing, and his steel sword was broken and discarded. His abdomen had been torn open, and there were multiple fatal wounds on his chest. In the faint moonlight, Leon noticed that even in death, the old hunter clutched a dagger in his hand. His leather jacket was torn in several places, evidence of a fierce battle. Leon cautiously approached to investigate.
After taking a few steps, Leon suddenly felt his foot step on something, producing a *click*.
Oh no! A trap!
From the snow-covered branches above, a dozen sharpened wooden spikes shot down. At the same time, the sound of falling snow echoed as a cylindrical log, tied to a branch, swung down from a nearby tree toward Leon’s position.
Leon’s once calm eyes sharpened. He tightened his grip on his warhammer.
“Whoosh~ Whoosh~” The wooden spikes flew through the air. Leon’s right hand moved swiftly, raising the warhammer above his head. With a rapid motion, the long-handled warhammer spun through the air, creating a whirlwind that deflected the incoming spikes, neutralizing the threat from above.
Next, the knight transferred the warhammer to his left hand and, with his right fist, struck the swinging log. With a loud *thud*, the log split into pieces and fell to the ground.
“So, he was attacked, fled here while mortally wounded, set up a trap, and waited for rescue, only to succumb to his injuries in the end?” Leon examined the dead hunter and pieced together the likely sequence of events.
“He fled here after being severely wounded, right?”
The gravely wounded hunter had set up a trap and hidden here, hoping for rescue. Perhaps he had fired a signal arrow, perhaps not. But in the end, luck wasn’t on his side. In the freezing cold, with his injuries, he couldn’t last more than two days. He had bled to death in the icy wilderness.
Death was a daily occurrence, and Leon had grown accustomed to it. Early in his career, he had seen his teammates’ heads bitten off by bear spirits. Now, a cold corpse couldn’t shake him. Out of respect, he buried the poor hunter hastily and took the valuable items from his body as his reward.
“Hmm?” Leon noticed something clutched in the hunter’s arms.
After pocketing the dozen or so gold denarii the hunter had carried, Leon retrieved a pocket watch from his chest.
Pocket watches were precious items in this world, crafted only by dwarves or the Empire’s military industry. Hunters, due to their profession, valued time and often spent a significant amount on a watch.
Opening the watch, Leon found a family portrait inside: the hunter, his wife, and their two children, all smiling brightly at him.
Leon took a deep breath and clenched his fist tightly, the bones in his hand cracking.
“Belter!!! I will catch you!!!”
“What? So there’s a corrupted hunter named Belter being pursued?” The imperial merchant, Oliver, sat in his carriage as his guards rode alongside, guiding the horses down the road. They had just encountered a squad of paladins on a mission. Oliver immediately recalled the rumors he had heard and grabbed one of the paladins to ask.
The paladin he grabbed was a young man in his twenties, with a somewhat arrogant demeanor, unlike the seasoned leader of the squad, whose face bore the marks of hardship. The young paladin, seeing a merchant, spoke dismissively, “Yes, we’ve already lost several comrades in pursuit of this corrupted hunter. So please don’t interfere with our mission, sir.”
Oliver felt a surge of irritation. The tension between merchants and paladins was well-known. Paladins despised the merchants’ greed and unscrupulousness, while merchants resented the paladins’ strict rules and meddlesome ways, which often disrupted their business. This was why some shops and auction houses barred paladins, and some paladins preferred hunting or mining over shopping.
But his life was at stake. At least paladins were reasonable. Who knew what would happen if they encountered the corrupted hunter? Swallowing his anger, Oliver forced a smile and said, “So, you’re planning to cross that forest ahead? If you don’t mind, why don’t we travel together? We can watch each other’s backs.”
“Who would want to travel with someone like you…” the young paladin began, but was cut off by the squad leader, a man in his fifties with nearly white blond hair and a rugged face. He carried a sword at his waist and a shield on his back, the golden patterns on his helmet marking him as the leader. “Enough, Alex. Remember the teachings of our lord?”
“Of… of course I remember,” the young paladin fell silent.
“Unfortunately, sir, we’re only patrolling the area and have no plans to enter the forest,” the older paladin shook his head, signaling for Alex to stay quiet. “You’re free to go.”
With that, the paladin squad moved off in another direction.
One of the guards, looking at the snow-covered forest ahead, gulped and asked, “Boss, do we keep going?”
Oliver stared at the road disappearing into the endless forest, swallowed by its depths. He gritted his teeth. “We go! We can’t delay any longer!”
“Yes, sir!”
Oliver and his group finally entered the forest. The sound of the carriage wheels turning echoed in the silent woods. When the wheels hit a small stone, Oliver felt his heart skip a beat.
It was so dark, too dark. Sitting inside the carriage, the imperial merchant nervously looked around, feeling as though something was moving in the shadows.
A deep sense of unease settled over the merchant and his guards. Oliver pulled out a pure gold pendant from his chest and silently prayed.
“Lady of Wealth, grant me safety. Lady of Wealth, grant me safety.”
Merchants mostly worshipped the Lady of Wealth, though many were only nominal or casual believers. Nominal believers claimed to worship her but offered insincere prayers only when needed, while casual believers prayed more often but were equally superficial.
After a long prayer, they managed to advance safely for three hours, reaching the heart of the forest. By then, both the horses and the guards were reaching their limits, so they decided to rest.
“I’ll get some ice,” one of the guards said, taking an iron pot to fetch ice from a nearby stream to make soup.
Half an hour passed, and the guard hadn’t returned.
Oliver began to feel uneasy. The merchant sat against a tree, holding a water bottle filled with recently boiled water in one hand and a piece of smoked meat in the other. After glancing toward the stream again, he asked a guard, “Franz? Why hasn’t Meyer come back yet?”
The guard named Franz shook his head. “I don’t know, boss. I…”
“Neigh!!!” The sound of horses whinnying interrupted their conversation, followed by a faint tremor in the ground.
*Thud~ Thud~ Thud~*
Hearing this, the group’s expressions changed. Franz instinctively dropped the spoon he was using to serve soup and gripped the hilt of his sword. Oliver scrambled behind his guards, his fur coat now covered in snow and mud. His face pale, he stared into the depths of the forest, his heart racing.
*Thud~ Thud~ Thud~*
“Growl!!!” A small warhound appeared first, its face hideously scarred, with sharp, white fangs bared and drool dripping from its mouth.
“Chaos warhounds! It’s a beastmen warband!!” Franz screamed, grabbing a crossbow from his back and firing at the warhound.
“Whoosh~” The bolt flew through the cold air, striking the warhound in the head. The creature let out a final howl before collapsing mid-charge.
“Yes!” Oliver clenched his fist in triumph, but before he could finish his cheer, a dozen more warhounds charged forward, trampling over the dead one’s body. Their blood-red eyes gleamed with a thirst for blood, sending chills down their spines.
Beastmen. The terrifying beastmen. The creatures that could make children stop crying anywhere on the continent. The “Scourge of the Earth” and “Harbingers of Doom.”
The beastmen were here!