Yellowstone Forest, a lush coniferous expanse spanning over ten thousand hectares, serves as Terry County's primary hunting ground. To its south lies a forgotten wasteland—sweltering, arid, and nearly lifeless, save for a few twisted, gnarled trees.
(Rustling)
Suddenly, ragged footsteps approached from beneath the crimson sky. Two bedraggled figures staggered toward the forest, their endless bickering growing clearer:
"You lousy scout! Why didn't you say the Fire Dragonfly would chase us? Look! My arm's blistered!" Rick, clothes in tatters and face charred, glared at Moya.
"How would I know? I said it was my first time seeing one! And it's not just you—look at my ass blisters! My pants are split wide open." Moya hobbled behind, clutching his backside.
"Split pants are good—keep you cool." Rick snickered.
"Fuck off! Why don't we swap pants then?" Moya raged.
Their daily squabbling had become routine—bickering not only killed time but numbed their searing pain. Yet beneath the insults, a bond had formed over their five-day ordeal. Surviving two forbidden zones no one else had conquered—this alone was cause for pride.
Near the forest, they found a stream. Parched, Rick dove in fully clothed.
"Ah, bliss..." The cool water was heavenly. Recalling their near-deaths, he marveled at being alive.
"Life is good!"
No sooner had the words left his mouth than he leaped out like he'd been electrocuted.
"Dammit! What the hell did you pour on me? It burns!" Rick trembled in the water, eyes red with pain.
"Magical salt from Round Lake." Moya grimaced as he sprinkled salt on his own wounds, finding perverse relief in Rick's thrashing. Happiness truly is built on others' suffering, he snickered.
"You... bastard!" Rick's face contorted. "Enjoy it now—when I'm better, I'll kill you."
"Kill me? Without me, you'd never reach Terry County, map-reading idiot." Moya sniffed. "You jumped in when I was thirsty—serves you right for making me drink bathwater!"
Safe in the knowledge Rick wouldn't act, Moya gnawed on charred rations. "Ugh, bitter..." He frowned at the coal-like food, forcing it down his growling stomach.
Splashing!
A crisp crunch made Moya look up. Rick was devouring a large pear, juice dribbling down his chin.
"Where'd you get that?" Moya licked his lips.
"Picked it, idiot." Rick grinned. "Want a bite? Beg me."
Moya scanned the stream—there was only one pear tree, and no other fruit.
"All mine," Rick said, biting into one and pulling two more from the water.
Desperate, Moya groveled: "Boss Rick, have mercy—spare me a pear."
"Spineless fool. Boring." Rick tossed him a pear, then stripped naked, washed his tattered clothes, and emerged from the stream in the raw.
Moya choked on his pear at the sight. "Dude, that's indecent!"
"Nobody's around." Rick shook his wet hair.
Naked, he sat beside Moya to rummage through their meager belongings. "Damn Fire Dragonfly—burned everything. Lucky this booklet survived." He gently wiped dust from the tattered journal.
"At least we're alive." Moya swallowed the pear core.
"Let me rest." Rick leaned against him.
"Hey!" Moya pushed him off. "Put some clothes on first!"
"What's the big deal? You said we're both men—"
"Clothed men! Naked is different!"
"Fine." Rick grumbled into his damp clothes, flopped against Moya, and soon snored loudly.
This sleep lasted for hours. The two were utterly exhausted—days of non-stop trekking had drained their stamina, leaving them oblivious to the dark shadow rapidly approaching.
"Rick... Rick... Wake up..."
Vaguely, Rick heard Moya calling. "Leave me alone, I'm tired." He swatted away the annoyance and buried his head to sleep again.
"Let him be. He'll wake when he needs to."
A strange voice jolted Rick awake. He sprang up like lightning. "Who's there?!"
By the moonlight, he saw a tall, gaunt shadow sitting by the stream, eyeing him with piercing gaze.
"Danger!" Instinctively, Rick's hands transformed into sickles.
The shadow glanced at the sickles, unimpressed. "Easy. I'm just a passerby."
"Moya, when did he get here?" Rick asked.
"Dunno—he was here when I woke." Moya looked ashamed.
The thought of sleeping near a dangerous stranger made Rick shiver. If this man had acted while they slept...
"Who are you?" Rick demanded, alert.
"Those who know me call me Nirvana Shust." The shadow replied arrogantly.
Rick looked to Moya, who shrugged in ignorance.
"What do you want with us?"
"Relax, kid. No harm intended. I just wonder how you got here. Your clothes suggest... unusual experiences." Shust's sharp eyes never left Rick.
This loaded comment made Rick tense. He remembered Moya's priceless forbidden zone map. If Shust knew they'd emerged from forbidden zones, he might covet the map.
"We came from the north," Moya interjected quickly.
"North?" Shust smiled. "Iso City on the plateau?"
"No, Iso City in the mountains." Moya parried the probe.
"Nothing unusual on the way? Your gear suggests—"
"Nope. Came to see Flame Mountain, got too close, almost roasted." Rick cut in.
Playing off each other, they wove a flawless lie. Though Shust sensed deception, he found no flaw. He couldn't believe kids had crossed Flame Mountain—chalking his suspicion up to paranoia, he bought their story.
"In that case, forgive the intrusion." Shust stood, disappointed. "I wouldn't disturb you unless lost. Forgive a wanderer's plight."
"Lost?" Moya gaped. This seasoned hunter lost in Yellowstone Forest?
"Where are you headed?" Rick asked.
"Just back to Terry County."
"Back to Terry County? Are you really an insect hunter? Or first time here?" Moya exclaimed.
Shust chuckled: "You're right—I am new here."
"Head east, then. Straight path to Terry County."
"But that passes through an insect hunter team's grounds. Or so I've heard. I'd rather avoid conflict." Correcting himself, Shust's eyes flickered.
Young and unsuspecting, Rick and Moya took him for a lost soul. Moya offered help: "Oh right! I once took a path with my captain. Follow the stream downstream to a maple forest, then north through it to a cliff trail. Cross that, and you're in Terry County. Longer, but... well, maybe better than asking hunters for passage."
Shust's eyes lit up. Suppressing excitement, he said evenly: "I had no idea. Thank you! I'm not one for negotiations, so a quiet path is perfect. And as a hunter, who knows what I might find?"
"Sure. Good luck." Rick disliked Shust and made his dismissal clear.
Sensing Rick's coldness and eager to leave, Shust hesitated at a faint scent in the air. He sniffed deeply with his hawkish nose, then stole a glance at the dense conifers.
Turning to Moya, he bowed gallantly: "Young friend, you've guided me. As a senior hunter, it's only polite to repay you." He drew a refined dagger from his boot and pressed it into Moya's hand. "Carved from a Tiger-Tooth Insect's fang. Not priceless, but a token of gratitude."
"For me?" Moya gaped, amazed such luck fell on him.
"Yes, please accept it."
"Thanks... You're too kind." Moya took the dagger, caressing its cold spine.
"Farewell. Perhaps we'll meet again."
With this cryptic remark, Shust spread his arms, leaping like a bird. In mere bounds, he vanished into the night.
After Shust left, Rick finally relaxed, the oppressive tension lifting from his shoulders. He retracted his serrated claws, frowning: "I don't like that guy. Something's off about him."
"Neither do I, but he gave me a dagger." Moya grinned, brandishing the blade. "I love this dagger—who cares if he's weird!"
"True, free is free." Rick leaned in, eyeing the dagger. "It's nice—worth much?"
"Hey! It's a gift! Keep your hands off." Moya stashed the dagger, eyeing Rick warily.
"Ugh, just a crappy dagger. Not like I want it, cheapskate." Rick grumbled.
"Crappy? It's carved from a Tiger-Tooth Insect's fang! Know what rank that is? Demon-Rank! Hahaha..."
"Shut up. I'm trying to sleep. Keep yapping, and I'll toss your 'crappy' dagger in the stream."
"You're jealous! Yep, jealous!" Moya turned away, polishing the dagger with his shirt.
Just as they settled, a deafening commotion erupted from the conifer forest. "What the hell today?" Rick snapped, rising irritably—then froze.
The entire forest twinkled with bobbing insect-lanterns. Dozens of insect hunters in varied gear charged out, surrounding them with murderous intent. Hundreds strong, their ferocious faces left Moya and Rick stunned.
"What do you want?!" Rick braced, voice sharp.
"Boss, that kid has Kahn's dagger." A sharp-eyed hunter pointed at Moya's blade, reporting to a burly man.
"Kid, where'd you get that dagger?" The burly man grabbed Moya's collar.
"Let him go!" Rick charged, but the man backhanded him without looking. The punch slammed into Rick's gut, sending him flying like a shrimp, curling in mid-air before crashing meters away. Blood trickled from his lips as he coughed, kneeling curled on the ground.
"Trash." The man scoffed, dragging Moya by the neck.
"Let him go!" Rick stood, clutching his stomach, eyes red with rage. Danger radiated from him like a wild beast.
"Oh? Still standing. Impressive." The man glanced at Rick's brass star badge—the mark of a lowly hunter—and dismissed the threat. He raised his hammer-like, keratinized arm. "Punk, save your energy. Resisting means a slow death."
Seeing Moya manhandled, Rick's suppressed killing intent exploded. His sanity seemed swallowed by the sickle insect's predatory instincts. His vision turned blood-red, focus narrowing to the arrogant brute.
"Die..."
The man's pupils shrank. Before he could react, Rick blurred forward impossibly fast. A sharp swish sliced the air. The man tried to turn, but a red line split his throat, expanding into a geyser of blood. He reached out hollow eyes, grasping for his ebbing life, then collapsed with a thud, pooling blood soaking the dry earth.
Silence fell. No one expected a nobody kid to instant-kill a veteran hunter. The shock lingered until someone yelled: "He killed Boulder!"
"Damn it! Kill him!"
The crowd erupted. Enraged hunters transformed, their raging killing intent blotting out the moon behind clouds. The forest rustled eerily in the chill wind.
Moya trembled, more terrified than any hunting defense. He looked to Rick, who stood blood-eyed, growling like a beast. "Oh god, what is he doing?!"
Snapping back to his senses, Moya scrambled up, blocking Rick. "Take the dagger! We don't want it! Spare us—Rick didn't mean to kill him!"
The crowd paused, all eyes on the aloof silver-haired man in their midst. "No one... kills a Wolf Pack member and lives." The man's cold, cruel words reignited the mob.
Moya collapsed, muttering: "Wolf... Wolf Pack... The mightiest hunter guild in the Three Forest Cities... Wolf Pack..."