The air grew sharper with each passing day. Leon woke to thin ice crusting the stream and heavy frost covering the grass—winter's cold had settled over Linden Pine Valley. By noon, the frost melted, turning paths into muddy slop. "Not cold enough to freeze solid," he muttered, pulling his cloak tighter as he joined Dahlia and Flower by the valley entrance.
Im had just finished optimizing his Purification Circle—dubbed "Im's Charcoal Purification Array"—and refined his new spell, "Im's Purification," which required charcoal as a catalyst. In a rare mood, he'd given them a day off. "Hunt if you want," he'd said. "Prey's fattened for winter—good eating."
Leon slung his camshaft crossbow over his shoulder. He'd built it years earlier, and with regular oiling, it still fired true. Flower hefted his hunting bow, grinning. "Let's make a bet—who bags the most game?"
Leon shook his head. "No thanks. My aim's nowhere near yours. I'm not asking to be humiliated."
Flower groaned. "Where's your courage? A real man doesn't back down from a hunt!"
"A smart man doesn't fight with a disadvantage," Leon replied. He knew his limits—he'd hunted small game like rabbits and pheasants before, but Flower had trained in archery since childhood as part of his knight's education. "I'll bet you at cooking, though. Or math problems."
"That's boring!" Flower exclaimed.
"Boring beats getting outshot," Leon said, grinning. Dahlia snickered.
"Brother, you could bet him at carving. Have you seen the rabbit he made me? It looks like a failed mage experiment—his taste is… unique."
Leon pretended not to hear, pointing into the woods. "I saw something move over there. Let's check it out." He hurried ahead, eager to change the subject. The "mutant rabbit" (yellow head, green body, swirled colors) had been teased relentlessly—apparently, his artistic skills didn't translate across worlds.
He rounded a patch of withered bushes and froze. On the ground were clumps of dark brown droppings—wild boar, Garin had taught him. Not the plump, docile village pigs, but feral ones—mean, fast, and armed with sharp tusks. Even a small boar could maul a grown man.
"Dahlia! Flower! Over here!" he called, raising his crossbow. "Boar tracks."
The three followed the trail into a pine grove, where a boar rooted at the ground, digging for pine nuts. It wasn't huge—maybe 40 kilograms—but muscular, its fur matted with mud and pine needles. Winter food was scarce, and pine nuts were a rare treat.
"This one's ours," Flower whispered. "We'll shoot together—aim for vital spots." As the most experienced hunter, he took charge.
Leon loaded his crossbow, aiming slightly above the boar's belly—too nervous to target its head. Dahlia nocked an arrow, her hands trembling. Flower counted down silently, then yelled: "Shoot!"
Leon's bolt flew true, slamming into the boar's neck, half-burying itself in the flesh. Blood spurted instantly. Dahlia's arrow missed, sailing over the boar's back. The boar let out a shrill squeal, spinning around, eyes wild with pain and rage.
It charged straight at them.
Flower fired again, his arrow piercing the boar's spine—but the beast didn't slow. "Dodge!" he shouted. Leon and Dahlia darted to the sides as the boar barreled past, its tusks scraping the dirt. Flower raised his bow to block, but the boar's momentum sent him sprawling to the ground.
Leon acted on instinct, summoning his Mage Hand tentacles, coiling them into a tight "hammer." He swung, slamming the tentacles into the boar's head. The boar stumbled, dazed.
"Pull the bolt from its neck!" Flower yelled, scrambling up.
Leon reacted, his tentacles wrapping around the crossbow bolt. He yanked hard, tearing it free. Blood gushed from the wound, but the boar didn't fall—it wheeled around, fixing its gaze on Leon, rage now fully focused on him.
"Tentacles! Trip it!" Flower shouted.
Leon's tentacles snaked around the boar's front legs, yanking backward. The boar stumbled, crashing onto its chest. Flower pounced, pinning it down, and plunged a dagger into its throat, slitting the artery.
The boar's squeals faded to gurgles, its struggles growing weaker. Within minutes, it lay still.
Leon collapsed onto the ground, laughing shakily. Flower, covered in mud and blood, grinned back. Dahlia rushed over, her face pale. "Are you hurt? I'll get Master!"
She hadn't frozen—just been overwhelmed. At ten years old, facing a charging boar was more than any child should handle. Leon's legs felt like jelly, a wave of后怕 washing over him. It reminded him of his past life: hiking in Xinjiang, slipping on a steep slope, nearly rolling down. In the moment, he'd calmly planned how to protect himself, but once safe, he'd collapsed, trembling.
This was worse. The boar had been inches from goring him. "We're fine," he said, standing unsteadily. "Let's carry it back—before its family shows up. That squeal was loud."