Chapter 5: When the Hunters Arrive
The forest changed the moment the bounty went live.
Lucien felt it before he saw any signs.
The air grew tense—subtly at first, like a held breath. The usual chaotic movement of monster territory shifted, patterns warping as predators altered their routes. Birds stopped calling. Insects went quiet.
Someone had put a price on his head.
Lucien crouched on a rocky outcrop overlooking a narrow valley, his cloak pulled tight against the chill creeping in with dusk. Below him, the terrain funneled into a natural pass—exactly the kind of place hunters preferred.
"Too obvious," he muttered.
Luck pulsed faintly in his chest.
Which usually meant too late.
A glint of metal flashed at the far end of the valley.
Lucien narrowed his eyes.
Figures emerged from the trees—five of them, moving in coordinated formation. They wore mixed gear, not uniformed soldiers but professionals who knew how to fight together. Their mana signatures were disciplined, controlled, and aggressive.
A hunter squad.
Lucien counted automatically.
Frontline shield-bearer.
Dual-blade striker.
Archer on elevated ground.
Mage with fire affinity.
Support caster—likely barriers or debuffs.
Well-balanced, he thought. Experienced.
And very dead, if they forced him to fight seriously.
Lucien slid back from the ridge and moved.
He didn't retreat.
He repositioned.
The first trap went off exactly when he expected it to.
A mana-snare flared beneath his feet, blue runes igniting as binding force surged upward. Lucien allowed it to catch him—allowed the pressure to lock around his legs for half a second.
Then he exhaled.
Wind mana pulsed downward in a controlled spiral, not breaking the snare outright, but destabilizing it just enough.
The snare collapsed.
Behind him, someone cursed.
"So he can detect traps," a voice muttered.
Lucien stepped into the clearing slowly, hands visible.
The hunter squad emerged from concealment, weapons ready.
The leader stepped forward.
He was a broad-shouldered man with cropped black hair and a heavy tower shield strapped to his arm. His armor was scarred but well-maintained, the insignia on his chest marking him as a Guild-certified Silver Rank Hunter.
"Lucien Veyr," the man said. "You're worth a lot of coin right now."
Lucien sighed.
"You should turn around," he replied calmly.
The mage laughed. "Hear that? He's negotiating."
The archer loosed an arrow.
Lucien tilted his head slightly.
The arrow clipped a tree branch and shattered mid-air, splinters raining harmlessly around him.
Luck.
The shield-bearer frowned. "Formation."
They moved instantly.
Lucien didn't wait.
He stepped forward—into them.
The striker lunged first, blades flashing. Lucien twisted between the strikes, movements minimal, efficient. He didn't counterattack immediately.
He was counting.
Timing.
Distance.
Environmental hazards.
The fire mage began chanting.
Lucien kicked a loose stone.
The pebble struck a root at just the wrong angle.
The ground shifted.
The mage stumbled mid-cast, his fireball detonating prematurely and blasting him backward into a tree.
Chaos rippled through the formation.
"Focus!" the shield-bearer barked.
Too late.
Lucien moved.
He appeared beside the support caster first—not striking, just tapping pressure points with surgical precision. The man collapsed instantly, unconscious.
The striker recovered and attacked again, fury driving his movements now.
Lucien parried once.
Twice.
On the third exchange, the striker's footing slipped on damp leaves.
Lucien struck.
One clean blow to the back of the neck.
Down.
The archer fired rapidly, arrows streaking through the clearing.
Lucien raised his hand—not to block, but to adjust airflow.
A sudden crosswind bent the arrows just enough to miss vital areas, embedding them uselessly in the ground.
The archer froze.
Lucien looked up at him.
"…Run," he suggested.
The archer hesitated.
Luck decided for him.
A monster's roar echoed nearby.
The archer fled.
Only the shield-bearer remained.
He planted his shield and charged, mana flaring defensively.
Lucien met him head-on.
For a moment—just a moment—Lucien stopped holding back.
Not enough to show.
Just enough to end it.
His blade slipped past the shield, cutting through reinforced armor like cloth. The shield-bearer collapsed, eyes wide with shock rather than pain.
Lucien stepped back, breathing evenly.
Five hunters.
Three unconscious.
One fled.
One barely alive.
No witnesses worth worrying about.
Lucien turned away.
Then froze.
Clapping echoed slowly from the treeline.
Lucien's eyes sharpened.
A tall woman stepped into view.
She wore crimson leather armor reinforced with blackened steel plates, her long dark hair braided tightly down her back. Twin curved blades rested at her hips, their edges etched with glowing runes that pulsed faintly with enchantment.
Her smile was sharp.
"Well done," she said. "You're even better than the reports."
Lucien exhaled slowly.
Another one.
She bowed mockingly.
"Name's Rynelle Kars," she continued. "Gold Rank. Independent."
Lucien shifted his stance subtly.
Gold Rank meant she was dangerous.
Very dangerous.
"And before you ask," Rynelle added lightly, "yes. I saw everything."
Lucien sighed.
"…That's unfortunate."
Rynelle laughed. "Relax. I'm not here to fight."
Lucien didn't relax.
She tilted her head, studying him openly.
"You didn't kill them," she observed. "You could have."
Lucien said nothing.
"That means you're not a butcher," she continued. "Which makes this interesting."
She reached into her coat and tossed something toward him.
Lucien caught it reflexively.
A folded parchment.
A bounty notice.
🟣 PURPLE NOTICE
Target: Lucien Veyr
Reward: 3 Arc Crowns (Alive Preferred)
Issuers: Adventurer Guild, Crown (Joint)
Lucien stared at it.
"…That escalated quickly."
Rynelle smirked. "You're trending."
Lucien folded the notice and handed it back.
"I'm not interested."
She laughed again. "Oh, Lucien. None of us ever are."
She stepped back, retreating toward the trees.
"I'll see you again," she said. "When things get more… expensive."
Then she vanished.
Lucien stood alone once more, surrounded by the aftermath.
The forest slowly began to breathe again.
Lucien wiped his blade and sheathed it.
His luck pulsed uneasily.
Purple Notice.
That meant more hunters.
Stronger ones.
Better organized.
Lucien looked toward the distant mountains.
"…Guess I'm not slowing down," he muttered.
He turned and disappeared deeper into monster territory.
By nightfall, taverns across the kingdom buzzed with a new rumor:
A hunter squad went after Lucien Veyr.
Only one came back.
And somewhere far away, a sealed black ledger was opened for the first time in decades.