The Firebird Hunt
"Hmm."
Matillo looked at Alice's greatsword.
However roughly she had handled it, edge and face alike were worn down and riddled with nicks. The hilt was no better. Cracks ran through the grip, and mixed into those cracks was someone's blood.
He'd heard she was only Rank 1, but looking at the sword alone, you could believe she'd just rolled through a battlefield.
The girl's spirit was a match for any veteran hunter, too. She never flinched before him, driving her will through to the end. Not yielding an inch, she carried a resolve hotter than the forge's own heat.
Still, a Rank 1 hunter would take quite a while to bring down a Kakari.
In the meantime, he might as well fix up the greatsword.
Matillo sat before his rough workbench. The sweltering heat of the workshop made sweat pour from him unbidden. Wiping it with his wrist, he went straight to hammering the hilt.
He thought back to when he'd been a hunter in his prime.
Now he was nothing but an old man rotting away in a corner of the workshop district, but there had been a time when he'd been a hunter full of passion and challenge. That was already ten years ago.
The reason Matillo had quit hunting and become a blacksmith in a forge like this was his goal. Watching hunters fall so easily to monsters over the years, he had made a vow.
He would become a blacksmith and protect the hunters who protected people.
But he had never been satisfied with his own work. He'd thought equipment like this couldn't protect hunters—that workshops run by young, clever blacksmiths would be better than anything an old man with a hardened mind could produce. That was how he'd thought.
So he practiced. Having started late, he practiced like a man possessed. After ten years of grinding himself down that way, he had become a craftsman of extraordinary skill.
But all that remained at the end was a cantankerous old man with not a single customer. He had driven every customer away, and the result of his endless effort was cold and unforgiving.
No one came. Only the suits of armor waiting for a master waited in that workshop. What did a forge run by a cranky old man who rubbed people the wrong way have over any other workshop?
Suddenly, Matillo remembered Alice's words.
It has to be you.
"That brat's got me hoping, of all things…"
Matillo looked at the greatsword. The face reflected in the blade wore a strange little smile.
"Old man!"
"…What."
What shattered Matillo's smile was a young man who barged into the forge with a hearty shout.
Matillo answered the annoyingly cheerful voice without so much as moving. The young man was a craftsman from another workshop he occasionally dealt with.
"I heard you got a customer in here? Word's already all over the workshop district. Are you finally taking customers again?"
"…Hmph. I just put in a request with a hunter, that's all."
"A request? So you're actually planning to do the work. That greatsword, too."
"Shoo. If you're gonna talk nonsense, get out. Get out. I can't concentrate."
"Ah—no, I've got something important to tell you?"
"What."
"The customer who came in—white hair, right? The workshop folks said white hair."
"…That's right. Is that a problem?"
"That white-haired one is supposed to be an incredible new hunter. Word's already all over Antico. You didn't know? I figured you already knew and that's why you specifically picked that hunter. You secretly like the rookies, old man. Drop the act."
"Shut it. And what's so incredible about that little brat anyway… She's just a Rank 1 greenhorn, isn't she?"
"Would people be talking like this if she were just any Rank 1?"
In the forest city of Antico, rumors spread like this—fast. The talkative craftsman had heard the rumor from hunters, and that rumor had, absurdly enough, reached Matillo.
The young man kept talking. Matillo, who had been answering halfheartedly and growing bored, found his eyes growing wider and wider. His gaze settled on the greatsword resting quietly on the workbench.
The worn edge and the cracked hilt were no ordinary marks.
I focused my mind and stepped forward. A lateral sweep of the blade confirmed the pattern.
I sheathed the greatsword across my back in one smooth motion and threw my body aside. Its beak stabbed into the ground where I had been standing.
You could never let your guard down against any opponent. Even if a Kakari would lose a fight against a One-Eyed Luga-lac, it was no easy prey.
That was how monsters were. To a human, every monster was a burdensome existence. You couldn't win with raw power. You couldn't win with stamina, either. There was not a single thing a human excelled at by nature.
Humans had to use every means available to overcome that gap.
————Kaaaa!
The wounded Kakari screamed until its throat tore. A monster with a naturally booming voice, its roar was enough to make a hunter flinch. Maybe because I'd heard it so close—my ears rang.
Fwoosh—.
At the same time, flames flickered from its mouth.
When enraged, a Kakari used the red sac—an oil pouch—to spew fire. That didn't mean it could belch breath like a real dragon. There was a limit to the firepower it could produce.
But that was also why the Kakari was called the first gate.
Because of that fire, fighting up close meant taking continuous burns and damage. Stay too long and you could fall into a burn status. Even approaching was enough to feel the searing heat. I dodged a swipe of its leg to the side and slid the greatsword back into place across my back.
In a situation like this, there was only one thing to do. Strip away the flame-wreathed state.
I backstepped, opening the distance. The Kakari's headbutt came charging in. I rolled, grazing past its thrashing wings and legs. My hand hit the ground, and I spun my body upright at once. My hand went to the bag swinging at my hip.
What I pulled out was a Waterburst Fruit, its shell hard and firm—a fruit packed full of water on the inside, perfect for throwing.
Noah had picked it up at the shop for me, saying to use it when I faced a Kakari.
Noah. Thank you.
Just as the Kakari turned its head toward me, I twisted the shell slightly and threw. The blue fruit struck its beak and burst, water exploding outward. It twisted its head at the sudden dousing. The firepower visibly weakened.
A Kakari's red sac was an oil pouch. Heat met the oil and ignited, letting it spew fire—but splash water on it, and the heat itself cooled, the flames dying down. For a moment, I no longer had to worry about the fire. I drew the greatsword again. With its flames sealed, the Kakari had nothing left but physical combat.
But I had technique that overcame raw size. I had information built up over a long time.
You can't reach me.
The crest shattered. The claws cracked. Hide peeled away under the greatsword's edge, and blood flowed without end.
Kaaang—!
A fierce swing smashed into its neck.
————Karrruuu….
Scratches scored its hide, blood streaming down. Reeling from the impact, the Kakari staggered back, head slightly bowed, drool trailing from its beak. Its exhausted eyes fixed on Alice.
Alice was breathing hard and rough—but her body didn't have a single scratch. Unlike its own battered self, she stood unharmed. Even the attacks that had barely connected had left nothing more than scrapes on her armor.
The Kakari lifted its head.
If it wanted to live, it had to run. No—even if it ran, could it survive?
It would not run. There was something behind it that had to be protected. Even sensing death, it could not retreat.
Flame bloomed once more at the corners of its mouth. A final fury wrapped the Kakari's body. It thought of the form of a stronger monster. That kind did not use mere little sparks like this. What it needed now was not a small flame. The Kakari drew in a great breath.
The firepower grew fiercer still. The flames heated the air around it until it shimmered. Past its limits, its throat and beak began to burn. Pain radiated from the red sac.
"…Again?"
Alice clicked her tongue. She had no Waterburst Fruit left. She would have to finish it in that state.
She had to finish it—but something about the creature was wrong. Unlike usual, the fire was growing larger and larger.
An ominous thought flashed through her mind. This was bad. She had never seen a Kakari gather flame like that.
The Kakari opened its mouth. For an instant, the world before her eyes flashed white.
It's coming.
A breath that mimicked a dragonkin's— the Kakari's breath came flying.
Should she block it?
No. She could react in time. With this body.
Alice threw herself to the left. The Kakari's breath grazed her side—a powerful, straight-line blast. Her waist burned as if it were being seared through. The smell of singed hair rose.
At this rate, I'm at a disadvantage.
End it in one stroke.
Alice dropped low, running outside its field of vision.
Sssssss—.
She cut through the breath with the greatsword, the iron heating white-hot. The heat traveled all the way to the hilt, agonizing—but she never let go.
Soon the breath ended.
The Kakari exhaled acrid smoke, catching its breath. That blast had been a thrashing of its entire soul. Its throat burned as if it were being charred from the inside.
Is the human dead?
The Kakari shifted its vision, narrowed by excitement. The human was nowhere to be seen. Had she been burned black, reduced to ash?
…No.
She had used the breath itself as cover, slipping cleverly toward it. She was already right in front of its face, their eyes meeting.
It was already too late. With a body this exhausted, it could not escape the greatsword's reach.
Alice drove a step into the ground at once. The pulse that shook the earth traveled up through her body and loaded into the tip of the blade.
Sizzle—.
The red-hot sword passed through hide and flesh, searing as it went. Smoke rose. Blood sprayed in a wide arc.
"Haa…"
Catching her breath, Alice drove the greatsword straight into the ground beside the Kakari's corpse and lifted her head.
Before she knew it, a red sky stretched overhead.
The sun was already sinking far into the west.