Chapter 33: Followers of the Hunter
The Hunter was also the nickname of Snow Castle's protagonist, but there were people called "Hunters" who roamed beyond Rondan, hunting Outer Gods. In other words, they were followers of those bearing the name "Hunter." This man had been one such follower, but he was on a different wavelength from the rest.
The man who belonged to that group didn't hold much respect or awe for the Hunters. He simply exploited their achievements to act with impunity and harbored ulterior motives about what he might gain there. In the process of living as a follower, he acquired a special skill: the ability to discern or judge things by their scent. The most useful part was sensing the fragrance of Outer Gods as colors.
The colors varied by rank, and the one time the man had faced a Greater Outer God, he'd detected red. It was a survival-specialized ability. Afterward, judging that the losses would outweigh the gains in terms of interests at stake, he quickly slipped away from the group and became a Candle.
Life as a Candle wasn't bad. No, it was downright lucky to have gotten in. Wandering the snows and stripping people bare for food turned out to pay better than expected. As long as they hijacked trains connecting cities to steal goods or looted merchants' caravans, supplies were never an issue. It was quite satisfying. Far freer than living under the Hearth's control, too.
Even the biggest players among the Candles, or the Outer Gods in the blizzard, posed no real threat if you sniffed them out and steered clear. I'm lucky, he thought. No, it was his skill and judgment that let him ride the right waves. Or so he believed.
What the hell is that?
It was a dog. No, a wolf? Maybe a fox—or nothing at all. It was eyes. Eyes that pierced him, as if intent on taxidermying his every secret. The amulet he'd looted from a knight in his hand began to burn away. His head throbbed, nosebleed pouring from inside the mask, soaking the snow-covered ground. His thoughts wouldn't turn properly. He forced his bloodshot eyes shut, blocking his vision. Then the whole world reeked of danger. Red. Yes, red everywhere.
Why, why, why? Why had an Outer God appeared out of nowhere? Then a foreign scent, distinct from the red, wafted into his nose. Another Outer God? No. The source of that smell unmistakably took human form. And faintly emanating from it, the aroma of embers. Yes—the owner of this scent was one of the Rondan humans they'd planned to fleece.
White hair, delicate features that might make a girl swoon. A face that screamed easy pickings with a little intimidation. But now, that Rondan human didn't look human at all. The scent had shifted drastically right after that Outer God appeared. Black. Not red, not any color of potential—pure black.
Never before had the man faced such peril; his brain's alarm bells rang madly. What the hell is that human? Is it even human? Overwhelmed by dread, his reason began to paralyze.
#
"Ah, it's going transparent again!"
Had she hit her time limit for manifesting again? Bell's body gradually faded back to transparency until it vanished completely. Soon, her disappointed voice echoed.
"Hiiing, back again already."
In a corner of my mind, I could hear Bell flopping down and scratching or licking at the spot where the hole in the wall had sealed shut. She liked me so much it was almost burdensome. Sorry, Bell, but I had no bandwidth to respond right now. A shiver ran through my entire body.
Even that brief summoning of the "Surveillance" Outer God—Bell—had been overwhelmingly powerful. Thanks to the mode, I didn't feel it elsewhere, but seeing her like that really drove home how strong these beings were. I gripped the Party Flute tight in my hand.
Strong was good, but Bell's manifestation time had shortened dramatically from before. I didn't know the exact cause, but I had a hunch. The answer was probably the number of Outer Gods we'd encountered. Even with the Hearth's constraints, Bell—who could barely poke out of the rift before meeting Paula—had fully emerged this time to save me.
Did encountering more Outer Gods boost her power but cut duration? Nah, probably not the mechanism... Still, the long cooldowns for abilities, and the limited summon windows for Bell or the Gardener, were nagging concerns. Even so, being able to call a Greater Outer God in emergencies for short bursts was hugely useful.
"...Hmng."
What was that? A chill crept up my spine at the sudden voice....
"...I said I'd help too, but looks like you didn't need it."
Th-that voice, sounding subtly disappointed—was it my imagination? ...Next time I needed to summon, I'd definitely call the Gardener first. As I was lost in thought, the Candles—who'd been radiating murderous intent moments ago—were now trembling in terror, thanks to Bell.
"What the hell just happened?"
"My head hurts."
"Nosebleed..."
Maybe to shield their brains from the indescribable horror, some had lost their memories from the brief descent of the Surveillance Outer God. The rest either endured or dropped their weapons and fled in panic. One of the fleeing bunch was that Candle who bragged about his nose. True to his looks, no loyalty there. Not that I expected any from bandits.
Bang!
A gunshot rang out. Huh. Looking back, a Candle hiding a gun under his cloak had it trained on me. Right—Hunters used guns, so of course these guys would too. But.
Bang! Bang! Bang!
Despite the barrage, the shooter looked panicked.
"Sh-shit! Why the hell aren't they hitting?!"
Even after Bell vanished, was it Paula's food doing its work? I dodged the flying bullets with minimal movement. Alright, time to test this Paula food buff for real. In a dark fantasy world, it's kill or be killed!
With guns failing, they tried to flee, so I charged forward to catch them. Up close, one whipped out a dagger from somewhere with quick hands and hurled it at me. Smart—keep distance since they couldn't match me. Good call. Except.
Just like back at Paula's restaurant, my strength was overflowing.
"Urk, uwaaak!"
"Wh-what?! Uwaaak!"
With specs like these, my body moved exactly as intended. I snatched the incoming dagger midair and flung it back. No sickening squelch—just a thwack as it hit, dropping him harmlessly. Felt like a game. The guy sneaking up behind got a punch; his armor went boom and slammed into the ground.
I'd always hated scary stuff, but in PvP games, I was dead serious. Still, with hits landing like this, it kinda deflated the thrill. Maybe from that one big swing?
"Ow ow..."
Durability wasn't overwhelmingly boosted—my fist stung. Usually, boosted physical stats came with everything else scaling up, right? Why just strength? Another Outer God mystery.
Even so, this was more than enough to flatten the rest. Not knowing how long this Americano heat would last, I stood to drop them faster—one by one.
"D-don't move! Or this one's head won't stay pretty!"
Then one Candle pressed a blade to the undying woman's throat, barking threats. Oh, right. I'd been so focused on the others that I'd left her alone. Figured she was fine since she didn't seem to die anyway, but yeah, a bit careless.
The hostage undying woman just stared blankly, unmoving. Dangerous situation, yet so chill.
"H-hey, you deaf?! Surrender and obey, or she's done for!"
Bandit habits—when brute force failed, grab a hostage. I wanted to say, "Go ahead, take a swing," but this could create an opening, so I stayed quiet. Worst case, if she didn't die, I'd exploit the gap to take him down.
As I schemed—
Twaang!
Sudden springy snap, loud. "...?"
My jaw dropped at the scene. The docile undying woman yanked her captured right arm forward and smashed her fist—knuckles out—into the Candle's face. That alone made his head shatter like Lego bricks, scattering everywhere.
Clatter clatter.
Thanks to the mode, did it register as actual Lego? Plastic pieces hit the ground. "Eh, wha?"