The Way of the Wild (1)
The wild is harsh. And it is savage.
To expect reason from wild beasts is a fool's errand. It is a world governed strictly by the law of the jungle, where the strong strip everything from the weak, and survival itself is the sole measure of strength. No matter how rationally I might wish to approach them, beasts know nothing of reason. Instinct will always take precedence over intellect, an immutable truth that remains unchanged no matter how clever they might seem. Trespass on their territory, and you are an enemy. Steal their food, and you are an enemy. Eat that stolen food, and you are an enemy twice over. Kill, or be killed. That is the way of the wild, the unrelenting order of nature.
Whoosh!
The decapitated head of the sentry, launched by the Leader Gorilla's punch, tore through the air like a cannonball straight toward Fast Tree Sloth. But who was Ppareumbo? This was a beast capable of casually dodging an arrow fired point-blank into his face. A flying head propelled by a mere punch was child's play for him to avoid.
Wait, that thing was launched by a punch?
Dodging it was one thing, but the sheer absurdity of what I had just witnessed sent a chill down my spine. That blow from the Leader Gorilla was terrifying. It wasn't merely brute strength; what made it truly astonishing was his flawless control over that power. If he had simply pushed with raw, unbridled muscle, the severed head would have burst like a ripe melon on impact. Instead, through some bizarre application of force, it had been fired like an intact projectile.
"Ooh-ooh-ooh! Ooh-ooh-ooh!"
"Ooh-ooh-ooh! Ooh-ooh-ooh!"
Goaded by Ppareumbo's provocation and emboldened by their leader's strike, the rest of the troop began thumping their chests in unison. For a gorilla, thumping the chest is an unequivocal display of aggression. In other words, a formal declaration of war.
"Haah..."
"..."
"Grrr...!"
While a heavy sigh escaped my lips, Ppareumbo wore his usual expression of unflappable leisure. Wonmo, reading the murderous tension in the air, bristled his fur and bared his fangs in a defensive snarl.
I mean, technically, those apes started it.
If the gorillas had poured the gasoline, Ppareumbo was the one who casually tossed the lit match. The real problem was that my house was the thing catching fire. What a miserable mess. Unless we wiped out these gorillas, putting out the flames was out of the question.
Steeling my resolve, I braced for the impending onslaught.
This won't be anything like fighting those river otters.
These weren't common beasts; they were gorillas, possessing the greatest physical strength of all primates. And as the crude bludgeons gripped in their hands proved, they were capable of wielding tools. This was going to be an uphill battle. But what unsettled me most of all was the Leader Gorilla standing at the rear.
Why is that guy empty-handed?
He held no weapons whatsoever, yet every survival instinct in my gut screamed that he was far deadlier than the rest. It was an uncanny intuition. But before I could ponder it further, the other gorillas charged, their knuckles slamming into the earth with terrifying momentum as they galloped forward. True to form, the Leader Gorilla remained rooted in place, arms folded across his chest, coldly observing the fray without making a move.
"Ppareumbo! Get on Wonmo's back!"
"..."
"Wonmo, don't rush in! Stay glued to my back!"
Barking out orders to my companions, I began sliding backward one deliberate step at a time. Charging straight into a pack of charging gorillas with our current formation was a recipe for disaster. We had triumphed over the giant otters because they were smaller and possessed predictable, linear tactics. But these beasts were entirely different.
They're fanning out to encircle us.
Instead of charging in a straight line, they split into flanking groups, cutting off our retreat from the front, rear, and both flanks. They had established an airtight cordon in seconds. The seamless coordination suggested they had executed this maneuver countless times before.
They actually know how to use their heads.
And that made them exponentially more dangerous. Intellect was the sole reason humanity reigned at the pinnacle of the food chain. Even if these apes possessed only a fraction of that cognitive ability, it was more than enough to make them lethal predators.
"Kwoooaaar!"
The moment the perimeter was sealed, a gorilla locking eyes with me brought a weapon crashing down toward my skull. Among the assortment of bone clubs, wooden bludgeons, and crude axes, this one wielded a stone-headed axe. I threw up my shield, channeling mana through my arm just in case.
CLAAAANG!!
The collision of the stone axe against the iron-rimmed shield unleashed an ear-splitting screech. The impact felt staggeringly heavy, living up to the gorilla's reputation as the strongest of all primates. If I hadn't consumed the giant eel flesh and bolstered my physical stats earlier, a single blow like that might have fractured my forearm. Yet I had no luxury to dwell on the shockwave; another gorilla armed with a heavy wooden cudgel was already closing the distance.
Abandoning any thought of an immediate counter, I snapped my shield back.
Whoosh!
The massive wooden club whipped past my nose, close enough to brush my eyelashes. In that same breath, the stone-axe gorilla let out a deafening roar and lunged forward once more. The sight of its jagged yellow fangs dripping with saliva sent a flicker of primal terror through my chest, but I gritted my teeth and forced it down.
CLANG!
Shield and stone axe clashed once again, locking together in a shower of sparks. Countering was nearly impossible. Just as before, the club-wielding gorilla swung in from my blind spot, forcing me on the defensive. Their attacks appeared haphazard, but the relentless rhythm naturally covered each other's openings.
If I stay on the back foot, I'm dead.
I didn't even have the leeway to glance back and check on Wonmo and Ppareumbo. I was managing to parry and weave through their strikes thanks to the combat instincts I had honed so far, but we were overwhelmingly outnumbered. Unless I took the offensive, there would be no escaping this endless meat grinder.
Their movements are fundamentally simple.
Over the course of several frantic exchanges, I began reading the underlying rhythm of their aggression. Or perhaps calling it a rhythm gave them too much credit. Their strikes were erratic, wild, and crude. Yet precisely because they relied on tools to crush me, an inevitable flaw emerged: the brief, careless openings born from the momentum of swinging a heavy weapon. It was ironic. They had picked up weapons to become more lethal, but those very tools created vulnerabilities they couldn't cover.
Whoosh!
The stone axe cleaved the air an inch before my face. Anticipating the precise arc of its downward chop, I took half a step back, letting the head whistle harmlessly into the dirt.
Next comes the club.
Glancing out of the corner of my eye, I saw the second gorilla winding up its cudgel, exactly as anticipated. It wasn't coming straight down; it was sweeping in at a fierce diagonal angle. Anticipating the vector, I angled my shield to catch the blow, while my right hand drove forward with the Heavenly Demon's Sword.
Thwack!
The dark blade, shimmering faintly with a thin membrane of aura, slid effortlessly into the hollow above the stone-axe gorilla's clavicle. Because the beast had overcommitted into its downward strike, plunging the sword deep into its shoulder took almost no effort at all.
"Kwoooaaargh!!"
CRACK!
Clutching its punctured shoulder, the wounded beast stumbled back in agony. In that same fraction of a second, the wooden club smashed flush into my raised shield. Now's my chance. While the first beast was crippled by shock, I pivoted all my attention to neutralizing the second.
One on one, you're dead.
Even though its comrade had just been impaled, the club-wielding gorilla mindlessly pressed its assault. That blind aggression sealed its fate. Its muscular strength was monstrous, but its recovery speed was agonizingly slow. Worse, its weapon was brittle wood, not tempered iron.
CRACKLE!
No matter how dense the hardwood was, slamming it full-force against a solid iron faceplate had its price. The bludgeon splintered down the center. The instant that fracture cracked through the wood, I drew the Heavenly Demon's Sword across its chest in a rising diagonal slash.
SHRRRIT!
Don't try to cleave the entire body. Just slice whatever can be cut. That was the core tenet Sword Master had imparted to me. Trying to bisect a massive opponent in a single stroke required an immense expenditure of physical force, which drastically compromised your balance and defensive stability. Swordsmanship was about stability, not brute power. He had even remarked that if I wanted to rely on raw muscle to smash things apart, I would be better off wielding an axe.
'If you strike a dense bone or impenetrable hide with excessive force, the recoil could shatter your own shoulder.'
Taking that advice to heart, I had subtly refined my combat mechanics. Even when presented with a golden opportunity, I never overcommitted my weight. And with a blade as peerless as the Heavenly Demon's Sword, raw force was entirely unnecessary.
"KRRROOOOARGH!!"
A crimson furrow erupted across the gorilla's chest, throwing the beast onto its back. No arterial blood geysered into the air, but the wound ran horrifyingly deep. The beast writhed hysterically in the dirt, howling in agony as dark blood began to pool beneath it. From the gaping fissure torn across its abdomen, pale, glistening viscera spilled out onto the earth. Even though I had pulled my strength, the weapon's innate sharpness had sheared through more than half its torso.
One down. The other beast was still kneeling, frantically pressing its massive hand against the puncture in its shoulder. When its bloodshot eyes met mine, a flicker of raw, unadulterated terror washed over its features. Perhaps the sharper an animal's intellect, the more acutely it perceived the dread of impending mortality.
Squirt!
"Kh... khorr..."
Without a moment's hesitation, I drove the point of my blade straight through its sternum, piercing its heart. Decapitation didn't suit my tastes, and the cleanup afterward was always a gruesome chore. With both frontliners dispatched, I spun around to assess Wonmo and Fast Tree Sloth.
"Kyuu... kyuuu..."
"Wonmo?"
As expected, the two gorillas sent to flank my companions were already lying motionless in the dirt, their skulls caved in. However, Wonmo was whimpering softly, cradling one of his forepaws against his chest. Casting a wary glance toward the Leader Gorilla in the distance, I hurried over to the cub's side.
"Kyuu-ooh..."
"Ah, you broke a claw."
One of his thick, curved claws had snapped near the base. Fortunately, it wasn't a severe injury. It didn't look like he had been struck by an enemy; rather, he had probably swung too hard into an awkward angle and chipped it against a rock. Patting his furry head to calm his trembling, I addressed Ppareumbo, who was still perched serenely on the cub's back.
"Head back into the cave and get Wonmo some Elixir. You can handle that, right?"
"..."
Fast Tree Sloth gave a slow, deliberate nod. Reaching down, he tapped Wonmo's flank with a dull claw. Wonmo looked up at me with round, watery eyes, then obediently waddled toward the cave entrance with Ppareumbo riding atop him like a miniature jockey.
Now, the only one left...
Is the leader. Turning back around, I squared my shoulders and faced the towering ape. Even as his kin were butchered before his eyes, he had remained utterly still, watching the slaughter unfold from the back lines. Was it supreme confidence, or something else entirely?
The fact that he didn't pick up a weapon is what bothers me the most.
Unlike his subordinates who brandished crude axes and clubs, his massive hands were empty. What kind of beast refused a weapon in a fight to the death? A heavy wave of suspicion hung in the air. Yet enemy or not, an encounter in the wild ended only one way. I raised my blade toward him.
"You want a piece of this too?"
"..."
The Leader Gorilla offered no roar in response. Instead, he simply began to rise. Straightening his hunched spine, his massive frame unfurled until his knuckles lifted off the earth. His legs were remarkably short compared to his massive, sweeping arms, reminiscent of a sloth's proportions, yet they were as thick and sturdy as ancient tree trunks.
So he really wants to fight...
Just as the thought crossed my mind, the ape shifted his weight. He slid his left foot forward, planting it firmly into the soil, and drew his right foot back. His left hand extended forward, fingers slightly curved with the open palm facing me, while his right hand pulled back, settling firmly against his hip. And then... he subtly rotated his torso, aligning his center of gravity.
The individual motions converged into a single, cohesive posture.
A stance.
"..."
Fuck me. What in the world was I looking at?
No matter how I looked at it, that was an authentic, disciplined martial arts stance. And a gorilla was displaying it? A complex martial form that was utterly impossible to acquire without the direct, rigorous tutelage of a master? My mind desperately wanted to reject the reality unfolding before my eyes. Even for the bizarre, logic-defying ecosystem of the Forest of the Four Seasons, this... this crossed the line into sheer madness.
"...Who the hell taught you that?"
"..."
"I asked you who taught you—!"
Before the shout could fully leave my throat, the Leader Gorilla dipped his upper body, judging my words unworthy of an answer. It was the unmistakable prelude to an explosive charge. Swallowing my rising panic, I sank into my guard.
Swish!
His movement defied everything I knew about beasts. The other gorillas had galloped forward on all fours, tearing up the earth with chaotic momentum. But this one practically glided across the grass, closing the distance in a silent, terrifying blur.
WHOOOOSH!!
The instant he breached my personal space, a strike followed without a microsecond of delay. A monstrous, leathery palm flashed straight toward my face. If that blow landed cleanly, my skull would detonate like an overripe watermelon.
PAAAANG!!
Snapping my neck to the side, I barely managed to slip the palm strike. But I hadn't cleared it entirely; the wind pressure alone ripped across my cheekbone, leaving behind a sharp, stinging tear where the skin had split.
Wh-what the hell is this...?!
In that suspended fraction of a second where time seemed to grind to a halt, my gaze locked directly onto the Leader Gorilla's eyes. They were tranquil, yet beneath that serene surface burned a deep, simmering wrath. Even so, his emotional state remained perfectly governed by cold composure. Seeing that profound focus, a memory from earlier today flashed through my mind.
The tracks we had discovered during our patrol.
The massive palm print impressed into the stone—undoubtedly belonging to an ape. And right beside it, an unmistakable imprint left by a human palm.
Just who on earth...!
There was only one possible conclusion to draw from this absurdity.
Just who taught this monster martial arts...?!
Someone had personally trained this beast in the way of the fist.