The First Hunt at Dawn
The cold of dawn still lingered at the forest's edge. Darkness had not yet fully released its hold on the world, but Logan's eyes were already gleaming sharply in search of prey. His small body melted perfectly into the damp undergrowth, permitting not even the slightest movement.
Ten years old. His body was laughably frail, even by his own admission. He had no intention whatsoever of venturing deep into the forest. That would be not courage but recklessness—nothing short of suicide.
If anything happened to him, Irene would be left alone in this world, with no one to protect her. Even if he somehow survived, if he were badly hurt, how much would that sweet child blame herself and suffer for it?
Safely. Precisely. And swiftly.
Logan recited the principles of the hunt in his mind. Failure would not be tolerated. He had to achieve the greatest results with the least possible risk, and for that, careful selection of prey was essential.
Combining what Fiona had taught him with his own judgment, he eliminated the candidates one by one.
First, goblins. Agile and cunning, but their physical abilities posed no real threat—they were only slightly larger than he was. However, goblins never traveled alone. Even if he killed one instantly with his crossbow, the rest would swarm in like a hornets' nest, shrieking for reinforcements. The risk was far too great.
That naturally ruled out the stronger humanoid monsters as well—orcs, kobolds, and the like.
What about beast-type monsters, then?
Wolves. Powerful individual strength combined with pack hunting. Not even worth considering.
Horn Rabbits. Small and relatively weak, but dangerous if gored by their horns—and more importantly, at this hour they would almost certainly be buried deep in their burrows, fast asleep. There was no guarantee he could even find one.
Just as he was weighing the possibilities of one monster after another—
Snort! Snort!
A low, coarse breathing and the sound of earth being churned drifted faintly through the air. Logan held his breath and focused every nerve toward the source. A massive silhouette stirred among the trees.
...Found it.
Logan lowered himself further, concealing his presence completely. His small stature, a disadvantage in so many ways, was an unmistakable advantage in situations like this.
What entered his field of vision was a monstrous giant boar—a Wild Boar—just awakening and preparing for its morning meal.
According to Fiona, Wild Boars usually acted alone, and they offered nothing but value: thick hide, rich meat, and even sharp tusks. A monster whose spoils had no part worth discarding.
It was the perfect first opponent—both for testing the power of his newly acquired crossbow and for gauging whether he could truly sustain himself by hunting alone.
Of course, it was not without danger. One collision with that massive bulk, even a graze from those sharp tusks, would mean instant death or fatal injury for a ten-year-old boy's body. Like any other monster—no, perhaps more than most—it was clearly a dangerous opponent.
But at the same time, it was practically the only prey Logan could realistically set his sights on right now.
...Wait.
Logan narrowed his eyes and observed the beast again. Something was off.
It was... far larger than the illustration in the bestiary Fiona had shown him, or the typical Wild Boars described in the guild's request notices.
It was not merely a difference in size. The beast's tusks were not ivory-white but black as obsidian, gleaming with an ominous light.
...Black tusks? Could it be... a rare species?
A subspecies said to appear only on the rarest of occasions: the Black-Tusked Wild Boar. Far more powerful and ferocious than ordinary specimens, but its spoils were proportionally priceless. Even those black tusks alone would fetch a considerable price.
But that also meant the risk had grown exponentially. Logan's heart began to pound with unease.
...Should I really take this on? Can my crossbow bolts even pierce that thick hide?
A moment of hesitation shook his resolve. Perhaps the wiser choice was to quietly withdraw now, return to doing odd jobs at the guild, and grow steadily under Fiona's tutelage.
That would be the safe path. The right path.
Yet Logan shook his head before long. His eyes sank cold once more.
No. I can do this.
He had already run through the Wild Boar hunt countless times in his head. The variable of a rare species stronger than expected had appeared, but the fundamental approach would be no different.
If anything, this was not a crisis but an opportunity. If he took this beast down, he could secure a far better life for Irene.
Slowly, silently, Logan raised his crossbow.
The Black-Tusked Wild Boar, still oblivious to Logan's presence, burrowed its snout into the earth, busily foraging for food. It was the perfect moment to aim—when its movements were nearly still.
No matter how big it is or how thick its hide, a weak point always exists. If I aim for the vitals properly...!
A flash of light crossed Logan's blue eyes.
He stopped breathing, focused every nerve, and completed his aim.
And without hesitation—
He pulled the trigger.
Thwack!
Shwiik—!
With a sharp whistle of splitting air, the bolt cleaved through the darkness.
"KUUUEEEEEK!!!"
The next moment, a horrific scream tore through the silent forest. Logan's bolt had pierced precisely through the Black-Tusked Wild Boar's left eye.
A hit!
Logan rejoiced inwardly, but he did not let his guard down. The beast thrashed in agony, whipping its head wildly. Blood that burst forth stained the surrounding grass red. Aiming for the eye had been the best choice.
Considering how difficult it was for a crossbow bolt to punch through that thick hide, the eye was the one spot where a sure strike was guaranteed—and at the same time, it robbed the beast of its vision and threw it into confusion.
Wailing, the beast rubbed its bleeding eye with a foreleg before frantically sweeping its gaze around in search of the attacker.
And through its blood-blurred vision, it finally spotted the silhouette of the small hunter hiding in the grass.
"KUUUIIIIK!!!!"
The black-tusked boar, its reason drowned in rage and pain, bellowed and charged straight at Logan.
KUGUGUGUNG! KUGUGUNG!
The tremor raised by that colossal body traveled through the earth all the way to Logan's feet. It was an overwhelming pressure, like a small hill charging at him whole.
But Logan was no longer the helpless boy who had frozen in terror at the sight of a mere goblin back in the village streets.
Never again... will I let that happen to me!
He had Irene to protect. For her sake, if for nothing else, he could not fall here.
Logan calmly raised his crossbow toward the boar's remaining right eye as it bore down on him. The distance closed in an instant, and the beast's coarse breathing and the foul stench of blood brushed past his nose.
THWACK!!!
The second bolt flew. The charging momentum and the bolt's kinetic energy combined, driving it deeper and truer than before, straight into the remaining eye.
THUUUUK!!!
"KUUUEEEEEK!!!"
This time a scream of unbearable anguish erupted, beyond all comparison with the first. The beast, its sight now completely stolen, thrashed in a maelstrom of pain and terror.
Blind now, it lost even its sense of direction and began rampaging like a thing possessed. It never even thought to track Logan by scent—it simply smashed into everything around it, howling indiscriminately.
KWAJIK! KWAJIJIK! KWAGWANG!
It was destructive power that made the title of "rare species" seem like an understatement. If Logan had hesitated even a little, or fumbled the first shot, he would have been obliterated without a trace by that maddened charge.
Logan swiftly retreated to a safe distance and calmly loaded his third bolt.
While raging blindly, the beast had wounded itself—its thick hide was torn in many places, raw flesh showing beneath. Logan carefully aimed at the deepest-looking of the wounds, near the nape of the neck, close to the heart, as he loaded his final bolt.
Now!
Thwack!
The third bolt struck its mark precisely.
"Kuueeek..."
With one last dying cry, the giant black-tusked boar's body crumpled forward, strength gone.
THUD!
As the heavy bulk slammed into the earth—
Silence returned to the forest.
"Whew..."
With the tension gone, Logan gulped down ragged breaths. His heart was pounding as if it would burst, yet at the same time an electric sense of accomplishment wrapped around his whole body.
He had done it. Entirely on his own—and he had succeeded in hunting a rare species, no less.
But there was no time to lose himself in the moment. That thick scent of blood would soon draw other starving monsters or a pack of wolves. He had to gather the spoils and get out of here as quickly as possible.
"...A shame, but I suppose this much will have to do."
Hauling the entire boar back was impossible. As Fiona had taught him, Logan decided to take the most valuable parts first.
The pair of sharp obsidian-black tusks, sections of the thick, tough hide, and cuts of the tenderest, most flavorful meat.
Thanks to Fiona's instruction, the butchering itself was not difficult. Of course, learning the theory was one thing and doing it with his own hands was another—but Logan worked with astonishing proficiency.
His hands moved no differently from those of a seasoned adventurer. Perhaps he truly did possess an extraordinary talent for this path.
Logan stuffed as much of the harvest as he could carry into the large bag he had brought in advance. The bag quickly grew heavy.
Satisfied with his results, he did not press his luck. The time to report for work at the guild was drawing near, so he hurried out of the forest.
Before long, the moment Logan arrived at the Adventurers' Guild, every eye in the hall turned toward him.
Then cries of shock and concern erupted. His clothes were not only filthy with dirt and leaves—dark red blood was soaked into him from head to toe.
"Kid! Are you all right?!"
"Logan! What happened?! Where did you get covered in blood like this?! Did you run into a monster?!"
The adventurers who were fond of Logan rushed over in a scramble to check on his condition, and the guild staff hurried over in alarm as well.
Logan was a little flustered by all the worried faces, but he soon gave a faint, reassuring smile.
"Ah... this isn't my blood. Don't worry."
He set the heavy bag he was carrying down on the floor.
Thud.
At the dull sound, every gaze shifted to the bag. Logan opened it, took out its contents, and laid them on the guild's reception counter: two black tusks, carefully trimmed hide, and chunks of fresh meat.
"...You... can buy these, right?"
Logan asked, looking at the guild clerk across the counter. The clerk's eyes went wide as they examined the spoils, and at the sight of the black tusks in particular, they could barely contain their astonishment.
"Good heavens! Th-that's...! That's a Black-Tusked Wild Boar's tusk! And in condition this good, no less!"
"Don't tell me... Logan, you took this...?"
"No way! That thing gives even Silver-rank parties trouble! Logan, tell us right now—how did this happen?!"
"How do you think?! He took it down himself! Hah, what an incredible little scamp! Ten years old, and he soloed a Black-Tusked Wild Boar!"
In an instant, the guild hall erupted with astonishment and praise for Logan.
Though overwhelmed by the torrent of attention, Logan's chest swelled with pride at what he had accomplished.
The joy of finally having done something for Irene.
But that joy did not last long.
"...Logan. What exactly is this supposed to be?"
A voice cold as ice, brimming with fury. Logan whirled around in shock toward the sound.
There stood his teacher, Fiona, glaring at him with a face of frost.
"F-Fiona?"
Sensing the dangerous atmosphere, the adventurers hurried to mediate.
"Hey, hey, Fiona! What's the matter? Calm down!"
"That's right, your disciple pulled off quite the feat! What's with the anger when you could be praising him?!"
But Fiona paid them no heed whatsoever. Her gaze was locked on Logan alone, her face contorting ever more fiercely as she pressed him.
"Logan, explain properly what happened here!"
"...I didn't steal it. I hunted it myself."
Logan answered without flinching.
"That's not what I'm asking! Why! Why did you go into the forest alone without saying a word?! What if you'd died out there?!"
Beneath Fiona's anger lay a deep, genuine worry.
"...But... I told you. That I needed money..."
"Even so, this is too far! You're a kid who's only ten! Is money worth more than your life?!"
At Fiona's shout, Logan was momentarily at a loss for words. He had expected praise, and instead he was getting scolded hard—it threw him off. But then he read the sincere concern etched into Fiona's face.
Ah... she really is worried about me.
Irene suddenly came to mind. When he worried over her and tried to stop her reckless behavior, didn't he wear that exact same expression?
Having understood his teacher's true feelings, Logan abandoned his stubbornness and bowed his head obediently.
"...I'm sorry, Fiona. For making you worry..."
"No, you really are something else...!"
At Logan's unexpectedly meek apology, Fiona found herself lost for words. Any ordinary child would have been too busy protesting or making excuses.
What on earth had made this boy so precociously mature? Was a single resolve to protect one childhood friend truly enough to harden a ten-year-old boy like this? And if so, this boy's feelings for that girl—what could they possibly be...
"...Haah."
In the end, Fiona let out a deep sigh.
She had no idea how to handle this stubborn, somehow fragile, yet strangely grown-up disciple of hers.
She ruffled Logan's hair roughly and said,
"Enough. Go wash yourself properly first. Look at the state of you."
"...Yes. Thank you."
When Logan bowed politely and disappeared toward the bathhouse, Fiona turned her gaze to the spoils he had left behind. Then she spoke to the receptionist in a firm tone.
"Settle this at full market price, down to the last copper. Don't even dream of tricking a child into selling it off cheap."
"Oh, Fiona! Would I ever do such a thing?! Logan's such a remarkable young man—rest assured!"
The clerk waved their hands in protest. Fiona's eyes gleamed meaningfully as she continued.
"Hmph. Good. And... there's one more thing I'd like to ask of you."
"...?"
Washing off in clean water left him feeling refreshed, but Logan's heart was still heavy.
What if Fiona had been deeply disappointed in him over this and would no longer take him as her disciple? He still had so much left to learn from her. Above all, he could not bear to lose someone who worried for him so sincerely and guided him forward.
When he re-entered the guild hall with that anxiety gnawing at him, Logan's eyes went round at the unexpected sight before him.
Whap! Whap!
"Ow!"
"Kahaha! Congratulations, kid!"
"I'm telling you, this kid's the real deal—Logan!"
Adventurers suddenly crowded around, thumping him hard on the back and showering him with congratulations. The guild hall was even more boisterous than before, the atmosphere nothing short of festive.
"...?"
As Logan stood bewildered, not understanding what was happening, a middle-aged man he didn't recognize approached with a hearty laugh.
A dignified bearing, expensive-looking clothes, and a genial smile spread across his whole face. He seemed to be someone high up in the guild.
"Kahaha! So you're the famous Logan! Even with our True Flash vouching for you, I confess I was only half convinced—but one look at those bold eyes of yours, and I know my doubts were for nothing!"
The man laughed heartily and clapped Logan on the shoulder.
"...I'm sorry? I'm not sure what you mean... Actually, may I ask who you are?"
When Logan asked carefully amid the confusion, the man laughed even louder, pulled something from his coat, and thrust it suddenly before Logan's eyes.
It was a small medallion made of wood. At its center, the character for Wood was carved clearly and crisply.
◈ Rank: Wood (Lowest)
◈ Holder: Logan
"...?"
Still unable to grasp the situation, Logan tilted his head.
"Kahahaha! Now that's an expression worth seeing! What are you staring blankly at it for?!"
"Huh...?"
"It's yours now, Logan!"
At the man's words, Logan's eyes went wide with disbelief.
"....!!"
"Congratulations, Logan."
Fiona had appeared at his side without him noticing, resting a hand on his shoulder and smiling. Not a trace of her earlier anger remained on her face.
"From today on, you're an official member of the guild—a Wood-rank adventurer!"
With Fiona's declaration, thunderous cheers and applause erupted through the guild hall once more.
With trembling hands, Logan accepted his adventurer's medallion.
It was a worthless wooden token, the lowest rank there was—yet to him, it felt more precious than anything else in the world.
The first step toward caring for and protecting Irene.
At last, he had taken his very first stride down that road.