Chapter 210
"Hoo..."
A weary sigh escaped him unbidden. The hippo-like beast lay dead, utterly still. It had been a grueling fight. If it had been a true predator, he wouldn't have stood a chance. As a herbivore, though, it had gone down easier.
His body was drenched in blood, warm and reeking of that thick, metallic tang. Other beasts might catch the scent and come running, so he had to hurry and claim a leg before they arrived.
"Yadong, go fetch the carrying frame."
With a low growl, the beast darted into the underbrush. In the meantime, Han Yaseong strained to sever one of the creature's hind legs with his knife. The tendons were tough as leather, resisting every cut. He had to hack at the joint with his hand axe to break the bone.
The leg was insanely heavy, so he sliced off the foot, peeled away the thick hide, and trimmed all the excess fat. What remained was pure, fatty meat—roughly thirty kilos worth.
Yadong returned with the frame in its jaws, and Han Yaseong loaded it up. Already, the scent had drawn scavengers from the distant hills—the earth's cleanup crew swarming in.
"Let's move."
Han Yaseong slung the frame onto his back and bolted. Yadong kept pace nimbly. Panting, they reached the brush and peered back: dozens of carnivores had descended on the carcass, tearing into it with savage frenzy. These were the scavengers—hyena-like, but with bodies two or three times longer, like limos on stubby legs, all torso and no grace.
They devoured it in seconds, stuffing their gaunt bellies. Head, eyes, genitals, balls—nothing was spared, not even the feet. Only the claws seemed untouched. Watching from the brush, Han Yaseong saw the massive frame stripped to bones in under ten minutes. Its elongated body let them gorge like machines. The hippo's colossal skeleton gleamed, returning to the earth. Just moments ago, it had been munching roots...
All life was fleeting, indeed.
"Onward."
Han Yaseong shouldered the loaded frame, gripping his sword and crossbow, and set off. Yadong trailed, dagger still clenched in its teeth. The return path was perilous—ambushes lurked everywhere. Even reaching Forest 1 offered no relief; vigilance was key until Forest 0's shelter.
Only back at base did he finally exhale.
"Gotta kill that bastard quick. Can't relax with him out there."
As long as CanCoffee roamed, the forest wasn't his to wander freely. Next sighting, he'd end it.
He grabbed spare clothes and the loaded frame, heading to the stream to wash the meat clean—and himself. Hunting left him exhilarated, yet a faint pang of guilt lingered. The weight of taking a life. But it always crumbled before the promise of flavor.
"Damn, this is good."
Slicing into the sizzling meat over the fire, he savored it. Prime steak had nothing on this. The fat and flesh melded perfectly, melting on his tongue. He'd thought ostrich was peak game meat, but this topped it. If ostrich was pork belly, this hippo thigh was prime Hanwoo sirloin—tender, no strings caught in his teeth.
Yadong tore into a portion as big as its torso, lost in the feast. This was hunting's joy: guilt tempered by glorious reward. No stopping now.
The rich probably felt the same about their grind. Slaughtering the poor might prick the conscience a bit, but the thrill of earning and spending kept them hooked. They'd quit when the fun dried up.
Han Yaseong figured he'd keep hunting—slaying for spoils was addictive—for the foreseeable future.
Belly full till lunch, he lounged round and content at the shelter, then stepped out for a stroll. Perfect time for a woman, but alas. Carnivorous feasts always stirred carnal cravings. Kwon Seoha and her three queen-bee friends, piled high—bliss incarnate. Four stunners like that? Pure heaven.
The chaebol heirs must indulge nonstop. Enviable. Born with it all, beauties lining up to spread wide. Korean girls might play coy with casual flings, but money melted resistance worldwide. Every woman dreamed of wedding a prince on a white horse.
Just as men dreamed of flipping beauties over.
Han Yaseong mused that his black berries could snag Kwon Seoha and the queens easy. But crime was off-limits. No law, no foul—but rape charges and prison? Pass.
Lost in such reveries, he wandered to Forest 1's edge. Bladder full, he whipped it out for a piss. Then—rustling ahead.
Wildlife? He glanced, and a human silhouette emerged from behind a tree.
"Huh?"
Both froze, lightning-struck. Twenty meters apart, shock rooting them.
The figure wore white ski gear, shotgun in both hands, black ski mask and goggles hiding face and gender.
Han Yaseong was mid-stream when he spotted the gun—instinct screamed danger, and he dove aside.
BANG! The shot roared, hail-like pellets shredding the brush where he'd stood.
"Ugh!"
Fire seared his calf. Shotgun, that motherfucker. A split-second slower, and he'd be honeycomb.
Tucking himself away, he saw the leaves riddled with holes and tears. Close call.
Eyeing the marble-sized hole oozing blood in his calf, he snatched his hand axe from his belt. This intruder had penetrated deep—complacency's fault. And shooting on sight? Killer confirmed.
Killing intent surged. He'd planned it anyway, but this preemptive strike ignited pure malice. Crush its skull!
Teeth grinding, he crawled low and serpentine to a massive tree for cover.
Then, its voice: "Ah, I'm sorry!"
This dog-shit shoots and apologizes? Voice sounded off. Mumbled words—basic English only.
"S-sorry. I got startled and fired."
A woman.
Han Yaseong's English was rough, so he bellowed simply: "Shoot me! Why! Bitch!"
She paused, startled, then: "You speak English?"
"You American?"
"Yes. You Asian?"
"Why the fuck shoot, you cunt?!"
"Scared... It just happened."
Twenty meters, probing words across the divide. American bitch with a shotgun. Captured, you're dead.
"Where'd I hit you?"
"Leg."
"Sorry."
Bitch blows a hole in my calf and says sorry. Human-to-human talk eased frustration, at least.
"This my turf. Get out."
"Exploring. Sorry."
"CanCoffee nag?"
"Yes. You the one who took it?"
CanCoffee's crew, as expected.
Hiding behind the trunk, Han Yaseong pondered. Don't underestimate the bitch—armed with a scattergun. Close range? Instant death by buckshot. His calf throbbed. No white berry for healing.
He loosened his belt, tourniqueting above the wound tight.
"You invader?"
"No no no. Explorer."
"Then why shoot?"
"Startled. Thought you enemy."
"I took bullet. You're enemy."
"Sorry sorry. Wasn't on purpose. Please."
"Drop gun, come out."
"......No way."
Bitch was wary too. Otherworld planet vibes. Might see him as cannibal. Whites had always sneered at Asians that way.
High chance she did too. Negotiation dead. Subdue, then: pretty, rape; ugly, kill.
Time to spell it out.
"You beautiful, rape. You ugly, die."
"......"
Silence—stunned. Beauty meant violation, ugliness death. Chaos for her.
Her reply? Gold.
"I'm beautiful."