Bear Territory, Part 4
After returning home and resting, they spent the night staring at each other across the single campfire. Chester and Monia watched Ant devour the meat they had carved from today's hunt before finally speaking.
"Are you going back to the Bear Territory?" Monia asked.
Chester's eyes narrowed at her question. Squinting in deep thought, he weighed the dangers of the Bear Territory against the potential rewards. However, his deliberation didn't last long. They hadn't stayed in the area long enough to gauge its benefits, and their brief exploration today hadn't turned up anything special. Except...
Ending his calculations, Chester's mind shifted to another concern. He looked at Monia and Ant, both of whom were clearly terrified.
It's hard to be like Father.
Whenever times got tough, his father's image would rise in Chester's mind. No matter how hard it was, no matter his mistakes or failures, his father had always found a way to feed his family and the village. He was a great man, a pillar of strength. Even in the dead of winter when the freezing wind pierced to the bone, or in the height of summer when the crops withered and died, his father remained steadfast and unyielding.
As a child, Chester had taken it all for granted. As he grew older, he felt proud whenever he heard others praise his father as a great man. It was only after leaving home to enter the butler academy—enduring grueling day after grueling day—that he truly realized how monumental it was to live with such unwavering consistency.
That realization had hit him even harder while working as Monia's butler. At least Chester only had to worry about earning enough to keep himself alive, whereas his father had carried the livelihood of an entire village on his shoulders. How crushing must that burden have been? There was no way it hadn't weighed on him.
In the first place, Chester's father had been a wanderer, roaming the world until he met his beloved wife and settled down. Settling in one place and providing for others was fundamentally against his nature. Yet, he had done it anyway, consistently and without complaint, despite how ill-suited he was for it. As Chester grew, he began to see the things he had missed in his youth, and his respect for his father only deepened.
"..."
Ever since he was young, people had naturally gravitated toward Chester. He had been the leader of the village children, and even at the butler academy, his talents shone so brightly that a group of followers naturally formed around him. Once he became Monia's personal butler, he commanded subordinates from a position of authority that was unheard of for a commoner.
It was no different now. Monia. Ant. Though the size of his group had shrunk, he was undeniably building a pack of his own. And this pack depended on him far more than any group he had led before, because this time, their very survival was on the line.
Monia, of course, was helpless on her own, and even Ant had been raised and trained by their hands since he was a pup, making it nearly impossible for him to survive in the wild alone.
...Or is it different?
Then again, what creature in this world could truly survive entirely on its own? With that thought, Chester looked at Monia's face. It was painted with the same anxiety she had worn during their first days on the island. It was likely because of the bear—a beast that had forced Chester, who had stood his ground even against a pack of Ant-wolves, to do nothing but run.
The fear Chester had felt toward the bear had bled into them, and the terror of fleeing from the beast was now eating away at their minds. When the mind is consumed, the body follows. Whether the bear was there or not, they would shrink back in the forest. It would hold them back, and eventually, dominated by fear, they would refuse to even step outside their home.
It was a common phenomenon. Just like a knight going to war for the first time who ends up broken or mad. Mental trauma could bring down even the strongest of men. He had to prevent that. But what did he need to do to stop it?
"..."
Chester knew the answer. But just as before, fear held him back. Even though he knew the right path, he couldn't bring himself to take a step toward it. What should he do? He knew the answer. He knew it all too well.
The kingdom was wealthy, but that wealth did not reach every corner of the land. It was common for those born into poverty and suffering to migrate to prosperous regions flowing with milk and honey just to survive. Some managed to find decent jobs and keep hunger at bay, while others seized opportunities and achieved great success.
However, most who journeyed to those wealthy regions fell into darkness, crushed by the cold stares and discrimination of the locals. Some turned to crime in dark alleys to make a living, while others resorted to begging. Some simply couldn't bridge the gap between their homelands and the city, choosing to flee instead.
While most of those runaways returned to their villages, some chose a different path entirely. They became bandits and highwaymen.
In a memory that occasionally drifted through his mind, a young Chester had once accompanied his father to a neighboring village to sell their game. On the way, they had encountered bandits.
"I would prefer not to kill anyone. Will you step aside?"
And on that day, Chester witnessed murder. He had seen countless creatures die since the day he was born; after all, he was a hunter's son. From rabbits, snakes, squirrels, and small birds, to dogs, cats, wild boars, and wolves—he had witnessed death in all its forms.
Creatures dying in traps. Creatures pierced by his father's arrows. Trapped beasts devoured by other predators. He had even seen two males clash violently over a female until one lay dead.
As long as a living thing is born into this world with a single life, it must die. Death was only natural. He had heard that even the massive creatures called 'whales,' which lived only in the distant oceans, died and washed ashore as carcasses. Even the great kings and nobles did not live forever. They, too, grew old, met their end, and passed their titles to the next generation.
But this was different from any death Chester had ever witnessed. Murder. His father was killing another human being, not some beast. Even though the target of his father's usual work had simply shifted from animal to human, the sight was deeply shocking.
"It will be troublesome if you refuse to back down. If you stay here, you threaten the livelihood of my family and my village."
Chester's father, too, had preferred not to kill, attempting to send the bandits away. But the bandits stood their ground, and seeing this, Chester's father closed his eyes.
"I have no choice, then."
It was unavoidable.
...Right. Chester nodded to himself. A human killing another human. It was never an easy thing. Yet, despite his deep reluctance, his father had killed those bandits because he had no choice. Because the son trembling beside him was far more precious than those outlaws. Because he could not stand by and allow his family to be threatened by bandits blocking their path. That was why his father had killed them.
"I see." Because he had no choice.
I knew this, but facing it myself makes me realize it all over again.
In life, moments come when you must do things you absolutely detest. Chester knew this well. He had experienced it multiple times throughout his life. Yes, his current situation was nothing special. Not in the slightest. It was simply one of those inevitable moments in life where he had to do something he hated because there was no other way.
I think I finally understand how Father felt when he killed those bandits.
After killing them, his father—who rarely drank—had sought out alcohol. He had drunk himself into a stupor, drinking until his mind went completely blank.
"I've decided what to do," Chester said, looking at Monia.
He let out a dry chuckle at the memory of his father. Monia, who had been watching him anxiously as he muttered to himself in deep thought, tilted her head. "What is it?"
"I'll tell you tomorrow. Let's sleep for today."
Waking up early in the morning, Chester quickly finished his preparations and checked his gear. A snare pole made of Ironwood—the very same wood their treehouse was built from. A machete. Two Chili Powder Bombs that Monia had managed to keep intact. Two claw knives. A bow and arrows. A sling. An axe. Three wooden spears, and a flail made by securely binding a fist-sized stone with rope. Water and rations in case of a prolonged battle. And a basket to carry it all.
He had cut up Ant-wolf hides and bound them tightly around his limbs with rope to serve as makeshift armor. Just to be safe, he reinforced vital areas like his neck, chest, and abdomen by inserting hard wood between the layers of leather and securing them firmly with cords.
These were items he had crafted beforehand, or made last night while Monia and Ant slept. After packing everything and eating a quick breakfast, Chester left a message and stepped out of the house.
Some time after Chester's departure, Monia woke up and read the message he had carved into a wooden board using a claw knife.
Going to hunt the bear.
Reading that incredibly brief, nonchalant line, Monia completely lost her mind and screamed.
"You crazy bastard!"
