5. Just Trying to Participate (2)
Gullett and his crew slowly moved away, chattering excitedly—not just about me, but even Richard's backbiting. Once they were completely out of sight, I emerged from the bushes.
About a dozen of them.
From what I'd observed, they hadn't caught any game yet. Were they planning to secure a moon deer first, then split up to hunt individually? Or maybe drive everything toward one person?
I looked up at the sky.
Hunter's Sense
This wasn't just a trait for tracking traces. It helped me keenly analyze my surroundings: wind direction, temperature, humidity, the angle of shadows.
Around 4 p.m.
The sun was starting to set. Which meant it was nearly time for the moon deer to become active.
If things go like this, Gullett will find the moon deer.
I glanced in the direction Gullett and his group had gone. I gripped the flint and stone knife tightly in my hand—gifts from Dillon and Richard, respectively.
Lucky me. Of all things, these two items.
Could a guy like Gullett actually catch a moon deer? I doubted it. He'd talked like he only knew how to track, not hunt.
Moon deer weren't easy prey. Still, Gullett had a shot at winning. His tracking skills for moon deer, plus the solidarity of his group—if they used both well, victory was possible.
Can't let that happen.
Above all, I wanted to shove it in their faces. And nothing said "shove it" like me taking the win.
So, I'd be the one to win.
Need to gather more yellow umbrella mushrooms. And other stuff too.
I set off immediately to find what I needed.
The moon deer is mine.
Using Hunter's Sense, I gathered everything I needed. The trait's level was low, and I wasn't a real hunter, so it took a while.
Around 5:30 p.m.
The sun had dipped low, and dusk was settling in. It'd be dark soon. I was on a high clearing with fewer trees than the surroundings, quite open.
I sat on the ground and checked my haul: a flat stone slab, tinder, firewood. Leaves, twigs, and vines for an improvised fan. And the flint and stone knife from Dillon and Richard.
Got everything I need.
First, I tore strips from my clothes with the stone knife and tied one around my face like a mask.
With my mouth covered and my back to the wind, I lit the fire. The flint made it quick. The bonfire's heat and smoke drifted away on the breeze.
I watched the flames while waiting for full darkness.
New moon. Means the moon deer won't get especially aggressive.
A slender crescent moon hung in the night sky like a sly, smiling eye. It reminded me uncannily of Elijah's eerie grin. I shook my head to clear the stray thought.
Preparations were complete.
The moon deer is mine.
All that was left was to win.
"Found it."
Gullett muttered softly. His hidden companions in the bushes all turned toward the spot.
Beyond the dark forest under the new moon crescent, a moon deer emerged past ancient trees.
Crunch, crunch.
Its calm steps rustled the grass. It stepped into a moonlit clearing.
"Whoa..."
Someone whispered in awe. Its gray antlers faintly glowed, absorbing the dim moonlight. Lightning-like cracks on them sparkled openly.
Unlike other beasts, it possessed superior intelligence and special powers—hence called a spirit beast. Some faiths dubbed it a divine messenger: the true form of the moon deer.
Many hunters had targeted this spirit beast. Success rates were abysmally low. Tales of kills existed, but lacked specifics. Taming records? None.
Gullett's plan was simple: traps and a drive.
Spirit beast or not, it's still just an animal.
No escaping humanity's long history of hunting. Especially after eons of war with demons, humans had grown far stronger—called the "new humanity" for good reason.
Deer, too. He'd hunted them plenty. Predictable prey.
The moon deer sat basking in moonlight like it was sunning itself. The serene scene belied the pounding hearts of Gullett and his trainees.
Gullett scanned the area. Thumbs-up signals rose cautiously everywhere. Preparations were set: traps laid, drive path chosen, trees whittled into crude spears.
Victory is mine.
Gullett took a deep breath, then charged boldly, roaring threateningly.
"Raaargh—!"
The idea was to startle it into fleeing. His group burst from the bushes in response.
"Yaaah—!"
They yelled threats, stomped, banged shields—making a racket.
This'll make it run.
For a normal deer, yes. But the moon deer remained unfazed, ignoring the noise, maintaining its noble poise. Eyes closed, gazing at the moon, soaked in its light.
"......"
One by one, they fell silent, starting with Gullett. The beast was blatantly ignoring them.
"H-Hey, Gullett bro... why's it doing that?"
"......"
I don't know either.
That's what he wanted to say, but he couldn't show weakness. Everyone awaited his lead hesitantly.
"No need to fear! It's just a big deer! Attack!"
Hiding his panic, Gullett strode forward as group leader. The others followed awkwardly. They stopped within spear range.
No reaction from the moon deer. No need to wait longer—if it'd die quietly, all the better.
Gullett thrust his spear at its nape with all his might.
Squelch!
The fresh sound of flesh tearing echoed.
In Gullett's head only.
"......"
The spear merely scraped its hide and slid off—like scratching tough rock. As Gullett panicked, the moon deer slowly opened its eyes.
Black pupils. Within, the crescent moon gleamed like a honed, icy blade.
Gullett's heart throbbed painfully at the gaze.
"G-Gullett bro...!"
The moon deer whipped its head. Its massive antlers stirred wind, sweeping fiercely around.
"Gahk...!"
Gullett flew far, struck by the antler. Others caught in the swing launched like they'd taken full-force blows—despite the unhurried motion.
Purrr...
The moon deer lowered its head, pawing the ground. Angry snorts dispersed like mist.
"Aaaah—!"
"Bro's down!"
"Run, everyone—!"
Trainees screamed, scattering every which way. Futile thrashing.
The moon deer didn't rampage wildly. It just blurred faintly, reappearing elsewhere—like a ghost.
It swung its head, goring and battering trainees with antlers.
Gullett, clutching cracked ribs, trembled as he rose.
"Kaaah—!"
Several tumbled, swept by the deer. Then, abruptly, it halted.
Rearing its head, staring somewhere.
"Bro! You okay?!"
"Y-Yeah... I'm fine. Injuries?"
"Five hurt. Why'd it stop like that?"
Gullett didn't know. He'd never imagined moon deer were this strong. Utterly ignorant of spirit beasts.
As if nothing happened, the deer walked slowly away.
"Bro, what now?"
Hunting it was impossible. Even unscathed, they couldn't win—let alone with broken ribs.
But we can't just go back...
Finding tracks didn't guarantee pursuit. This was a hard-won chance.
"Doesn't seem like it'll attack more, so we'll tail it."
"Huh...? But the wounded..."
"Not hunting. We'll watch for opportunities. If impossible, we bail."
"Got it."
They rallied quickly and followed. Its slow pace made it easy.
No one knew where it headed; they just trailed.
"Smell something weird?"
"Someone bleeding?"
"Nah... like burning."
Someone ahead spoke. They all sniffed. Indeed, a scent like smoke.
"Someone light a fire?"
They eyed the wind's direction. It matched the deer's path.
"Wildfire?"
Too bright for that. Suspicious, they pressed on. Then—
"Hic, hee! Hee-hee!"
Someone convulsed, grinning grotesquely, laughing.
"Hit, hee-hee-hit, hic!"
"What's wrong with him...!"
"Snap out of it, man!"
"Hic, hee-hee-hic!"
One. Then two.
"Heh-heh-hah, hng, heh-hah, hng!"
"W-What...! You crazies, quit messing around!"
Gullett spun, chilled by the eerie laughs. The moon deer plodded calmly ahead.
"Bro! Th-This place, m-maybe haunted?!"
"Don't spout nonsense. Evil spirits in the interior? Ridiculous."
"B-But suddenly like that, uh, hng, hee, hee-hee-hng...!"
The arguer twisted, laughing. His pleading eyes were pitiful.
"Evil spirits...!"
Someone yelled. Panic spread fast. All but Gullett fled.
He wanted to run too. But couldn't look weak.
"Hee-hee-hit!"
Leaving the weirdly laughing ones, Gullett advanced alone. Not far.
On the hilltop, someone sat by a bonfire, fanning with a leafy twig fan.
The moon deer's destination.
Gullett recognized him. Face masked, but bushy hair and discontent golden eyes sufficed.
"Judas...?"
"Huh?"
Judas startled mid-fan. The deer had blocked his view of the approacher.
"Damn... you guys were the ones laughing in the woods?"
"What?"
"Thought it was ghosts... whew."
"Wait, what do you—"
Gullett couldn't finish. The moon deer neared the fire, sniffing.
Something burned in the flames—charred, but mushroom-shaped.
Mushrooms?
Judas extended a hand with finely chopped yellow bits. The deer approached cautiously, ate from his palm.
"Tough guy, huh."
Judas said. "Most would be paralyzed by now."
"What... does that... mean...?"
"Details are secret. Short version: I'm burning poisonous mushrooms and letting the wind carry the spores. That's what you inhaled."
"Poisonous mushrooms?"
Gullett's gaze hit Judas's feet. Piles of yellow ones.
"Yellow umbrella mushrooms. Don't worry—symptoms are temporary muscle paralysis and breathing issues. You'll laugh it off for 30 minutes, then normal."
Judas kept it brief. No need for yellow umbrella vs. egg yolk mushroom diffs, or the deer's fondness.
Worth facing the wind.
The deer meekly munched from his hand. Such a gentle creature.
Wait... this is a hunting contest?
Moon deer's hide was tough under moonlight. Aura blade might work, but not his current power.
Hand it over; the butcher'll handle it.
Gullett mumbled before him. "I-I was first, clearly, how...?"
"Yeah."
Judas fanned indifferently. "Gonna badmouth folks so casually?"
"...?"
"Especially ganging up on weak little me."
"How'd you...?"
"More people, more mouths and ears, right?"
"......"
Judas claimed coincidence. But phrased it like a spy in their midst.
He eyed thoughtful Gullett.
Big guy. 180 cm? I'm about 145. Solid build—long training. 19-ish? No way I win straight-up.
Even ambushing like with Kael was iffy. Surviving the spore smoke too.
Lips twitching—effects kicking in now.
High resistance, sturdy body. Mana-trained human.
No beating cheap tricks.
"Heading down first."
Judas stood. The deer followed naturally.
Gullett stood frozen, processing. Felt trapped, deceived.
But Judas hadn't lied or dug pits—just lured the deer. They tripped over their own feet.
Judas headed to the test entrance. Instructions: return with game.
But... can I bring this?
Moon deer: spirit beast to folk, holy beast to some faiths. Hunting or taming irks those religions.
Not his worry.
Moon Church, right? If memory serves, bad blood with Bebel family.
In his known future, Moon Church was crushed by Bebels. Remnants once attacked sole survivor Elijah, dying.
Elijah might hate it.
Too late now.
Whatever. Elijah'll decide. Win or not, no biggie.
Judas brushed it off.
This moon deer's so tame...
Its crescent eyes pure innocence. Half-tamed already.
His lure: a game taming step.
Gonna die to Elijah... feels bad.
Spirit beasts were smart, near-human intellect.
Heart heavy, he avoided its eyes.
The campsite at Moon Deer Forest entrance. Early returnees with game or quitters rested here. Night-avoiders too.
I arrived with the moon deer.
"What the...?"
Resting trainees spotted me, eyes widening in disbelief—or denial.
"13th room newbie?"
"That's... a moon deer?"
"Nah, no way. Ever seen one? Exactly."
I wouldn't believe it either. Some kid dragging a massive moon deer casually.
"...Judas?"
Richard, Dillon, and other 13th room folks were there.
"Judas, you, this, what...?"
Richard stammered—rare for him.
"Moon deer. Kinda happened."
No better explanation.
"Hah, ha ha..."
Richard laughed blankly. "Shoulda stuck by ya, snagged a leg or somethin'... damn impatience."
Self-reproach. Winner takes one prize, but assisting capture might snag scraps. He hoped.
"...Impressive."
Dillon said curtly, awed.
"Heard they're so wild, capture's near impossible—let alone taming."
I'd read攻略 too. Who knew yellow umbrellas had this use.
Dillon admired, but frowned—something off.
Crowd gathered to gawk.
"Whoa... seeing a real moon deer."
"Hard to even spot one. Luck?"
"Win's gone..."
I'd unintentionally crushed their morale.
Thoughtful Dillon lowered his voice. "Everyone's got a story, but shining like you makes extra enemies. Someone'll dig into your past."
Stiff tone, but caring warning.
I knew. Super suspicious.
But hey, already spotlighted. Whatever.
Street rat turned slave backstory? Dig away.
Dillon was right, though. Nice he cared.
"Got it."
"Tomorrow, this moon deer dies, then?"
"Probably."
"Pity."
Elijah would arrive tomorrow morning, test start time. Till then, awkward with my tagalong.
Elijah always wore masks. Smiles, blank faces—all facades. Rare true emotion, just situational acts.
That was the Elijah I knew.
This one seemed... different. Staring at the live moon deer, eyes blinking. Surprised. Flustered.
Seeing her like that felt oddly satisfying. Was I weird?
Her parted lips closed, curving into a smile.
"Fun."
Morning. All trainees gathered. My capture news ended the contest effectively.
"Never thought you'd bring this. Alive, no less."
Not my plan either. How'd it happen?
"Looks cozy with you."
"......"
"Gotta kill it for ingredients. You okay with that?"
Regrettable, but no choice. Couldn't say "don't" just 'cause I didn't want to.
That was the point.
I nodded silently, head bowed.
Elijah peered, then said something cryptic.
"Cute."
"Pardon?"
"I'll spare it."
"...Pardon?"
I looked up, meeting her eyes straight. Red irises smiled.
"This one. No killing."
Unbelievable—I sounded childish repeating.
"For real?"