The Notorious Hunt
The roar of a drunk man echoed through the night.
“Drink that cheap shit properly, you fucking bastard! We need to get inside now! You wanna die?!”
Cheap liquor had loosened his tongue, and the pollution that blurred the sky and air stained everything it touched. Shallow fog seeped down through the Diorama’s barrier. Or perhaps it was fallout. A meteorological anomaly. They called it contamination.
On nights like this, people died. A few, or many. Though in this city, people were always dying anyway.
It was a night when that shallow fog descended, laying another thin veil over the world.
“....”
The knight turned her head at the shout, then kept walking. She thought she had caught the faint sound of someone begging for help. But today she forced herself to ignore it. She tried not to listen at all.
Instead, she kept clenching and unclenching her sword hilt.
Click.
Suddenly the landscape of her homeland, Golden Horizon, flickered before her eyes. A childhood that had been orderly and refined. Gardens filled with the sound of insects. A fleeting warmth, followed by cold and ruin. And the icy declaration that came with it.
'Cut away your weakness and prove yourself. If you cannot, you will never be able to return. If you are unable, then simply rot away in the corridors.'
The knight bit her lip. The justice and goodwill she tried to extend were trivial and fleeting. The malice brewed by the city and wielded by its people overflowed in every direction. And the reality that treated such malice as natural filled her with distrust. She herself was slowly being dyed by it.
The small kindnesses that had once moved her, the hopes she held for tomorrow, all scattered helplessly before the surging waves of that malice. The evil she sought to cut down felt impossibly distant.
She was exhausted. She was rotting away alongside the city.
As they said, on nights when contamination spread, people died. Few or many. If that was the case, she decided to devote herself only to the deaths she could deliver. She would contemplate only the deaths she could save.
'Ellen!'
Then a distracting thought suddenly rose. The knight—no, Ellen—frowned and severed her own thoughts. Thoughts and distractions, repeating endlessly. She endured them as she plunged deeper into the darkness.
She crossed alleys woven from the poverty and survival instincts of the Gallery City. And there, without difficulty, she came face to face with the evil she needed to cut down.
“A brain in anguish. A brain rotting while yearning to advance. A brain steeped in despair and stagnation. A brain attempting to bloom from stress and ideals. That is the scent I detect. Ah, but this one carries a rather unique flavor.”
Squelch. Slice.
In the trash-filled alley of D-Sector’s Fourth Zone, a scalpel was busy digging through cerebral fluid and brain fragments. The figure in chemically treated leather tilted its head.
“Hm? This smell does not belong here. A brain pickled by survival, shrunken and worthless, without even eyes to call its own.”
Suddenly the man in the leather coat twisted his neck. Beneath the leather that served as clothing, something animalistic stirred. The Brain Hunter’s eyes accurately captured the knight standing in the shadows.
“Yes. It was your scent after all.”
“....”
“My, my. I knew you were pursuing me, but this is rather fast, is it not?”
He looked like a well-mannered old gentleman. A black leather coat over a suit, a top hat, and a splendid mustache. The old gentleman rose from beside the corpse leaning against the wall. Only then did the full horror become clear.
A head split open, the corpse left to die. The wrinkled brain he had been dissecting moments ago lay exposed like a specimen. The face twisted in agony proved the victim had been alive until recently. Signs of struggle remained—nails torn away, fluids sprayed from stimulation of the brain—painting the alley in grotesque detail. A Corridor Walker, or perhaps an ordinary pedestrian.
Ellen said nothing.
Click.
Instead, she drew her sword. Unyielding will. Killing intent to carve him apart. Facing that clear malice, the old gentleman stroked his mustache.
A polite, cultured old gentleman. That was the surface skin and social status he presented. Dr. Morel, who operated a psychiatric clinic on Avenue Street in the Middle District. That was the true identity of the Brain Hunter.
“I cannot understand it. And because I cannot, I am curious. I have seen all the traces you left behind. That is, every post you made on the Corridor—on the Gallery. The little knight who hunts the Notorious and exerts herself for worthless brains. Why do you pursue me so relentlessly?”
“Brain Hunter Morel Urten. You are the evil I must cut down.”
“Evil? Am I evil?”
The old gentleman tilted his head. He took out a handkerchief and wiped the scalpel. After cleaning off the clinging flesh and brain fragments, he continued.
“What is evil? I am not a being that causes any particular harm to this city. On the contrary, I contribute to its public good. I operate a modest clinic, treat patients, and find fulfillment in saving them from their afflictions. Even my research is coveted by corporations who eagerly purchase it. If I were evil, would they seek my assistance? What I do is not so different from the corporations that collect corpses to manufacture toy dolls. In fact, it is far more humane than mages and witches who grind workers into dust for Ludens, or Corridor Walkers who slaughter one another for wealth and fame. I merely study brains and eyes. I do not relish the suffering of my volunteers. In this way, I draw closer to the truth that aids this world. Just where, exactly, is the evil in my research?”
The Brain Hunter pointed the now-clean scalpel at Ellen.
“Rather, I would like to ask you. If I am evil, why does this city tolerate my presence? Why does the Archive remain silent even as Nobu openly leaves traces? There is no such thing as evil in this city. There is only need and consumption.”
Ellen felt a jolt run through her at those words. The tremor that climbed from her fingertips sent ripples through her heart.
“Need and consumption? Your words are nothing but sophistry. What possible need was there for the girl who died a few days ago?”
“Is that so? That was necessary for my research. Yet are you not also attempting to cut me down for the sake of your own needs, daughter of Golden Horizon?”
“!”
“Your need is proof. Your proof is survival. Are you truly enraged by the deaths of those volunteers? Do you genuinely empathize with their pain? Or are you simply standing on the inertia of your education? If so, then the justice and evil you proclaim must be terribly shallow indeed.”
The Brain Hunter flared his nostrils. An unfamiliar stench seemed to have spread through the alley. It was the hormonal scent of a specimen he had never encountered before. He was focusing on it when—
Crack!
The air around Ellen suddenly warped. Crackling electricity spread through the alley. The circuits engraved across her body as a circuit board flickered and glowed.
Crackle!
Sparks of electricity jumped beside Ellen’s eyes. Distinctive traits visible to mana-awakened warriors. The mana circuits faintly shimmered across her skin. Artificial or trained mana traces overflowed across her body.
A secret art rarely seen among those from Golden Horizon. Self-amplification that treated the body as an engine. A manifestation technique that brought various phenomena into the flesh. Over Circuit, Element Drive, Phenomenon Engraving. It had many names, yet what descended upon that body was the incarnation of violence itself.
Ellen’s attribute was electric current. The scent of plasma capable of breaking down even air flooded the alley. Currents extending from her body repeatedly clung to the walls and floor before vanishing. An unquestionable full-power deployment.
At the sight, the Brain Hunter stroked his mustache.
“Not even willing to converse? How immature and barbaric. That is why it is such a shame. I have always wanted to open you up, but I thought the time was not yet right. Isn’t that so, little knight?”
“I will cut you down.”
Swish!
Ellen’s charging sword strike could not even be seen. A silver current that tore through the alley’s darkness and air. Watching it, the Brain Hunter pulled his top hat down lower.
“In that case, Nobu shall have to entertain you.”
The Brain Hunter removed his hat. What was revealed was a head without a skull. A pale, desiccated brain. The brain exposed to the night air wriggled.
Gurgle.
“A night so cold it chills even the brain.”
At the same time, eyes blooming between the brain’s folds glared at their opponent.
“Ugh?!”
Instantly, Ellen suffered a headache that felt as if her skull would split. Eyes. Countless eyes were staring at her. At the same time, her lightning-infused sword path wavered. Her legs, which had kicked off the ground, began to buckle. With a single glance, her Sanity was melting away.
I can’t lose consciousness! I have to fire a brain strike!
Crack!
Ellen’s sword split the space. A lightning slash that scraped against the wall and floor. The Brain Hunter, who had sidestepped it all, tilted his head.
“Such frail reason and enlightenment. Do you believe you can endure my eyes?”
“!?”
The old gentleman who had even dodged the bolts of lightning extending from her rapier spread his coat. Like a matador’s cape, the shadows beneath the hanging leather swirled with darkness and eyes. From the maw of the abyss trying to open its mouth, countless eyes rose together.
“Do not lower your guard. Nobu is also a 3rd-tier life mage, after all.”
Crunch!
Along with the courteous warning, tentacles erupted from the darkness.
“Keuk?!”
Squish!
Ellen was slammed into the wall along with the mass of flesh. An overwhelming wall of mass that swallowed even lightning. Every piece of it was made of brain fragments and hippocampal tissue. A bizarre viscosity clung to her, stopping the breath of anything it engulfed. And those eyes. Countless eyes were digging through the knight’s brain.
Her head hurt. Her brain trembled. It was stained with fear and the paralysis that came from overwhelming power.
“Ughk?!”
Convulsing, Ellen grit her teeth. She struggled to hold on, but saliva and fluid leaked from her eyes and mouth. Obstacles she should have been able to cut through felt insurmountable. Her limbs trembled as though they might give out.
An extreme epileptic reaction. Consciousness faded. Seizure-induced abnormal behavior began to surface. The courage she had built over a lifetime crumbled. The layers of reason she had armed herself with collapsed.
Suddenly Ellen was seized by the urge to masturbate. Her organs tried to conceive on their own. The reason that told her she must not collapsed. The thoughts in her brain that had been continuing the battle lost control and rampaged. She was literally being enlightened.
Her brain trembled. A numb, painful, ticklish sensation raced across her entire body. Horrible pleasure and pain arrived together.
“Euh, euhik!?”
With a metallic shriek, Ellen swung her blade wildly. Currents that flickered on and off. They sliced away the brain’s flesh, but even more tentacles extended from beneath the coat.
“Your fatal mistake was ignoring the voice of your body. You built yourself on insignificant martial arts and crude tricks, yet neglected mental discipline. Do not resist. Accept the opening of new eyes. It will become comfortable.”
Crunch!
Her armor and body were slowly being crushed. At the sight, the old gentleman placed his hat against his chest and spoke.
“I am making some slight adjustments to your body. Please endure it.”
Morel smiled for the first time. With a satisfied expression, the old gentleman added.
Squish!
Her limbs screamed. They were being pulverized. At the same time, the mana circuits running across Ellen’s entire body went dark.
Crackle.
The currents racing through the alley vanished. At the same time, the Brain Hunter loosened his tentacles. Ellen slumped against the wall, twitching.
Clatter.
The rapier fell to the floor. The revealed tragedy was hideous. Involuntary urine and sexual fluids mixed together, creating an abnormal viscosity. Literally, Ellen had finished preparing to conceive.
“Do not worry. A woman from Golden Horizon is an excellent specimen by herself. It would be a waste to extract only the brain in this state. Your womb is also superb as a mother body, so brain and womb will suffice. Your lineage will continue anew from within your womb.”
“Ah, aaah— ahe—”
The knight, stained with saliva and tears, was miserable. Bound by tentacles and hanging like a figure crucified, she convulsed. Her limbs restrained by cerebral tentacles, she was covered in urine and bodily fluids.
Brain Hunter Morel seemed satisfied with the makeshift operating table he had created. He approached with scalpel in hand. He would extract the womb first.
Rip!
He lightly tore the clothing covering Ellen’s abdomen.
“D-don’t—”
Ellen’s resistance, tongue lolling, was feeble. She despaired at her own weakness. The sword she gripped felt impossibly frail.
“Don’t—do it.”
Was that a plea? A beg? The rage that had boiled inside her ultimately broke before overwhelming power. The evil Ellen had cried out against, the courage and justice she had upheld, were all shallowly carved away.
In the end, she shed tears. They were not from pain. They were not from fear. They were simply tears of despair at her own weakness.
The story of the little knight Ellen had reached its end.
Thus Ellen lowered her head.
“Now then, let us see.”
The Brain Hunter, who had been about to examine the exposed naked body and its condition, suddenly froze.
“Hm? You are not a virgin? Tsk tsk.”
Freeze.
The old gentleman who had suddenly caught the hormonal scent clicked his tongue. Impurities had taken root in the womb he intended to extract. Perhaps he judged its value as a specimen had decreased. The briefly dissatisfied Brain Hunter’s eyes caught something new and sparkled with interest.
“Hoo, this is truly—”
At that moment, another voice cut in between the sighs.
“Wow. Nice abnormal sexual fetish show.”
Click.
“!?”
Suddenly something cold pressed against the Brain Hunter’s temple. Morel’s head and the eyes blooming across his brain both turned toward the source.
Gurgle!
The countless eyes blooming on the rotten brain glared. Gazes that shaved away a person’s SAN, carrying curses and physical force, crushed the opponent’s brain. To that, the already rotten brain twisted its form and spoke.
“Dodge this.”
Morel flinched. The immortal of the Gallery City was aiming a gun at him, teeth bared. Immediately after, muzzle flash and gunpowder smoke bloomed.