Harpy Hunt (3)
Jinwoo crossed the squelching swamp toward the massive harpy's corpse without a word. Chiharu followed half a step behind, silent as his shadow.
When they stood before the enormous divine beast's remains, the Magic Grimoire whispered once more, its voice now heavy with ancient sorrow rather than anger.
[Behold, master. It has come to this in the end. A being that once soared through the skies, blessed by all, now rotting in the filthy mud of this swamp, fodder for worms. The humans lying there are no different. To them, divine beasts and humans alike are nothing but toys to shatter and discard for a fleeting amusement. This twisted tragedy... is the sole legacy of those outer gods.]
Ignoring the grimoire's lament, Jinwoo turned to his huntress. With a tilt of his chin toward the colossal corpse, he issued a curt command.
"Harvest the tribute."
"Yes, master."
There was no hesitation in Chiharu's response. She drew the sharp hunting knife from her waist, prepared specially for the hunt, and climbed atop the harpy's body without a moment's pause.
No fear or revulsion stirred in her heart—only the fierce thrill of having felled such a massive prey with her own hands, and the pure ecstasy of offering proof of it to her master. This was why she had been chosen. Not her mother's sultry service, nor her sister's blind worship, but a role uniquely hers. She wore the blood and guts staining her hands like proud medals.
Her first target was the harpy's defining feature: its wings. Kneeling on one knee, she plunged her blade into the root of a still-warm wing. Schlick, schlick... The sensation of tough hide and muscle tearing under the knife traveled vividly up her arm. Crimson blood sprayed like a fountain, soaking her black latex suit, but she didn't flinch. The hot slickness only aroused her further. With practiced ease, as if she'd done this a thousand times, she severed the massive wing perfectly at the shoulder joint.
Next came the talons. Moving to the harpy's enormous leg, she gripped a foot the size of a human head. The raptor-like claws were so hard and sharp that an ordinary blade couldn't even scratch them. Channeling the power of her brand, she infused mana into the knife. The blade, glowing dark red, struck the root of the talon with a crack!, shattering bone and keratin to claim the razor-sharp prize.
Finally, the source of all this tragedy: the vocal cords. She faced the harpy's beautiful woman's face, now a lifeless wax doll. Gripping the jaw mercilessly, she pried it open and thrust the knife deep. With delicate yet ruthless precision, she excised the small, pale organ from the tangled muscles and cartilage in the throat—the cursed source of its song.
Just then, survivors who had miraculously endured began stirring behind them, coming to their senses one by one.
"Ugh..."
"Wh... where are we...?"
Dazed, they rose, only to freeze at the sight before them. The monstrous behemoth that had dragged them into a danse macabre lay drenched in blood. And atop it, a woman in blood-soaked black leather calmly dismantled the corpse.
Some fought back vomit. But an even greater emotion overtook their shattered minds, dwarfing the horror.
Did that woman... kill that monster?
With that crow mage...?
When the work was done, Chiharu was caked head to toe in blood, mud, and unidentifiable fluids. Yet her eyes shone brighter than ever. She cradled her three trophies—a pair of massive black wings, the razor talons, and the still-quivering vocal cords—in her hands like sacred relics.
Returning to Jinwoo, she knelt once more at his feet. Bowing deeply, she extended her offerings like a priest presenting the first sacrifice at an altar.
"Master. Your huntress offers the spoils of the hunt. Please... accept this humble tribute."
Her voice trembled with excitement and pride.
The survivors watched, transfixed. It was a grotesque, sacred rite beyond their comprehension—a bloodied priestess extracting the monster's heart to offer her dark god, an ancient ritual. In that moment, their fear twisted into awe, their confusion into worship.
"Th-they're... alive...!"
"Gods above...!"
A woman burst into tears and knelt before them. One by one, the survivors—even the high-ranking officials—prostrated themselves in the muddy swamp, offering thanks and adoration to Jinwoo and Chiharu.
"You... you saved us...!"
"Our lifesavers! Thank you! Truly, thank you!"
Born of terror, it was their first prayer to the incomprehensible transcendent beings who had saved their lives and performed this blood rite before their eyes. To them, the crow mage and his voluptuous, lethal fox-masked huntress were gods descended to earth.
Jinwoo ignored their worship like roadside pebbles. He stored Chiharu's tribute in his subspace, then addressed his still-kneeling huntress in a low voice.
"My huntress has proven her fangs' sharpness. Now, test your ability to lead the pack."
With a nod toward the survivors groveling in the muck, he continued. "Take those sheep and lead them out of this hell."
"...Me, master?"
A faint bewilderment colored Chiharu's voice for the first time. She looked up at him. Her role, as she understood it, was master's blade, master's fang—tearing enemies apart, destroying on command. Leading was something else entirely. Command, not carnage; guidance, not slaughter.
But that bewilderment swiftly morphed into a thrilling new ecstasy.
Master is testing a new use for me!
Her heart pounded hotly. This wasn't mere orders. Among his myriad tools, he had chosen her for the role of leader—not her mother's cunning, nor her sister's fanatic loyalty. To command these frail, terrified humans and guide them from this nightmare. It was domination's pleasure, distinct from the hunt. The thought that dozens of lives now hung on her hands, her voice alone, made the brand on her lower abdomen burn hot once more.
Chiharu rose slowly, regally. Blood- and mud-smeared, she looked horrific, yet her posture was queenly. The survivors were no longer people to save—they were living tools, proof to demonstrate her new worth to her master.
"All of you, rise."
Her voice was cold steel, resonant with strange authority that compelled the prostrate to their feet.
"I will lead you out of this hell. Gather any other survivors from that cave and head for the only path out."
"Follow me if you want to live. No questions. No complaints. Stragglers will share the fate of the corpses in this swamp."
No one dared object. She turned and strode back toward the catacombs. The survivors followed like iron filings to a magnet, entranced. To them, Chiharu was no mere savior—she was a living idol of terror and hope. Men couldn't tear their eyes from the sensual sway of her bloodied latex-clad hips churning through the muck, yet her overwhelming presence forbade lustful thoughts. Women envied her inhuman curves and strength, yearning to lean on that unyielding form.
Jinwoo watched silently from one step behind, a satisfied smile curving his lips at his bitch flawlessly playing the shepherd to the flock.
Back in the catacombs, the remaining survivors cowered in terror—until they saw the two "monsters" return leading dozens more. Shock rippled through them.
"Everyone, follow."
Chiharu barked the order into the cave. The swamp survivors frantically explained to those inside.
"They did it! The fox-masked goddess slew that monster!"
"Follow her and we'll live!"
Hope ignited in the cave-dwellers' eyes. They staggered to their feet, joining the swelling procession. Nearly a hundred strong now, the massive group marched through the bone labyrinth behind the bloodied fox-masked huntress.
Even in the maze, Chiharu never faltered. Recalling the "willow tree" from the Mystery Gallery post Jinwoo had shown her, she unleashed her enhanced senses, detecting faint air currents and spatial warps. At last, she halted at the swamp's edge before a twisted willow standing incongruously on dry ground, its bark glistening as if alive.
"This is it."
Turning, she pointed at the congressman at the procession's front.
"You first. Touch the tree."
Trembling, he hesitated under the icy gaze from her mask but couldn't resist. His hand brushed the damp bark—and with a faint glow, he vanished like a mirage.
"Woooah!"
Cheers erupted from the crowd. It was real. This goddess could truly save them from hell.
From there, it was swift. They lined up, touching the tree one by one to return to reality. Before vanishing, each bowed deeply to Chiharu—some in tears of gratitude, others trying to kiss her feet. To them, she transcended savior; she was the nightmare's sole hope, an unforgettable goddess of terror.
At last, only Jinwoo and Chiharu remained by the willow.
"Well done," Jinwoo murmured in praise. "My huntress has learned to herd the flock."
That single word of approval shattered her queenly poise. She dropped to her knees at his feet, cheeks flushed with arousal, lips panting beneath the mask.
"All... thanks to you, master. Teach this bitch... more ways to serve."
