A Hair's Breadth Apart (1)
The quest objective blinks.
● Track the Hybrid Demon by Following the Trail of Bloodstains.
So you're the culprit behind the monsters overflowing from the Zero Mountains.
A skill befitting a late-game class quest boss. But there's something off.
'Natural Enemy.'
For a demon hunter, natural enemy is an inseparable lifeline skill. It's no exaggeration to say it defines the beginning and end of everything—and thanks to it, I've grown ever more adept at wielding it.
'But it didn't activate.'
A heavyweight like the hybrid demon? I should've sensed its presence the moment I set foot in the Zero Mountains. No—natural enemy would've kicked in a step ahead.
Yet even when the quest objective flashed, natural enemy stayed silent.
Only one conclusion fits.
The hybrid demon is fundamentally different from any demon I've faced before.
I opened my mouth.
"Is this a paltry scheme?"
A cold rebuke aimed at the demon.
Business as usual. But the problem was the ears listening nearby.
The players flinched and bowed their heads first.
"Th-thank you for saving us!"
"Sorry if we got in your way!"
"We all hit level 400, so we figured we could handle this spot in the Zero Mountains without issue... You call it paltry, and we can't argue! We'll know our place from now on!"
No. What the hell is my image like that they're groveling like this?
I keep saying it's all because of the demon!
I responded magnanimously.
"It is not thee I blame."
Our noble Grandfell's pride is a complicated beast. He scorns demons, yet can't ignore them; he won't tolerate procedures disrupted by them, either.
In a word: 'storm-and-stress temperament, for real.'
In the past, I'd have desperately turned away from it. No matter the goodwill in others' eyes.
I couldn't have stomached the rising self-loathing.
But now? Things are different.
I've gained the power to make this absurd, cringeworthy pride a reality.
Whether it's Grandfell's ironclad setting—that what he declares must come true—or my own desperate struggles, I can't say.
I continued.
"And from this moment, it is thy time."
"...Pardon?"
"I speak of thee, not thou alone."
"...Y-yes?"
The players exchanged glances at my words, faces blank with confusion. They don't grasp my meaning.
Not their fault, either.
'This damn speech pattern.'
I added one more line.
"Look behind thee."
"...?"
And that's on them, too, every last one.
This instant.
We can't ignore the hybrid demon gripping their ankles.
Yet we won't let a mere demon derail procedure.
The solution I and Grandfell arrive at? Simple and clear.
"...Behind us?"
The players turn at my words.
"!!!"
They cry out in shock.
"Th-that outfit...!"
"You know them? I'm kinda new, so..."
"It's Akkshan! The demon hunters all over the news!!"
'Heroes of the New Era, Akkshan'
Back when Arcana was just a game.
The reason demon hunters captivated players? One thing: style.
That aura of cool from their look. Even now, it's ridiculous.
Snug dark combat gear that clings just right.
Flowing black cloaks.
And the crowning touch: black masks covering over half their faces.
Plus, times have changed.
Back when Arcana was a game, demon hunters were flashy punching bags.
Once demon monsters appeared, their rep skyrocketed beyond imagination.
'I didn't notice 'cause I'm the only one.'
Exactly seven demon hunters materialized from the Akkshan legend.
They emerge from the rear, keeping perfect distance between them.
The players, entranced by their forms, snap to.
"As expected... Sir Hoyeol..."
Right—as you'd guess—my class is demon hunter.
I've said it a million times.
I never wanted to hide my class?
'Lately, I've felt the need for secrets.'
Why? I've realized aces up your sleeve are better the more you have.
But bluntly? I'm too proud for that hassle...
Put nicely: pride weighs heavy in my chest.
I won't lie to hide it if I don't bring it up first.
'Exactly.'
Anyway, I'd braced for this.
Truth is, every time news speculated on my class, I flinched.
From black mage to "bottomless darkness" or even "black dark dragon" as a class.
I nearly blushed during those wild theories more than once.
But reality always exceeds expectations.
"You're the leader of Akkshan!!"
I doubted my ears.
...Leader of Akkshan? Me? Why? How?!
'Again?'
Obviously, players don't know the [Legend] system.
So they mistake these legend-spawned Akkshan demon hunters for the real deal.
Put myself in their shoes...
'They just look like they answered my command.'
I'm basically the junior-most in the ranks, yet they call me leader.
Talk about insubordination.
But it didn't end there.
The players huddled, spinning wild tales.
"Makes total sense now."
"With Sir Hoyeol's fame..."
"So Akkshan's disappearance from the continent was part of the big picture...!"
Akkshan's warped structure is the root issue.
Our seniors, who only hunted demons and ignored public opinion, brought this on themselves.
'More than that, you could speak up?'
Silence means consent, whether they know it or not.
The demon hunters hear every word but march on wordlessly.
I'm no explainer, either.
In the end, one choice left.
'Screw it.'
Resignation.
Fine. Pride demands focus.
Leave the hybrid demon to the Akkshan seniors; I'll uphold procedure by finding Jester and Mary first.
"Akkshan's on the move..."
"Demons did this?!"
"This is huge news...!!"
Who knows how much it'll balloon from here...
Think positive.
Legends grow stronger the more they inflate, right?
I murmured.
"Thus, the legend truly begins."
This motormouth never shuts up.
A solemn, grave nonsense.
The players' eyes widen.
"Th-the start of a legend!"
Watching them like they'd witnessed something epic, I swallowed a sigh.
I've got so many sins on my head...
*
Hybrid demon.
Ecstasy bubbling from flesh laced with foreign blood.
Authority.
"Heh."
Gre Mory was lost in the thrill of authority.
That bastard Lust—she'd tear him apart someday.
Her vow paled now.
Adventurers' world, once dismissed as farce.
Yet those she met showed goodwill.
No questions about her blood-soaked form; they yielded everything willingly.
"An honor to serve."
Even escorted her to the Zero Mountains, her goal.
Gre Mory smiled.
Lust, you'll regret this forever.
'This authority was made for me!'
She was certain.
Right now, she wielded it more deftly than that lecher Lust.
Confidence.
Peerless beauty no demon, human, or even elf could match.
Plus authority? Overflowing self-assurance.
Doubt her? Look at the proof.
"...Wow."
Foolish humans' gazes fixed on her, no?
Gre Mory eyed the Zero Mountains.
Vast as ever, straight from Arcana continent.
'He won't find me here.'
No matter the natural enemy—the mountains are too immense.
Especially hiding in one of the hundred thousand caves.
Alone? Decades of searching wouldn't suffice.
'Plenty of time.'
She'd build her power anew with this authority.
Gre Mory suppressed a grin.
Imagining her predator, the demon hunter, devoured by her.
'That arrogant fool kneeling, begging mercy...'
It soothed the wounds from Lust's mockery.
But Gre Mory overlooked it.
Sin authority isn't so easily tamed.
Especially fused with utterly alien blood—it could only rampage wilder.
Soon, an unforeseen backlash—even beyond Lust's predictions—overtook her.
"...What?"
The adventurer pack, blazing the trail like limbs, halted.
Shing!
They drew weapons, faces resolute, and declared.
"My queen. We'll guard you with our lives."
...What nonsense is this?
Gre Mory wanted no attention.
Authority or not, this was the last demon hunter's homeland.
Lust said he'd be raging to hunt her.
Yet.
'These trash.'
They're itching for trouble?
Gre Mory stepped forward.
She'd heard the Zero Mountains were deadly even in the Demon Realm.
Rumors of dragons atop the peaks.
'Mad lizards.'
Not upper demon king level, but dragons traversed other worlds.
Gre Mory had witnessed their ferocity firsthand.
"...Absolutely not."
Demon hunter headaches were bad enough; drawing dragon eyes was suicide.
She shoved past the encircling players.
"It's dangerous, my queen!"
"Stand down."
"But...!"
"I said scram."
No intent to indulge royal play in this peril.
From now: move silent, find a cave, hide, build forces steadily with authority.
The moment Gre Mory strode alone toward her goal.
"...!"
Whoosh—!
Myriad presences prickling her skin.
Instinct screamed: authority drawing countless souls.
But chills rose for another reason.
"...What?"
Enthralled by authority? Means they're mere limbs.
No master shivers before their own limbs.
Yes.
What startled Gre Mory: mounting pressure slowly strangling her throat.
"!"
From all directions. Finer than cardinal points.
Her dual bloodlines sharpened the count.
'...Seven directions!'
Exactly seven presences closing in.
Gre Mory recalled calmly.
Only one could pressure a demon king like this.
'Demon hunter.'
But the last demon hunter.
One man couldn't split into seven.
Gre Mory gritted her teeth.
'Whatever it is, not a demon hunter?'
...Dragons, maybe?
Still better than that man.
Winnable.
'Flee anyway, and it's over.'
Gre Mory wouldn't retreat.
She'd bulldoze the crisis.
Of course, regret came swift.
Pfsh—!
Sudden arrows from blind spots.
But all whiffed wildly, embedding in dirt.
"As expected."
Gre Mory sneered.
"Drunk on my authority, can't even aim."
"......"
"Heh. Can't even reply?"
"......"
Clear delusion.
Clank—
Noise from arrows in the ground.
"?"
Swaaaa—!
"...!"
Arrows gleam. No—the thin threads linked to them reflect light.
Then accelerate beyond her gaze.
Clatter!
They tangle, tightening her range.
Chills crawl her skin again.
'...This is?'
Silver thread.
Silverwire...!
Too late, she identifies the glint.
Gre Mory blurts in disbelief.
"...You all are?"
"......"
Silence again.
Yes, didn't someone drill it endlessly?
No needless talk with prey.
"H-how did you vermin...!!"
Akkshan's first ironclad rule.
Swish—
The seven demon hunters yank the silverwire taut.
Swaaaa—!
Using it as rope, they glide toward her like avalanches.
'...No!'
Natural enemy.
'Can't see. Too fast. Where? From where?'
Hunter acceleration beyond prey's eyes.
'At this rate...!'
Encroaching net.
"Pr-protect me...!!"
Prey's desperation.
Cold-gleaming silver daggers.
And...
...Clang—!