At the end of the Great Bridge stood an immense wall that seemed to pierce the clouds, blocking every path forward.
Built from massive blocks of stone, the wall bore the scars of time and unfamiliar carvings, radiating an oppressive presence that inspired instinctive dread.
Just as they approached its base and began searching for an entrance, a vast black shadow silently leaped down from the top of the wall like a hunting owl.
“Boom!”
The heavy impact made the bridge tremble beneath their feet.
As the dust settled, the monster’s true form struck terror into their hearts.
It stood more than five meters tall, its body gaunt as a wind-dried corpse.
Its limbs were long and slender, yet covered in tough fur.
Most horrifying of all were the enormous pale antlers rising from its head, branching again and again like those of some ancient elk.
A tangled gray-black mane hung across its shoulders.
Caught within it were several ragged scraps of cloth that still vaguely resembled Hunter attire, silently hinting at its twisted and fallen past.
“Uuuh…”
The monster landed about ten meters away but did not attack at once.
Instead, it crossed its withered, branch-like arms over its chest, bowed its head slightly, and released a long, mournful cry like that of a dying elk caught in a trap.
Its bizarre posture and lament seemed to carry a force that gnawed directly at the mind.
Charles and Father Gascoigne felt their sanity rapidly slipping away as an instinctive shudder, mingling fear with revulsion, swept through their bodies.
Only Alfred’s projection remained completely unaffected.
Lacking any true self-awareness, he silently raised his assembled hammer and struck first, swinging it toward the monster’s claws with enough force to tear through the air.
“Clang!”
Sparks scattered in every direction.
Despite its enormous body, the monster sprang backward with astonishing agility.
Alfred’s follow-up strike with the twin blades missed by the narrowest margin.
Charles and Father Gascoigne fought through the sickening discomfort and raised their firearms together.
“Bang! Bang! Bang!”
Bullets burst into sprays of blood across the monster’s gaunt torso and limbs.
The wounded creature gave a shrill screech, then raked its claws violently across the ground.
Dust and broken stone erupted into the air, obscuring their vision.
The next instant, a skeletal claw with cold light gleaming at its fingertips shot from the swirling dust without warning, striking straight at Charles, who stood slightly ahead of the others.
“Shhk!”
Charles barely managed to raise the Threaded Cane in time, but the force behind the blow far exceeded anything he had imagined.
The claw tore through his defense as easily as a hot knife through butter and plunged deep into his left shoulder, nearly ripping half his body apart. This chapter was copied from g.com without permission.
The pain was so intense that his vision went black.
“Bastard!”
Father Gascoigne’s eyes widened with fury.
He and Alfred attacked at the same moment, their massive axe and warhammer forcing the creature to retreat.
Before withdrawing, however, the monster twisted its claw and tore it free, ripping a large chunk of flesh from Charles’s side.
As the dust slowly cleared, the monster stood at a distance and calmly licked the warm blood from its claws.
Beneath the shadow of its vast antlers, its eyes glinted with mockery and cruelty as it looked down upon the wounded Charles and his enraged companions.
“Hold on, kid!”
Father Gascoigne rushed to Charles’s side, panic in his voice.
Without hesitation, he pulled out several ordinary Blood Vials and injected them one after another into the side of Charles’s neck.
He even cut open his own wrist and transferred some of his Hunter-empowered blood into Charles.
While they were occupied with treating him, the monster launched another surprise attack.
Alfred blocked it completely, standing like an unbreakable shield.
His straight sword and massive hammer wove together into an impenetrable defense.
Thanks to Father Gascoigne’s desperate efforts, Charles’s injuries quickly stabilized and began healing before their eyes.
He pushed away Father Gascoigne’s hand when he tried to give him more blood, then struggled back to his feet.
There was no fear in his eyes.
Instead, an even fiercer will to fight burned within them.
The agony of his wounds and the brush with death seemed to have awakened something hidden deep in his bloodline.
Father Gascoigne watched him regain his footing.
He drew a deep breath, forced down the discomfort surging through his own body, and spoke in a low voice.
“I underestimated this beast’s cunning… It knows how to use the surroundings and exploit our weaknesses. But retreat is no longer possible. We fight to the death.”
“Then we fight!”
Charles spat out a mouthful of blood and clenched his teeth.
The three quickly formed a stable triangular formation.
When the antlered monster leaped high once more, intending to crush them beneath its weight and claws, a sharp gleam flashed in Charles’s eyes.
His wrist snapped into motion, sending the serrated whip sweeping like a living tentacle toward the stone statues lining the bridge railing.
“Crack! Crash!”
The ground gave way beneath it.
Its huge body lost balance and crashed awkwardly onto the bridge.
As it struggled to rise, the Molotov Cocktails and Oil Urns Charles and Father Gascoigne had prepared struck it with perfect accuracy, like stones hurled from a siege engine.
“Boom!”
Flames erupted and engulfed the monster.
The oil fed the blaze, filling the air with the foul stench of burning fur.
“ROAR!”
For the first time, the monster’s howl carried genuine terror and agony.
It was clearly terrified of fire.
It rolled and thrashed wildly across the ground, trying to smother the flames, but its frantic movements only spread them faster.
“Now!”
Father Gascoigne charged with a roar.
Pouring all his strength and fury into the blow, he swung his massive axe and severed one of the monster’s long, flailing legs.
Alfred’s projection followed like a divine executioner delivering final judgment.
His heavy hammer came crashing down with overwhelming force upon the creature’s head, already contorted by fire and the agony of its severed limb.
“Crunch!”
A sickening crack rang out.
The monster’s head burst like an overripe fruit, becoming a mass of red and white pulp that splattered across the bridge.
Its headless, burning body convulsed violently several times before finally going still.
Only the flames remained, crackling as they consumed the corpse.
At the same time, Alfred’s projection, its task complete, began to fade.
Its form grew increasingly transparent until it dissolved into motes of starlight in the cool air above the bridge and vanished completely.
Charles leaned heavily on his Threaded Cane, breathing hard as he felt the faint pain of newly regenerated muscle pulling beneath his skin.
When he finally looked away from the monster’s charred remains, he was surprised to find that Father Gascoigne was neither inspecting the spoils nor watching their surroundings.
Instead, he stood facing the corpse and murmured in a voice filled with sorrow and a strange sense of understanding.
“Look at the shape of those antlers… and the weave of those torn clothes… Before it became this… it was likely another Hunter who lost his way.”
Father Gascoigne raised his head slightly.
Beneath the shadow of his broad hat, Charles caught a faint glimpse of the corners of his mouth curling uncontrollably into an expression no human should have been capable of making.
It was a smile filled with animal savagery and desolation.
And somehow, it bore an unsettling resemblance to the dead monster at his feet.