The Hunter’s Guide to Monsters - Chapter 126

Sometimes, great questlines came from simple things. There was a Legendary quest that some guild acquired only because they chose a particular building for their guild headquarters.

Once they got in the gates of Tvarglad, Krow relaxed, expecting the escort quest to end quietly.

Obviously the world didn’t agree.

Krow emptied his revolver as they barreled past the scattering trio, who hadn’t expected them to charge.

“Take the reins!” He shoved the leads into Avan’s hands just as the man grabbed Krow to balance his sudden change in circumstance.

A nod brushed against Krow’s shoulder, and the other grabbed the reins, careened them into a side street at full speed.

[You’ve eliminated a Lvl 25 bandit and gained five (5) silver serpens! 1/8]

Bandits?!

Avan Fresland hadn’t been exaggerating getting lost in the woods and making up a story to get sympathy? Most of the caravan thought that actually, from the pieces of gossip his ears caught.

Wasn’t he just a wealthy son who ditched his security detail?

Krow reloaded, called up the Map. Targeting should be triggered, since they were attacked.

Sure enough, red dots showed up on the local map.

His brow twitched.

Avan had just set them on course to intercept the main group.

Was he still trying to get to his friend?

Obviously the route had been compromised! The reasonable thing to do was go another way. At the very least, run from the attackers.

Too late.

Two horses rounded the corner, the riders brandishing polearms.

If they got close…

“Keep going!” Krow yelled when he felt the horse’s muscles start to bunch, in response to Avan pulling back on the reins.

He dug his heels into the horse’s flanks as the reins slackened obediently.

He drew the shieldburst revolver and aimed at the approaching horse’s front legs.

Two bullets, and two riders tumbled from their saddles. The alarmed noises of the horses alerted the surrounding area to the altercation.

Windows and doors started closing.

Smart.

Krow twisted in the saddle. One rider bounced up from his roll off the horse, now pursuing.

Weeping graves, did everyone have a movement spell these days?

Krow shot darkspears, forcing the bandit to duck.

“Left, take the left!” The horse barreled into the next narrow street. “I said left!”

“That’s not the way, though!” cried Avan.

“They know the way, or haven’t you noticed!” Krow laid suppressing fire on the two people who appeared before them.

“Oh! I wondered how they kept finding us!”

“Just go!”

Avan wheeled the horse and they shot into another side street. Krow kept the attackers from following them too closely, shooting shieldbursts. An arrow skidded across his vambrace.

Avan yelled in surprise and jerked the horse into an alley again.

“Stop shouting into my ear!” Another arrow was deflected by his pauldrons. Avan strangled his reaction to an arrow passing by his ear.

Krow kept sending shieldbursts at their pursuers, darkspear-loaded gun tracking the arrows’ trajectory.

There.

A figure moved on an elevated balcony.

Six shots, one after the other, sounding like a single long burst. The figure toppled backward off the parapet.

Hah!

He’d upgraded the Mark Critical skill he got at Lvl 10 to Breath of a Sniper, increasing his accuracy and force at long range.

Even with only 5% system assist, a little went a long way.

He didn’t want to lower the reality percentage anyway, because his future plans depended on the quality grades of loot he gained. Lower system assist = better loot.

The more effort and resources put in, the better the reward. A Redlands philosophy.

The horse stumbled, pitching forward.

Krow, untethered but for the stirrups, spilled over its head.

Avan’s strangled shout of alarm cut off in a groan as over a tonne of horseflesh rolled over them both.

Krow struggled to breathe.

Stunned, his status informed him.

“Krow?” Avan tugged at his Travelcoat. “Krow, we need to go!”

Finally sweet air made it into his lungs. He sucked a deep breath and heaved to get the leg of the horse off him.

“Lost my guns,” he coughed, pushing himself up.

He heard Avan scramble away.

His shoulder ached fiercely. There was blood on the ground. He hoped that was from the horse.

“I could only find one,” Avan returned, apologetic.

“Don’t move!” a roar from nearby accompanied several heavy running treads.

Seriously?

Who’d listen?

Krow grabbed the revolver from Avan, snapped off three shots toward the voice.

Two angry wordless yells sounded, as the translucent shield knocked the attackers back.

Shkav. Where were his darkspears?

His main gun was nowhere to be seen. Krow cursed in frustration, dragged the both of them behind one of the ubiquitous trees that dotted even the Tvarglad alleys.

He looked a pale Avan over. There was blood on his temple. “Are you alright?”

He sent several shieldbursts toward the bandits again. The narrow nature of the streets in this area only helped.

“My ankle may be sprained. My left arm is definitely broken. Scratches for the rest.”

Krow blinked at the concise summary, but nodded and parceled out Low Heal and Revitalit vials for them both.

His shoulder unclenched with silent relief as the potions did their job. His collarbone must have snapped when he slammed into the ground.

Avan, beside him, let out a long breath. “That poor horse!”

The pale bone of its broken leg had shafted through flesh and skin, visible and bloody, yet the horse continued attempting to stand.

Three arrows struck the animal, killing it.

What.

Krow turned to Avan. “Where are we?”

He might just be biased. But in a fight, no real fighter would waste arrows like that. The soft heart of a player raised on modern Earth, who couldn’t bear to see an animal suffering, however, was different.

“That way,” Avan answered practically. Krow was fine with that.

What he wasn’t fine with, was how the other immediately darted in said direction without warning.

“Wait–!”

Too late.

Krow shot shieldbursts to cover them, having no choice but to follow.

The fattish prodigal ran so fast! At least he knew how to take advantage of the decorative hedges.

The revolver cycled on empty.

He snapped a clip of darkspears onto it, flipping the empty belt-cylinder into storage.

He and Avan took cover in a recessed doorway.

“That street.” Avan pointed.

Then the idiot again sped away.

Weeping graves.

“Could you warn me before you run!” He hollered at Avan’s back, shooting the visible bandits while trying to keep from the targeting sights of the archer.

[You’ve eliminated a Lvl 17 bandit and gained four (4) silver serpens! 2/8]

[You’ve eliminated a Lvl 21 bandit and gained five (5) silver serpens! 3/8]

They pushed him back, a hail of arrows forcing him to retreat.

He sped after Avan.

An arrow whistled past, nicking his torso.

Krow swerved right, ducked under a tree.

Where was the blasted archer?

He spied movement on a far roof. Too far for his revolver.

A Sharpshooter archer?!

He broke cover and took off. A line of arrows immediately dogged his steps, tugged on his coat hem.

Whoever the archer was, they were definitely higher leveled than Krow.

The Multishot skill was a Lvl 30 choice.

The bandits on foot took advantage of the reprieve from Krow’s bullets and charged.

Krow sidled out of line of sight of the building the archer was on, and walked backward, shooting all the while.

“We made it!” he heard Avan cry behind him.

He snorted and turned to his protectee.

“Still too soon to sa—” He froze.

Three red-cloaked Reeves stood behind him, surrounding a relief-stunned Avan. Krow hadn’t even detected them.

The Reeves were Tvarglad’s royal guard, each and every one having the Wolf Warrior battleclass, each and every active Reeve at Lvl 45 and above.

If this was to be a fight, he stood no chance.

His eyes caught on the black circle broach that held together the cloak of the vargvir standing at Avan’s side. He met the unreadable golden eyes. “Reeve-captain.”

The vargvir inclined his head.

A scuffle on the stone above told him there were others. No doubt about it.

This was an ambush.

How long had they been watching?

The captain’s ear flicked, the other telling him, ‘I know you heard that, so no funny business.’

“Krow, this is Elston!” Avan finally recovered from his dazed relief, and beamed. “He’s the head of Hadi’s guards!”

“Ah.” He holstered his gun, a show of neutrality.

If they asked him to relinquish it, then no way. He already misplaced his main revolver; he wasn’t losing the second.

“So,” he continued, “you’re not actually a narcotics runner on the run from betraying your syndicate, escaping to a rival crime family in another city?”

Several huffs of laughter sounded at that.

Avan sputtered. “Why–who said that?”

“Caravan gossip. The winning story was actually the one about you being a disgraced prince escaping your murderous highborn family to secretly meet your inappropriate lover.”

More laughter that was just low enough to be mistaken for puffs of air. The vargvir behind Avan snickered audibly. The captain only bent a semi-amused ear.

Avan scoffed. “By virtue of being chosen by me, she would never be inappropriate.”

“Who said the lover was female?”

“Why would people think that!”

“It’s the perfume.”

Krow snapped his mouth closed on what he was going to say and grinned at the Reeve who said that instead, the same one who snickered. “See?”

“I like this scent! It’s very delicate.”

“Apart from the fact that you wear any scent at all, that doesn’t really help your case.”

The clash of weapons sounded nearby.

The levity in the air dissipated.