༺ 𓆩 Chapter 4 𓆪 ༻
「Translator — Creator」
᠃ ⚘᠂ ⚘ ˚ ⚘᠂ ⚘᠃
“Ukkyaaak!”
The creature, a monkey-like being, spotted Hunbish and let out a deafening cry.
It was being wary.
Had Hunbish not been on horseback, the creature might have charged at him immediately.
With a stature nearly that of a full-grown man, it wore tattered leather armor of indeterminate origin and wielded a hand axe.
‘Do monkeys even wear armor like that?’
Hunbish, perplexed by this impossible sight, struggled to make sense of it.
Monkeys preferred temperate climates, not these frigid northern regions. They certainly wouldn’t migrate up here as winter approached.
So why was it here? And why armed? The reasoning eluded him.
Then—ah.
A flash of memory surged over Hunbish’s mind.
But before he could fully grasp it, the creature hurled its small axe through the air — the blade whistling mere inches past his temple.
“Argh!”
Was it because he was too lost in thought? Hunbish's reaction was delayed. He barely tumbled off his horse to avoid the axe, nearly falling to the ground.
As he steadied himself and turned to face the creature again, he realized it had already retreated the way it came.
This wasn’t Valkrake, the nomad monkey. This one had come with others, driven by its animal instincts to raid the herd.
But apparently, it had broken off from its companions — drawn by the thrill of chasing the flock into the village.
Only when it confronted Hunbish, armed and mounted, did it seem to recognize its peril.
Frightened, it fled back toward its group.
“Hold there!”
Hunbish gave chase.
He knew the monkey wasn’t faster than the horse on level ground. It was only a matter of time.
Still, he needed to be sure; both about its identity and its intentions.
He’d seen the creature before — somewhere in a book.
During his weeks bedridden, the village doctor had handed him a selection of books to pass the time. In one, Hunbish recalled reading an account that might explain this strange being.
They were monsters. That much was clear.
According to records, they had begun forming organized groups at some unknown point, rapidly expanding their territory and launching invasions into human settlements — particularly across the central and southern regions.
‘But for them to come this far north…’
Hunbish hadn’t anticipated it.
These creatures were called “Aebes.” They typically lived deep in the forests, which is why the village doctor had once referred to them as forest men.
The creature he’d just encountered was fleeing eastward, toward the outer rim of the village.
Judging by the direction, it likely came from the high pasturelands where the sheep were taken to graze.
Which meant — Dawaa, the shepherd boy who should’ve been there, might be in grave danger.
The thought made Hunbish’s heart tighten with urgency.
The stone wall flanking the trail soon ended, and a wide, open plain spread before him. There were no trees or obstacles — no place to hide.
But it was the perfect spot for archery.
Hunbish pulled his reins and brought the horse to a stop.
He drew an arrow and nocked it to his bow.
His target was running blindly, unaware it was being hunted; it was a perfect mark.
And the distance was roughly fifty meters.
It was a range Hunbish had practiced at more than a thousand times. Even after the accident, his archery skills had barely dulled.
There was no way he would miss.
With a steady exhale, he loosed the arrow.
It pierced the forest man clean through the neck.
The creature writhed on the ground for a brief moment, then collapsed; its limbs going limp as life drained away.
Hunbish approached the still figure cautiously.
What immediately caught his attention was the creature’s armor.
Though torn and frayed, the shape and insignia were unmistakable: it was the armor of an Olus warrior.
‘Where the hell did it get something like this?’
The leather was stained with dried, jet-black blood — thankfully not fresh.
Which likely meant it wasn’t Dawaa’s.
Setting his questions aside, he climbed back into the saddle and pushed his horse into a full gallop.
“Please be alive, Dawaa!”
𓇗
To become a shepherd in Olus, one first needed to earn respect through skill.
Shepherds spent most of their days alone in the wild, so they had to be able to fend off predators by themselves whether it was a massive snow leopard, a pack of cunning wolves, or even the occasional grizzly bear descending from the mountains.
Dawaa had done it all.
Over the years, he had defended his flock from numerous threats and earned the people’s trust each time.
But today was different.
He had never faced a Forest Man that moved like a human, working as an organized pack.
“Kiyaaaak!”
“Hegh!”
Avoiding the stone thrown by the creature, Dawaa stumbled and nearly fell.
He regained his footing in an instant and brandished his curved saber to keep the creature at bay. The forest men circled him from a distance, closing in with unnerving precision.
“What the hell are these things?!”
Looking into their calculating eyes, he felt a chilling realization: he was being hunted, just like the sheep. Their target was never the flock; it was him.
If he stayed here, he would be driven into a trap and killed. He needed an escape—fast.
He had an idea.
He bolted forward, ignoring fatigue, determined to reach the only path he could see; he pushed through underbrush, scrambled over rocks, and slipped down a steep slope — only to find himself at the edge of a cliff, with a deep stream flowing below.
He stood at the cliff’s lip, bow in hand, silently waiting.
One forest man appeared. Dawaa loosed an arrow — it struck true.
As he reached for another arrow...
“Hup!”
“Kir–AAAH!”
Another forest man charged him from the side.
He cut at Dawaa's bow with his saber, and the two of them tumbled over the cliff edge—
SPLASH—!!!
SPLASH—!!!
They both hit the water and resurfaced, climbing onto slippery rocks, blades drawn and ready.
“Hegh… hegh…”
Dawaa panted, utterly exhausted from being chased from the highlands to this deep valley.
The forest man, however, looked almost unbothered — calmly advancing, as if it knew what it was doing.
It seemed aware of his fatigue.
It pressed forward, still, calmly. And it waited, for its companions to join the hunt.
Dawaa, knowing there were more enemies atop the cliff, tried to deal with the opponent in front of him as quickly as possible, but his attacks were repeatedly blocked by the Forest Man's shield.
"Kyaaaaaaak!"
When the Forest Men who had circled down the cliff charged with a shriek, the Forest Man who had been clashing blades with Dawaa in the stream began to smile triumphantly.
Dawaa felt goosebumps rise as he heard the shriek from behind and saw the smile of the monstrous creature right in front of him.
'Am I going to die here?'
𓇗
“Dawaa! Are you alive?!”
Hunbish called out, his voice echoing into the forest as he rode deeper into the mountain paths. A grim sense of frustration gnawed at him.
Unlike himself, Dawaa traveled on foot, likely moving through narrow animal trails rather than the wide road. But Hunbish couldn't afford to dismount and check every path. His leg wouldn’t allow it.
So instead, he stayed on the main trail, shouting, hoping for an answer.
It wasn’t just a search; it was also a risk.
Each time he called out, he might have been alerting any forest men still lurking nearby. Hunbish kept his curved saber at the ready, eyes scanning the woods with every breath.
A part of him regretted not going back to the village and gathering others. It might have been wiser to come with help, even if it took more time. But it was too late for that now. He was already too far from home.
“If you can hear me, come out!”
His voice echoed again as he moved deeper. Still there was no response.
Just when doubt began to creep in, he spotted something through the trees — a body. He dismounted and carefully approached. The body was that of a forest man, felled by an arrow. Still warm.
Then, from somewhere, the tearing cry of a Forest Man could be heard faintly.
He stopped breathing and focused.
The sound of weapons clashing; the splash of water.
He followed the noise deeper into the side trail, his gait slowed by his limp. Frustrated, he cursed under his breath.
At the end of the path, he clambered onto a rocky outcrop. Below, a shallow creek sparkled between the trees.
And in the creek — Dawaa.
He was locked in a vicious battle, his curved blade parrying and redirecting the enemy’s attacks with skill and precision. But the opponent — a forest man clad in armor, wielding both sword and shield — was a formidable match.
Dawaa looked exhausted.
Then, from the brush, another forest man burst onto the scene.
This one bore no armor, only a curved blade.
Dawaa noticed the incoming threat immediately but he was too occupied to deal with it.
He couldn’t run. He couldn’t defend himself on both sides.
‘This is it,’ Hunbish thought. ‘I have to stop it.’
The new enemy hadn’t seen him yet.
If it kept running the same path, it would pass just beneath the rock where Hunbish stood.
The drop was about four meters.
It was enough height to make a surprise attack.
Hunbish stepped to the edge of the boulder, curved blade gripped tight in his hand, waiting for the right moment to strike.
When he looked down at the rocky streambed below, a wave of vertigo struck him.
‘No time to hesitate. I jump now!’
His limbs trembled violently, but he didn’t let fear paralyze him. With a shout, he leapt off the rock into the stream below.
Even though the fall was short, the rush of air and the sensation of weightlessness made him scream.
“Yaaaaah!”
The unarmored forest man had been charging blindly ahead. Startled by the sudden cry, it glanced upward but it was too late.
Hunbish’s blade had already carved a brutal path from the creature’s left collarbone through the opposite shoulder.
“Krrreeeegh…!”
Splash—!!! Splash—!!!
Hunbish hit the water first; the forest man, fatally wounded, tumbled in after.
“Blaargh!”
He surfaced, gasping, water streaming from his nose and mouth. He had struck his knee and head during the fall — tears welled unbidden in his eyes from the jolt of pain.
Trying to get up, he only slipped and splashed about; the frigid creek numbed his limbs, making it impossible to move properly.
Just as he flailed helplessly in the knee-deep water, someone reached out and grabbed his hand.
“Hack! Ptooey!”
“Brother Hunbish?”
The one who helped him up was none other than the man he had come all this way to save — Dawaa, the shepherd.
He looked a bit stunned, staring at Hunbish with wide eyes.
“Hey, what about the others? Cough”
“Don’t worry. They’re dead.”
Dawaa gestured with his chin, revealing the body of the forest man he'd slain. The thing’s head had been cleanly severed.
“Damn… that’s impressive.”
Hunbish said it with genuine awe.
“I only saw an opening because your shout threw them off. If you hadn’t shown up when you did, I would've been screwed.”
Dawaa grinned sheepishly, showing his gums. Despite his skill, he remained modest and grounded; it was something Hunbish respected deeply.
“Are you hurt anywhere?”
“I’ll live.”
“Acting all tough, huh?”
But Dawaa didn’t look okay.
He was soaked to the bone, bruised and dirty. Fresh claw marks marred one cheek, and there was a long gash down his back, likely from tumbling during the fight.
He’d have to hand off shepherding duties for a while.
Still, seeing Dawaa safe lifted a weight from Hunbish’s chest. They had once been close — Dawaa had looked up to him as a child. Though time and circumstances had driven them apart, that bond still remained untouched.
Hunbish laughed and ruffled the younger man’s hair.
“Let’s head back before more of them show up.”
“Yeah.”
The two washed off in the stream as best they could, then climbed back to the main road.
Hunbish led the horse, Dawaa sitting behind him, keeping watch on their surroundings.
Their minds were still clouded with questions about the sudden appearance of the forest men — Aebes — but for now, their focus was on getting back to the village.
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