CHAPTER 108: THE HUNT [II]

[Ice Hornets].

[Rank 5].

Their wings buzzed like saws, slicing through the frozen silence of the hunting grounds.

Dozens upon dozens poured from the shattered hive, their crystalline bodies glittering with frost.

Each stinger gleamed like a shard of ice meant to pierce straight through armor.

Azel froze for half a second.

Hornets.

Why did it have to be them? He clenched his jaw as old, irritating memories surged back — summers in his old world when hornets would harass him at random, and once, a whole swarm that had chased him for stealing fruit from a tree.

"Of all the monsters in this damn place..." he muttered, raising his bone sword.

Aura roared to life around him, the green glow flaring against the pale blue light of the expanse.

He didn’t stop there.

Divine energy pulsed from deep within him, flooding the blade until its surface trembled, unable to contain the sheer force.

He bared his teeth. "BLOW AWAY — AND DIE, FUCKERS!"

The swing tore open the air.

A pillar of emerald aura erupted, surging upward like a storm, then cascaded outward in a wave that consumed everything in its path.

Snow evaporated, trees cracked, and the swarm was annihilated in an instant.

Hundreds of hornets disintegrated into frozen fragments midair, their broken corpses raining down like glass shards across the snow.

The Queen shrieked — its massive wings straining as it tried to escape.

But it was already too late.

The tail edge of Azel’s strike cleaved it clean in half, its halves tumbling lifelessly into the white.

Azel exhaled, lowering his blade as the echo of the strike faded.

His breath misted in the air. His shoulders eased.

He loathed them in his old world.

He hated them here too.

But this time, at least, he had the strength to kill them all.

By the time Anya caught up, her chest rose and fell rapidly, her breath fogging in the cold.

She stopped, eyes wide, taking in the battlefield.

Hundreds of hornet corpses lay across the snow, their wings shattered, their bodies cracked open, leaking faint bluish ichor.

And at the center lay the Queen — its armored carapace split wide open, its monstrous head tilted back in death.

Her hands trembled.

The sheer scope of the destruction was overwhelming.

She whispered under her breath.

’Rank 5s... defeated like gnats... and the Queen too...’

She bit her lip hard enough to draw blood.

’What has the Prince been going through? To have this kind of strength... what kind of trials did he face before arriving here?’

Guilt and admiration warred inside her chest.

She should have been there.

She should have been his shield.

If someone had to suffer — why not her?

Why did he always have to carry the impossible weight alone?

She straightened and called out, her voice unsteady but respectful.

"Prince!" She waved her hand. "You can... you can complete your first hunt now. You’ve already slain a Rank 4 beast and dozens of Rank 5s. It’s more than enough."

But Azel simply raised a hand, silencing her.

"Why would I stop," he said with a small stretch, "when I haven’t even warmed up yet, Anya?"

Her breath caught.

He wasn’t boasting — he meant it.

"Besides," Azel added casually, crouching near the broken Queen, "hornets aren’t exactly the kind of prey I want to brag about."

He pried open the monster’s chest with a small flex of aura.

A dull blue crystal fell into his hand, pulsing faintly.

"Oh, and I can keep the magic stones, right?" he asked.

"Yes, my Prince," Anya replied, nodding quickly. "Hunters are allowed to keep all stones they claim. But the flesh..." She hesitated, then continued. "The flesh must be delivered to the city. That is how we feed our people."

Azel nodded faintly. "Right. Unlike the human empire, not everyone here is a hunter despite the bloodlust. Someone’s gotta eat."

He tried to poke at a fallen hornet, pressing his hand against its corpse.

The carapace didn’t budge — it was hard as iron.

"But damn," he muttered, "this stuff is tough."

"My Prince, the Ice Hornets aren’t edible," Anya explained gently, walking closer. "Their bodies are laced with toxins. But their remains are valuable for crafting. Blacksmiths and alchemists forge supplements and enhancements from them."

"Ah. That makes sense."

Azel stood, lifted his sword, and casually swept it through the air.

A light pulse of aura shot outward, cracking open dozens of corpses at once.

Crystals spilled from them like candy from a broken jar.

Anya’s eyes widened again. He hadn’t even put effort into that swing.

She could feel it — he had used less than a fraction of his aura, and yet every monster corpse split neatly open.

Azel began gathering the magic stones one by one, storing them in his ring.

"By the way, Anya," he said as if making small talk. "How many circles have you made?"

She blinked, caught off guard. "My Prince... I have completed four circles."

"That’s good," Azel said with an approving nod. "Don’t slack off on your training. You’re my personal attendant after all."

He smiled faintly, his words teasing yet strangely warm. "How will you protect me if you’re weak?"

Her heart stuttered.

For a moment, her throat tightened, and words threatened to spill uncontrollably.

But she pushed the emotion down and stood tall.

"I swear," she said, her voice firm, "I will protect you. Even if it costs my life."

Azel glanced at her, his eyes narrowing for just a moment.

He sighed softly and turned back to the corpses.

"Hopefully," he said, his tone quiet, "you won’t ever have to risk your life for me."

He smiled then, as if to cut away the weight of the words. "Now — tell me about this place. We should hunt properly."

Anya steadied her breath, then nodded.

"Of course. My Prince, this place is known as the Hunting Grounds... but its true name is the Winter Expanse. It has existed since before our goddess rose to godhood."

Azel’s eyes sharpened at that. "Before the goddess became divine, huh? Go on."

"There are seven zones that we have currently discovered," Anya continued, her tone slipping into the rhythm of recitation. "Each zone holds treasures unique to itself. Artifacts, relics, monsters of strange power. Hunters travel here daily, but few venture far. Beyond the zones..."

She hesitated, her voice lowering. "Beyond them, Patriarchs of old said the winter grows harsher. So harsh that even divinity feels small. And they spoke of monstrosities — creatures beyond imagination lurking there. None who went beyond ever returned."