The scorching sun was blinding.
Beneath a sky so clear that not a single wisp of cloud could be seen, the word "sunny" no longer represented pleasant, warm weather, but rather extreme heat and drought.
The air, distorted by the high temperature into a transparent flame, conspired with the desert's ceaseless wind to strip the last trace of moisture from the ground, leaving behind a handful of fine sand that melted into the breeze.
The dunes, built granule by granule from this sand, maintained a static yet surging posture, transforming into a sea that symbolized death, spreading toward the world's end.
Then, the golden waves crashed and shattered against a patch of green.
This splash of green was so offensive to the eye, like a mold spot inexplicably growing on pure gold... abrupt, jarring, and difficult to remove.
Death should be able to devour all things, but there are always some things that cannot be swallowed at once, things that are left behind.
Life.
Even in the sand sea, a symbol of death, there are always oases.
"Gaooo!"
The oasis, usually silent save for the sound of the wind, was now unusually lively.
A Genprey shrieked, accelerating toward its opponent.
This small Monster, common to desert regions, possessed the slender build characteristic of the "velociprey" superfamily. Its scales were a dusty yellow-green, the perfect camouflage in the wastelands and oases.
Unlike its cousins that roamed the forests, the Genprey's claws were short and not very destructive.
What was truly dangerous were its two hollow fangs.
Once they bit down, the paralysis toxin injected into the body would strip the prey of its ability to resist in an extremely short time. The toxin was so potent that even large Monsters could not afford to ignore it.
The young hunter, his head wrapped in a dust scarf, pulled his Hunter's Dagger (Iron Sword and Shield) from his prey. With a casual flick, he shook the blood from the blade and turned to face the rapidly approaching Genprey.
At his feet, another Genprey lay on the ground, its limbs twitching.
Its heart had been pierced by the blade, and its life force was rapidly draining away with its blood. In a few more seconds at most, it would become a corpse, unworthy of any further attention.
Facing the Monster pouncing toward him, the young hunter sidestepped the attack and, following the motion, delivered a diagonal slash that struck the side of the Genprey's head.
The iron blade tore through scales and skin, ripping open a wound on its head and neck while also blinding one of its eyes.
The Genprey howled in pain, but instead of retreating, its ferocity was ignited. It lunged recklessly to bite the hunter, who was right beside it preparing for a follow-up strike.
Got some backbone, do you?
The hunter grunted. In a posture that would be quite awkward for an ordinary person, he forcefully halted his swing, protected his body with his shield, and nimbly hopped backward.
Maddened by pain and having put its all into the attack, the Genprey bit nothing but air. Its center of gravity shifted forward, and it let out a strange cry as it tried to adjust its posture and regain its balance.
The hunter seized the opening, swinging his sword upward and carving another gash dozens of centimeters long on its chest, the flesh and blood of the wound gaping open.
The feeling of his attack rhythm syncing perfectly with his opponent's opening was marvelous. The young hunter was about to seize the next opportunity to strike again, but a momentary lapse in concentration threw his rhythm into disarray.
His subsequent attacks no longer had that "everything is just right" feeling. He clicked his tongue. No longer caring about timing or rhythm, he simply increased the speed and force of his sword swings, forcefully hacking the Genprey to the ground.
Giving his opponent no chance to get up, he pounced on it, pinning the Genprey's slender neck with his knee. He pressed his Hunter's Dagger against its throat and viciously sliced.
Its windpipe and arteries were severed, and blood with a thick, metallic scent gushed out.
The Genprey convulsed violently, struggled a few times, and soon fell still.
The battle was over. The hunter, a youth who looked no older than sixteen or seventeen, sheathed his weapon.
The Genprey's hide, hacked to shreds during the fight, was no longer worth much for carving.
However, its scales and fangs could still fetch a decent price.
The paralysis fangs, in particular, were steeped in paralysis toxin and were a core material for crafting paralysis ammo. The demand from Gunners was high, and general stores bought them in unlimited quantities, so they were never hard to sell.
While keeping a part of his attention on his surroundings, the youth brandished his carving knife and methodically stripped the scales, paralysis fangs, and the crest (proof of the kill) and stored them away.
Soon, the gathering work was complete.
The youth, named Altaïr, let out a soft breath. He grabbed a handful of the dry yellow sand that was everywhere and rubbed his hands, cleaning the bloodstains from his palms and the knife's hilt.
The smell of blood in the air was potent; it wouldn't be long before it attracted carnivores.
The first to arrive would probably be other Genprey.
Monsters of the Velociprey superfamily were accustomed to hunting in packs. Before launching their attack, the two Genprey that were now corpses had already let out calls to summon their companions.
Enough time had passed that other Genprey should have arrived nearby. The reason they hadn't shown themselves was likely due to hesitation.
Many people thought of them as mere bloodthirsty beasts, but in truth, these small, social Monsters were surprisingly cunning.
Drawn by their companions' calls, they would grow wary upon approaching and finding that the sounds had ceased, replaced by the familiar scent of blood.
But they wouldn't turn and leave immediately. Instead, they would linger nearby, waiting for more of their kind to gather. Once they formed a small group, they would launch a coordinated attack.
As for why he was so familiar with Genprey?
Naturally, it was because he had encountered them many times. He had suffered losses and been injured, so of course, he knew everything about them.
And as for how to deal with them, well, he had a way for that too.
Altaïr cupped his left hand around his mouth, then stuck his right thumb inside to press against his tongue. A cry, identical to a Genprey's call for its pack, came from his mouth.
"Gyaaa..."
After a few calls, he quickly moved to hide in a clump of sand willows about twenty meters from the corpses, holding his breath and concealing his presence.
Sure enough, just a few minutes later, the figures of several more Genprey appeared, cresting a sand dune at the border between the oasis and the desert.
Three of them, huh? A bit troublesome, but that's fine.
The young hunter in the sand willows flexed his wrists. If I take care of them all at once, I'll have enough for the quest.
Altaïr did not immediately step out from his hiding spot in the sand willows. With his current strength, facing three Genprey at once was, frankly, very risky.
If possible, he wanted to take one out first with a surprise attack or an ambush.
Dealing with two at the same time would be much easier. The three newly arrived Genprey looked around, searching for the figures of their companions who had cried out.
Soon, they noticed the two blood-soaked corpses.
Unable to resist the temptation of the bloody scent, the two larger Genprey immediately rushed forward, fighting over the bodies as they tore and gnawed at them.
The smaller one also tried to approach but was driven away with bites and scratches. Its status in the pack was low, so it had no priority access to the food.
Not far away, Altaïr, who had witnessed the entire scene, showed undisguised disgust on his face. Truly repulsive creatures.
He waited patiently for another moment.
He waited until the two Genprey, which had initially been somewhat wary and remembered to look up while eating, gradually became engrossed in their meal before he burst out from the bushes.
Take out one as fast as possible!
As if wielding Dual Blades, he swung his arms. A faint but tangible demonic aura flashed and vanished. Pushing off with his feet, his body became a blur and shot forward.
The two feasting Genprey had yet to react when he had already charged in front of the smaller one waiting at the side.
His feet crossed as his body spun at high speed. The edge of his iron shield nearly shattered the Genprey's jawbone, immediately followed by a slash from his Hunter's Dagger.
Like a whirlwind, he swept past the Genprey, his dagger and shield crisscrossing to leave a series of deep, flesh-rending wounds along its side.
The pitiful Genprey was cut down on the spot.
Altaïr mercilessly delivered another blow, ending its life.
Two left.
Pulling back his Hunter's Dagger and raising his shield, Altaïr stared at his remaining prey.