A/N: Hello! I'm surprised I managed to type out a new chapter not long after the last one. As a kind reminder, from this chapter onwards, the story will get a bit more graphic with added blood, gore, visual details, and adult themes. I'll try to keep the graphical nature to an appropriate minimum in case readers may be squeamish. If readers desire a graphic version, just let me know.
I'd like to thank those who took the time to read and drop reviews, alerts, and favorites on this tale; it means a lot to me. If this story helps you escape from life even by a little margin, I'm honored to continue writing, despite the madness bubbling in the world. Thank you, readers!
Disclaimer: I don't own anything.
Summary: It only took one tragic moment to turn his world upside down. Experience a tale of transformation that will shake the foundation of friends and camaraderie in Astera. But one thing's clear; the Hunter will become the hunted. Who will rise to stop them from painting the New World red?
Chapter 4
The sounds of the night were not for the faint-hearted. Blessed by Her sacred grace, the creatures of the night patrolled shadow-cloaked terrain in the Ancient Forest. Giant beasts roamed the land, senses on high alert for the slightest hint of prey. Smaller creatures scampered through the darkness, doing their best to avoid being seen and eaten alive. As beasts of all sizes moved about, a lone Hunter erected camp in the far west, an area unmapped by the Fifth Fleet. The site served as a perfect refuge for the Hunter, who made a temporary home by the scarred cliffs. Richard sat in front of the tent with eyes locked onto the dancing orange and yellow flames licking mushrooms and berries impaled on wooden skewers.
A gentle breeze rolled through the camp. The flames crackled, snapping him out of his daze. Shaking his head, Richard slapped the sides of his face and focused on his meal. His stomach grumbled. It made no sense, the man thought. He had his fill earlier today, consuming the aptonoth until his stomach could hold no longer, and yet the organ dared to demand more food? Did the virus transform his stomach into an impossible, unquenchable abyss? The Field Team Leader expelled a tired breath, reaching out to the well-done skewers. Sniffing it, they were good to eat. Biting down, an explosion of flavor greeted his taste buds ranging from a well-rounded smokey flavor from the mushrooms to bursts of sweetness from the berries. This meal was not his usual pickings, but Richard was curious in testing, well, experimenting how his body fared with cooked food, again.
Ten minutes. All it took was ten minutes for the Field Team Leader's body to react to cooked food. The man keeled over by the bushes, emptying his guts experiencing unpleasant burns journeying up his throat. Richard tried. He tried to stomach cooked food to no avail. The results greatly displeased him while he stood up, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.
"Bloody hell," he growled.
Marching back to the log, he cracked open his notebook and furiously documented his findings. Richard attempted to eat cooked food for the past four days only to vomit it back up minutes later. What the hell was he supposed to do now? The Fifth Fleet community was built on food. Food served as a medium, connecting people from strangers to tightly-knit friends, lovers, and starting families. Hunters loved an excellent feast after a successful hunt, and let's not ignore the festivities planned every three or four months. Ships from the Old World brave the turbulent seas powered by the sole mission to deliver crates packed with fresh ingredients Hunters couldn't help but gorge (or salivate if it's the Handler). Those festivities gave the Gathering Hub cooks new inspirations to innovate new out-of-this-world platters the community loved.
Pissed off to his core, the Field Team Leader growled. One more thing to think about.
"Screw this." Richard tossed his notebook into the tent.
Heading over to a bag, he pulled out a fish. Brown eyes stared at the fish's glossy dead gaze. The pits of his stomach growled and bubbled. His mind was repulsed by the idea of eating an uncooked fish while his stomach demanded precious nourishment. Dear lord, the fishy stench filled his nose and almost made the man retch. Inhaling deeply, Richard closed his eyes and sunk his sharp teeth into skin and scale.
Ancient Forest, Section 12.
The blond man trudged through thick mud lining the streams, following a trail of aptonoth footprints led by Scoutflies. His aged eyes wandered across the terrain surveying the damage; trampled moss, broken rocks, and crushed trees told him something spooked the herd to cause this much destruction. Motioning to his assistant, he pointed to the tracks and relayed his thoughts, theorizing events. There were no tracks from the pursuer imprinted in the moss or mud. What on earth chased them?
Drake craned his neck skyward, eyes tracing trees and their barks. Dark shadows obscured his vision.
"I wonder," he said aloud.
"You wonder?"
"Let's return here during the day," he pointed to one of the trees. "Maybe something up there spooked the aptonoths since predator tracks are absent down here."
Fay quickly scribbled his words. "Do you think we're looking at a new monster or one behaving abnormally?"
Drake crossed his arms. "It's difficult to tell right now. Besides, I might be just overthinking."
"As you do." The huntress smiled, flicking her silver hair over her shoulder.
He laughed. "Let's continue our slug hunt. They should be hunting now, and I'd like to see them in action."
Later that night.
A moonless night shielded the unknowing from wandering gazes lurking in the forest. Equipped with a lantern in hand, Megan ventured through the darkness of the Ancient Forest equipped with a short dagger in hand. Her heart thumped in excitement and terror, venturing deeper into the unknown. She was no famed Hunter; she was a mere nurse searching for the Field Team Leader who hadn't returned by sundown. Worried for the man, she made it her mission to find him through this labyrinth of trees. Stepping on a branch, her heart jumped into her throat. If there was one thing Megan didn't like, it was the dark.
I can do this.
Megan pressed on, feeling sweat beads tumble down her face. Ducking beneath a branch, Scoutflies inside the container buzzed and shot out into the open. The nurse watched a trail of glowing green lights form before her, pointing northward. Traversing the terrain carefully, she stumbled upon a hot spring, and next to it, a bright yellow tent pressed against the scarred cliff face. This time, her heart somersaulted in her chest not because she was scared but rather excited to see the Field Team Leader. Drawing in one deep breath, the woman bravely approached the tent, crunching several rocks in her path.
Suddenly, she was knocked onto the ground. The lantern and knife flew out of her grasp. Terrified, she screamed, imagining the horrors of being devoured by a reptilian beast. A warm breath rolled over her neck. Megan tensed with limbs turned to stone and heart crashing into her ribs, waiting for the bite. Nothing came. Her body felt lighter; she could move her arms and legs again. Glued to the ground, she refused to open her eyes.
"Sorry."
A man's voice. Breathing in, the nurse bravely opened an eye and spotted Field Team Leader beside her with an outstretched hand.
He softened his eyes. "I thought a monster found my camp," he lied through his smile. "It's out of character for me to attack without thinking. Are you hurt?"
The redhead shook her head. Taking his hand, he pulled her up onto her feet. Quickly dusting and adjusting her uniform, she said, "Don't worry about it, sir. I should have announced my arrival."
Richard nodded, guiding her to a log by the dancing flames. Collecting her knife and lantern, he returned the two objects to her.
"So, what brings you out here?"
She turned to him. "Checking in with you, of course. I get it, you're healed, but you remain under my care." Her green eyes dropped to his bandaged left arm.
Megan reached out, and Richard recoiled. "You don't have to worry about me, Megan. I'm in the best shape of my life."
"It would seem so," she agreed, eyes scanning his skin for new signs of trauma. The only cuts which remained were ones etched into his face.
Richard's ears picked up the change in her heartbeat. The organ irregularly thumped. She was both anxious and excited. "But what are you really here for? Is there something I can do for you?"
"I wish to be your girlfriend." Megan was dead serious. She didn't flinch. "I've admired you since the day I got here, sir. I watched you grow, command, and help those in need. You've got a good heart, and I would love to stand by your side or catch you when you fall."
The fire crackled. Seconds rolled into minutes with his mind processing the woman's words. The man was fully aware of her affections to him, masked by her professional mannerisms. Admittedly, the woman was good-looking, skilled, and that's just about it. The pits of his stomach churned. If only she knew his body writhed with diseases unknown to man. If only she knew what he'd been through on the night, he died, witnessed by the silver moon and born anew weeks later. His body craved fresh meat and blood. He was not the same man she knew and adored. Richard was a monster wrapped in human flesh. Megan deserved better.
Besides, she was not his type.
"I'm humbled, but I cannot accept it," Richard responded calmly, reading her face. "I'm in no position to commit to romantic relationships, Megan. I hope you understand."
"I do." The woman stood up with a smile. "Well, I tried. I'll head back now. I'll see you when I see you, sir."
She smiled. Was it that easy to smile after rejection? What did it feel like, he wondered? The brunette watched her pick up her belongings and left. As she did, a roar echoed through the night, spilling birds into the midnight sky.
"Wait!" He called out, a hand outstretched. "It's unsafe for you to return to Astera. You're more than welcome to spend the night here."
"No, no, it's fine. I've overstayed my welcome."
"I insist."
Richard never realized his voice changed, deepened, and expressed in a commanding manner. The redhead turned toward the noise and back at him. Another roar rippled through the darkness, footsteps thundering in the distance. The ground beneath her trembled from the dances of death currently taking place.
"I guess I can." She walked past him and sat by the fireplace with legs tucked to the side.
Richard rubbed his face. This had to be the most awkward moment in his life to date. The man wasn't very good with women since his mind never veered to them. Sure, there was the odd infatuation when a cute Hunter walked past him or when she wore top-tier hunting garb but nothing more. More power to them, he'd always think. But relationships? Who has time for such nonsense? The Field Team Leader was responsible for aiding Astera and helping his grandfather run it. Richard rolled his eyes. He wished to go on an expedition… wait, he could.
Looking over his shoulder, Megan remained motionless by the firepit. She didn't seem upset or anything by the looks on her face. As long as she continued serving the Fifth Fleet as intended, he was good with that. Breathing deeply, the man set out on an expedition to clear his clogged mind.
Richard arrived in a large clearing near the southern camp dotted with rich fauna, plateaus, and sleeping aptonoths, eyes tracing the area for monsters and wayward Hunters. The scene, set. On cue, a cluster of clouds rolled across the sky, blanketing the area in perpetual darkness. One dot, two dots. Fireflies burst from the trees dancing, swaying, bringing the gift of light to smaller creatures that depended on their luminescence. The area was quiet, a little too quiet for his liking. The hairs on the back of his neck stood, feeling something watching his every move. Richard focused in silence. The sound of taloned feet scratched the ground.
Splotch! Splat!
There was only one creature to do that. The Field Team Leader turned around, eyes locked on a Pukei-Pukei. The feathered beast squawked, planting its talons into the mud. Its head tilted, twitched, tongue hanging out, tasting the air. The man's hand coiled around the weapon's hilt, ready to engage and subdue. Another squawk echoed, the large-bodied bird walked, back arched, and eyes locked on the Hunter, circling him, and Richard did the same. He hadn't realized he growled, the inside of his throat rumbling loud enough for the monster to hear.
The grass swayed, and fireflies danced between the two combatants—the stench of blood filled in the air. The Pukei-Pukei snapped its tail down and surprisingly lowered its body onto the ground. As the dark clouds pulled away from the moon, Richard's eyes dropped to the large gashes dotted on its body. Its feathers were painted crimson by a bite from a larger monster with rows of sharp teeth.
"Come any closer and I'll end you."
His heart raced, feeling an urge to hunt and feast. The Pukei-Pukei unexpectedly propelled forward, closing the distance in a flash, swinging its thick tongue side to side. Richard was ready and armed, swatting the feathered beast away, eyes focused on the bird's stumbling footwork. The bird did little jabs, trying to land hits on the man who effortlessly sidestepped each attack. He watched the bird inhaled a deep breath, filling its lungs with air, and discharged a beam of poison from its pulsating tail. Running up a tree, he dodged, flipped, and landed on the back of the bird. Digging his hands into its thick plume, Richard quickly controlled the bird, forcing it to race across the landscapes. It shrieked and thrashed and shook, desperate to get the man off its back. Squawking loudly, the bird covered a great distance, approaching the other side of the map with a small waterfall and a passage leading into the heart of the forest.
The Field Team Leader growled and hatched a plan; Richard slipped down to around its neck, sinking his teeth in. Tearing off a chunk of flesh, he bit again, and again, and again, forcing the bird to change its trajectory. Running in circles then into a tree, it desperately tried to shake him off. Blood pooled everywhere, painting the ground, smeared on its rainbow-tinged feathers. The Field Team Leader didn't stop until the bird's throat turned into a gaping hole.
"I hate Pukei-Pukeis."
Richard dumped the corpse half-submerged into the pool, surrounded by healing lilies. Kneeling by the shallow pool, his eyes stared at the glowing red orbs reflected at him. The entirety of his face and chest was red. Heck, even his greaves weren't spared from the mess.
"There's no turning back now…" he whispered, eying the monster. "I wonder when it'll be time for the Hunters to hunt me?"
Richard scoffed, pushing off the battered ground. The scent of blood lingered around him, inviting him to feast on his meal. Deeply inhaling the smell, his body tingled with excitement, sending goosebumps everywhere. It felt good. Hell, it felt damn good. Looking left, then right, and left again, he marched to the corpse, digging his hands deep into the open wound. Biting into its soft flesh, he worked quickly before revoltures circled above, inviting larger predators to come and steal his meal. He growled, tearing a chunk of meat in two. But why was he worried? He could take them on thanks to these new abilities racing through his veins. What could stop him from contending with a Rathalos, Anjanath, Black Diablos, or even a Deviljho?
His heart stirred in bliss, prompting a smirk to bloom across his bloodied lips. The man's expression changed at the thought of toppling the New World's apex predators—wait, what?
"The hell am I thinking?" Richard snapped out of his daydream. "Goddamnit, I need to control these thoughts."
Dropping his eyes to the messed up feathered fiend, his stomach rumbled in disgust. He had no recollection of eating the bird until now. Shaking his head a couple of times, he tried putting two and two together. It seemed the virus made him blank out or replace his usual calm demeanor with something much, much darker, more sinister. That was not him! Gripping the side of his head, Richard desperately tried to make sense of his actions. Grumbling inaudibly, the man stood up and twirled around. He never expected to come face to face with a Hunter.
She stood there frozen in time, eyes tracing his bloodstained body and the pile of red blobs strewn on the ground. His heart thumped once, twice, and the third time made him wince. A surge of predatory instincts switched back on. Richard's body stepped forward, piloted by the virus to kill and consume. His eyes flashed bright gold then morphed into a deadly shade of crimson.
Still, he fought the instincts with whatever sanity he had left. A commendable attempt indeed. "Get… out." He snarled, exposing his sharp canines. "Pretend you didn't… see anything."
The Hunter stepped back; hands tightened onto the bow. Perhaps fueled either by fear or courage, she lifted the weapon, leveling it with his heart. Her eyes fixed on the grotesque glossy cluster of black veins pulsating, twitching around his heart. The man stepped forward, tilting his head with intrigue. His red eyes dropped to her trembling stick-like legs now soaked in piss. He could tell she wanted to do something, to attack, to flee, or maybe scream to the top of her dry lungs. What a pity. The Field Team Leader launched at the Hunter in a blink, who responded with an ear-piercing shriek. An arrow discharged from her bow, missing him. Landing on the Hunter, his muscular arms and legs pinned her down into the mud. Tears trickled from her eyes, begging him to spare her life. The woman's pleas and sobs fell on deaf ears. He had no interest in hearing about why she wanted to live, nay. Richard was more interested in breaking open her ribs and plucking out the frantic heart with his bare hands. The more she struggled, the urge to kill ballooned twofold.
The madness won. Instinct conquered rational thought. The Field Team Leader gripped her face, forcing the poor woman to look at healing lilies. The white petals swayed. Her body jolted, feeling his rough tongue glide over her neck two, maybe three times, tasting salty tears while he purred in delight. Her body shuddered in terror, unable to move. Tick, tock. Tick, tock.
"Your sacrifice means I can live to see another day." The man whispered, grazing a bloodied finger over her fair skin. Stroking the Hunter's face lovingly, his eyes glowed, his smirk extinguished, replaced by permanent lunacy. "I am a Hunter. A Hunter always gets what he wants. You'll be the first but certainly not my last meal, Hunter. Be thankful your life ends with me, your precious Field Team Leader."
And just like that, he crushed her throat, claiming his first human kill under the New World's veil of darkness.