At the village gate, there were four people: the three hunters… and Jay Baker.
The hunters were chatting among themselves until Jay approached. Hands in his pockets, he asked:
"By the way, what are your names?"
The first to introduce himself was the one in light armor. He stepped forward, lifted his chin, and said proudly:
"I'm Laren."
Next was the archer, calm, with a soft voice:
"My name is Kairn."
And finally, the big guy with the shield thumped his chest like a military introduction:
"Brom. Nice to meet you."
Jay nodded with a small smile. Obviously, he had no intention of giving his real name. So he said:
"Call me… Richter."
The three looked at him with a mix of respect and curiosity.
"Alright, guys," said Laren, the leader. "Time to move out."
The four began walking toward the forest. As they advanced, Kairn asked:
"Richter, what's your weapon?"
Jay answered without much thought:
"My wit… and a Glock."
The three hunters glanced at each other.
"What's that?" Brom asked, frowning.
Jay scoffed, shrugged, and pulled the pistol from his thigh holster.
The dark metal gleamed under the moonlight.
The three stepped back, surprised.
"What kind of weapon is that?" Laren asked, eyes wide.
Jay just smiled and holstered the pistol.
They kept walking until they entered the forest. They moved in formation: Laren in front, silent as a night thief. Kairn a bit behind, bow ready, arrow nocked. Brom closed the group, shield in hand, alert to every sound.
Jay… simply copied what they did, trying not to step on any branches.
Suddenly, from the bushes, a horned lion appeared.
The beast roared so loudly the trees trembled.
Brom reacted first: he stepped forward and planted his shield into the ground, stopping the lion's charge with impressive force.
Kairn rolled to the side and fired three quick arrows.
Two bounced off the lion's thick hide, but the third pierced its flank.
The beast staggered, wounded.
Laren seized the moment and leapt forward, plunging his dagger into the lion's neck. It was the final blow.
The lion collapsed, dead.
Jay raised an eyebrow.
"So… why the hell did they invite me? They can handle this alone," he thought.
As if reading his mind, Laren turned to him.
"Well, Richter. Your turn. Use that trapper's brain of yours."
Jay sighed and got to work.
In less than fifteen minutes, he had set up several traps:
• Tension rope trap: a fibrous tree rope hidden under leaves. When stepped on, it snapped and caught the animal's legs. • Camouflaged pit trap: Jay quickly dug a small hole and covered it with branches and mud. A small lion fell in instantly. • Counterweight trap: a log tied with vines that, when triggered, swung from the side and knocked the creature unconscious.
The hunters watched, jaws dropped.
In fifteen minutes, three lions fell effortlessly—like they were lining up to die.
Laren clapped.
"You're really good at this trap stuff, Richter."
Jay scratched his head, a bit embarrassed.
"Yeah, yeah… it's the only thing I know how to do right now."
The hunters began gathering the lion corpses, each carrying one over their shoulders, amazed at how much they'd gotten in so little time.
But just as they were about to head back—
A sound sliced through the air.
A buzz. Sharp. Fast.
It zipped between the trees like lightning.
The four froze.
The forest suddenly went silent.
Jay was drenched in cold sweat. The first thing that came to mind was that twisted, two-tailed monkey. He and the three hunters were crouched on the ground, side by side, all on guard—like cornered animals.
Silence.
There was absolutely no sound. No wind. No insects. Only their ragged breathing, blending together.
Jay swallowed hard.
Then, something moved to his left.
He slowly turned his head… and saw it.
A humanoid shadow. Its body was wrapped in a dark aura that merged with the forest shadows, as if it were part of them. A foul miasma emanated from it—a strange, heavy, almost nauseating stench.
Its eyes were completely white. No iris. No pupils. Just a white glow slicing through the darkness like two ghostly lanterns.
Jay opened his mouth to warn the others, but didn't get the chance.
Beside him, the burly hunter—the one with the shield—let out a scream so raw and full of pain it froze Jay's blood.
Jay whipped around.
The man's arm was gone.
Only an open stump remained, spraying blood in a violent jet.
"A… ah… AAAAAAAAAAH!"
The hunter screamed uncontrollably. Jay was paralyzed, wearing an expression he didn't even recognize.
He tried to react, trembling, and turned to the other side—toward the archer.
But he was already dead. Lying on the ground, headless. The body still twitched slightly, spilling an absurd amount of blood—too real for Jay to even try to deny it.
Jay felt his stomach churn.
He had seen death in Caracas. People shot. People bleeding out on the pavement.
But never—never—had he seen someone's arm ripped off. Or someone decapitated right in front of him. The rawness. The wet sound. The iron smell. The heat of blood in the air.
All of it made him want to vomit.
The third hunter—the remaining archer—started running in the direction they had come from.
"I don't want to die! I don't want to die! I DON'T WANT TO DIE!"
He repeated the words in a broken, utterly desperate voice.
Jay shouted:
"DON'T MOVE, YOU IDIOT! STOP!"
But it was useless.
The shadow made a single, swift motion—silent.
The hunter's body was sliced clean through.
Split in half mid-run, like a sheet of paper.
Jay trembled. He didn't know whether to cry, scream, or just collapse.
The big hunter—the one with the shield—was still screaming, trying to stand with his one remaining arm. He tried to lift his weapon to defend himself, trembling, soaked in blood.
The shadow appeared in front of him without warning.
The man swung desperately with his last arm.
But the shadow tore it off too.
Effortlessly.
Without pause.
The hunter let out a strangled cry as his second arm flew off. And before he could even hit the ground, dark spears—made of pure shadow—shot from the creature and pierced his eyes.
Two perfect holes. Two streams of hot blood pouring out.
The body collapsed, lifeless.
Jay fell backward onto the ground. His legs wouldn't respond.
He was terrified, heart pounding so hard it felt like it would burst from his chest, and with a desperate urge to vomit.
The forest, which minutes ago was merely dangerous, had become hell.
And he was alone.
Facing that monster.
Jay stood face-to-face with that grotesque shadow, so close he could almost feel the cold burning his skin from the inside. His mind was a mess, a thousand thoughts fighting to surface at once. Among them, a few struck with painful clarity:
Would he die here, sprawled in this cursed forest, leaving Nekotina alone, still waiting for him at the inn with that awkward little smile she always wore? Would he die carrying the weight of all those deaths, of those screams still echoing in the air? Would he die without fulfilling a single one of those cliché fantasies he'd imagined for himself since arriving in this other world?
No. He couldn't accept that. Not like this. Not yet.
The shadow before him raised an arm—slow, mechanical—extending those long, unnatural fingers into a slicing motion. Jay understood instinctively: this was the final blow. That gesture meant his existence was about to end.
The arm came down— And just then, the silence shattered with a brutal, savage roar. A roar that shook the air as if the jungle itself had awakened.
The roar of a jaguar.
In that instant, Jay was engulfed in flames. Living, intense flames that wrapped around him like a feral cloak. The heat was so fierce the ground beneath him seemed to crack. The shadow recoiled slightly, as if repulsed by the fire.
Jay had no idea what was happening. He didn't feel in control of his body. Everything was chaos.
And then, inside his head, a deep, firm voice echoed.
"Your body isn't trained or adapted yet for the power of the Fire Elemental… I'm sorry. This is the most I can give you. Any more, and your body and mind will burn."
It was the jaguar's voice.
The flames began to fade, releasing a faint smoke from Jay's body. The shadow remained still, watching him. Then, after a few seconds, it began to laugh.
A distorted, broken laugh—like it was made of echoes and screeches. That sound sent a chill so deep into Jay's spine he felt his stomach tighten.
The shadow spread its arms, and from its body emerged several spears—dark as absolute void. Five in total. Spears that vibrated with an energy that seemed to devour the light around them.
The shadow hurled them without hesitation.
Jay raised his arms in front of his face and shut his eyes tight, convinced this was the end.
Then—
A thunderclap exploded beside him.
It wasn't lightning from the sky. It was as if something had detonated just inches away. The ground trembled. The dark spears disintegrated mid-air like black dust.
Jay opened his eyes slowly, trembling. In front of him stood a humanoid figure, back turned, perfectly upright, staring at the shadow.
Jay's eyes widened more and more, disbelief flooding his face.
The figure turned slightly—just enough to speak in a warm, slightly teasing tone, as if they were in a casual situation.
"Always giving me more trouble than usual, huh?"
His voice was calm, confident. A voice Jay remembered far too well.
The man's appearance was imposing: A long, dark coat—probably black—with red trim that gave off an elegant yet military vibe, like someone of high rank. Two rows of gleaming gold buttons ran down the front, perfectly symmetrical, reinforcing that sense of authority. Underneath, he wore a dark vest and a white shirt with a crisscross pattern on the chest, adding texture and a touch of sophistication. His black pants were fitted and tucked into tall boots—half tactical, half ceremonial.
His hair was dark and spiky, with rebellious strands that refused to follow any rule. And his face… his face was blurred, as if a light mist veiled his features, preventing any clear detail. Mysterious, but not threatening. On the contrary—it felt familiar.
Everything about him radiated authority, strength, and a past he didn't want to share. Like a commander or noble warrior marked by too many battles.
Jay felt his throat tighten.
"Bro… bro… brother…?" he stammered, unable to believe what he was seeing.
And the figure gave a faint smile—barely visible.