Lumian knew he had very few options.
To the hunters, he was nothing more than a dangerous beast—
a creature to be eliminated without hesitation.
There would be no talking, no truce, no chance for them to see him as anything other than a monster.
That meant he had to move first.
If he didn't hunt them… he would be hunted.
But the child complicated everything.
The small boy watched him with those big, dark eyes, not fully understanding, but sensing that something was wrong. His tilted head, his constant silence… it was as if he trusted Lumian by instinct.
An instinct that could cost him his life.
Lumian clenched his sharp teeth, a faint grind echoing between them. He didn't want to carry a child into a battle. He didn't want to drag him into the violence that was about to erupt.
He exhaled, his new chest expanding with power.
The decision was made.
He would hunt the hunters first.
Not out of desire… but because it was the only way to make sure the child reached the half-built city wall alive.
With that resolution, Lumian climbed down from the tree, moving with surprising agility for his massive body. He held the boy carefully, and the child clung to him as if he already understood what was coming.
Lumian placed him on his back, using two arms to secure him. The boy didn't make a sound.
Then Lumian ran.
His three free arms struck the ground whenever he needed a burst of speed; his long legs devoured the distance. He cut through the forest like a twisted, silent shadow, avoiding areas marked by fresh footprints or snapped branches.
He headed toward the fruit tree—the same tree where he had spent the previous night. He needed to leave the child in a safe place, hidden among the enormous bushes thick with leaves and roots.
Only then could the hunt begin.
The forest blurred into a whirlwind of trunks and shadows. The river disappeared behind him, the scent of blood faded away, and the metallic echoes of armor grew distant.
But Lumian didn't lower his guard.
With every leap, every turn, he analyzed the air—
sorting through hundreds of smells: wet wood, mud, sweet flowers, ripe fruit…
and also metal, human sweat, gunpowder, weapon oil.
The hunters were spreading out like a net.
And he was about to rip through it from the inside.
When he finally reached the area near the fruit tree, he stopped within the shrubs, allowing his body to adapt and calm its rapid breathing.
The child still clung to his back.
Lumian gently set him down and placed him between the thick roots, where the shadows were deep and the sweet scent of the fruit masked other smells.
The boy looked at him with wide, worried eyes, as if he somehow sensed something was very wrong.
Strange.
Before coming to this world, Lumian hadn't liked children.
Yet he liked this child.
He felt he had to protect him.
It confused him.
These emotions were new.
He knew the boy wasn't real… but he couldn't stop himself from caring, even just a little.
Lumian sighed and pulled down a few fruits.
He handed one more to the child, nudging it gently toward his small hands.
He couldn't speak, but his intent was clear.
Stay. Here. Safe.
He pointed with his clawed fingers.
The boy understood.
He curled up and began to eat quietly, hidden within the thicker bushes.
Lumian straightened.
His muscles tightened.
His eyes shifted into that feral glow that emerged whenever he accepted his predatory side.
Now it was his turn.
The prey had stopped running—
the prey had become the hunter.
***
Lumian moved like a specter between the trees.
The hunters had made the mistake any predator would celebrate:
they had split into pairs to cover more ground.
For humans, it was a reasonable strategy.
For a creature like Lumian… it was a death sentence.
He followed the scent of the first duo.
Sweat, cured leather, oxidized metal, poorly preserved food…
a trail easy for his new body to track.
Thirty minutes were enough.
He found the footprints, the broken branches, even a scrap of cloth caught in a shrub.
The pair was close.
Lumian climbed up a thick trunk using three arms while the fourth kept his balance. He hid among the high branches, his dark skin blending into the deep green shadow.
Below, in a small clearing, two hunters rested.
Sitting back to back, they kept watch… poorly.
Their voices broke the stillness of the forest.
"Wall will be finished in a few days," one murmured, sharpening a short spear. "The builder says they only need one more core."
"Yeah… that beast's core," the other replied, almost excited. "The one that escaped last night. They said it must be wounded, so we'll find it sooner or later."
"With that core, the wall'll resist the fog. The city will be safe."
"And we'll get a big reward. Plus… we'll avenge Rem. That thing tore half of him off…"
He fell silent for a moment, jaw tightening.
"When I find it, I'll—"
He never finished.
Lumian dropped from the sky.
His weight shook the earth, slicing the conversation clean in half.
The two hunters froze, eyes widening in terror.
"Wh–What—?"
The nearest tried to lift his spear, but Lumian was already on him.
A hand covered by the Fisherman's Garb slammed into the man's chest.
The human armor screeched before splitting apart,
the claws slicing through metal like soaked paper.
The hunter didn't even scream before Lumian smashed him into the ground hard enough to shatter bones.
The other reacted better: he stumbled back, drew a knife, and blew a short whistle—the alert signal.
Lumian moved before the sound faded.
He circled him.
Appeared on his left.
Ripped the knife from his hand.
And with the man's own weapon, he felt a cold edge touch his throat.
"B–Bast—"
Too late.
A clean slash.
Silence again.
Lumian observed the result without satisfaction or guilt.
Only necessity.
Pure survival—
his purpose was to live, and if killing was required, he would kill.
In this world, only the strong survived.
He crouched, searching the bodies for anything useful: weapons, clues about the other teams, directions they had moved toward.
Then the spell's voice echoed in his mind.
[You have killed a sleeping human. Name unknown.]
[You have killed a sleeping human. Name unknown.]
Lumian ignored it.
He needed to move before they regrouped.