CHAPTER 107: THE HUNT [I]

As Patriarch of the clan, Azariah had learned to overlook many things.

He could reluctantly accept that his son had been blessed with far higher divinity than himself by the radiant Goddess of Light.

It stung, yes — but such things were beyond his control.

Yet now, as he stood inside the Rion of Bones and watched his son casually lift the goddess’s sacred sword, something inside him cracked.

The moment Azel’s fingers closed around the weapon, the air shifted.

Frost bloomed across the room in jagged veins, shimmering like glass.

For the briefest instant, Azariah glimpsed the sheer depth of divinity radiating from the boy.

And to call it much would be an insult.

It was overwhelming.

His son’s divine aura did not merely eclipse his own — it dwarfed it.

It was like comparing a flickering torch to the blazing sun.

’My goddess... what the hell is this?’

He almost didn’t realize the thought had slipped past his lips.

But then — he heard her giggle.

For the first time in decades of communicating, the goddess answered with a giggle, her voice sounded melodious as always.

[That is my beloved.]

The words spilled into his mind like velvet ic.

A chill ran down his spine despite the warmth of the sacred chamber.

[So you must treat him well. Even if he is your son, he is mine. If you obey me, I might increase your divinity.]

Azariah swallowed hard.

Jealousy gnawed at his insides, yet the awe of a divine order smothered it in an instant.

He bowed his head, voice trembling.

’Understood, my goddess.’

When he lifted his gaze again, his smile was steady.

Forced, but steady.

He clapped Azel on the back with a hearty laugh.

"Congratulations, my son!"

Azel, twirling the bone-forged blade as though it were no more than a toy, arched a brow.

He was certainly acting strange, he expected tbe man to at least show something now he was acting happy, he sighed inwardly, it was probably Kyone.

But Azel said nothing.

He simply smiled back.

"Thank you, Father. Are we going to hunt now?"

He was eager.

The stories of Winter creatures, of beasts shaped by endless blizzards and centuries of divine frost, had always fascinated him.

He wanted to see what made the producers hype up this place where players could not enter himself with his own eyes.

...

The morning snow crunched under their boots as Azel, Anya, and Azariah approached the northern gate.

Two shirtless guardians stood watch, their torsos scarred with old wounds, their breath misting in the cold.

"This is the entrance to the Hunting Grounds," Anya explained, walking beside Azel with an upright, almost protective posture. "Warriors come here daily to hunt. The monsters within never cease... though few dare to venture deep."

She tilted her chin slightly. "It’s said the grounds hide the very secrets of the world."

Azel’s eyes flickered.

Secrets of the world... The phrase tickled something inside him.

The players had said the same thing and so did one tbe developers.

Even when he’d asked Kyone, the goddess had admitted she had never ventured too deep its depths because of the war.

If even a goddess hadn’t gone that far, then what lay waiting below?

"I heard on your way here you faced two hundred Frost Monkeys," Azariah said suddenly, his voice booming.

Anya stiffened, surprise flickering across her face, though she masked it quickly.

"But," Azariah continued, "the creatures inside are far stronger. I hope you can at least bring back a Rank Four."

Azel blinked, then smirked faintly.

Anya cleared her throat quickly. "My Prince, please don’t push yourself. This is only your first hunt. Even a couple of Rank five monsters would be more than enough."

Azel sighed inwardly.

’They’re really underestimating me. But fine.’

Perhaps the monsters in there were strong but could they compete with a Kraken?

The gates creaked open.

A breath of frozen wind swept over them, carrying the scent of pine, this place was obviously older than the city.

"I’ll accompany you, my Prince," Anya said, tightening her scarf and resting her hands on her twin bone swords.

Azel glanced at her, then smirked. "Fine... if you can catch me."

Before she could respond, his body blurred.

Snow burst beneath his feet as he shot forward like a phantom, leaving only the echo of his footsteps behind.

Azariah chuckled. "Anya, you’ll need to keep up with him."

"Yes, Patriarch!" she said, and darted after Azel, her speed impressive but still lagging behind his.

The moment Azel crossed the threshold into the Hunting Grounds, a familiar urge stirred in him.

Bloodlust.

The snow called to him, whispering of prey, of hunt, of violence.

The world sharpened into red clarity — every tree a target, every shadow a predator.

His pulse quickened, and for a dangerous moment, he thought he might lose control.

But then he remembered.

The way he had tempered his frenzy before.

He drew in a breath, exhaled slowly, and reined it in.

"Good," he muttered, flexing his fingers around the bone sword. "I can keep the multiplier without losing it this time."

He halted, letting his boots dig into the snow. "Alright... let my main character energy do its thing."

He waited.

A minute passed.

Then two.

The silence was unsettling, heavy, broken only by the crunch of approaching footsteps in the distance — Anya, trying to catch up.

"Huh. Nothing?" Azel rubbed the back of his neck, almost disappointed. "Guess my bad luck’s finally running out."

To bleed off some energy, he lashed out at a nearby tree with a casual punch.

The wood cracked like thunder.

He smirked then froze as a hollow creak echoed above him.

CRASH!

A massive hive tumbled from the branches, bursting open as it struck the snow.

From within, they poured out.

Bees — dozens, no, hundreds but not the kind he remembered from summer fields.

Each was the size of his forearm, their bodies encased in crystalline chitin, wings shimmering with frost.

Their stingers glowed faintly blue, dripping with venom that froze the ground where it fell.

The air filled with a low, collective buzz that seemed to reverberate inside his skull.

Azel’s eyes widened. His grip on the goddess’s sword tightened.

"Oh... shit."