CHAPTER 152: [151]

Heavy footsteps moved along the narrow path cutting through the rocky forest, leaves brushing softly as the hunting party advanced in a long formation. Twilight had passed, and the moon began to rise slowly over the treetops, casting light on tense faces illuminated only by magical field lamps and the soft glow of small lanterns.

Flad walked in the third row, his eyes half-closed from fatigue and the creeping boredom settling in. His slim frame—typical of a mousedeer beastman—looked starkly out of place next to the large weapon slung across his back: a double-headed electro-spear still wrapped in protective cloth.

He turned to the left, breaking the silence.

"Are they serious about this? We’re really going up against another Penal Plains Tiger?" he muttered in disbelief, his voice muffled by the night mist.

His companion nodded, face half-covered by a leather mask. "Yes. Last time, Lord Trek was very pleased when we captured one. You know how rare they are, right?"

"Oh, you mean the fur..." Flad nodded slowly. "The one that adapts to extreme environments."

"Exactly. Their fur isn’t just beautiful. It’s adaptive. It keeps them warm in sub-zero weather and cool in desert heat. That kind of natural magic... it’s worth a fortune."

Flad clicked his tongue softly, a bitter tone in his voice. "No wonder the damn things are almost extinct. Every year their numbers drop, just to satisfy the obsessions of insane collectors."

Above them, high in the trees and sky, not one of them noticed a small drone hovering silently. Its deep red lens rotated slowly, recording and transmitting data directly to the central terminal not far from the old ruins—where Ren was waiting.

---

Amid the darkness of the ruins, an iPad screen glowed brightly inside the main camouflage tent. Map data, heat signatures, and enemy movement pulsed in red lines across the display. Ren stood before the field console, draped only in a thin cloak, his hair messy and dark circles beneath his eyes from lost sleep.

"Hm... I wake up in the middle of the night just to greet a siege?" Ren yawned briefly, then offered a faint smile. "They’re really going all in on this."

A calm, familiar voice replied—not from the speaker, but from a floating metal orb hovering at chest height. The orb was the size of a baseball, glowing with a soft blue light at its core—Ultro, his personal AI assistant.

[Master, I believe this is a direct consequence of your actions earlier this afternoon,] Ultro said in its usual composed, mechanical tone.

Ren turned, rubbing his temple. "I know, Ultro. But I thought they’d send five people—not an entire hunting battalion."

[They want the Kitsune children... and the tigers.]

Ren took a slow breath, then grinned slightly. "In that case... let’s give them a warm welcome."

He pressed a button on the console. Instantly, the perimeter lights activated. Standby devices began to hum to life, and the other scout drones shifted into flanking positions around the camp. Within minutes, the once-silent ruins transformed into a small fortress filled with hidden traps.

Flad and his companions had no idea... they were marching straight into the teeth of a machine.

And Ren—he wouldn’t show mercy.

---

Flad’s steps came to a halt.

He raised one hand into the air, signaling the line behind him to stop. The night mist was beginning to thin, and just a few meters beyond the ruins’ perimeter, a lone figure stood—a slim young man with messy black hair, his long coat swaying gently in the breeze.

Around him, there were no guards. No beasts. No fortress.

But Flad’s gaze didn’t stop at the young man’s face—it locked onto the blue glow pulsing faintly from the metal gauntlet on his right arm. Luminous lines pulsed slowly, revealing that the device wasn’t just for show. It was technology. A weapon. Or perhaps... both.

Flad growled low. "You’re the one called Ren?"

The man didn’t answer. He simply shifted his weight to one leg and stared at the armed beastmen like they were children swinging sticks.

"Were you sent... by that pig?" he asked at last, his tone casual but sharp.

One of the front-line beastmen—a broad-shouldered wolf-head—hissed, baring his fangs. "Hey, watch your mouth! Our lord... Champion Trek, is no joke for a runt like you."

Ren shrugged, his expression unmoved. "Ah, sorry... I forgot. Trek’s a bison, not a pig. But... what’s the difference? Four legs, loves sniffing filth, right?"

A chorus of growls erupted from the soldiers. One of them even raised his weapon.

"You little shit...!" one snarled. "I’ve had enough. Forget subtlety—we’re killing him right now!"

Flad tried to stop them, but it was already too late.

Three beastmen from the front lines charged forward—two wielding large axes, the other with a spear glowing red at the tip. They stormed in, the ground trembling beneath their feet.

But Ren didn’t back down. He didn’t even blink.

His hand, now clad in the Pulse Gauntlet, moved slowly into position. The blue energy lines along the arm glowed brighter, and a faint hiss like a pressurized engine filled the air.

Ren whispered, "Good evening..."

Then he bent his knees, leaned forward—and punched the empty air in front of him.

WSSHH!!

A blast of compressed air surged forward at sonic speed—a sonic burst.

KABOOM!

An invisible explosion detonated directly in front of the bull-bodied beastman. His massive frame was hurled from the ground like a ragdoll caught in a hurricane—launched five meters into the air before slamming beyond the back line of the troops. He crashed into two soldiers behind him, followed by the sounds of bodies colliding and screams of pain.

The earth around the impact site was torn open. The mist had been blown back. A crater now marred the ground—proof of the gauntlet’s brutal power.

Flad froze, his eyes wide. One of their hunt captains... taken down by a punch through air?

Ren drew his hand back, clenching his fingers. A thin stream of steam hissed from the gauntlet’s joints. The blue glow dimmed again, as if waiting for its next command.

"If that was just the rough draft," he said calmly, "you’ll definitely enjoy the next Chapter."

Silence hung in the air.

And suddenly, fear crept through the ranks of the hunters.

---

Before the night fully swallowed the sky, Ren had already planned everything. He knew they would come—and he knew he couldn’t fight freely if he had to protect the children and the tiger family at the same time.

That’s why, hours before the clash began, he stared at the small blue orb floating above a flat projector inside his main tent.

"Ultro," he said calmly. "Activate Evacuation Protocol. Prioritize the Kitsune children and Alfred’s family. Get them out of the combat radius."

The blue light at Ultro’s core flared brighter.[Confirmed. Calculating safe route... Extraction point relocated 1.4 kilometers north. Detected an old temple ruin. Suitable for non-combatant shelter.]

"Do it. Now."

Ultro gave a mechanical nod and shot out of the tent at high speed, leaving a soft trail of blue light in the air.

Alfred’s family—the Penal Plains Tigers—responded without fuss. They were creatures of the wild. Rare, dangerous, and capable of producing sabertooth-like fangs when enraged, with a hide dense enough to deflect most attacks.

But the Kitsune children were different.

As the floating orb approached, they whimpered and shrank into the corners, their tails puffed up and eyes wide with fear. To them, Ultro wasn’t a tool. He was a spirit—a faceless, floating being with a cold voice that echoed like something out of folklore.

[Do not be afraid. I... will not harm you. I am Ren’s friend. I’m here to help.]

It took time. And patience. But eventually, Ultro’s soft tone and non-threatening movements calmed them. The eldest Kitsune took her siblings’ hands, and with trembling steps, followed the floating orb out of the camp.

---

Meanwhile, back at the battlefield...

With the weight off his shoulders, Ren unleashed himself fully.

Beastman after beastman fell. Within minutes, the once-organized formation devolved into a field of chaos. Ren wasn’t just fighting. He was destroying. His movements were precise, fast, and merciless—every strike amplified by the fully-operational Pulse Gauntlet.

One mace-wielding beastman charged from the right, but Ren ducked and slammed into his knee from the side—bone shattered instantly. Another rushed from behind, but Ren twisted, caught his arm, and slammed him into the ground with crushing force. Steam hissed from the gauntlet’s joints with every blow, as if the weapon itself shared in its master’s fury.

Blood stained the earth. Screams of pain blended with the crunch of broken bones. But the most terrifying part of it all... was Ren’s face.

Calm. Flat. As if this was just another morning workout.

"If you came to threaten them..." he said softly, exhaling, "then you’ve already made the worst decision of your lives."

Two beastmen stumbled back, gasping, eyes wide with panic. Unknowingly, their steps carried them the wrong way—toward a large silhouette emerging from the forest trail, through thickening mist.

The figure appeared like a nightmare incarnate. Over two meters tall, covered in coarse muscle and volcanic black skin. Two massive horns curved back from his temples, and fire danced in his eyes with a manic, feral gleam.

Trek. The Champion.

"Hahahahaha!" His maniacal laugh thundered like a storm, tearing through the silence and sending a shockwave of pressure into the air. "Good... I came just to check a report, and look at this... I find an amusing human, and a pathetic excuse for a hunting squad."

The two beastmen who had tried to flee froze immediately, their faces pale as they recognized the hulking silhouette.

"M-M-Master Trek..." their voices barely audible, broken and filled with terror.

Trek looked at them, then snorted. "Hah? You two..." He stepped forward and, in one swift motion, grabbed each of their heads—one in each hand.

"Did you forget our god’s law? Better to die... than retreat from battle!"

"W-Wait! We were just—"

CRACK!

It sounded like ice shattering in spring. Both skulls were crushed at once in his brutal grip. Blood sprayed wildly, splashing across Trek’s face and chest—but he didn’t blink. Their bodies dropped like rags before he tossed them to the dirt.

"Hmph. Filth."

He stepped forward, blood still dripping from his fingers. And now, his eyes locked onto a single target—Ren.