Chapter 13: The Hunt

A sharp sense of smell was useful—until it wasn't. For Glen, trapped in the swamp's miasma of rotting carcasses and animal waste, it felt like torture. The stench clawed at his throat, making him gag.

"Of course… the beasts had to flee into this hellhole…"

He muttered, yet kept moving. Through his mental link with the beast, he issued commands before dismounting. His boots sank into knee-deep sludge as the creature bolted into the mist, vanishing like a shadow.

Glen glared at the reeking muck beneath him.

"All for coin."

The words tasted bitter. Steeling himself, he gripped the shovel and began digging.

Trapping wild boars wasn't difficult for someone with his abilities. But transforming here meant ruining his last set of clothes—a luxury he couldn't afford.

Sunlight shifted through the trees. Within minutes, Glen carved a three-meter pit and disguised it with branches and leaves. A twitch of his ears signaled approaching prey.

Perfect timing.

He smeared himself with swamp filth to mask his scent and crouched behind a thorny thicket.

A thunderous rumble shook the ground. Glen frowned.

What kind of herd could make such noise in a swamp?

The answer arrived with chaos.

First came the beast—ears flattened, fur bristling, barking frantically at Glen. Before he could react, a five-meter-tall giant crashed into view. Its stone-gray skin glistened with slime; crude ropes bound three squirming boars in its fist.

"Heheh… Mine… Mine!"

The giant's voice boomed, dripping with childish malice.

"Jump!" Glen roared, lunging from his hiding spot.

The beast leaped over the pit in a single bound. The giant charged blindly after it—

CRASH!

"Evil hole! Aboo hates you!"

The giant howled, flailing in the pit. Its thrashing limbs sprayed muck across the swamp.

Glen strode to his panting companion.

"Explain. Now."

The beast whined, its tail tucked between its legs. Glen pieced together the story:

The plan had worked—until this brute ambushed them, scattering the boars and stealing three.

Glen's jaw tightened. He stalked to the pit's edge.

"Quit your screeching! Why steal my hunt?"

The giant twisted its lumpy head. Spotting Glen, its jagged mouth split into a grin.

"Tender meat! Aboo's lucky day!"

"Come take a bite, then," Glen sneered.

Rage contorted the giant's face. It thrashed, sending waves of sludge over the pit's edge.

"Aboo crush you! Crunch your bones!"

Glen waited until its movements slowed.

"Save your breath. Trade: toss me those boars, and I'll dig you out."

Aboo clutched the boars tighter.

"Mine! Steal them, Aboo eats you!"

"You're the thief!" Glen snapped. "By your logic, I own this forest now. Hand them over, you witless oaf!"

"No! Mine!"

Glen turned away.

"Enjoy your grave, then."

Aboo jerked—and sank chest-deep into suffocating muck. Its eyes widened as Glen and the beast shoveled filth into the pit.

"STOP! Aboo scared!" it wailed.

"The boars. Now," Glen said, never pausing.

"Fight Aboo fair! Coward!"

Glen ignored the taunts. When sludge reached Aboo's neck, desperation cracked its voice.

"Wait! Aboo… share?"

Glen halted.

"Toss them up. Then I dig."

"Free Aboo first!"

"No bargains." Glen resumed shoveling.

"Fine! Aboo trust!"

The giant hurled the boars to the ground. Mud splattered Glen's boots.

The boars lay unconscious but breathing—likely terrified into fainting.

"Clear the edges. You'll climb out yourself," Glen ordered. He honored small promises when profit allowed.

Guided by Glen, the beast dug drainage channels around the pit. Trapped water seeped away, freeing Aboo's limbs. When the giant gripped the pit's rim, Glen stepped back.

"Leave. Let's never meet again."

He wiped sludge from his hands, turning toward the boars.

Aboo hunched on the pit's edge, watching silently. Was that a flicker of mockery in its eyes?

Glen frowned. As he motioned the beast to drag the boars, a deafening BOOM! shattered the silence.

Both man and creature ducked, hearts pounding.