Monster roars echoed through the city, originating from a stadium that closely resembled the gladiators' arena from Old Rome, their wrathful holler painted the citizens' hearts with terror and the adventurers' with caution.
It was an accident that was supposedly impossible to happen, even if everyone simply decided to go to sleep. The cages containing the monsters were made of materials far stronger than whatever the beasts were capable of doing, and yet it still happened.
In the blink of an eye, the customary festival supposed to lift people's mood came crashing down in utter failure, it smashed their happiness and smothered their peacefulness with such abruptness that, by the time a proper armed response was given, half of the previously caged monsters had left the stadium in rampant recklessness, continuously increasing the number of both hurt and dead.
Standing at a staggering height of eight meters, a dark-furred gorilla with red muscles let out a below before it bashed a small child aside, turning the innocent victim into little more than a mush of unrecognizable meat.
The powerful monster then ran through a small house, ruble and dust were everything left of the humble abode of a common family. Meanwhile, the bloodthirsty behemoth kept running towards the marketplace.
Resembling a five-meter tall triceratops, another creature moved in a straight line to the city's gate direction, tearing holes through bigger buildings and stomping down smaller dwellings.
This monster's number of victims was the greatest, not counting the enormous economic damage the city was dealt with every construction it tore down.
Colored mostly in a darker tone of green-blue, a humanoid monster in both shape and size known as Stalker Claw swiftly traveled through the smaller streets and pathways, it tore everyone it saw apart in an untiring frenzy as it headed to the dungeon's entrance, trying to return to its own bloody habitat.
Meanwhile, in the same universe.
"Hey, friend. Would you know the way to the underground?" Verhund waved towards a random beast-person adventurer youth passing by.
"Huh... underground? Perhaps... you mean the dungeon?" The adventurer responded half-dazedly, dumbly looking at the smoke flying up in the far distance.
"Uhum, probably."
"It's that way... you need the Guild's approval to enter, though."
"Hmn, I see. Thank you, then, and have a nice day."
"Ah! Wait! Are you not going to run!?"
"Run? Oh, that. My dear friend, whatever's going on there is kilometers away from here. It's important to note that while I'm a weakling, the city's chock full of strong people who can surely take care of whatever's happening. If they can't, well... we're probably all going to die anyway so it doesn't really matter."
"... What do you mean? Ah, he's gone."
As all the jumble descended into half-anarchy, Verhund did his own thing. He headed towards the center of the city, where the tall tower towered over the rest of the city, spying on all of its inhabitants from aloft.
As he skipped towards his destination, though, he considered the earlier conversation. Something he himself said sounded somewhat familiar.
His realization came soon enough, along with an inhuman screech from not too far behind.
He had jinxed himself, as always.
The Stalker Claw came with a dash, its claws painted in so much fresh blood the sunlight easily reflected away from its touch, as if disgusted by the scene. The rest of its body was not much different, the stark contrast created by the gore drenched its frame as if to scribble war paint on it.
With vital fluid still dripping from every spot, the monster jumped at Verhund, grasping with its talons from both hands.
Verhund casually stepped back while making a slapping motion - the stolen short sword appearing from inside his sleeve - and cut at its hands when the Stalker missed its grab, letting the stumbling freak fall face first to the ground, a comical slap sounded out as its legs still swung with the forward momentum before being stopped by the joints, ultimately joining the rest of its body in the ground.
Stalker Claw's P.O.V.
It slowly stood up and turned to face its offender, the emotions that couldn't be portrayed from its ant-like face were expressed by its body's excessive movement.
The Stalker's horrifying visage finally met with its opponent... literally. Verhund's short sword struck fiercely at his victim's compound eyes, leaving the left side of its vision completely impaired.
The beast wailed and lowered its body with the aid of the strike's momentum, sending a wild sweep at Verhund's knee, which also got promptly blocked and pushed sideways.
When it moved its other arm to attack again, it received a strong push from the enemy's shoulder, which sent it careening backward.
Under normal circumstances, the Stalker would have regained balance soon enough. Unfortunately, it was already half-stumbling after it lost an eye, and with Verhund's help, the poor welp fell... hard.
The back of its head hit the ground with such force it started cracking, blurring its vision and conscience. The monster then frantically swept its arms everywhere, unable to distinguish left from right, top from bottom.
A few good seconds went by before the Stalker finally came to, it was then that it realized its hated rival's disappearance and angrily looked around.
It wasn't given much time to do so, however, and with a splash, a short sword found its way into its brain. Making the Stalker go limp and completely cease its movements, disappearing in dark-blue flames and particles soon after.
"In a dance with death, you're too stupid to be a match."
Verhund's P.O.V.
Only stupid, though. The monster's body was extremely nimble and flexible, able to take action with inhumanly short preparation and move in between incredibly short spaces. It was so strong, Verhund's wrist still felt sore from defending against its attacks, and hitting it felt like striking against stone.
Truthfully, Verhund only managed to contend against it because of his experience and danger sense helping in tracking its movements.
Their physical difference was so high that, were it not for the fact that it wanted to make a Boss impression, he would be forced into a stalemate until help arrived or have no option rather than run and make use of parkour to weave some kind of dogfight in the rooftops.
"Huh? What's this?"
The freak seemed to have left a small, pale purple crystal behind.
Absentmindedly, Verhund picked it up and once again sauntered towards the dungeon's entrance, the Guild, more specifically.