The small group of hunters, including Géandre, the man with the long black braid, and Valshesia, the woman with short brown hair, had already been tracking their prey for several hours after sunrise.
With them, they had taken four other hunters who had decided to team up with them. A more than necessary help against a creature that the request posted in the hall of the Association had described as a category 10, maybe 15.
Géandre knew that he alone could be worth 6 to 7 men, and Valshesia, whom he had met several months ago, was worth just as much, and maybe more. The woman wielding the spear and space magic was a great asset in every battle, able to strike at close range as well as from a distance. He had seen her unusual handling of the spear many times, as space magic took years to master as perfectly as it did in Valshesia's case. She knew how to use a mixture of incantations and alchemy to create a lightning-fast short- and medium-range movement magic that could move inanimate objects quickly from one point to another, as long as the starting point and destination were within her field of vision.
However, if Géandre had chosen to form a duo with her, it was not only because of his weapon mastery. Valsh, as he liked to call her, was stingy with words - either because she didn't like to talk, or because she had a poor grasp of the common language - which suited the young man immensely, as he hated it when people questioned his word or his orders. It was notable that this absence of words did not mean an absence of involvement, far from it.
As for the other four hunters, they had found a specialist in ranged combat - throwing projectiles and traps being his forte - and a heavy-armored hunter who mastered defensive spells. This duo was already a team under normal circumstances, which gave them an advantage in terms of coordination and joint action. The other two hunters they recruited - a swordsman with knowledge of reinforcement magic and a former military officer, and a female alchemist - were also a good addition because of their respective talents.
With this team, a request for a rank 10 Behemoth - or 15, in the worst case - would be a walk in the park.
That left Géandre to use his knowledge of tracking and monster-spotting to locate the beast they intended to take down. A tracking skill that he had acquired from his village located in the middle of the forest in the county of Blazepan, near the elven territories. A village close enough to the actual border that it was originally in elven territory before the human expansion of two hundred years ago; therefore Géandre had always suspected that this knowledge originally came from the sylvan people, and was not initially developed by humans.
He could therefore follow the trail of the Behemoth with ease, even if the creature no longer left footprints on dry earth, stone, or riverbeds; following broken or twisted branches, smells, but also the absence of certain animals frightened by the creature's passage.
However, he was surprised to notice that human footprints had also crossed the trail of the Behemoth, which prompted Géandre to hasten his pace: other hunters were already following the creature, and were likely to steal their prey.
The young man thus began to walk a little faster, followed closely by the small column of five hunters behind him. They walked like this for another fifteen minutes, with Géandre's eyes fixed on the ground and the footprints becoming more and more distant, until he felt a hand tugging at the back of his tunic.
He turned his head back, and seeing that Valshesia and the other four hunters were staring at a high point in front of them, he looked ahead and raised his head too.
There, on the trunk of an oak tree, a huge hole had ripped through the bark and wood, piercing the tree all the way through.
However, what caught the eye far more than the huge hole was the huge stain - like a partly faded splash - that had obscured the bark and the inside of the trunk.
Géandre frowned, and stepping off the path they were on, approached the tree before putting his hand on it. The liquid was dry, and the young man rubbed his hand briefly, the latter turning a reddish-brown color due to particles that had broken up on its surface.
"Dried blood..." Said he, turning to the group and showing his hand.
"Other hunters have already engaged the Behemoth in combat?" Inquired the female alchemist.
"I had already spotted their tracks for a while, yes," replied Géandre. "The blood has barely had time to dry here, so they can't be far away."
"So we still have a chance?" Asked the swordsman in turn.
Géandre nodded, and took back his place at the head of the column to continue following the trail. They had only gone about ten steps when the young monster tamer stopped, puzzled.
"What is it?" Asked the ranged combat expert.
Géandre looked at the footprints on the ground, then at the thickets around them, his eyebrows furrowed in concern.
"They've engaged in combat, but with the tracks I see..." He began to explain. "they were not up to it."
He watched for a while longer as the different tracks all went in different directions, then turned to the group.
"They ran away like big cowards," he continued with a smile. "So we still have a chance!"
The group was delighted to hear this good news, and Géandre resumed tracking the Behemoth's tracks alone, failing to spot the bloodied and contorted corpse, hidden under some bushes about ten meters away, a pair of bulging eyes staring into space.
He led the group for a short minute until they reached what appeared to be the beginning of a clearing ahead.
The trees and shrubs had been cut off by a bright ray of sunlight about ten yards away; a stark contrast to the semi-darkness in which they had been advancing thus far.
"Prepare for battle," ordered Géandre, one hand on a pouch hanging from his belt.
Valshesia drew her spear from its holster, while the other hunters each readied their weapon or recited an enchantment; then the group moved cautiously toward what appeared to be an open area.
Momentarily blinded by the sudden bright natural light, they blinked several times to adjust to the sun, before they could see the large clearing they had entered.
It was a large area with tall, smooth grass and a few large stones and rocks poking out here and there above the green clumps. All seemed quiet, and the creature they were tracking was nowhere in sight.
The group relaxed a bit, disappointed that they had not stumbled directly upon the Behemoth they had been looking for for quite some time.
"This beast must have crossed the clearing before it continued into the forest," said Géandre.
The six hunters then decided to venture into the tall grass, and the female alchemist, a little out of step with the group, nearly stumbled. The swordsman barely caught her by the arm, and gave her a reproachful look.
"Be careful, look where you walk!" He said to her.
"I'll ... Be careful," she said before lowering her eyes to the ground.
Her two hazel eyes widened in surprise and fright, and she couldn't suppress a scream before bringing her hand to her mouth.
Her shriek called out to all the other hunters present, who ran to the duo to discover the cause of the scream.
Hidden by the tall grass was a bloody human arm, torn from the shoulder, and with a shocked look on their faces, everyone wondered what could have happened to cause such an injury.
Tearful, the alchemist leaned on the swordsman, while Géandre crouched down next to the torn limb.
He observed with attention the wound around the bare joint, and with concern, passed his hand over his mouth.
"What? What is it?" Asked the swordsman.
With gravity, Géandre stood up and addressed the group.
"This arm wasn't just ripped off... These are teeth marks..."