Hoisting my backpack onto my shoulders, I couldn't help but feel the weight of its contents press against my frame. Despite the burden it imposed, I navigated its load with practiced ease.
My initial intention had been to bury the weighty remnants of my recent conquest and retrieve them later, once the hunt had concluded.
However, the fates seemed to conspire against this strategy, and dusk was rapidly approaching, a chorus of iron rhinos serving as an unmistakable warning.
The decision was made, a reluctant relinquishing of the plan in favor of the pressing reality – it was time to let go and proceed.
The shores of Eran Lake were a haven of diversity, populated by a multitude of creatures, each harboring their own unique brand of danger.
The ranks of Private-stage beasts were plentiful, their encounters etching a growing tally into my journey's ledger. I had crossed paths with countless Lv.4 and Lv.5 adversaries, each confrontation shaping my skills and honing my instincts.
However, a decision lingered in the recesses of my thoughts, a pivotal juncture demanding resolution.
The call was made to venture further, deeper into the heart of Eran Lake, where the tapestry of danger promised a richer, more challenging tableau.
My path became a silent promise as I steered myself toward the lake's core, where the pulse of life and the dance of prey intertwined.
Originally, a calculated plan of progression was etched in my mind – a gradual acclimatization to the world of devil hunting before daring to traverse the heart of Eran Lake.
Yet, necessity brooked no delay, and my current circumstance dictated an expedited approach.
Consulting the carefully compiled map and data that accompanied me on this journey, a revelation became manifest – a two-kilometer radius encircling Eran Lake teemed with an abundance of life, devils at the zenith of their prowess.
The spectrum spanned the heights of Private Mark to the enigmatic Professional Mark, each a testament to the harsh rhythms of this world.
Resolute and focused, I set my course toward this heart of unfathomable peril, my every step echoing a mantra of determination, each footfall a reaffirmation of my commitment to challenge the realms of possibility.
The vicinity encompassing a half-kilometer radius around Eran Lake harbored an ominous reputation, a domain where the shadows of formidable beasts cast long and foreboding silhouettes.
The distant echoes of moos reverberated through the air, an audible herald of a gathering force – a herd of Balf bulls lay ahead.
Guided by cautious foresight, I carefully concealed my backpack in a secure alcove, a temporary sanctuary for my possessions.
With silent determination, I navigated the undergrowth, my senses alert to the harmony of nature's chorus, each rustle and whisper shaping my path toward the source of the sonorous moos.
The realm of anticipation morphed into reality as my steps carried me closer to the focal point of sound. Indeed, my intuition proved astute – before my eyes sprawled a majestic congregation of Balf bulls, their presence a testament to the grandeur of nature's design.
Yet, it wasn't solely their magnificent numbers that held my attention.
Standing amidst the foliage, I surveyed the sight before me with a mixture of awe and caution. The herd surpassed even my most generous estimations, their numbers stretching beyond the confines of expectation.
A count revealed more than three hundred bulls, their collective presence a testimony to the unyielding vitality of this land.
A grateful sigh escaped me; for now, I stood at a safe distance, a watchful observer of this grand tableau. The wisdom of my distance from their ranks was reinforced by the understanding that a single Balf bull's awareness could trigger an orchestrated onslaught from the entire assembly.
Their unity in the face of perceived threats was palpable, their loyalty to the herd an unwavering testament etched in nature's lore.
Within this expanse of untamed life, I remained a humble spectator, respectful of the intricate dance that unfolded before me. The Balf bulls, a living tapestry of strength and unity, embodied a primal harmony that the wilderness had forged over ages.
With a hushed request, I beseeched Johnsy to carry out a crucial task – to act as a siren's call and entice one or two Balf Bulls away from the formidable herd.
Her affirming chirp was a testament to our unspoken understanding, and she took to the air, her wings carrying her toward the beckoning armies.
In this delicate endeavor, Johnsy emerged as the prime candidate. Her innate affinity for fire aligned perfectly with the strategy at hand, for Balf Bulls were creatures of water, and fire was their bane.
Her diminutive size promised agility that would enable her to deftly evade the water jets the bulls would unleash in response to her provocation.
Swiftly, Johnsy soared through the air, closing the gap between her and the target. Upon arrival, her fiery display ignited a cascade of reactions. Fireballs danced, provoking the Balf Bulls into a frenzy of futile attempts to douse her flames.
Water jets erupted from the ranks, each futile attempt to quell her defiance met with her nimble evasion, her tiny form flitting through the aerial assaults.
"Mooo!" The collective outcry resonated like a chorus, a blend of frustration and vexation that painted the air with their displeasure.
Among them, the leader, an imposing figure that loomed over the rest, cast a fleeting glance toward the turmoil Johnsy incited.
Yet, even as the leader acknowledged the commotion, its interest waned as swiftly as it had arisen. Recognizing Johnsy for what she was – a mere sparrow – it dismissed her as an inconsequential nuisance, refocusing its attention on matters of greater consequence.
In the midst of this orchestrated confusion, Johnsy remained steadfast, her mission clear. She continued her spirited dance of provocation, her fiery display a taunt that goaded the Balf Bulls.
The passage of time held the key to her success – a duration of calculated unrest that would compel a select few to break from the herd's stronghold and pursue the elusive provocateur.
Yet, amid the execution of this delicate maneuver, a shadow of trepidation loomed over my thoughts. It wasn't the prospect of a couple of Balf Bulls following Johnsy that gave me pause; it was the formidable leader, a grotesquely mutated figure that cast a shadow over the rest.
Its sheer size, nearly double that of a standard Balf Bull, marked it as an entity of unsettling power.
As the minutes ticked away, my hope hung in precarious balance – that this gargantuan creature would remain indifferent to the antics of a small sparrow, focused solely on the pursuits of its dominion.
Time would reveal the outcome of this orchestrated interplay, the culmination of strategy, instinct, and a daring gamble set against the backdrop of a wild and unforgiving landscape.