Ackster followed the tracks he had found for a while. He occasionally lost them since they would lead through small streams or across stones, but he often refound them almost at once, thanks to his sharp senses. So, despite the darkness that had accompanied the descending night, Ackster did a good job tracking down his would-be prey.
And before he knew it, he had stumbled upon a glade where a couple of deer were grazing and snacking on various plants on the ground.
Ackster made sure to hide downwind so that they didn't notice him. He was sure that he reeked quite a bit, thanks to going around hugging poisonous fingers and ingesting poison that made him feverish and sweaty.
He had washed away the blood in one of the streams, but that wouldn't be enough to hide his scent.
Ackster watched the deer couple while lying on his stomach and peeking through a bush.
'Those are… Not mentioned in the original story.'
After looking at them for several moments, Ackster could confirm that the specific type of beast he had encountered and hunted down wasn't something he was familiar with, despite his extensive knowledge of Millmeria through reading the original story.
It wasn't weird. Millmeria was a big place, and if the author had bothered writing a compendium or a story detailing every single creature that lived on the planet, he would have never finished.
And the deer in front of Ackster weren't obviously special or noteworthy enough to be part of a story about The Hero, so it was understandable that Ackster hadn't read about them.
But it wasn't all bad.
In accordance with his wish to test his limits and break them to the point where he's on the verge of death every other hour, fighting an unknown enemy, well, two of them, would be a more challenging task.
Since Ackster didn't know if the beasts had any innate skills or how they fought, he would have to be on constant alert and read their movements and react in real-time to what they were going to do. He wouldn't be able to anticipate or guess what was going to happen.
So, after watching the two grey-tinted but mostly brown deer with sharp and straight antlers on their heads for a little while, Ackster had a basic idea of what to do. He would just go for it.
The deer didn't look like they had any innate skills, and they certainly didn't look like they were magic beasts. The only thing Ackster had to fear were their physical capabilities. And based on the lean muscles that Ackster could see in the darkness, thanks to the two moons' light and the glossy fur, that was the deers' area of expertise.
It was the perfect opponent for someone like Ackster, who, so far, had only brawled. He didn't use long-distance weapons, or any weapons for that matter, or magic, and he wouldn't know how to deal with something like that.
Ackster wondered if maybe he should consider getting his hands on a solid weapon in the future. If he got the Sea God's Manual, he could try and pick up one of the better tridents on Matar. But that would have to wait for the future. For now, he was going to pummel some deer.
With a decision made and a plan to target the smaller of the two deers, Ackster braced his muscles for the mad sprint he entered as soon as he pushed himself off the ground.
The deers' ears twitched as soon as they heard the rustling in the bushes behind them, and they turned to look while starting to dash away. They were a little different from deers who took off at max speed as soon as they heard a branch crack and snap or who stood and looked head-on at incoming traffic, daring the headlights to outshine their glassy eyes.
The deers that Ackster decided to call Sharp-horned Deer, for simplicity's sake, darted away and turned to look at the source of the sound at the same time. A mix of vigilance and fright put the two deers at the other side of the glade, but since they turned around to face the potential predator, they wouldn't escape Ackster, even if they decided it wasn't worth the fight.
When they saw the pale Ackster with purple saliva dripping down the side of his chin, not fighting him sounded like a good idea. However, it was already too late for them to make that decision.
Ackster had shot out of the bushes like they were a cannon, and he dashed toward his target while holding his hands and arms like a grappler.
And when his target reared to smack him with its front legs, Ackster pushed off from the ground and dove forward. Since the deer was about as long as him, he could be sacrificing his legs if he failed.
But considering the difference in strength and numbers, he had to take one of them out as quickly as possible, even if he risked getting injured.
So when the opportunity presented itself, Ackster threw himself forward, arms outstretched, and grabbed the deer's hind legs as he slammed into the ground.
Before the deer could begin to panic and stomp his head in, Ackster stabbed his toes into the ground with bent legs and shot forward even more.
The deer lost its balance as Ackster pushed its only two legs, solidly resting on the ground, out from under it. It whinnied in panic as it scrambled in the air with its front legs before crashing down on the ground, all of its legs splayed out.
A heavy grunt from Ackster revealed that the deer didn't crash on the ground. It landed on him with its full weight.
The pain of his ribcage cracking under its weight got Ackster's adrenaline production in full swing, and he snaked his arms around the deer's legs while it frantically tried to stand up and broke them.
Ackster's arms bulged with effort, and he grunted as he used as much strength as he could muster to snap the stubborn legs and cripple the deer.
At least he was protected from the other one while his target flopped around on top of him.
And then, finally, before the deer could roll off and out of Ackster's grip, he managed to break one of the legs with a satisfying crack that was a lot more audible than the cracking of his ribcage.
The deer cried out, and Ackster rolled away from the rest of its kicking legs before one of them could hit him somewhere vital.
Once he stood up, he could tell that the adrenaline had stopped him from noticing the deer's kicks to his legs. At least they didn't feel broken.
The deer continued kicking its legs until it confirmed that Ackster was too far away, whereupon it began crawling behind the cover of the other deer while trying to stand on three legs.
The other deer moved in front of it and glared at Ackster while scratching the ground with its hooves.
"Touching."