Three hours drifted by before the match's final whistle blew, confirming yet another predictable draw.
"Same old story. Good game, Nero. How about a change of scenery? I've heard the village is gearing up for a hunting expedition later today. Want to tag along?" Lucas Frost proposed, his penchant for a leisurely life balanced by a desire to play a more active role in supporting the village.
"I'll pass. I think I'll indulge in the art of writing, perhaps pen down a novel or something to fill the passing hours," our op mc declined, his mind already envisioning plots and characters.
"Suit yourself. Maybe another time," Lucas nodded understandingly before ambling away from the scene, leaving Nero to his literary pursuits.
Little did he know that the infamous dark lord, Nero Deathbinder, harbored a passion for writing, a facet of the evil mastermind's persona that seemed incongruent with his more notorious pursuits.
Nonetheless, this unexpected revelation would linger in his mind, becoming a topic for future discussions with the infamous man.
Nero found solace in the quiet corners of his mind, crafting intricate worlds and characters with each stroke of the pen.
The sun lazily made its descent, casting elongated shadows through the window as Nero's imagination danced across the pages.
Outside, the village buzzed with the preparation for the hunt, the prospect of securing sustenance for the community bonding them together in purpose.
* * *
Thaddeus Whitewood, the long-standing village chief of Misty Terrace Village for over two decades, had weathered numerous surprises during his tenure.
Among them stood out the exceptional talent of a young lad named Rowan in cultivation, and more recently, the arrival of mysterious guests merely a week earlier.
He wasn't particularly fond of surprises, especially those hinting at potential trouble. Nevertheless, as a seasoned warrior, he embraced challenges head-on, refusing to shy away from adversity.
"Are we certain that Master Lucas will be joining us?" Chief Thaddeus inquired once again, seeking confirmation from one of his men, his determination evident in the repeated inquiry.
"Yes, Chief. Master Lucas had come personally to secure a spot in our hunting group earlier today," the man affirmed, emphasizing Lucas's personal visit to reserve his place.
"Understood," Chief Thaddeus replied succinctly, his thoughts consumed by how to navigate the enigmatic visitor's presence.
His original intent hadn't been to participate in the hunt; rather, he harbored a curiosity to witness Master Lucas's hunting prowess, seeking insights into his abilities from firsthand experience.
Their wait wasn't protracted, as Master Lucas arrived within a mere ten minutes.
The figure that emerged was that of a six-foot-old man, an embodiment of time etched in wrinkles and scars upon a physique so slender it seemed almost unnaturally frail.
His attire mirrored that of the villagers, yet his eyes narrated a divergent tale altogether—a narrative of unspoken arrogance, veiled by an unseen yet palpable aura of divine power.
An eerie sensation enveloped each onlooker, an indescribable feeling that tethered them to a sense of caution.
They found themselves unable to articulate the inexplicable ambiance this elderly man carried, a sentiment that deterred them from testing his mettle.
Thaddeus observed with a keen eye, a glint of wariness shadowing his features.
The air crackled with an intangible tension as the village men exchanged cautious glances, acknowledging the enigmatic aura that surrounded their unexpected guest.
The hunt momentarily forgotten, their attention was now captured by the enigma that stood before them, a riddle demanding both caution and curiosity in equal measure.
They stood witness to this eerie scene, a collective unease palpable among them, a fact that didn't escape Lucas Frost's keen observation.
With a subtle raise of his brow, he directed a pointed inquiry at the assembly of hunters, a group that numbered more than a dozen, counting himself—totaling a formidable fourteen.
"Are we hunting or not?" Lucas Frost finally breached the thick veil of tension that hung in the air.
His question acted as a catalyst, prompting some to audibly gulp while others sucked in deep breaths, as if replenishing the air they had unknowingly held in their lungs.
"Indeed, Master Lucas. Your presence is an honor today. We humbly welcome any guidance you may offer our hunting party," Chief Thaddeus swiftly regained his composure, setting an example of leadership amidst the lingering unease.
"Oh? I hadn't anticipated the esteemed village chief's participation in a routine hunt. One might wonder how a man of your stature manages to find such leisure time," Lucas chuckled lightly, his gaze fixed on the middle-aged leader, his scrutiny unwavering.
"I couldn't miss the opportunity to witness Master Lucas in action," Chief Thaddeus responded earnestly, his honesty resonating with Lucas Frost, eliciting a nod of approval from the enigmatic figure.
Lucas held a deep appreciation for sincerity—finding solace in the simplicity of honest intentions.
In that moment, his estimation of the chief's character soared, recognizing the virtue of unadorned truth in a world often clouded by complexities.
"Nicely put," Lucas Frost acknowledged with a smile before initiating the hunting expedition. Throughout their journey, they successfully captured game such as deer, wild boars, ducks, and more. However, the group couldn't help but feel disappointed by Master Lucas's lack of action.
Despite their bountiful harvest, his inaction puzzled them deeply.
It seemed as if the animals had willingly offered themselves up, a strange occurrence that the group could only attribute to the enigmatic master's presence among them.
"Shall we lead towards where we might find a few bears, Master Lucas? Would you care to take the helm this time?" Chief Thaddeus inquired, satisfied with their haul but wary of overstocking their load for the return journey to the village.
"A mere bear doesn't pique my interest. I'll pursue my prey when the moment aligns, not before," Lucas replied stoically, refusing to budge from his position.
Helpless, the group continued deeper into the jungle, seeking further game.
Moments later, their eyes widened at the sight of a pair of wings ablaze in the distance, a colossal figure eclipsing forty feet in height.
A mystical creature emerged—a horse with flaming wings, a Crimsonwing Kirin dominating the skies.
"RUN!"
"It's a Crimsonwing Kirin!" The seasoned hunters wasted no time, grabbing what meat they could carry before fleeing for their lives in succession.
"Well, it's finally my turn to shine," Lucas Frost quipped, humor lacing his words. He retrieved a wooden spear as his weapon, launching it effortlessly as if it were weightless.
"WHOOSH!" The spear's trajectory created a deafening sound, parting the air with a menacing hum as it found its mark.
"PUCHI!" Blood showered from above, a testament to the accuracy of Lucas's strike.