I didn't expect my first monster fight to be with something out of a nightmare. When I say nightmare, I mean the big, drooling, flaming kind—the kind that makes you wonder if someone upstairs has it out for you.
The forest was peaceful enough at first, sunlight trickling through the canopy, birds chirping like I wasn't about to be ambushed by a gigantic hellhound. My only company was the crunch of leaves beneath my boots and the faint rustling of small animals darting through the underbrush.
Then the birds stopped singing.
I froze mid-step. My senses prickled. You know that feeling, like you're being watched? Multiply that by ten, and you've got what I felt. I turned slowly, scanning the trees.
That's when I saw it—a massive, hulking form emerging from the shadows. It looked like a Rottweiler, if Rottweilers were the size of tanks and had glowing red eyes that screamed murder. The hellhound's lips curled back in a snarl, revealing teeth as sharp as daggers.
"Of course," I muttered, reaching into my Inventory. My hand brushed against my revolvers, but I decided against them. Instead, I pulled out my boar spear, its polished shaft gleaming in the dappled sunlight. "A hellhound. Just my luck."
The beast lunged.
I sidestepped with practiced ease, pivoting to keep the spear's tip between me and the creature. The spear thrust forward, catching the hellhound across the shoulder. Molten blood sprayed from the wound, sizzling as it hit the forest floor. The creature howled, its red eyes narrowing with fury.
"Not so tough," I said, spinning the spear in my hands. "Let's see how you handle round two."
The hellhound circled, its massive paws scorching the ground with every step. I adjusted my stance, lowering the spear and keeping my weight balanced. When it lunged again, its maw wide open and flames spilling from its throat, I dropped to one knee and drove the spear upward. The blade plunged into its chest, stopping its charge mid-stride.
The beast roared, thrashing as I twisted the spear. It retaliated with a swipe of its massive paw, but I rolled out of reach, pulling the weapon free in one smooth motion. Its fiery hide smoldered where the blade had struck, molten blood dripping onto the earth.
"Persistent," I muttered, slipping the spear back into my Inventory. My hands found the grips of my desert eagles, and I drew them with a flourish. The weight was familiar, comforting even. I aimed for its glowing eyes and fired.
The twin gunshots rang out, the bullets striking true. The hellhound reeled, its howl of pain shaking the trees around us. Flames erupted from its body, a last-ditch effort to intimidate me, but I didn't falter. Training for three years under the harshest conditions had stripped away fear and hesitation.
"Thank you my friend, for such a hunt," I said, holstering the pistols and pulling out a set of throwing knives. With precise movements, I hurled them, each blade sinking into the beast's joints. The hellhound collapsed, its limbs giving out under the assault.
It still wasn't dead. Crawling toward me, it let out a low, guttural growl. I reached for my survival knife, the blade glinting in the firelight as I approached. One swift strike to its throat ended the fight.
I looked at its corpse and walked over as I spun my knife in my hand. Kneeling down, I began to skin the hellhound, carefully separating parts of the meat and organs while draining its blood into vials. The process was methodical, almost therapeutic. I labeled each vial with a pen and neatly placed them into my Inventory. Moving to the meat and organs, I manipulated water from a nearby stream, using it to power-flush everything clean. Once satisfied, I stored the cleaned parts away.The smell of the raw meat was tantalizing. Curious, I sliced off a piece and bit into it. The texture was tender, and to my surprise, the taste was rich and savory. Eating raw meat for the first time felt strange, but it wasn't unpleasant—actually, it was quite satisfying.
As I finished eating, a soft ding echoed in my mind, followed by a female voice. My ESP skill kicked in, delivering the notification with clarity.
[Skill, Hell-fire Acquired - The thumb of the hand of flames. Hell-fire is the demonic flame that burns the soul.]
[Skill, Menace Acquired - The ability to strike fear in those weaker than you.]
I couldn't help but grin as the notifications faded. Summoning a small flame to my palm, I marveled at its black, sinister hue. The heat radiating from it felt alive, almost sentient. Testing its power, I aimed at a tree and released the flame. It struck with devastating force, the tree collapsing as the fire consumed it from the inside out.
"That is a really dangerous skill," I murmured, extinguishing the flame with a wave of my hand. The forest was eerily silent now, the air heavy with the scent of ash and burnt wood. My body ached, and my energy felt drained, but the thrill of victory outweighed the fatigue.
With a final glance at the clearing, I began my journey back home as I couldn't help but muse on what monster I should feast on next.
<-------------------->The air in Tartarus was thick, oppressive, and alive with a sinister energy. In a cavern deep within the infernal plane, the Hellhounds' den pulsed with a chaotic yet oddly harmonious rhythm. Massive hounds of all shapes and sizes lounged or prowled the dim space, their black fur absorbing the faint red glow from the molten streams cutting through the stone floor. Their red eyes gleamed with malice as they rested or sparred, content in their dominance.
The peace was shattered when a smaller, wiry hellhound burst into the chamber, its claws skittering on the stone as it rushed toward the central dais. There, atop a raised platform of jagged rock, lay their queen—a monstrous wolf with fur blacker than night and eyes that burned like twin suns.
The wiry hellhound dropped to its belly, whining softly before speaking in the guttural growl of their kind. "My Queen, terrible news. King Fenror has fallen."
The cavern erupted into chaos. Hellhounds snarled, barked, and growled, their voices a cacophony of anger and disbelief. They demanded answers, their eyes glowing brighter as their rage grew.
"Silence!" barked the queen, her voice a thunderclap that reverberated through the cavern. The Hellhounds immediately fell quiet, their fury simmering under her steely gaze. "Speak," she commanded the messenger.
"I saw it myself," the smaller hellhound said, trembling. "A human child—a mere pup! He fought the King and killed him. But he was… strange. He had no scent, no aura. It was as if he didn't exist."
Murmurs rippled through the den, some hounds growling in disbelief while others paced restlessly. The queen's eyes narrowed, her lips curling back in a silent snarl.
"Fools!" one of the larger hounds bellowed. "We should hunt this mortal and tear him apart!"
"Enough!" the queen snapped, her voice cutting through their anger. "If this child could kill Fenror so easily, what do you think he would do to the rest of you? Charging blindly into a fight with an unknown enemy is the height of stupidity. We will not act like rabid beasts."
The hounds fell silent once more, cowed by her commanding presence. The queen rose to her full height, towering over the others. "This is no ordinary human. I must speak with the Night Mother and Shadow Father. Until I return, none of you are to leave this den."
She turned to one of the larger hounds, a massive wolf-like beast with a scar running down its left eye. "You are in charge until I return. Keep them in line."
"Yes, my Queen," the scarred hellhound rumbled, bowing its head.
With a final glance at her pack, the queen stepped into the shadows and vanished, leaving behind an uneasy silence.