But if that was not bizarre enough, there was its right arm. Willow could see the fumes wafting with Demontide, like it was born straight from the monster spawner. Armored and pitch black, the disproportionately enormous arm should've tipped the ogre off balanced. And in its clawed hands, she had to squint, was a handful of stones.
Magni began tugging the reins. "S-Sven, we need to turn around..."
"We can't!" Nikolas spoke from the behind. "There are more right behind us. They—hey, hey! Leave him alone!"
Goblins had sprung from the trees and jumped. The sound of a shield crushing hands as goblins tried to climb aboard, and the scratches against the roof were enough to make Magni scream.
"Oh, come on! Could my luck get any worse?!"
She whipped the reins, and Sven obliged. The goblins were thrown off the wagon as the party forced their way forward.
But now they were driving themselves into the waiting arms of the red ogre and its army. They were being lured in.
Willow groaned as she clung to the driver's seat. "It just doesn't end, does it...?"
No matter. This was why she splurged and prepared more mana potions.
Three was the maximum amount allowed. There was a saying about drinking mana potions: one to live, two to win, and three to die. You must wait for the body to metabolize between each use; otherwise, the backlash would kill you. Sometimes, if your constitution stat was too low or if you drink the second potion too soon, you'll cripple yourself or die of potion poisoning.
But she doesn't have the luxury to wait.
Just think of it like a second cup of coffee during the peak hours of a weekend. She'll be fine...
...Right?
Fighting through the shakes, the numbing sensations, she willed her fingers to uncork the top and—
A hand rested over the vial.
"What did I say about rule number one?"
Markus emerged from the back of the wagon, nursing his head.
"Uncle Markus, you shouldn't be moving!"
"Brat, only my wife gets to worry about me. I'm fine."
Whatever the healing potion did, it did wonders for his complexion, but not much else. His sluggish movements and slouched posture made him look more like an old man than before.
Still, there was a hint of fire and brimstone in his gaze.
"So that's the bastard, huh...?"
Willow had a feeling the red ogre was also staring back. Even though it had them in its sights, it chose not to launch its artillery. It didn't consider them a threat. Why would it? It could kill them even at this distance, so it may as well have the hordes of goblins deliver them to its feet to play with them as it wished.
Markus clicked his tongue. "Hey, birdie. Ugly over there is lookin' down on us. Gonna let that stand?"
Sven growled and puffed up his feathers. He ducked his head low, just an order away from abandoning all sense of preservation, wanting nothing more than to get rid of those eyesores blocking his way.
"Well, well. A man after my heart."
Willow and Magni leaned away as the Swordsman used the driver seat to boost himself up to the roof of the wagon.
"Markus?" Willow asked.
"Everythin' will be all right now. Thanks for the save. I owe ya one. All of ya."
"S-Save our lives and I'll consider us even!" Magni said.
"Hah! Consider it done."
Markus was back on his two feet. He held his broken sword in his right hand, strong despite the rawness of the flesh and bone the healing potion had regenerated. He basked in the breeze and sighed like it was the sweetest thing since honey and cinnamon.
"Full speed ahead," he said.
Sven shrieked, announcing the declaration of war for all to hear.
The bird beast flapped its wings. The wheels churn. The wind picked up.
Goblins who wanted to take pot shots immediately changed their minds and scrambled out of the way. The ones chasing them were soon left in the dust.
The red ogre scrunched in anger in the face of such defiance. It didn't roar. Nor shout. Nor howl. It simply reared back its blackened arm in deliberate slowness, rocks clutched tight in its claw. Its skin sizzled. Its chest glowed hot and molten. When it reached its full extension, there was a thunderous crack.
The whistling of air as the projectiles fly served as its battle cry.
"I don't appreciate losing in a rock-throwing contest, especially to an ogre probably not even a month old. So how about I show ya something real good, eh? Learned it from the ol' dojo."
Markus leveled his broken sword at his hips. A luminescent glow was forming on the blade. Not just the blade. His entire body, too.
Willow barely sensed it from the driver's seat, but recognized the flow. Mana breathing?
"Take a guess why they call me the Flying Sword," he uttered. "Sun Flash, Second Form: [Sky-Scattering Slash]!"
With a horizontal slash, the air screamed and the glow split into pieces. Each light trail homed onto the projectiles, twisting and turning like they were following the path of the wind itself.
The stones shattered midair upon impact, popping like fireworks. Every. Last. One.
The red ogre's eyes narrowed. Sneering, it reached into another pile of stones.
"That all you got?! [Sky-Scattering Slash]!"
It was like a dance between two storms. For every pile the red ogre threw, the Swordsman answered in kind.
"[Sky-Scattering Slash]!"
The sound of thunder in every throw.
"[Sky-Scattering Slash]!"
The screeching of the air with every cut.
"[Sky-Scattering Slash]!"
Light and stone streaked the skies in a clash of wills. The light that passed through and the rocks that broke would fall to the sides, piercing the surrounding goblins.
The red ogre reached back, only to find no rock piles left. Snarling, it grabbed a few goblins and threw them instead!
"Fuck! That's cheating!"
Light trailed after the flying goblins, cutting them into clean halves, but his breathing was growing labored. Willow could see the wear and tear of his sword from her place in the driver's seat. He might be down to two or three swings at most.
"In that case... Kids! You're up!"
"Yes, Uncle!"
Nikolas had stepped out, a foot still in the wagon, his buckle shield intercepting any projectile goblins they got. Willow helped him, hanging onto the wagon with one hand and swinging her staff with the other. In the middle, poor Magni was keeping her head down and holding onto the reins for dear life.
"Are you all crazy!?"
They ignored her and kept swinging away. And the blood: it splattered all over them and the wagon.
Willow found herself taken by the surreality of it all. Batting away goblins thrown by a mass-murdering pitcher like it was baseball. Hurling themselves against an army like an intercontinental missile. Yet, all she could think of was how good a shower would feel right about now.
"Got you now, you bastard!"
Finally, Markus was in range.
The surrounding energy was compressed. For a brief moment, Markus grinned as his scruffy beard was tinged blue.
"One more time! [Sky-Scattering Slash]!"
A hundred pieces screeched through the air. No rocks. No goblins. Unimpeded, they all shot to kill.
The red ogre, with eyes wide, crouched and raised its guard. Its lone enhanced arm stood between it and the rain of death. And a moment later, the goblins unlucky enough to be caught in the crossfire were shredded into bloody ribbons.
They died all around the red ogre. First those at the front and center, then those around the sides, and finally those around the back. The goblins who tried to use the ogre as a shield got taken out by the curving shards. None had survived, not a single one, their bodies perforated and their blood soaking the earth.
When the rain ended, the red ogre was riddled with oozing black cuts. The rest of the blockade had been decimated. Now the red ogre was the only thing left standing.
It lowered its arm.
Only to be met with Sven's unstoppable beak.
Willow craned her neck as she watched the red ogre sail right over their heads. In that sublime moment of wonder, she saw the dumbfounded look on the ogre's face. The way its eyes crossed, the way its jaw hung. How its body twirled, how its silhouette shone under the sunlight.
With what little remained of his blade, Markus drew a wide, overhead arc.
The split halves crashed far behind them, snapping Willow out of her stupor.
The road was clear. Sven ran like the wind, as free as a bird could be. The monsters left over soon became dots in the distance.
Constitution Leveled Up!
Dexterity Leveled Up!
Intelligence Leveled Up!
Gained 100 Karma.
Magni let out a deflating wheeze. "Holy shit."
"Holy shit," Willow agreed.
"Holy shit?" Nikolas muttered.
"Ho. Ly. Shit." And Markus flopped himself flat on the wagon roof. "We had just survived a Wild Hunt..."
When monster spawners remain active for long enough, multiple types of monsters would emerge. They would vie for dominance and then form a hierarchy where the strongest, smartest, and cruelest species would lead the army, eventually leading into a deadly march through the land that would lay waste to entire settlements.
People had come to call it a Wild Hunt—and they were just in the middle of one, had stopped it in its tracks, and had left with their very lives.
Willow felt smelly and miserable, covered in so much gore that Magni sat as far toward the opposite side of the driver's seat as possible. Not like the wolf girl was much better, covered in blood herself. She seemed about ready to cry. From the stench, from the traumatizing event they had left behind, or both—only the Goddess knows.
Glancing behind, she saw Nikolas had crawled back into the wagon, staring out into the road they came from, lost and distant. Gone was the young naivety; in its place was something solemn and sublime. Like he learned some fundamental truth about the world they live in today. Protagonist things, she supposed.
Markus? Hardly bothered to come down from the wagon roof, just basking under the dipping sun. The veteran seemed a touch melancholic after a close brush with death. She had to admit, it felt so strange for him to be so stoic now.
Well. That was that.
Mission accomplished.
Willow closed her eyes, content to just enjoy the wind and the peace and the quiet...
"So."
But then Magni just had to open her mouth.
"In your mid-thirties, huh?"
Markus shuffled around on the roof. His head poked out, and his arms dangled beside him with the crumbling, bladeless hilt of his sword. "Yeah...? What are ya tryin' ta say?"
The wolf Merchant gave him a brief appraisal, before leveling with him the most sympathetic look a girl could give. "The years had not been kind to you, huh?"
"OH, SOD OFF ALREADY!"