Canopies blocked the light, streams crisscrossed the area, and the dark humus was rich beyond belief.
Rotting tree trunks covered in moss lay scattered in every direction.
This was deep within the dense forest of the Schrade Region, a place where even the sunlight struggled to penetrate.
No spot could be more suitable for mushrooms to grow.
Massive patches of specialty mushrooms stacked layer upon layer atop the moss-which had soaked up the previous night's rain like a sponge-their flesh-pink caps soft and thick, their savory flavor beyond a doubt.
Oink-oink.
A muffled grunting sound echoed, and a figure squeezed out from the roadside bushes.
This was a stout bullfango over a meter high at the shoulder, its brownish-black hide caked in half-dried mud, making it look almost as though it wore a layer of armor.
The Great Bullfango grunted as it lumbered over to the mushroom-covered stump, sniffed around with its long, pointed snout, and then began to gnaw away wantonly.
Before long, the large patch of freshly sprouted mushrooms on the stump had been rooted into a complete mess.
"Tch."
A slight click of the tongue sounded from the shadows of the dense forest, unnoticed by the Great Bullfango, which was busy enjoying its meal.
"I was hoping to forage some specialty mushrooms on the side, but now they're completely ruined."
Behind a large tree entwined with vines, a young hunter dressed in lightweight leather armor muttered silently.
Forget it. Once I finish this qualification quest, I'll be an official hunter. There's no need to get angry over a few mushrooms, Gordon comforted himself in his mind.
He slowly drew in a breath, letting his emotions and breathing settle completely.
First, check if the surroundings are safe.
The stream water, the canopy's shadows, the depths of the vines, the chirping of insects, the scents carried on the wind.
His eyes, ears, nose, and even his skin were carefully and efficiently gathering every trace of the environment.
A few seconds later, Gordon confirmed that within a radius of at least dozens of meters, no other large creatures existed.
The hunt could begin.
He tightened the bindings on the small shield strapped to his right arm, and a bone-crafted sword named the Hunter's Knife was drawn from the scabbard at his lower back, gripped tightly in his palm.
The muscles across his entire body tensed like a fully drawn bowstring, and the next second, he bolted forward like a Velociprey.
"Oink-gah?"
The Great Bullfango, with mushroom debris hanging from the corner of its mouth, raised its head alertly, its oversized head not yet having time to turn toward the direction the sound came from.
The attacker had already crossed that distance of nearly ten meters, charging right up to its side.
He did not stop his stride, nor did he strike directly with his blade; instead, using the round shield-which barely managed to cover the vital areas of his chest and abdomen-as a ramming wedge, he slammed squarely into the Great Bullfango's flank.
"Gah-howl!"
Even the Great Bullfango, with its low and stable center of gravity, could not help but stagger under this full-force impact, unable to launch an immediate counterattack.
Gordon, however, had already raised his shield and swung his blade, hacking solidly into the relatively soft flesh of the Great Bullfango's lower back.
The edge of the Hunter's Knife, dense with fine, sharp teeth, successfully breached the defense of mud and fur.
Amidst splashing blood, fat, muscle, and tendons were sliced open, and the Great Bullfango's hind legs went limp, howling as it tumbled to the ground.
A piggy-rush charge relying on hind-leg propulsion was the Great Bullfango's only attack method; such a slash might not be directly fatal, but it crippled its hind legs and completely cut off any possibility of retaliation.
The scene that followed was rather cruel.
"Gah-howl-howl-howl!"
Following a series of shrill wails, all life vanished completely from the Great Bullfango's eyes, leaving only its strong physique twitching slightly from mere nerve reflexes.
Flicking the blood from his blade, Gordon returned the knife to its scabbard.
He stood up, first scanning his surroundings cautiously for several moments to confirm the absence of danger, before squatting back down and drawing his Carving Knife to begin harvesting the Great Bullfango's carcass.
Dozens of seconds later, he selectively carved off a large chunk of high-quality raw meat and pulled out a half-meter-long fang.
As for the most valuable pelt, because it had several blade marks, it wouldn't fetch a good price, and since the quest wasn't over yet, carrying it around would only be a nuisance, so he had no choice but to abandon it.
Stowing the raw meat and fang into his pack, Gordon hurried to the stream to quickly wash the blood-stained hands and tools, then hastily departed.
The scent of blood and the corpse would soon attract predators like Blue Velociprey, and lingering here was simply asking for trouble.
Moving at a fast march for over half an hour, Gordon returned to the Hunter's Camp nestled within a ring of boulders.
Until he stooped to crawl through that narrow, dog-hole-like passage and laid eyes on the simple yet sturdy yellow animal-hide tent, the teenager finally let out a long sigh of relief.
Once back at the camp, he was completely safe.
He took the fang and raw meat out of his pack, placing the former-an item used to confirm the subjugation results-into the red storage chest inside the camp.
As for the latter, he prepared to marinate it with seasonings and roast it to eat shortly, which would also serve as a treat.
After all, though the portable rations provided by the Hunter's Guild could quickly fill one's stomach, their taste was truly hard to compliment.
This portable food, baked from a mix of wheat flour and dried cured meat, tasted practically like wood soaked in saltwater.
By comparison, roasted meat grilled to a golden brown and sizzling with oil was infinitely more delicious.
Recalling the wonderful taste of roast meat, Gordon swallowed hard, efficiently set up the spit, and patiently roasted this piece of fresh raw meat that still retained its residual warmth.
If one wanted to roast delicious meat that was crispy on the outside and tender on the inside, impatience would ruin it, and heat control was even more crucial.
The teenager slowly turned the handle of the spit while taking out his thin Hunter's Notes.
He flipped to the latest page.
--
Qualification Quest: The Annoying Bullfango Herd
Quest Details: Subjugate 5 Great Bullfango
Reward: 300z
Specified Location: Schrade Hills
Time Limit: 3 days
The Bullfango population in the Schrade Hills is experiencing abnormal reproduction, growing far too fast. Please be sure to cull their numbers so as not to disrupt the ecosystem of the Schrade Hills region and impact surrounding human settlements!
--
He took out a charcoal pencil and jotted down a few entries.
Counting the one from just now, he had already hunted four Great Bullfango over the past two days. Just one more hunt, and he could complete the quest and return to the village.
Most importantly!
By then, having passed the qualification quest, he would finally be able to shed the "apprentice" prefix and officially become a Monster Hunter!
Ever since he officially began receiving hunter training at age fifteen, a full two years had passed.
It was time to graduate.
At this thought, the corners of Gordon's mouth couldn't help but curve upward.
Trash monsters like Great Bullfango, Blue Velociprey, and Popo, of which he had hunted a hundred or at least seventy or eighty over the past two years, were not worthy of being recorded in his Hunter's Notes.
Only true Flying Wyverns like the Rathalos!
Were the glory that hunters yearned for!
A burnt smell snapped him out of his pleasant daydreams.
Realizing he had overcooked the meat, Gordon flurriedly removed it from the spit.
Fortunately, it was only slightly scorched.
This minor incident couldn't ruin his good mood.
Vigorously tearing into the piping-hot roast meat tinged with a slight burnt flavor, the teenager raised his head and looked at the sun still hanging high in the sky.
The time was still early, with at least three hours until sunset.
Speeding up, he wolfed down the food, and minutes later, tossing the gnawed clean bones aside, Gordon patted his bulging belly and stood up.
Eat your fill and strike while the iron's hot! Finish the hunt before dark!
Rookie author seeking support here-just drop a bookmark to let me know someone is slightly interested in this theme!
Before you continue