Standing over two hundred and fifty centimeters high at the shoulder and weighing in at over a ton, its body was so enormous that it was hard to believe it belonged to the same species as the Great Bullfango.
Its high, solid back was practically a small hill.
The hornlike, wedge-shaped projections along either side of its spine were actually vertebrae so thick that they jutted through its skin. Paired with its knotted masses of muscle, they could unleash power as terrifying as a flash flood at any moment.
Two jets of white vapor burst from its nostrils-a warning that this "mighty general" was about to fly into a rage.
Gordon glanced out of the corner of his eye at the female Great Bullfango's mangled corpse nearby, and his mouth went bitter.
I probably killed its little sweetheart. No wonder it's so furious.
I can't turn my back!
Running now would be a death sentence. There was no way a human could outrun a Bullfango King in a straight line.
Keeping it occupied and looking for an opening was his only option.
Gordon steadied his breathing, forcing himself to calm down. Concealing his movements behind his shield, he reached into his pack with as little motion as possible and pulled out an egg-sized spherical item.
He dearly wished it were a sonic bomb or a flash bomb. Those lovely little things could have bought him plenty of time.
Unfortunately, he had brought none of those expensive items-or rather, items that were expensive for an apprentice hunter like him.
This was nothing more than an ordinary Paintball.
With a flick of his arm, the Paintball struck the Bullfango King squarely on the back. A large splash of fluorescent red, paintlike liquid burst out, coating its fur.
At the same time, a pungent odor spread through the air.
Hunters used these items to mark their target monsters.
Specially trained monster hunters could accurately track their targets by identifying the scent and following traces of paint dripped onto the ground or rubbed onto rock faces and vegetation.
Of course, tracking was not Gordon's only reason for throwing the Paintball now.
He wanted to enrage the Bullfango King further and force it to attack-the arrow still waiting on the bowstring was the most frightening one.
To the Bullfango King, this "strike" had caused no damage, but it was deeply insulting.
It was roughly equivalent to someone pissing all over its head with particularly foul-smelling urine.
Its enormous tusks swung violently a few times as it shook its head.
Its short but powerfully built forelegs scraped the ground. With an enraged roar, it lowered its head and thundered toward Gordon like a steam locomotive.
Suppressing his fear and the urge to throw himself aside, Gordon kept telling himself that it was not yet time.
If he rolled too early, giving the monster enough room to adjust its course before he could get back up, he would be doomed.
The young hunter lowered his body, every muscle tensed, and stared fixedly at the rapidly approaching beast.
"Now!"
His taut body sprang out like a coiled spring.
Gordon dove and rolled to the right, successfully avoiding the lethal blow. The fierce rush of air stirred up by the Bullfango King's body even tore up the turf, leaving devastation in its wake.
He had no time to breathe a sigh of relief.
Gordon had only just finished his roll and had not even fully risen when he felt a powerful gust rush toward him from behind.
After missing its charge, the Bullfango King had stopped in time, twisted around, and swung its enormous tusks at the hunter.
"Damn it! It's several times bigger, but it's still that much more agile than an ordinary Great Bullfango?!"
Gritting his teeth, Gordon raised his round shield in front of him and barely managed to brace for impact before he was sent flying backward like a kicked ball.
He slammed into the ground without managing to break his fall. His head rang, and a searing pain shot through his shield-bearing right arm as though it had snapped.
His whole body felt as though it had fallen apart. He wanted nothing more than to lie there and catch his breath, but he knew this was no time for that.
The Bullfango King was already bearing down on him in another full-force charge.
There was no time to stand. Gordon could only throw all his strength into rolling several times to one side, narrowly escaping this latest assault.
But how soon would the next attack come? In one second? Two?
Am I really going to die here?
Just as Gordon, unable to find even enough time to get up, was about to sink into despair, the crash of snapping wood and the Bullfango King's howls rang out a short distance behind him.
He had no idea what had happened, but he finally had a moment to breathe. Fighting through the pain, Gordon clambered to his feet and discovered that luck seemed to have favored him this time.
The Bullfango King, driven somewhat senseless by rage, had rammed headfirst into a massive tree so thick that it would take two people to encircle its trunk.
Most absurd of all, it had actually snapped the tree!
Still, the Bullfango King clearly had not come out unscathed either.
It staggered as though drunk, apparently stunned.
This was undoubtedly the perfect chance to escape!
Yet Gordon once again stopped himself from turning and running.
Judging by the way the Bullfango King was shaking its head, it would recover from its daze in no more than a few seconds.
How far could I run in that time? Ten meters? Twenty?
True, his nimble frame gave him an advantage over the bulky Bullfango King in the dense forest, but he was injured too. His right arm might even be broken.
If I just run, can I really get away?
"I have to wound the Bullfango King-at least enough to slow it down!"
Gordon roared to vent the fear in his heart. Clenching the Hunter's Knife in his left hand, he charged behind the Bullfango King and aimed for the Achilles tendon of its hind leg.
Holding nothing back, he delivered what might have been the hardest slash he had ever made since beginning his hunter training.
The heel, which lacked a thick covering of fur, was indeed one of the Bullfango King's less protected areas-but only relatively speaking.
The Hunter's Knife came down more like a chopping hammer than a slashing blade. It successfully cut through the fairly thin skin, but failed to sever the Bullfango King's Achilles tendon as Gordon had hoped.
The blade barely made it halfway through before the rock-hard muscle and tendon trapped it fast.
But the blow certainly hurt the Bullfango King.
Having just regained its senses, it let out an agonized howl. With terrifying core strength beyond anything a human could imagine, it whipped around and swung its head, sending Gordon flying once again with its heavy tusks.
The tremendous impact sent Gordon tumbling into the ground, and he could not stop himself from coughing up a mouthful of blood.
With all the strength battered out of him, Gordon gritted his teeth and struggled to raise his head. Through his increasingly blurred vision, he stared fixedly at the Bullfango King charging toward him once more.
The strong preyed on the weak-that was nature's law. Since he lacked the strength to claim victory, perhaps witnessing the end of his own life was a fitting conclusion for the loser.
Yet just as the young hunter was about to be trampled into pulp, a strange horn sounded.
"Toot-toot~ toot-toot~ toot-toot~"
The Bullfango King turned its head irritably, its attention briefly diverted.
At the same time, several short figures with white and brown fur approached Gordon's fallen body with agility far beyond any human's.
Together, they hurriedly lifted him onto a simple wooden cart and vanished into the dark forest in the blink of an eye.
Only the Bullfango King remained, still somewhat bewildered, roaring out its fury and frustration.
"GRAAAAAAAH!"
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