Human Courage

He looked at his hands, covered in calluses, with thick knuckles-far rougher than those of others his age, but far stronger too.

His injured right hand still trembled faintly, as if reflecting the fear buried deep inside him, the fear even he refused to face.

Was he afraid of being pierced by those tusks?

Afraid of being crushed beneath those enormous hooves?

He was only seventeen, an apprentice hunter who had yet to qualify. Wasn't it perfectly normal that he couldn't beat a Bullfango King? Couldn't he just come back and settle the score once he was stronger?

Gordon tried to comfort himself, but those thoughts only made the weight in his heart grow heavier.

It felt even worse than the clotted blood that had lodged in his throat earlier.

He took out his Hunter's Notes and gazed at the Hunter's Guild emblem branded into its hide cover.

Before hunting had become a profession in this land, what had those who came before him felt as they faced monsters beyond human strength?

They had no sturdy armor or sharp weapons.

No assortment of tools or intelligence to support them.

And certainly no option of "coming back to settle the score once they were stronger."

They had only the kin and homes behind them that they had to protect, and the courage desperation forced out of them.

What about him?

Had the Bullfango King's headlong charge utterly shattered his courage? Even if he later equipped himself with sharper weapons and sturdier armor, would his hands really stop shaking?

After retreating this time, would he truly have the nerve to stand before that beast again, let alone charge at it himself?

Stepping outside the tent, Gordon examined the Hunter's Knife that had accompanied him for an entire year once more beneath the bright starlight.

Its blade wasn't sharp enough, but it could still leave wounds on the Bullfango King.

The shield had cracked, yet it stubbornly remained intact.

He closed his eyes.

The figures of those pioneers rose in his mind, clad in thin armor and wielding crude blades, yet still shouting as they charged at monsters, one after another.

A faint but bright emotion sparked from the depths of his soul, like a kindling flame.

It wasn't fear, impulse, or hysterical recklessness, but something that burned hotter.

Gordon opened his eyes. Looking at his right hand, still aching and numb but no longer trembling, he unconsciously murmured:

"Is this courage?"

He slapped his cheeks hard until two ridiculous red handprints appeared on his face.

He put away the notebook that marked him as a hunter, sheathed his blade, and strapped the round shield back onto his right arm, pulling the straps tight.

"Then let's start again!"

Two hours later, Gordon returned to camp.

The Paintball's effect gave him a rough sense of the Bullfango King's direction and distance. He chose not to approach rashly; before the real fight began, he still had preparations to make.

While away from camp, he had searched the nearby mountain woods, gathering every material that might prove useful. These seemingly insignificant odds and ends might become crucial factors in the coming fight.

Now he sat cross-legged on the floor inside the tent, sorting through the jumble in front of him.

"Seven herbs, a few chunks of honey, one Adamant Seed, four blue mushrooms, three Poison Mushrooms, two Parashrooms."

Some of these materials had just been gathered, while others had been collected over the previous two days and stored in the supply box.

"Potions first."

Gordon crushed all the herbs and blue mushrooms together in a stone mortar, added a little clean water, stirred thoroughly, and strained the mixture. The resulting green liquid was the most basic kind of Potion.

The proportions weren't quite right, and without proper extraction and blending, the medicine wouldn't be as effective as it could be. But time was short; he couldn't afford to fuss over the details.

Besides, he had been lucky enough to find a beehive and cut out a good amount of honey.

Following his instructor's "secret recipe," he added plenty of honey to the Potion. This would greatly improve its effectiveness and make the bitter medicine taste better too.

Without extraction and concentration, the Potion was rather bulky. Looking at the medicine filling his iron soup pot, Gordon felt a little overwhelmed.

He steeled himself, tipped his head back, and gulped down half the pot before Gordon let out a loud burp.

These crudely made Potions certainly weren't as effective or fast-acting as the carefully blended kind stored in little glass bottles, but they made up for it in sheer quantity.

A little over half an hour after drinking the medicine, he felt that the pain in his right arm had almost completely vanished. The dull ache from the impact to his internal organs was gone too.

With a little more rest, he should be back at full strength.

He poured all the remaining medicine into his waterskin so he could drink it later.

He also put the great heap of assorted mushrooms, a local specialty, to use.

He had once been the sort of fighter who disdained relying too much on tools. Now his thinking had changed-any method that improved his chances of a successful hunt was a good method!

Many hunters liked to lure monsters with doctored raw meat, weakening them by enticing them to eat it.

Paralysis meat, poisoned meat, and the like sounded rather underhanded, but they were highly effective hunting methods.

Bullfango Kings were omnivorous monsters. They ate meat too, but what they loved most were the mushrooms that sprang up everywhere in the forest after rain.

Gordon decided to use that to lay a trap for the Bullfango King.

If it worked, all the better. If it didn't, he wouldn't lose much.

Still, fooling a beast whose kind had lived in the forest for generations, feeding on mushrooms, with a sense of smell keener than a dog's, wouldn't be easy.

Parashrooms and Poison Mushrooms might be mushrooms too, but if he placed them in front of the beast, it wouldn't give them a second glance.

They needed some disguise.

For that purpose, Gordon specifically dug out the most valuable account item he had gathered over the past few days from the storage box-a giant matsutake.

This unusual mushroom grew deep in the Schrade Hills and had an exceptionally rich, fragrant, nutty aroma. It was a rare delicacy not only for humans, but for Bullfango Kings as well.

A single one could sell for several times the reward for this quest. Finding one had been as lucky as winning the lottery.

Suppressing his heartache, Gordon chopped up the entire giant matsutake. He mixed the intensely fragrant mushroom pulp with thick honey, then smeared a generous layer over the pile of Poison Mushrooms, Parashrooms, and Sleepyshrooms.

He hoped it would fool the Bullfango King's nose.

Their appearance didn't matter. Everyone knew that Great Bullfangos rooted around with their snouts when foraging and bit straight into anything that smelled appetizing, without bothering to look at it.

After making his treacherous bait, Gordon carefully crushed a Poison Mushroom he had deliberately set aside, then spread its purplish-black juice evenly over his Hunter's Knife.

This kind of Poison Mushroom contained a potentially lethal toxin. It was deadly to humans, and had some effect on monsters too.

His instructor had told him that certain hunter weapons used special monster materials rich in potent toxins, giving their attacks a "poison" element that sapped the target's stamina.

His crude method, which hardly even counted as poisoning a blade, certainly couldn't compare to those advanced weapons. But if it caused the Bullfango King even the slightest bit of extra trouble, it was worth doing.

He glanced at the sky. There were roughly four or five hours left until dawn.

Gordon lay down on the bed.

Even though excitement and racing thoughts made sleep difficult, he squeezed his eyes shut and tried to force himself to fall asleep.

For the hunt ahead, he had to conserve his strength and recover from his injuries.

"One Felyne, two Felynes, three Felynes."

A few minutes later, only soft snores echoed faintly through the cramped tent.