The Broken Tusk

The sun gradually climbed overhead, and the temperature kept rising.

The clothes beneath his armor were already soaked with sweat, but Gordon was too focused on dodging the Bullfango King's attacks and looking for openings to notice.

Ten minutes had passed since the battle began in earnest.

The relentless rolling, dodging, and slashing drained his stamina fast, and his quarry, the Bullfango King, was hardly faring any better.

The toxins from the Parashrooms and Poison Mushrooms were still working, draining its stamina even faster.

The cuts covering its body looked horrific, but most were shallow. The truly serious wound was the one at the Achilles tendon of its left hind leg.

Once the adrenaline fueled by its rage wore off, the agonizing pain in its hind leg slowed its movements.

Its initial urge to crush its opponent into pulp had faded considerably as well. After a standoff lasting several seconds, the panting Bullfango King turned and trotted away.

Gordon let out a long breath.

He did not pursue immediately. His own stamina had fallen dangerously low, and he had hardly emerged from the fight unscathed.

After a quick check to make sure his surroundings were safe for the moment, Gordon took out the waterskin filled with Potion and gulped down several mouthfuls.

He pressed a palm against his side. The relatively bearable pain from his ribs brought a sigh of relief.

The Bullfango King had just kicked him there. Even with his armor's protection, bruising was inevitable. As long as the bones were intact, that was enough.

His right shoulder had also just been grazed by the Bullfango King’s tusk, and was now badly swollen. Fortunately, the bone was unharmed too. A little rest should ease it.

After taking out a Ration and washing it down with honey-laced Potion, Gordon pulled out his Whetstone and began sharpening his knife.

The once-sharp edge was now caked with blood and fat, with several chips along it. Unless he sharpened it promptly, he might not even be able to cut through the Bullfango King's hide in the next fight.

After resting for about ten minutes, Gordon felt largely recovered and resumed the hunt, setting off in pursuit.

While he recovered his strength, the Bullfango King was doing the same. He could not afford to let it rest too long.

The scent of the recently applied Paintball was distinct, and Gordon picked up the Bullfango King's trail with little effort.

It stood beside a stream, its head lowered to drink. The wounds covering its body looked pitiful and drew countless forest flies, which buzzed around it.

The stream bank was covered in pebbles and fallen leaves, with no cover anywhere. Approaching quietly was impossible, so Gordon abandoned the idea of a sneak attack.

He casually picked up a pebble and hurled it from a distance, striking the Bullfango King squarely on the forehead.

The Bullfango King shook itself and turned its head in fury, its small eyes fixed on that hateful human.

Gordon raised both hands in a taunting gesture even an ant could understand and laughed. "Come on! Let's keep going!"

"ROOOOAAARR!"

From the blazing midday sun to the setting sun in the west.

The entire afternoon passed in repeated clashes and pursuits between Gordon and the Bullfango King.

The Bullfango King's condition grew steadily worse.

The effects of the Parashrooms and Poison Mushrooms had long since faded, but its situation had not improved. Over those five or six hours, it had lost far too much blood, with no time to regain its strength, let alone eat.

It remained on edge the whole time. Whenever it tried to catch its breath, that vicious human appeared, brandishing his knife.

The injury to its left hind leg was severe. To ease the strain, the Bullfango King kept that leg raised as much as possible and walked on the other three.

Walking like this was not only slow, but drained even more stamina. Still, the Bullfango King had no choice.

Unless it rested its left leg, it might be unable to use even its favorite charge in battle.

As the pursuer, Gordon was not doing much better.

The Potion in his waterskin had long since run out, and he had picked up several new injuries. Blocking one impact had fractured his shield-bearing right arm again, and the slightest movement sent searing pain through it.

What worried him most, however, was the Hunter's Knife in his hand.

More and more chips marred its edge, and the Whetstone could no longer restore its original sharpness. A crack had even appeared across the once-smooth blade. Perhaps the next swing would snap it in two.

The inexperienced young hunter did not realize that he himself was the chief culprit behind his weapon's excessive wear.

Why had the instructor never mentioned something as easy as poisoning a weapon with Poison Mushrooms? Because their corrosive juices inflicted irreversible damage on weapons.

Special weapons imbued with deadly poison were not simply blades coated in toxins. They used specially selected materials and structural designs.

True, the poisonous juice on the blade had suppressed the Bullfango King's ability to heal to some extent, leaving it bleeding constantly. But until the final outcome, who could say whether the trade-off had been worthwhile?

Now Gordon stood before the Bullfango King once more.

Both were nearing their limits. This might well be their final clash.

"Come on. Let's keep going."

For the umpteenth time, the hunter beckoned to the Bullfango King.

"ROOOAAARR!"

Driven into a corner, the Bullfango King's eyes turned bloodshot once again.

The pride of a mighty warrior would not let it spend its last reserves of strength fleeing. Miraculously, its left hind leg, with its Achilles tendon almost completely severed, planted firmly on the ground.

Long jets of white vapor streamed from its nostrils, like steam venting from an engine's release valve.

It launched a headlong charge more imposing than any before it. Even a Flying Wyvern standing in its path would have been gravely wounded by that blow.

Sensing its resolve, Gordon certainly would not imitate the heroes in illustrated tales-both sides charging at once, crossing past each other, the victor sheathing his blade as the loser fell.

No amount of courage justified a head-on charge against a Bullfango King.

Dodging was his only option.

His eyes fixed on the charging Bullfango King, Gordon rolled aside at the last instant, evading the charge cleanly just as he had every time before.

This time, however, the Bullfango King moved differently.

It did not stop. Instead, it forced a turn while still charging at full speed, its hill-like bulk tracing a nearly ninety-degree bend across the forest clearing, its enormous tusks aimed straight at the hunter.

"How is that possible?!"

Gordon's expression changed abruptly. He had never imagined the Bullfango King still had a chain of charges up its sleeve.

With his life hanging in the balance, he had no time to recover from his roll. He hurled himself sideways with all his strength and crashed heavily to the ground.

Even so, he had not leaped far enough. The Bullfango King's heavy hoof was about to crush his knee.

At that moment, Gordon could only leave everything to luck.

With no time to judge the distance, he gritted his teeth and rolled sideways. That desperate gamble miraculously carried him clear of the Bullfango King's trampling hooves.

Holding nothing back in its full-speed charge, the Bullfango King slammed headfirst into the trunk of a tree ahead with an explosive crash.

Crack!

A sound distinctly different from breaking wood reached Gordon's ears.

Scrambling awkwardly to his feet, Gordon looked up in astonishment.

The Bullfango King's tusk had snapped!