Once prey had been cornered, hunting it down was easy. Kaufman knew that well.

"..."

Kaufman walked silently through the underground waterways.

What was a Ranger's specialty? Tracking prey and killing it was precisely their field of expertise. The channel flowing right beside him filled the air with dampness, and visibility was poor, but neither posed any problem.

Bloodstains. Footsteps. Traces left behind despite every effort to conceal them.

Try as one might, there was no escaping a seasoned Ranger's eyes. Kaufman followed those traces quietly, never once letting down his guard during the pursuit.

Keep a broad field of vision. Keep the ballista loaded at all times.

The instant he sensed Najin's presence in the distance, Kaufman pulled the trigger. The arrow flew with a piercing whistle, grazing his fleeing prey's thigh. Blood spattered, and a stifled groan echoed.

TAP!

His prey kicked off the ground and fled.

Bleeding and suppressing his groans, Najin ran into the distance. Kaufman watched him go without breaking into a run. He merely pursued at a steady pace.

At a glance, he might have seemed to be taking his time, but that was far from the truth. His prey was wounded already. Bleeding and cornered. And weren't the passages ahead of him littered with endless traps?

There was no reason, then, to surrender the pursuer's advantage.

Give him no opportunity to strike back.

Drive him relentlessly. Never relinquish an advantage once gained. That was hunting as Kaufman Theosis understood it. There was no reason to close the distance needlessly and offer a chance to counterattack.

'Wear him down.'

Until he was exhausted enough.

Until he could no longer move.

Drive him that far, then plant a crossbow bolt between his eyes, and the hunt was over. Having come this far, it was as good as finished already.

He was simply doing what he always did.

There was nothing remarkable about a hunter's usual work. The hunter pursued his bleeding prey. Deep in the underground waterways, two sets of footsteps echoed softly.

2.

Pursue, pull the trigger, pursue again.

As the same pattern repeated, Kaufman had time to reflect. He knew there was nothing more foolish than becoming lost in stray thoughts during a hunt, yet he could not ignore the thoughts circling through his mind.

"... Phew."

Kaufman walked on, letting out a long breath.

With his senses still alert, he wondered how he had fallen so far. The years spent in the rugged mountains along the border, the years spent shedding blood for the Empire—all of it belonged to the past now.

The honorable soldier who had offered his life for the Empire was not here. All that remained here was an old, weary hunting dog.

A hunting dog dragged wherever its leash led, biting whatever it was ordered to bite, living for nothing else. Of course, had the Empire held his leash, Kaufman was confident he could have considered this work honorable. Devoting his life to his homeland was something a soldier could take pride in.

But it was not the imperial family holding his leash.

Naturally, then, there was neither honor nor a greater cause in what he did. That knowledge left Kaufman bitter.

["For the Empire."]

["For the glory and peace of the Empire."]

Memories of shouting those words circled through his mind.

Of course, he did not regret turning his back on the Techel Mountains and leaving of his own accord. He had found a lover he treasured more than his country. What else could he have done?

The problem was what came afterward.

What came afterward was the problem.

"Fucking bastards."

Kaufman muttered the words as though spitting them out.

Perhaps it was a common enough story. A group of dark mages taking revenge on a retired soldier. A wife caught up in an incident and killed. In the end, only his child remained.

["We've administered emergency treatment, but it won't last long."]

["It's a vicious curse."]

["There's nothing we can do..."]

A ruined life. A ruined story.

Yet something remained.

And to protect what remained, a person could cast aside anything.

["Oh, of course we must help."]

["But to lift a curse of this magnitude... we need the grace of the One we serve. And the One finds beauty in those who offer their service."]

["What will you do?"]

There were only so many places he could turn.

They demanded the unthinkable.

["You've chosen wisely."]

["The One will respect your choice as well."]

But he could not refuse.

"Fucking."

Kaufman scratched his neck.

"Bastards."

He scratched viciously. Flesh tore away beneath his nails, along with blood. Kaufman ground his teeth.

["Well, now."]

["I never imagined you could investigate quite so thoroughly."]

The truth uncovered at the end of his pursuit.

["Yes. I was indeed the one who gave your location to the dark mage who killed your wife and put him up to it."]

["But what can you do?"]

["Report me? Go ahead. Try."]

["Someone might listen to a few words from a retired soldier. But what then?"]

His life had been toyed with, and what he had thought a tragedy had been a meticulously planned conspiracy. But by the time he realized that, the leash was already around his neck.

["Your daughter."]

["We're the only ones who can bring your daughter out of the underground city."]

["Choose wisely, Kaufman."]

["Shouldn't you at least protect what you have left?"]

All that remained was a wretched hunting dog.

Kaufman clutched the contract tucked inside his clothes. A contract made with both parties' souls at stake. A promise to free him from everything if he completed the job.

Once.

He only had to succeed at this job.

Just one more time...

"..."

Kaufman's teeth ground audibly.

He recalled Najin's reaction to the words "the underground city of Atman." Kaufman knew what that city looked like and how its people lived.

A boy born and raised in such a city.

A boy who must finally have made his way outside.

His assigned role was to trample that boy, drive his head into the ground, and gouge out his eyes so he could never see the light again. The thought filled Kaufman with disgust.

"... Damn it."

Muttering those words, Kaufman cocked his crossbow. A heavy click echoed. Shaking off stray thoughts and reining in his emotions, he walked on.

BOOM! BOOOOM!

Sounds came from far away.

Traps activating. It did not stop at one; the sounds rang out in succession. Listening, Kaufman muttered.

"It's over."

Accumulated fatigue and injuries. Traps that sluggish movements could no longer evade. Judgment clouded by pain. As that vicious cycle repeated, cornered prey would lose all ability to think clearly.

The traps going off in succession were proof.

He must no longer be able to detect or avoid them. Moving toward the sounds, Kaufman saw blood spattered everywhere and traces suggesting someone had rolled across the ground.

The blood trail stretched into the distance.

Tracks that looked as though someone had dragged their feet.

The end of this tiresome chase was finally in sight. Kaufman followed the blood to finish off prey that could no longer move.

And so Kaufman closed the distance.

He made the mistake of closing the distance.

The hunter who had maintained his distance and chosen correctly all along made the wrong choice at the very last moment.

“Now.”

A voice Kaufman could not hear.

But one Najin could.

The instant he heard it, Najin moved. Hanging from the waterway's ceiling, concealed by darkness, he dropped silently.

In darkness so deep you could not see what lay before you, no one could know who would become the hunter and who the prey.

As though proving those words, Najin's eyes shone in the dark.

3.

["The moment a hunter lets his guard down most is when he finishes off his prey. No matter how experienced he is, he'll leave an opening then."]

The story Offen had told him.

["That was when the Ranger who'd stayed out of sight all along finally showed himself."]

["And that was my only chance to fight back."]

Shaking his liquor bottle, he had said:

["Lure him in. Trigger the traps on purpose and play the insect struggling in a spider's web. Act like you've lost your judgment. Pretend you're cornered."]

["Deceive him. The hunter."]

["Until the spider thinks you're weak enough and shows himself in front of you."]

When that moment came.

["The instant that spider shows himself to sink his teeth into you—that's your last chance."]

Offen had sipped his drink and smiled.

["Bite back. With everything you've got."]

Through bloodshot eyes, Najin saw him.

The hunter who had finally appeared before him. And with that, he had gained a single chance. Kaufman, distracted by the arrows and daggers Najin had pulled from his body and thrown onto the floor, stepped deeper into the passage.

“Now.”

The voice rang in his ear.

Najin dropped from the ceiling. The ambush was silent, but Kaufman's nearly superhuman senses detected even that faintest hint of a presence.

"...!"

Eyes widening, Kaufman whipped his crossbow around to aim at Najin, but it was already too late. Najin drove the dagger held in a reverse grip in his left hand into Kaufman's ballista.

CRUNCH!

The dagger struck the ballista before its trigger could be pulled. As the weapon failed to fire, Najin swung the longsword in his right hand.

Accumulated fatigue and injuries, along with the sword aura he had drawn forth in his battle against Pauve, left him unable to coat the longsword in aura. Even so, a blade was more than enough to tear through human flesh.

A surprise attack. And a longsword carrying ample force.

The longsword struck down into Kaufman's shoulder. His poncho tore, and blood sprayed. Just as the sword bit deep enough to threaten to sever his arm at the shoulder, Kaufman gritted his teeth and reached out.

He clamped down on the blade.

Ignoring the blood flowing from his palm, Kaufman held the blade tight to keep it from sinking any deeper and thrust his foot at Najin.

THWACK!

The kick struck Najin squarely in his already wounded abdomen, but he did not release the longsword. Even as he was driven backward, he forced strength into his grip and twisted it. Wrenching open Kaufman's shoulder wound and cutting deep into the fingers gripping the blade, Najin drew back.

And so a stalemate formed.

The two stared at each other across the distance.

"Now I've seen one hell of a lunatic."

Kaufman laughed in disbelief.

Blood flowed from his torn shoulder. His ripped poncho slipped down, spilling its contents, and the shattered crossbow was beyond use.

Deeply cut fingers and shoulder.

He would not be drawing a bow with this hand.

But from what Kaufman could see, Najin was in several times worse shape. Wounds covered his body, his clothes were stained red, and several arrows and daggers still protruded from his back, apparently left unremoved.

Bloodshot eyes. Ragged breathing.

He might have lured Kaufman here, but the boy was hardly in good condition himself. It was a wonder he could move at all... yet he showed no sign of releasing his tightly gripped longsword. Watching Najin, Kaufman acknowledged it.

Neither of them was prey.

Here, they were both simply hunters.

With the poncho stripped away, Kaufman's upper body was exposed: scar-covered forearms and an assortment of daggers fastened to his leather armor. He drew a dagger in one hand and the machete hanging at his waist in the other.

The reek of blood hung thick all around them.

The sound of water flowing through the channel reached their ears.

A brief silence, a moment's breath. It took only a few seconds to gauge each other's condition. In those few seconds, both finished calculating exactly how to kill the prey standing before them.

Neither moved first.

Almost simultaneously, the two hunters lunged at each other. The dagger Najin threw collided in midair with the one Kaufman swung, and both rebounded. Batting the deflected blades aside, longsword and machete clashed.

CLAAANG!

Sparks flew.

Blood spattered from wounds torn open by their violent movements. Najin's bloodshot eyes met Kaufman's.

Only killing intent showed in their eyes.

Reasons, stray thoughts, all those worthless feelings had long since been cast aside. To hesitate was to die.