Monster Hunting 401: A LitRPG Fantasy Adventure by Andrew Karevik (book suggestions .TXT) 📗

anger seemed to awaken me. Perhaps it was one of the long-term effects of the Hunter’s Stare, or maybe I now had something more important than my own self-pitying to think about. Either way, my sorrow seemed to fade. It was instead replaced with a strong, fiery determination to not give up on our world. To not just tuck our tails in between our legs and run. Our children would live under the sun—this sun! And no one was going to convince me otherwise.

Chapter 3

The passage of time seemed almost nonconsequential. One moment I was saying goodbye to my husband, the next I was gearing up in the armory and then…I was on the road. These events seemed to happen so quickly and so routinely that I barely registered any of it. Everyone treated this mission as if it were just another humdrum day in the life of a Venator. After all, I was Huntmaster Avery, the best of the best. The strongest there was. The woman who could lose limb or eye and just grow it back like it wasn’t a problem.

But something told me this adventure was going to be different. Looking at my map, I could see the outline our scouts had made of the route leading to the Shadewood. At a certain point, the map just ceased being useful. A hundred miles of land was documented by our people, but after that, we had no idea what was out there. Sure, there were old maps of territories, but the land had changed drastically since the Titans had arrived so long ago. Whatever lied past the 100 mile marker was a mystery to us all.

The Shadewood is a great forest, one beyond the size of any you have seen. Trees the size of mountains. It is where many of what you call monsters come from. Long have we tried to reach the wood, only to meet failure. Our great friends, the mighty Venators who once aided us, hunting these creatures for sport and pleasure, have all but vanished. There was more power in the claw of a single of those Venators than in your entire hunting team. If there was no hope for them, then we must assume there is little to none for you.

Those had been the parting warnings of Brain. He spoke without empathy, pity or compassion. There was no long goodbye, nor words of affection towards me. If Masara had feelings, it was clear they did not communicate them with statements or phrases.

Behind me rolled along one of our greatest inventions. It was a short, square wagon, with metal wheels and a transparent box atop it, full of metal gears that rolled themselves, powered by a mixture of physics and magic. The mobile workshop, christened the Stabwagon by snickering recruits, was everything I’d need to perform my regular Venator activities on the field.

There was an alchemy bench that flipped out on the left side, full of tiny cauldrons and metal vials that could be used to brew potions on the go. On the right was a butchery station that served as a workbench for crafting charms. The interior had been hollowed out, to allow me to sleep in safety, as the Stabwagon was smeared in a special concoction of monster blood and pheromones that rendered it more or less invisible to scavenger type creatures. This creaking, groaning and occasionally sputtering contraption would be my only company for the long, long journey ahead.

I walked in front of the wagon, making my way through Fort Rasha, staring blankly ahead. All of the Venators of the camp had assembled to wish me farewell. New recruits and veterans alike lined up the newly installed metal walls, cheering for me as I walked through the open gates.

“You’re gonna kill them all, Avery!” someone shouted.

“You’ve got this!” another one called. Many shouted encouragements, words of thanks and exclamations of how I’d succeed, but I could see what really powered their cheerfulness. Each and every one of them was grateful that they wouldn’t be coming with me. Grateful they’d get to stay home. I couldn’t blame them. If I were just another grunt, I’d be silently praying that no one made me go on such a terrible adventure either.

I forced a smile and waved, making stabbing gestures in the air, to show how ready I was. It was all an act, of course, and I kept the smile up for as long as they could see me. But the moment I was clear of the outer gate, past the last batch of scout towers, I immediately reverted back to a neutral attitude. This was going to be a long, miserable trip. Dangerous too.

My ears twitched as a rustling came from behind. In an instant, Josiah’s Storm was in my hands and I whipped around, facing the wagon, looking for the source of the sound.

“Why do you get all the cheers when you leave, but when I leave no one even notices?” Trig said, sticking his head out of the top of the wagon’s escape hatch.

“Trig?” I said. “What are you doing here?”

“What do you think? I’m stowing away so I can finally get some sleep,” he said, climbing out and jumping down beside me. He didn’t look good, necessarily. Not that he wasn’t in good shape, of course his skinny frame had filled out quite a bit from all the meat and training that the Venator life could afford. But his face was forlorn, weary and in his eyes, I could see such sorrow. The sorrow he had carried ever since the fateful day we had killed our first Titan.

“You can’t be here,” I said. “I’m about to head—”

The lad put a hand up to stop me. “I know the whole deal. Your overbearing husband explained it all, so we can skip the unnecessary recap.”

Higgins was behind this? “He sent you here?”

“Officially? No. Unofficially? Yup. He said you were worried about going it alone. Figured I could