POV Narrator
Chryssia raised her arms to block the axe—an action that Cesar had anticipated.
The hunter, still in midair, pulled the axe back toward his body, avoiding contact with Chryssia, causing the weapon to slam into the ground instead.
It seemed the blow had missed, but Chryssia didn't feel any relief. Instead, she remembered the weapon's name.
'Charged Axe.'
And as if choreographed, at that very moment, the weapon unleashed the true impact of the strike—a series of pale yellow explosions, bursting in pairs.
Chryssia tried to avoid the blast by leaping backward, but the first explosion still caught her left leg, tearing off her foot's claws, shredding the muscles, and fracturing the bones.
It was hard to say whether it was still a leg or just a stump.
She wanted to scream in pain, but the scream got caught in her throat when the second series of explosions ripped off half of her tail.
Barely avoiding the remaining blasts, she pushed all her strength into her only remaining leg and jumped sideways.
She opened her mouth and launched a poison orb at the hunter, only for him to block it fluidly with his shield, which began to spark upon contact with the venom.
Realizing her attack had failed, she raised her right fist to strike—but had to lower it when pain flared in her shoulder, followed by multiple impacts on her back.
Quickly, she covered her nape with her arm—just in time, as a series of bullets intended for her head struck her arm instead.
Mark had finished reloading and taken position—now firing from the treetop.
And as if that weren't enough, she had to dodge a stabbing attack from Morgan's spear as he struck from the side.
Chryssia staggered back several steps. Due to her wounded tail and leg, she had to support herself with her arms to keep balance.
Now on three limbs, she looked at the hunters, scanned the surroundings, and noticed the Anjanath had fled at some point. The thought of fleeing crossed her mind too, but as soon as she considered it… she remembered something.
POV Chryssia
"Yes, run! That's the only thing you're good at—just run! Useless freak!"
I opened my mouth and roared, out of pain and fury, then lunged at the hunters like a rabid beast.
I used [Charged Blood], [Ram], [Charged Attack], while activating [Hardened Poisonous Spines] to cover my body in spikes. I also discovered there's a limit to how many I can create—my body grows more tense the more I generate.
Still, the tension didn't stop me. I charged at the hunter with the switch axe—now in sword and shield mode.
He blocked my charge with his shield, but I still sent him flying several meters until he crashed into a tree.
His two companions shouted when they saw him hit the ground, but I couldn't make out what they said—nor did I care.
Seeing him out of the fight, I turned and rushed the spearman, who likewise blocked me with his shield.
This time, the block was more solid—I only made him slide back a few meters.
But I didn't stop there. In a crouched position, still walking on my arms, I landed a punch—then another, and another.
My strikes were slower than before due to my stance, but still fast enough to keep the hunter on the defensive.
The crossbow guy was still shooting at me, but I didn't care. The shots hurt, sure—but that was all.
The spear-wielding hunter was down on one knee, pounding on his shield. Realizing that continuing to bash the shield was pointless, I grabbed it by the edges and ripped it from his hands.
Before he could react, I punched him in the gut, launching him like his partner.
He too crashed into a tree and hit the ground.
The last of the trio shouted something I still couldn't understand.
I turned my head and stared straight at him—he froze there at the top of the tree, holding his crossbow.
I started walking toward him, still on three limbs. He started firing—didn't even bother dodging—but I sped up, using [Ram] again.
The hunter seemed to realize my intent and tried to get down—but it was too late.
I slammed into the tree, toppling it with the hunter still on it.
I waited for the branches to stop moving before approaching.
The hunter was still conscious. He seemed to have twisted his ankle in the fall, and his crossbow was nowhere in sight. He looked barely conscious, but I saw him pull out a vial of green liquid—recognized it as a potion—and gulped it down.
It seemed to revive him a bit, but he had no time to breathe in relief—he saw me just a few feet in front of him.
To his credit, he didn't panic. Without his crossbow, he drew the hunter's standard backup blade from his back.
I stared at him for a few seconds, a mix of satisfaction at having won, and rage that my original target had escaped… and for the memories I'd just relived.
I raised my hand to finish him—his face paled when he saw it.
Just before my fist came down—an arrow embedded itself in my shoulder.
I looked in the direction the arrow had come from—and now it was my turn to pale.
I saw the hunter who had fired it, pulling another arrow from his quiver—and behind him, nearly a dozen more hunters.
But that wasn't the real problem…
The problem was the man standing next to the archer—a man clad in Old World Rathian armor, wielding a longsword made from the same monster.
I paled because standing in front of me now was the Master Hunter, the most veteran hunter in the New World…
And I… was now his prey.