The tension in the air was suffocating.
The hunters tightened their grips on their weapons, their knuckles turning white. Despite their fear, they had no choice but to stand their ground. Running would only make them easy prey.
The Antilla exhaled a slow, guttural breath, its flared nostrils drinking in the scent of blood and fear. It flexed its grotesquely long arms, claws scraping against the dirt, its powerful muscles coiling as if preparing to lunge.
Then, without warning—
It moved.
A blur of raw power and fury, the Antilla leaped forward, its massive claws swiping through the air like scythes. The ground trembled beneath its weight.
"Scatter!" Jerome roared.
The hunters barely had time to react before the beast’s attack landed. The impact sent dust and leaves flying as several hunters dove aside, narrowly avoiding the monstrous claws. One wasn’t fast enough—he was struck in the chest and sent tumbling backward, crashing against a tree with a sickening crunch.
"Shit!" Lok cursed, dragging the wounded hunter away from the battlefield.
Shelly raised her staff, her eyes blazing with focus. She muttered an incantation under her breath, and a sphere of searing flame erupted from her palm.
"Take this!" she shouted, hurling the fireball straight at the beast.
The fire struck the Antilla’s shoulder, igniting its fur with a burst of heat and light. The beast let out a deafening roar, reeling back in pain.
"Good hit!" Lok shouted before dashing forward. He gripped his weapon—an spear—and lunged at the beast's exposed side.
The tip of his spear plunged into the Antilla’s flesh.
But the moment of triumph was short-lived.
With terrifying speed, the Antilla swung its massive arm. Lok’s eyes widened as he barely managed to twist his body away, but the sheer force of the beast’s counterattack still sent him skidding across the dirt.
"Damn it," Lok grunted, pushing himself up.
Jerome muttered an incantation under his breath, his grip tightening around his staff. Heat surged through his fingertips, gathering at the tip of his weapon. With a swift flick, a massive fireball erupted, illuminating the dim forest with its blazing light.
The scorching sphere lunged toward the Antilla, crackling with raw power.
The beast's burning eyes locked onto him, filled with unrelenting fury. It snarled, its massive body trembling as it prepared to move. At the last second, it twisted its form, narrowly evading a direct hit—but not completely.
Flames licked against its shoulder, scorching fur and flesh alike. A guttural roar of pain tore from its throat, the scent of burnt hair filling the air.
Jerome smirked. "Got you. The beast is exhausted—charge now!" he bellowed.
The hunters roared in unison, drawing their bows and lunging forward with swords and spears.
The Antilla, despite its wounds, let out a furious roar, raising its massive arms to block the incoming arrows. The projectiles barely pierced its thick hide, some bouncing off harmlessly. Then, with terrifying speed, it lunged forward.
Lok was the first to attack. His clothes were torn, his body covered in wounds and bruises, but his grip on his weapon remained firm. He charged without hesitation, leading the others behind him.
The battle turned into chaos. The beast thrashed wildly, swatting hunters away like insects. Some were sent flying through the air, crashing into trees with painful thuds. Others barely managed to evade its massive limbs, rolling out of the way just in time.
Archers positioned themselves at a distance, loosing arrows aimed at its eyes and joints. The Antilla roared, flinching as some found their mark, but it only grew angrier.
And then—
Boom!
A fireball struck its face, engulfing it in flames. The beast let out a deafening, pained howl, staggering backward as smoke and the scent of burning flesh filled the air.
The beast stepped back, letting out a deafening roar. Then, with renewed fury, it charged again. Its massive claws lashed out, seizing one of the hunters.
A sickening crunch followed.
The hunter’s body was crushed in an instant, bones shattering like twigs. Another was flung high into the air, screaming before landing lifelessly on the ground.
"Nina!" Lok screamed, his voice filled with anguish as he watched his comrade’s gruesome demise.
The monster was not finished yet. With a savage roar, it grabbed the lifeless body of a fallen hunter and, without hesitation, hurled it toward another. The air whistled as the corpse flew like a ragdoll, propelled by the creature's inhuman strength.
With a deafening impact, the body crashed into the unsuspecting hunter, sending him sprawling to the ground with a heavy thud. The force of the throw knocked the breath from his lungs, and he barely had time to react.
"Look out!" one of his comrades shouted, panic lacing his voice.
Another hunter, Jagok, refused to back down. He gritted his teeth and lunged at the beast, spear in hand.
"Jagok, fall back!" Lok shouted desperately.
But it was too late.
The Antilla's massive arm swung, striking Jagok with brutal force. His body flew through the air like a ragdoll before slamming into a tree. Blood splattered against the bark.
"Don't just stand there! Keep attacking!" Jerome roared, panting heavily. Sweat dripped down his face as he gasped for air. His hands trembled, his mana reserves dangerously low.
"Damn it… I'm running out of mana," he muttered through gritted teeth.
Behind him, Shelly staggered, her face pale with exhaustion. She had been casting spells non-stop since the hunt began, and now, she could barely stand. Her mana reserves were nearly depleted.
If they didn't finish this fight soon… they wouldn't survive.
Lok dashed toward the beast, his eyes burning red with determination. He ignored the pain, the exhaustion—his only focus was to end this fight.
The Antilla panted heavily, its massive chest rising and falling with each ragged breath. But despite its wounds, it charged at Lok, its fury undiminished.
With precise movements, Lok sprinted straight toward the beast's outstretched arm. He used its limb as a platform, running up its massive frame with incredible speed. The Antilla snarled, trying to swat him away, but Lok was too fast—darting, weaving, evading every desperate attempt to capture him.
"Now!" he roared, bracing himself.
The other hunters saw their chance and began launching arrows and spells at the beast, forcing it to split its attention.
Lok didn't waste the opening.
With all his strength, he drove his spear into the Antilla’s eye.
The beast let out an ear-splitting roar, thrashing wildly as pain exploded through its skull. Blood gushed from the wound, thick and dark, staining Lok’s hands.
But before he could stabilize himself, the Antilla flailed, its sheer force sending Lok flying through the air.
His body crashed onto the ground with a sickening thud. A sharp pain shot through his limbs as fresh bruises and wounds added to his already battered body.
He coughed, gasping for air. His vision blurred, but through the haze of pain, he smirked.
"I got you, bastard," he muttered weakly.
"Good, Lok! All of you, attack!" Jerome commanded, his voice hoarse as he panted heavily.
The remaining hunters roared in unison, surging forward with reckless determination. They stabbed at the beast’s back and arms, hacking away with whatever weapons they had left.
Arrows flew through the air, piercing the beast’s thick hide. But soon, the hunters' quivers ran empty.
The Antilla let out a guttural growl, its massive body swaying from exhaustion. It panted heavily, blood dripping from its ravaged eye.
Yet, even in its agony, it still fought.
It swung its enormous arms wildly, swatting hunters away like insects. Some were thrown into trees, their bodies crashing against the bark with sickening cracks. Others barely dodged, rolling out of harm’s way at the last second.
The battlefield was soaked in blood—human and beast alike.
Despite their efforts, the toll was heavy. Of the 24 hunters who had started this battle, four lay dead. Others lay unmoving, their fates uncertain.
And still, the fight raged on.
The beast thrashed violently, desperately trying to fight back, but the relentless barrage of spears and arrows took its toll. Each strike drained its strength, each wound sapped its will to resist.
Its massive frame trembled, its roars turning into ragged, pained gasps.
Then, at last, its legs buckled.
The Antilla fell to its knees, blood pooling beneath it. With one final, earth-shaking roar, it crashed to the ground, sending a cloud of dust into the air. Its massive body lay sprawled, lifeless.
Yet, the hunters didn’t stop.
Blinded by rage and grief, they continued to hack at its corpse, their weapons rising and falling, painting themselves in the beast’s blood.
"Enough," Jerome gasped, barely able to stand. His voice was hoarse, but firm.
The hunters froze. Reality set in.
The fight was over. They had won.
Yet no one cheered.
There were no cries of victory, no triumphant celebrations. Only the heavy silence of exhaustion and loss.
Their comrades lay dead. Blood stained the earth, mixing with the stench of death.
This was the life of a hunter.
A battle won, but at a cost.