Chapter 06
Even crouching low, the creature’s height was just shy of two meters.
From the tip of its tail to the crown of its head, it easily stretched past three.
I glanced at the dagger I’d brought. Including the handle, it was barely the length of my forearm.
With something that short, I’d be lucky to scratch its hide after a hundred stabs.
“Tch…”
I lowered myself further and held my breath.
The horned boar, after a long spell of caution, must have decided it was safe.
It dug into the scattered fruit, eating noisily.
Its nape was exposed, but could I really take it down with such a small blade?
This was the meat I’d been desperately searching for.
Still, rushing in carelessly and dying for it would be pointless.
Maybe I should come back later…
“…Prrrk?”
Just as I thought about retreating, the boar froze mid-bite.
Sniff sniff!
It lifted its snout and sniffed the air, then raised its head.
Our eyes met.
“Squeeeal!”
It let out a menacing cry, having finally noticed me.
Great. Just great.
I’d hidden every trace of my presence.
The problem must be my body itself—years of drinking more alcohol than water.
Maybe I reeked of booze even standing still.
No helping it. I’ll just hold out and slip away later…
“Prrrk! Prrr!”
But instead of fleeing, the boar simply stared, making unsettling noises.
Could it be… mocking me?
It wasn’t as if it could speak, but I felt it:
it saw me not as a hunter, but as some hapless traveler who’d climbed a tree to escape a wild animal.
“…Hah.”
Now even wild beasts were looking down on me. How humiliating.
“Grunt! Grunt!”
It snorted a few times, then rammed its massive head against the trunk of the tree I clung to.
Thud!
“Whoa!”
The trunk was thick enough that even wrapping my arms around it left gaps, yet it shook violently with each impact.
To the boar, I wasn’t a threat but a special meal—fresh meat instead of sweet fruit.
It wasn’t clever enough to uproot the tree completely, though.
If I held on for half a day, it would tire itself out.
But to be treated like this and simply run?
My pride wouldn’t allow it.
I remembered my former life as Lee Jin-su.
I’d once felled a behemoth the size of a mountain with a single sword.
Not a metaphor—its bulk really had looked like a mountain at first.
The method was simple: strike the vital point.
No matter how large, the source that kept a body moving was never immense.
I’d carved through the behemoth’s flesh and destroyed its heart, and the giant had fallen with one blow.
This boar was no different.
Big, yes, but compared to that behemoth it was like a mosquito.
If I pierced its vital spot with my dagger, one strike would be enough.
Only a fool would endure this insult.
I focused mana into the hand gripping my dagger.
“Kh…!”
Pain squeezed my lungs, making it hard to concentrate.
An aura blade was beyond me; that required sword-rank 4.
But I could at least mimic a fraction of it.
The blade began to shimmer faintly with gathered mana—
a tiny enhancement, but enough to improve penetration.
Still not enough to reach its heart.
The neck, then.
With its head buried in the tree, the opening was perfect.
I aimed and leapt.
Die!
Slash!
The weight of my jump added to the force as the blade drove down.
Crack!
“Skreee!”
A hit—but not fatal.
“Skreee!?”
“Wha—”
The beast shrieked and flung me skyward.
The world spun.
Crash!
I tucked into a roll, avoiding broken bones, but pain flared in my left shoulder as if a ligament had stretched too far.
“Ghh…!”
The strike hadn’t missed; blood poured from a deep wound in its neck.
The problem was my dagger—
only the hilt remained in my hand, the blade snapped.
“Damn…”
Had I pushed my body too hard?
Every muscle burned as though on fire.
It was just a horned boar, and yet the risk was this high.
“Grrooor…”
The beast, dagger still lodged in its neck, moved again, blood gushing.
Its eyes now held not the look of a hunter, but of a warrior fighting for life.
It pawed the ground, horns aimed at me.
Rumble…
If it charged, I’d be skewered.
And even if it later bled out, I’d still die first.
I had no weapon left, and not nearly the strength to land a killing blow.
A rank-1 magician’s strike couldn’t finish it.
And yet, in that desperate moment, I laughed.
How long had it been since I’d fought like this?
I’d once starved to death, helpless.
Compared to that, this was better. At least I could resist.
“Come on then, pig!”
“Grooar!”
It charged, mustering the last of its strength.
Bang!
I didn’t dodge. I braced and grabbed both horns.
“Khagh!”
Its massive weight lifted me slightly, but I held firm.
My plan was sound—I could endure.
Our blood mingled on my hands.
What a stubborn beast, still moving after losing so much blood.
“Skree! Skreee!”
It thrashed wildly to shake me off.
If I fell, it would crush me with its jaws.
“Urgh!”
I refused to let go, clinging with every ounce of strength.
Then I thrust my hand into its mouth.
If I couldn’t pierce the hide, I’d attack from within.
My fingers sank into the soft flesh inside.
I cast a basic spell—one even a rank-1 mage could use.
A thin arrow of flame.
Fire Bolt!
Heat gathered around my right hand.
From outside it would barely singe that thick hide.
But released inside…
It would roast its organs.
I detonated the spell in its gaping maw.
Fsssh!
“Ghha…!”
My own hand felt like it would char black, but I grit my teeth.
If it hurt me this much, it had to hurt the beast far worse.
“Skrieeee!”
Crackle…
The scent of searing meat filled the air.
My stomach growled; I pushed harder.
One kill meant one feast.
Mountains of pork belly!
Sizzle!
“…Skree!”
“Just die already!”
It flailed, thrashing in a final frenzy.
Pop!
Something burst inside it just as my mana ran dry.
Was this it?
To die not against a mighty foe, but a mere boar?
Ridiculous!
Thud!
“…Huh?”
Dark red blood poured from its mouth and nose.
Finally, it collapsed.
I’d nearly died without even tasting the meat.
“Haah!”
Relief flooded me, leaving my body limp.
I quickly checked myself.
Right hand—probably some broken bones.
Muscles overstretched, a few ribs cracked. Painful, but not fatal.
“Haah…”
Glint.
Just as I was about to black out, a light flashed from my left hand.
[Rank has changed. Check status?]
I opened my trembling hand to see the message.
[Name: Ian Impera]
Rank: 2 (Magic), 1 (Swordsmanship)
“Heh… at least both went up by one.”
Thanks to that brutal hunt, both my magic and sword ranks had risen.
Not from the artifact—Altea’s dagger was broken.
After all that effort, only one rank each.
Still, getting to rank 3 usually isn’t this slow.
“Heh… but hey, a gain’s a gain.”
I looked at the massive carcass.
Easily the size of a compact carriage.
No matter how much I ate, it would hardly shrink.
“Meat…”
A mountain of meat!
“Heh… for now… I need a rest…”
Exhaustion overtook me and the world went dark.
Sizzle…
What a sweet dream.
The smell of roasting meat filled the air.
A towering pile of meat that never diminished, no matter how much I ate.
“Heh…”
If only my comrades could taste this.
I bit into a huge chunk.
Crunch!
“Hmm?”
Odd.
It tasted… like dirt.
After all I went through to get this…
Even so, I couldn’t stop. I’d wanted meat so badly—before I starved, even now in Ian’s body.
Crunch, crunch…
What a strange dream.
“Mmm…”
As I forced down another bite, an odd déjà vu made me open my eyes.
I was chewing a mouthful of soil.
“Ugh! Ptooey!”
A noble, eating dirt—pathetic.
“Still alive, huh.”
A voice came from nearby.
“Huh?”
A man sat on a tree stump, wrapped in a shabby cloth.
Black hair, indifferent gaze.
After a glance at me, he looked away.
Wait… those clothes…
I’d seen him at the tavern—the one who’d shown unexpected mercy to Blank.
Did he follow me?
He couldn’t have known the contents of that petition.
Maybe he’d overheard the drunkards, like I had.
But why?
He gave off a suspicious air.
Though the rags hid him, a glint of polished armor shone beneath.
Silver full-plate mail.
Only one kind of person wore that.
A wandering knight.
A knight without a master, roaming the land.
Rare these days, long after the Continental War ended.
He’d probably come here to hunt food as well.
I carefully watched him.
Knight or not, he was still a knight.
Reaching that rank required swordsmanship level 4 at minimum.
Even with my newly raised rank, I wouldn’t stand a chance—especially battered as I was.
And the stump he sat on…
Moments ago a massive tree had stood there.
Could it be…
Behind him lay a single felled tree with a perfectly smooth cut—
a surface only a single, flawless stroke could make.
