Now was the only chance. Archer knew it, too.
Calain didn't respect him. A partner who wouldn't bleed a single drop even if you pricked him with a needle, Archer couldn't think of a single way to become true comrades with him.
When Calain, with a crazed look in his eyes, had driven his sword into the spot where Archer had just been standing, his heart felt like it stopped. His stomach plummeted. That's when his instincts screamed at him: I'm screwed.
Calain was far too dangerous.
‘Fuck, I'm doomed... Every other team is bonding with their characters, but I've been fucked from the start.’
He was so hopeless that tears pricked his eyes. Whenever he had to sleep on the streets like a homeless person, hiding from Calain, he would fall asleep with his face wet from the sheer misery of it all.
‘I don't want to go back to my original world, though... Even if I have to be pathetic, I'd rather be pathetic here...’
Even after starving while being chased by Calain and trying to sleep under a single ragged mat, he still didn't want to return to modern times. Being here was less miserable.
A tidal wave of regret washed over him, he really should have picked a different character, but this wasn't a game. He couldn't just hit restart.
So, he had no choice but to find the best possible option available to him right now.
He was the prey, and Calain was the predator. This was the only way to break the chain.
He aimed his bow at the sliver of Calain's nape, barely exposed between the gaps in his armor.
"……."
Archer's hands shook violently. The bow began to wobble so much it was alarming.
Even as he trembled, he absolutely refused to loosen his grip on the arrow. In fact, he clutched it even tighter, as if terrified he might let it slip. He gripped it so hard that his knuckles turned white and his fingers throbbed as if they might break.
That's a living human being.
It was just a few days ago, but we walked side by side and even talked to each other.
‘I can't even kill a cockroach! Fuck...’
That farmer guy had even stepped up and drawn the aggro for him, yet Archer couldn't do a single thing right. He had a sinking feeling that he was going to completely ruin this operation. He felt utterly powerless, on the verge of crying.
---
Meanwhile, Heean was starting to feel something was off. No matter how long he waited, no arrow came flying.
‘I knew this would happen.’
Calain had already finished his sandwich. As an awkward, silent tension settled between them, Heean finally decided to bail.
"Well, then... Take care."
"Stop right there."
Before Heean could even take a single step, a chilling threat struck his back like a bolt of lightning.
"I remember seeing you. Weren't you here five days ago, too? You were covering your face with a cloak then."
Calain had remembered the boy who snatched Belsus away right out from under his nose.
Breaking into a cold sweat, Heean looked up into the knight's ice-cold eyes.
The moment their eyes met, he felt a frigid sensation against his neck. Heean slowly lowered his gaze. A sword blade aimed directly at his throat entered his vision.
He could imagine the blood spurting out if it merely grazed him. The eerie sensation felt almost tangible against his skin. That blade stretched out directly from the shadow of the knight, who stood with his back to the sun.
"Answer my questions. Why did that man take you? What is your relationship with him?"
It was Archer, watching from afar, who drew a sharp, panicked breath, even more so than Heean, whose life was directly being threatened.
‘Ah, I just want to die.’
He felt miserable about everything. He felt annoyed at Heean for trusting him and coming up with this plan, he felt so sorry he could die, and ultimately, he was furious with himself. It felt like all of this was happening because he was so stupid.
It's my fault.
I should just shoot an arrow into the sky so Calain looks at me. Archer raised his bow high toward the heavens.
...But the arrow never flew.
To Calain's eyes, a massive figure 'suddenly' appeared, thrusting a hand between the boy's neck and his blade.
Stepping in front of Heean, Belsus grabbed the sword blade with his bare hand. As he pushed it away to the opposite side, the edge cut shallowly into his palm. But paying the wound no mind at all, Belsus cast an icy glare at the knight.
How the man had materialized out of thin air became an afterthought. The man who was once a beggar was now staring Calain down.
‘A rat like you dares...?’
Indeed, Calain was genuinely flustered. He couldn't comprehend how a man who had been shriveled up like a bug just a few days ago had completely transformed and was now acting so defiantly.
"I never should have left you alone."
Yet, Belsus wasn't even focusing on Calain.
Hidden behind Belsus's broad back, Heean doubted his own ears. Those words weren't directed at the knight.
"You crossed the line. Even as my landlord, you've done something you shouldn't have."
Is he mad...? This pushover?
A more vicious tone than ever before sent heavy shivers pressing down Heean's spine. It was a dark, oppressive voice, feeling as though a towering mountain range was bearing down on him.
"Just because you're the landlord, does that mean you can try to handle someone targeting your lodger on his behalf? With that frail body of yours that looks like it would blow away in the wind or pop if squeezed?"
A frigid voice, unlike anything heard from Belsus before, dominated the area. No one could have expected it. That this pushover could exude such an intimidating aura.
"I'm a fool, so it won't be long before I'm begging you for forgiveness. So it's only right now. That I'm blinded by anger and daring to run my mouth."
Furious to his absolute core, Belsus fired off the harshest words he could muster.
"Just so you know, I can also ignore your words and help out with your farm work."
Calain didn't pay any attention to their incomprehensible conversation. The prey he had been eagerly anticipating had finally walked right into his hands. He just needed to cut him down.
Right here, right now.
The knight shifted his sword to the opposite side. Carrying a streak of sharp wind, the knight's steel-blue blade slashed fiercely through the air.
---
With Calain's predation ability, he can only devour those who are weaker than him.
So, how does one distinguish between weak and strong?
‘Since they're Hunters, is it their level? Strength in a pure sense? Are you stronger if you're older and have more experience? Does that mean he can only eat people younger than him?’
The answer is a 'comprehensive evaluation.'
It's a final metric judged by the System's standards, entirely combining physical condition, level, combat ability, intelligence, and even combat sense.
No matter how inherently strong a Hunter is, they could be temporarily weakened due to severe injuries. Even if the opponent is strong, if they are weakened for some reason, Calain can devour them.
To Calain, Belsus had been exactly that kind of existence up until now.
But not anymore.
"……!"
I collapsed onto my rear as Belsus shoved me backward out of harm's way.
I didn't even have time to let out a scream. A split second later, a deafening shockwave rang out terrifyingly as the sword blade was violently deflected.
Belsus exchanged blows with Calain while fiercely protecting me.
Clashing against the knight's azure rapier was... the hand plow I used for weeding my farm.
Dirt flew everywhere every time he swung the small plow like a dagger. Yet, it didn't look comical in the slightest; his movements were far too intense and blindingly fast. Every time Belsus hooked the knight's sword with the curved iron of the plow, it looked as though sparks of lightning were flying.
I watched with my eyes wide open. My heart felt like it was shrinking in my chest. I was terrified my character might get even a single scratch on him.
I flinched at every sharp whoosh of wind as the sword slashed perilously close to Belsus's body.
"This makes no sense..." Calain groaned.
He probably couldn't fathom this situation where he couldn't even lay a finger on Belsus. But Belsus and I knew the truth.
Calain's lore was that he had only just awakened as a Hunter.
However, Belsus had been a Hunter for a very long time. In other words, he was still the stronger Hunter.
Despite having starved and groveled around the slums for 20 years.
The Royal House of Modisanen. The family that saved the continent from the first Dungeon Break centuries ago and ascended to the throne with the unanimous signatures of all noble families; a bloodline that birthed powerful Hunters generation after generation.
In terms of bloodline, Belsus was of a collateral branch, but he was a child prodigy whose potential alone was outstanding enough to threaten the Crown Prince of the time.
No matter how I looked at it...
‘Belsus only looked like early-game trash because he had been starving; his initial base stats must have always been top-tier physicals...’
Why had Calain so tenaciously targeted Belsus out of all the countless Hunters out there?
It was because an EXP-bomb Hunter, one who was inherently stronger than him, had been severely weakened.
Therefore, I had proven it.
I proved how Belsus could transform just by eating, sleeping, and being treated with basic human decency like any other character.
‘Honestly, it was half a gamble, but... Thank goodness.’
I had expected from the very start that Archer wouldn't be able to finish Calain off properly. Drawing Calain's aggro wasn't for Archer's sake.
I did it hoping from the beginning that Belsus would come out.
Shouldn't the man himself be the one to inform this vicious knight? That now that I had appeared in Belsus's life, there was absolutely nothing left for Calain to gain here.
"You cannot kill me. You'll have to bring other knights with you."
Thanks to his Reading ability, Belsus had already figured out Calain's powers and motives long ago.
Calain could stubbornly prolong the fight and try to kill Belsus, but doing so would mean Calain had to completely abandon his greedy desire to devour him and steal his stats.
It was a total victory for Belsus, who knew all about Calain's dark ambitions.
"Get lost."
The man who had been a beggar had finally stepped out of the depths of his long, dark years, standing tall and proud upon solid ground.
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