Monster Hunter:Volume3 Chapter2

Chapter 2 - Setting off Alone

"Excuse me..."

Becky's reverie shattered at the distant call, dragging her back from the brink of sleep. She straightened, her consciousness knitting itself back together.

She had been on the verge of relishing a hearty meal - a giant Rathian egg roll, snatched away in an instant.

The registration book fell to the floor with a resounding thud. Through half-closed eyes, she watched as it flipped open.

How many times now?

Its edges bore the scars of numerous tumbles. It could have been a simple catch, even in her sleep, yet the prospect of someone making a fuss over her "ninja power" was too annoying for her to bother.

"Um..."

Yawning, she picked up the book, only to hear the voice once more.

She turned to see a young man standing at the counter.

He appeared to be eighteen or nineteen, a new face with a restless demeanor.

His youthful countenance, coupled with his above-average height and robust build, hinted at a respectable upbringing. Yet his slightly hunched posture unmistakably betrayed his lack of experience.

In this environment, such signs of innocence were dangerous. It was akin to hanging a board that read "novice," from his neck. Forming companions might prove challenging, and worse still, he risked falling prey to tasks surpassing his skill level, jeopardizing his very life.

Adjusting her hat, part of her standard uniform, Becky stood and faced the counter. Habitually, she wiped its surface, tarnished black by years of spilled drinks.

It was before sundown; few hunters visited at this hour, though some idled from dawn till dusk, forgoing hunts to drink away their days in the hall's perpetual miasma of alcohol and smoke - a potent blend capable of intoxicating patrons through mere ambiance.

The atmosphere heightened the boy's nerves, flushing his face red. His demeanor suggested an urban origin. Lately, an increasing influx of urban youth had arrived, captivated by the hunting trade and monster specimens displayed safely within city confines.

It was a matter of freedom. They possessed the autonomy to chart their own course in life, pursuing a future of their design, one they deemed worthy of risking everything for.

The Guild was willing to extend aid where possible.

Among them, hidden talents might yet emerge, becoming invaluable assets to the Guild. Thus, urban origins were never grounds for rejection.

"Welcome," Becky greeted warmly, her smile deepening the boy's blush - a good first impression.

His gaze briefly wandered to her chest, an expected, harmless innocence of youth. She harbored no offense, his swift correction endearing.

All things considered, he was a sight for sore eyes - among hunters, rowdy and unhinged types were more commonplace. Though she wouldn't lose to anyone in a fistfight, the constant vigilance required to maintain order in the hall posed a challenge.

"So, what business do you have in this city?"

"Ah, um... I'd like to register as a hunter, please..."

His words were barely audible, blending in with the drunken laughter and chatter, but it was better this way.

Among those who lingered without venturing into the wilds, Becky knew, was the sort who relished lecturing newcomers.

Most were harmless storytellers and unhelpful advice givers, while others peddled goods with dubious value - the latter would be promptly punted out by the staff.

The Guild Master had said to disregard them, yet Becky harbored a persistent desire to purge the Guild of such individuals herself.

Many also indulged in drinks on credit, evading payment until forced to face the consequences - a nice round of Becky's ass-kicking before she sent them away to work. Not all returned, a harsh reality of hunter life that darkened Becky's spirits with each occurrence.

From beneath the counter, Becky retrieved another registration book, opened it to the latest page, and slid it toward the boy.

"Take a moment to read through the terms and sign if you agree. Do you have an introduction letter?"

"No... Um... Was I supposed to bring one...?"

"No, it's not necessary - Just read everything carefully, alright?"

"Y-yes, ma'am..."

The boy obediently lowered his gaze to the registration book, absorbing its contents as instructed.

Observing his Velociprey armor, distinguished by its subdued blue tones, Becky contemplated his skill level - not a complete beginner, most likely. Yet caution advised against assumptions; the possibility remained that his gear was not crafted from materials he had personally gathered.

At his waist, the Bonespike one-handed sword, fashioned from monster bones, was lightweight and easy to wield, though it lacked the durability of metal counterparts. It held potential for enhancement, capable of manifesting the might of a fire wyvern if properly honed.

Shortly after, the boy nodded firmly, raised his gaze, and began looking around for something.

Becky passed him a quill and an ink bottle from the countertop. A faint, bashful smile played on the boy's lips as he accepted them and signed his name.

Brass Lagoon.

"Alright, Brass, now fill this in."

Becky retrieved yet another registration book and placed it before him.

Normally, the Guild Master personally processed new recruits, but today the job had fallen to Becky. The Guild Master, recovering from a night of heavy drinking, remained asleep in his quarters.

Brass confidently filled in the required information: age, gender, preferred weapon, prior hunting experience, miscellaneous - a standard profile.

The Guild tasked hunters with missions based on this information. While falsifying details posed no immediate problem, the consequences could prove deadly in the field.

"...Done."

"Alright, thanks."

Becky scanned the registration book. Brass, it turned out, was younger than she had assumed - only sixteen. Yet age posed no obstacle in this competitive realm. On the contrary, youth offered potential: time to develop skills and, should the want arise, the opportunity to pursue other paths in life.

On the prior hunting experience column, he had noted hunts of several Yian Kut-Kus in his home region.

"Ever been on a Rathalos hunt?" Becky asked, to which Brass anxiously shook his head.

"Um... Do I...?"

"Oh, no, no need."

Confirmed as a novice, his success would hinge on careful selection of hunting partners. In the miscellaneous column, he had indicated proficiency in support roles and possession of three Books of Combos.

"...If you don't mind me asking, Brass, why did you choose to become a hunter?" Becky inquired, her finger poised to close the registration book.

Motivations for seeking registration varied greatly among individuals. Most simply looked to earn their keep, but she sensed something unique about this boy.

"Um... I... I want to prove myself."

"Oh? In what way?"

"That I'm not a coward."

Despite his declaration, Brass still exuded the nervousness of a startled rabbit.

Indeed, this profession was no haven for the faint-hearted. It demanded courage to confront wyverns capable of swallowing a person whole in a single gulp.

Fear drained strength from limbs and immobilized the body. This phenomenon plagued hunters regardless of their mastery; an involuntary response of the flesh rather than a reflection of their resolve.

Facing a Rathalos would undoubtedly dispel any notions of cowardice - if he returned alive.

"Well, that's quite admirable."

Becky shut the registration book, a smile gracing her lips. Recognizing one's fears signaled promise in a hunter. Self-awareness was crucial; each survival in the field added to one's expertise. Yet, excessive caution risked stagnation and the damning label of cowardice.

"...Alright, your registration is complete. Your Hunter Rank may start at Ranger - the lowest level - but give it your best out there."

"Y-yes!"

This time, his flushed face likely stemmed not from shyness but rather a mix of anxiety, anticipation, and excitement.

Handing him his guild card, Becky directed him to the guest houses. It would be a modest surprise; accommodations for new hunters were hardly luxurious, akin to pigsties.

If Brass couldn't endure such conditions, he would struggle in a profession where camping out and going days without bathing were routine.

The boy clutched his guild card to his chest, bowed in gratitude, and gathered his belongings before making his way to the exit of the gathering hall.

As he left, four hunters entered, drawing Becky's attention and knitting her brows into a faint frown. The air grew heavy with unease.

Brass attempted to sidestep the group, but his luggage bumped into one of them. He quickly bowed in apology, though the hunters seemed oblivious to his presence.

Leading the group was a girl with a stern expression, a massive hammer - the rare Breath Core - slung across her back.

They were the party led by Elmeria Franport.

Behind her was veteran hunter Gannon Denon, clad in armor adorned with giant horns on the shoulder pads. Following him was Fradio Heart, distinguished by his perpetually worn Gypceros Cap; he had recently turned thirty according to the records. The last to enter was Zeeg Grandest, carrying his helmet in his arms, his face set in an ill-tempered scowl.

("I wonder what happened?")

Normally, those four didn't display such attitudes.

The other hunters, attuned to shifts in atmosphere, reacted to the tension. However, the ever-present commotions in the gathering hall somewhat mitigated the sense of unease.

The silent hostility between Elmeria and Zeeg was especially palpable, like iron bars melting in a furnace.

With expressions of discouragement, the quartet approached the counter, stopping directly before Becky. Dust clung to their armor, and a sour body odor mixed with the stench of alcohol, indicating they had come straight from the field.

"...Sorry, we failed," Elmeria said, as if casting off a burden.

Becky immediately understood she was referring to the Rathian hunting contract they had taken on.

Had they succeeded, their expressions would have been far more merry. Even Fradio, whose face remained hidden under his cap, had a noticeable change in the look of his eyes. Though he seemed amused by the group's dynamics, satisfaction was clearly absent.

"I see," Becky murmured, scanning under the counter for the quest registration book.

Such failures weren't uncommon. It might have felt unusual for the likes of Elmeria, but wyvern hunts rarely ended in success. They were perilous undertakings by nature.

A Rathian caring for its young was especially brutal, almost untouchable. And in this case, it was a Rathian that had just retired from motherhood, likely retaining its extra ferocity. Becky considered this but also recalled that this wasn't the first time Elmeria's party had failed to fulfill their requests.

If memory served her right, they had failed their previous quest and the one before that as well.

Becky opened the registration book and reviewed the quest details. One mission was to hunt two Basarios, the other to gather Powderstone. The Basarios quest had been abandoned halfway because Elmeria was injured, and during the Powderstone quest, they had run out of time, having spent too long fending off a Rathalos.

Setting the registration book down, Becky observed Elmeria and her team. The precise events were unclear, but the tension among them was palpable. Zeeg and Elmeria avoided each other's gaze, while Fradio appeared quite exasperated by the situation.

"Thanks for your hard work... But unfortunately, the contract fee can't be refunded. Better luck next time."

Elmeria nodded, her enthusiasm drained. She resembled an undefeated hunter suddenly trapped in a bottomless swamp of repeated defeats and disappointments.

Onlookers might assume all would be well with the veteran hunter Gannon Denon among them, but reality proved otherwise.

"Want something to drink?" Becky asked.

Elmeria barely glanced over her shoulder, ordering food and beer before heading to a table. Gannon and Fradio followed in silence. Watching them go, Zeeg clicked his tongue in annoyance but joined them, seating himself diagonally opposite Elmeria.

Becky passed the order for Aptonoth-Bullfango Ground Meat Sausage and Pickled Vegetables to the kitchen, then consulted the party's savings in an account book.

Hunters generally didn't carry their cash. Leaving it at the guesthouse risked theft, and losing it in the hunting grounds was a disaster they couldn't simply cry off.

To address this, the Guild offered to safekeep their money.

If hunters received their rewards directly, they tended to spend it all on food and drink immediately, which, while profitable for the gathering hall, left little for upgrading weapons and armor.

This increased the number of hunters unprepared for bigger challenges - an undesirable outcome for the Hunter's Guild.

Thus, to prevent unnecessary troubles and theft, the Guild offered to manage the hunters' payments in their stead.

Becky quickly flipped through the account book and checked Elmeria's balance.

She had spent a considerable amount restoring the Breath Core, leaving her savings below the average rookies' for a time. But now, her funds were back to a typical level.

The same was true for the other three.

Zeeg, in particular, seemed to have a goal in mind, evident from his accumulating savings and minimal spending. He was likely gathering what he needed directly from the hunting grounds.

A female Guild employee, clad in the Maiden set uniform, entered through the back door and placed a stack of report documents on the counter.

The report detailed the hunt from which Elmeria's team had just returned.

Showing little interest, Becky picked it up and skimmed through. According to the document, the cause of failure was excessive caution. The Rathian had escaped three times, and the party was unable to finish it off.

Surveying the details, Becky suspected Gannon's injury might have been another factor.

Under his helmet, his face was wrapped in bandages over his left eye. The report indicated he had been struck by Rathian poison. Though he had likely received prompt treatment, a long-term injury remained a possibility as the poison had affected his eye.

"Food's ready!" A voice called from the kitchen.

Becky closed the account book, stood up, and pushed open the hinged door to retrieve the food platter. It was brimming with grilled sausages, their aroma tantalizing. The slightest movement would cause the sausages' casings to burst, releasing savory juices and a sweet, meaty scent.

With one hand holding the platter, Becky deftly grabbed four mugs with the other, using one rim to knock off the beer barrel stopper and fill the mugs with frothy ale.

Once the mugs were full, she used one of their rims to replace the stopper, then pushed open the door between the counter and the hall with her hip, heading to the table where Zeeg and the others sat.

Everyone except Fradio had removed their helmets, but they apparently had yet to say a word to one another.

Despite the uneasy atmosphere, this was a common occurrence for parties returning from a failed quest.

"Sorry to keep you waiting. I've got some good stuff here to fill you up," Becky said, setting the platter on the glossy black table.

No matter how nauseatingly grim the mood, hunger always prevailed. Especially after nearly a week on the hunting grounds, where proper meals were out of the question.

Out there, the diet had consisted of little more than salt-cured meat or foraged mushrooms and honey.

These sausages, enhanced with a variety of spices, were a far cry from their meager rations.

And, of course, the beer was the crowning touch - moderately chilled and impossible to surpass.

As if on cue, the four hunters momentarily set aside their troubles and grabbed their mugs. They gulped down the golden nectar, frothy and bittersweet, with appreciative sighs.

"Kuhaah-!"

Elmeria let out a contented exhale, her mug slamming down on the table with little regard for any spilled beer.

Even Zeeg, who usually abstained from beer, drank with surprising gusto.

Becky, noting their mood, excused herself from their table and returned to the counter, pulling out a large teddy bear and cradling it in her arms.

It seemed, however, that Zeeg and the others were too absorbed in their thoughts to notice.

With forks in hand, they eagerly tackled the sausages, the sound of metal piercing the sizzling casings ringing clearly amid the lively din of the gathering hall.

A touch of color returned to Elmeria's otherwise somber face, her cheeks now flushed with a vivid rose.

Yet the silence lingered, an unfamiliar stillness that stood in stark contrast to the usual clamor following their quests.

When faced with failure, it's only natural to retreat into contemplation. Yet, something about today's silence felt different. It was simply... heavy.

Becky rested her chin on the teddy bear's head, her eyes drifting around. She noticed that most of the other hunters were watching Elmeria and her crew.

Here in Minegarde, these four were well-known, after all.

Elmeria, despite her youth, had earned a high Hunter Rank, and the Breath Core - an artifact so rare that it bordered on legend - was in her possession. No one had managed to recreate it with current technology. As for Zeeg, his defeat of a Monoblos alone was still talked about with awe, especially considering he had only started his career a year and a half ago.

Though young hunters were becoming more common, few had risen as quickly as these two had. Most didn't make it past the dangerous early years. Some fell in battle, others returned to their villages, and a few played it safe, taking their time to grow into the job.

But Elmeria and Zeeg - they were touched by luck. Natural talent played a part, yes, but it was the guidance of experienced hunters that had brought them to where they stood now.

And now, their recent failures had become the talk of the town.

The Guild, too, was watching them closely.

Points earned through quest completions contributed to each hunter's rank, but if a senior like Gannon did most of the work, the ranking system became less a reflection of individual skills and more a product of the team's effort. Yet, Becky didn't doubt Elmeria and Zeeg's abilities. If asked to write a report, she'd defend their competence. Her words would stand as proof, at least in part.

This time, they had been so close to finishing off the Rathian. The issue wasn't a lack of skill - it was the inability to take that final step.

Becky's gaze lingered on them, watching the silence stretch on, when a drunk hunter staggered from his seat, swaying toward the group.

The young man, his face flushed from drink, came closer. Becky recognized him as the one who had once tried to court Elmeria, only to be met with her cold indifference. He wore the Vespoid armor, crafted from the shells of giant bug monsters, and carried a lance and shield on his back.

Becky didn't intervene immediately. If things escalated to the point of weapons being drawn, she'd step in, of course - but hunters were used to brawling almost as much as they were to exchanging pleasantries.

"Ya guys~ Failed 'nother quest, eh~~?" the young man slurred, brushing his forelock out of his eyes.

Elmeria and Zeeg paused, their hands frozen mid-action, but he rambled on, oblivious to the tension.

"Like ay~e saiddd~ you should just join up with us~~ And then I- wiuugh-!?"

Two forks, both still skewering sausages, flew toward him with the precision of bowgunshots. Elmeria and Zeeg had thrown them in perfect unison, and if the sausages hadn't been on the tines, the forks might well have pierced his mouth. Realizing this, the young man's face drained of color. He tumbled backward, landing on his buttocks, his once-red complexion now ashen as he scrambled away from the table.

Elmeria and Zeeg both heaved a sigh, their hands reaching for the platter at the same moment, only to stop when their fingers brushed against each other. The pause was not borne of shyness - the way they glared at each other, eyes sharp and unwavering, gave the moment the air of a standoff between bitter adversaries.

"...So, you given any thought to what happened?" Zeeg broke the silence first, the words spilling out as if from a long-suppressed flood.

"Thought?" Elmeria's response was laced with contempt, a sharp snort escaping her nose. She licked the remnants of meat juice from her fingers, then casually wiped her hand on the table. "I don't have anything to reflect on."

"You seriously saying that?"

Zeeg's hands clenched into fists, his knuckles white against the wood of the table.

"What, you haven't figured it out? We end up like this because you decided to go off on your own!"

"When did I ever do that!?"

"When did you ever not!?"

Zeeg's fist struck the table with a thud, and as though to retaliate, Elmeria's mug hit the tray with a resounding clang, sending the platter of sausages into the air.

The others at the table - the two adults - kept eating and drinking in silence, knowing better than to interfere unless things escalated further. Now, though, was not the time.

Ignoring the adults' entire presence, Elmeria and Zeeg locked eyes, leaning toward each other.

"What exactly did I do, huh?" Zeeg demanded, his voice sharp.

"You always jump in on your own!" Elmeria shot back. "Like with the Basarios hunt - didn't you just ignore what we said and keep swinging that damn sword? You completely wrecked our teamwork, and I ended up getting hurt because of it!!"

"That's because you didn't make things clear enough! Sure, taking them one by one is important, but do you think it's normal for us to not be able to finish even one after half a day? We had less time than usual on that quest! If you weren't happy with it, why didn't you step up and make a decision!?"

"Minimizing risk and maximizing the reward - that's what matters!" Elmeria's mug slammed down on the table again, her irritation spilling over. "Look, what's most important to hunters is coming back alive! And to keep everyone safe - it's obvious that takes time!"

"Yeah, well - there's a difference between prioritizing survival and being a coward!"

Elmeria stiffened, her eyes narrowing. "...So now you're calling me a coward?"

"Th-that's exactly what I'm saying!" Zeeg's voice faltered for a moment, as if he realized he'd gone too far, but his pride kept him from retreating.

Once the words were out, the floodgates had opened, and there was no stopping him now.

"You've been too damn careful lately!" His voice grew more heated. "You overthink everything, but you don't get it - there are things you can't plan for in the safety of the camp, things you can only learn when you're out there in the thick of it! Strategies are important, sure, but if the prey runs away, what good are all those plans? What's the point of being a hunter if you're not even hunting!?"

Elmeria's face reddened, but not from the alcohol. Her lips trembled, her teeth biting down hard as the flush spread across her cheeks, a deep, furious red, like ripened strawberries.

Zeeg averted his gaze from Elmeria and downed the rest of his beer in one swift motion. He grimaced, likely from the bitter taste still lingering on his tongue.

"...Tch, that's - I didn't even need you to say it," Elmeria muttered, her voice shaky.

Becky could tell it stemmed from something deeper than mere anger - she'd seen it before. The words Zeeg had spoken had struck a raw nerve.

Everything he'd said lined up too perfectly with the reports. Elmeria had been excessively cautious of late, a far cry from the bold, daring hunter she used to be.

Her role in the party had always been that of the fearless attacker, with Gannon backing her up to absorb the danger. If the main force hesitated, failure was inevitable.

"But-!!" Elmeria's voice wavered as her eyes began to glisten with the faintest sheen of tears. At first, it might have seemed like drunkenness, but a closer look revealed the vulnerability creeping in, threatening to spill over.

"The leader of this party is me! I decide how we hunt! Don't you dare try to take control! This isn't your party! It's mine!!"

This time, Zeeg's expression shifted, his jaw tightening. He looked ready to spring from his seat and strike her at any moment.

Becky caught sight of Gannon, who, despite his apparent indifference, was keeping a close ear on the confrontation. His body was still, but the tension in his muscles spoke of readiness - a readiness to break some bones the moment things went too far.

Zeeg, perhaps sensing the threat from the large man, eventually sank back into his seat. He stared up at the ceiling, his breath deep and measured in an attempt to steady himself.

Reaching for the platter, he picked up a sausage and popped it into his mouth. He drained the last of his beer in one go, grimaced again, then stood up without a word.

"Wh-where do you think you're going?" Elmeria's voice wavered again, her confusion and frustration bubbling up.

"...Back to my room. I need a bath."

With that, Zeeg grabbed his Rathalos Helm and the luggage at his feet, turning away from the table. The Lacerator Blade+ on his back, caked with dirt, clinked as it swayed with his movement.

Elmeria didn't try to stop him.

Zeeg walked away without looking back, his face lost in thought. He didn't even acknowledge Becky as he passed - another rare occurrence. His focus seemed fixed on something far beyond the here and now.

"What the... what's gotten into him?"

Elmeria's confusion still lingered as she drained her beer in one gulp, wiping away the foam around her lips. She glanced at Gannon and Fradio, seeking confirmation - and perhaps the reassurance that she hadn't been in the wrong.

As expected, Gannon gave a subtle nod, as if to say that Elmeria's actions were justified. Her expression softened, but Becky couldn't help but feel a twinge of unease at that attitude of theirs.

Gannon had always been lenient with Elmeria. He was her mentor, her protector, her loyal retainer - and while he was technically bound by duty to the aristocrats he had served, there was something more familial about their bond. Something that transcended mere obligation.

But he was getting too old for this - his years as a hunter were numbered. The day would come when Elmeria would need to stand on her own. Up until now, she'd been able to rely on Gannon's strength, but was she truly aware of that? Could she lead without him when the time came?

Listening to the leader was key to the success of a hunt. If each hunter acted alone, there would be no need for teams at all. But that didn't mean there was room for rigid rules or unquestioned authority. Hunters weren't bound by social status.

Even though the Guild had a ranking system, it wasn't meant to define one's worth. It simply ensured that each hunter took on tasks fitting their abilities. Lodgings and food were provided based on rank as well, not as a reflection of one's place in society, but rather as incentives - tokens of the Guild's faith in their members. A newcomer wouldn't even be able to afford the better rooms, anyway - keeping them out to begin with was a way of preventing unnecessary complaints.

Elmeria's attitude when speaking to Zeeg - her assertion of superiority - it was not at all subtle. It was no wonder Zeeg had grown angry. The problem wasn't just that Elmeria acted this way; it was that she didn't realize she was doing it. That was something Gannon should have kept in mind, though he remained silent, even nodding in approval of her actions. At this rate, Elmeria might never come to understand her own mistakes. And if she planned to continue as a hunter, that posed serious concerns for her future.

As for Fradio, he remained indifferent, seemingly untouched by the tension. He continued eating his sausages, slipping them beneath the rubber mask that hid his face from view.

The Guild had always respected its hunters' privacy, refusing to pry into their personal lives, which only deepened the mystery surrounding Fradio. Skill, above all, was what mattered. Becky, however, couldn't help but wonder about the man behind the mask.

"That guy just doesn't get it! Doesn't get it at all, does he!?" Elmeria's voice cut through the silence, her words aimed squarely at Gannon and Fradio, expecting agreement - but not response. "He's letting it go to his head! So he hunted a Monoblos, huh? So what!? If he can't even handle it after a year and a half with us, he should go back to the sticks! Right!? That stubborn little... stubborn... little...!!"

Her frown deepened, her forehead wrinkling as she slammed her mug down on the table with a force that made the wood creak. She lifted it high and waved it around.

"-Becky, more beer!"

"Coming right up."

Becky tucked her Sleepy Bear behind the counter and moved to collect the empty mugs.

"Anyone else want a refill?" she called, and several hands at other tables were raised in answer.

Turning back to the counter, she signaled to the other waitresses to gather the mugs. Their skirts, a bit shorter than hers, swished as they moved between tables, confirming orders. Becky made her way back to Elmeria's table and took the empty mug from her hand with a smile.

"Beer refill, right? ...Want some food to go with it?"

"Damn it all!" Zeeg's voice cracked through the room as he hurled his luggage at the wall.

The leather bag hit with a blunt thud, its contents rattling inside before it collapsed to the floor. Potion bottles rattled, some of them likely broken, but Zeeg paid no mind to the mess. His frustration was all-consuming, and the need to release his anger overrode any thought of consequence.

But throwing a bag did little to ease the rage within him. It continued to burn like molten rock, rising in waves that were impossible to quell.

His eyes locked onto the bed before him, its neat, well-made surface mocking him. A flicker of temptation stirred - he reached for the handle of his greatsword, fingers curling around the hilt as he glared at the bed, imagining how it would feel to cleave it in two. A single blow would be equal to a wyvern's bite, sending shards of wood flying, and the feathers from the mattress would scatter through the air. The thought of watching such destruction might have soothed him - if only for a moment.

But the thought passed just as quickly. Cleaning up the aftermath would only add to the weight on his shoulders.

The room he rented, the Bishop Room, was filled with fine furniture and high-quality appliances. It would be easy to destroy it all, but given the mounting expenses he already faced, adding to them would be nothing short of reckless.

With a resigned sigh, Zeeg set his greatsword aside and hung it carefully on the wall before sinking into the chair.

Though lighter than metal armor, the Rathalos set, made from wyvern shells, still carried a weight that tugged at his body. The chair creaked under his shift, as if it might break at any moment. Zeeg had little patience for discomfort, but he didn't want to lie down on the bed still wearing his dusty armor.

"Damn it..." he muttered, dropping his helmet onto the round table and pulling off the leather strap that held his hair in place. His dark hair fell free, thick with the scent of sweat and dust. It felt greasy and clung uncomfortably to his skin.

He noticed how long it had grown, the strands brushing against his cheeks, reminding him of his earlier days.

The strap, still in his hand, was the same one he had used since leaving his village. A damaged scale from the first Yian Kut-Ku he had slain decorated it - a token of his earlier triumphs.

When he thought back to those days, he couldn't help but feel a mixture of pride and embarrassment. He had been so immature then, so full of ambition, so eager to prove himself. But now, with the weight of experience behind him, how did he feel about who he had become?

What did he think of himself?

To be able to hunt a Monoblos on his own had been a mark of progress. He wasn't one to boast, but the wyvern's remains were proof enough of his skills. And yet, the recognition he had earned didn't bring the satisfaction it once might have. Occasionally, he even received requests from clients who specifically sought him out. But those jobs felt... hollow.

Now that he'd hunted almost every known monster at least once, each hunt was beginning to blur together.

The Plesioth, with its gargantuan size. The armor-plated Gravios. He had taken down many Basarios and Rathians, though the latter hunts had proven less successful of late. Even his transport of Wyvern Eggs had grown repetitive - the same tasks over and over again.

("Yeah... It's getting boring,") Zeeg thought to himself, swaying slightly in his chair, the creaks growing louder.

He glanced out the window, where a small black speck moved across the wide expanse of blue sky. From the size, he could tell it was a Yian Kut-Ku, probably driven away from the hunting grounds by other hunters. It wouldn't come anywhere near the city, of course.

Suddenly, Zeeg's thoughts shifted to Freda.

Freda Esgrand, a girl from his village, was a solitary hunter who had earned the recognition of Kokoto's legendary Hero. She had been entrusted with his sword, a symbol of her worth.

Adorned in armor crafted from the pale white hides of the Khezu, she had become an icon, a symbol of perseverance to many hunters, her unwavering determination sparking hope within them.

Yet, that same determination made her unsuited for hunting alongside others. Her refusal to yield, her resolve to never give up, was a double-edged sword. It could lead her comrades to their deaths, or worse, her own.

Despite this, she clung to her dream of becoming a hero. Even after the people hailed her as a new champion, she did not rest. She continued to hone her skills, to swing her sword, driven by a desire to help those in need.

Once, Freda had told Zeeg that it was harder for a hunter to keep being just a hunter. Those words, also spoken by the Hero of Kokoto, had stuck with him.

Now, Zeeg understood their weight.

Though he had achieved some measure of success in hunting, he found little satisfaction in it. The gratification that once came so easily now felt distant, as if he had grown numb to his victories. The risks remained, of course - one slip-up, one moment of carelessness, could end his life - but he had begun to grow accustomed to them.

("And that's no good at all.")

Zeeg recognized that his respect for the monsters he hunted was beginning to fade.

Lately, he had been hunting for little more than money and materials for his weapon.

This, he realized, was a betrayal of the hunter's original philosophy: to take lives only in the service of humanity's survival. That was the commandment he had embraced.

The thought crossed his mind then - maybe it was time to stop hunting, to find another way to live. But as soon as the notion settled in his mind, it was as if the ground beneath him had opened into an endless chasm.

A cold sweat broke out across his skin.

It was a different kind of fear from facing a wyvern, but it gripped him just the same.

It reminded him that there was no escaping his path. No other life he could possibly choose.

To stop being a hunter would mean the end of everything. His life would crumble into an empty shell. It was far too soon for that. As long as his body could keep moving, he would press on, dying only when his strength failed him on the hunting grounds.

That, he realized, was his ideal life as a hunter.

("Damn it, I'm too damn young to be having a mid-life crisis!") He scolded himself, embarrassed at the thought of an eighteen-year-old brat complaining about the mundanity of life as though he knew everything.

He gathered his thoughts, determined to uncover the source of his discontent.

It didn't take long to trace it back - there was no need to search far into the past.

Half a year ago, after he had hunted the Monoblos alone, he had been genuinely content with his life. The thrill of that victory had filled him with a rush that still made his heart race just to remember.

That was the moment when life had felt the most full.

And so, Zeeg traced the change. It was after that point - when the hunts with his team started to go wrong. The failures had been gradual at first, but recently, they had escalated.

He also remembered when he first started to feel frustrated with Elmeria's strategies. Her cautiousness, her unwillingness to take risks, had begun to bother him.

Normally, he and Elmeria would argue often, but recently, their disputes had become less playful and more serious, touching on matters that required real consideration.

Yet, no matter how much he argued, Elmeria would never listen. Gannon, as always, sided with her, and Fradio seemed to take no side at all.

All Fradio cared about was playing around with Gypceros, so much so that he seemed indifferent to the need for new weapons or armor - unless, of course, they were made from Gypceros's unique Rubbery Hides. In a way, his lack of concern for the team's failures made sense.

But Zeeg was different.

What frustrated him the most was the sting of rejection - like being struck by Ioprey poison - his suggestions dismissed even though he was certain they would improve things.

It was then that Zeeg remembered Elmeria's words back at the gathering hall, and a thought struck him with sudden clarity.

"This isn't your party! It's mine!!"

That was what she had said.

Indeed, this was her party. She was the one in charge.

Elmeria decided what requests they would take and which ones they wouldn't, though she did, in theory, welcome input from others. But ultimately, the final decision always rested with her.

And Zeeg, joining her party, had technically been the Guild Master's doing. It only made sense that Elmeria called the shots when it came to their strategies.

("Oh, come on, how could I have missed something so simple?")

Zeeg felt the fog in his mind lift as the realization hit him. It was like a ghost that had been possessing him down had finally slipped away.

It was simple, really. If he didn't like the way things were going, there was nothing stopping him from leaving. No contracts, no binding agreements.

And then, he could form his own party - one where he was the leader, hunting on his own terms.

The thought thrilled him. He stood up, unable to contain the surge of excitement that he hadn't felt in quite a while.

His own party. The idea was irresistible.

He imagined it - his party, with a distinct hunting philosophy. He could create something as iconic as the Crimson Avian Wings, renowned for their mastery over Yian Kut-Ku, or the Giant Spiders, who only hunted neopterons. There were others too, those who dedicated themselves to hunting particular wyverns like Khezu or Gypceros.

For Zeeg, the wyvern he considered his true rival was Rathalos. The Rathalos - the wyvern of wyverns.

To Zeeg, it was the ultimate challenge, the one adversary that would always test him, no matter how many times he faced it. Even the smallest lapse in concentration could cost him a limb or his life. Only in battle with such a foe did his blood truly boil with excitement.

If he wanted to build a party that would challenge such a mighty opponent, it wouldn't be enough to focus only on individual strength. His team would need to be trained together, learning to work as one unit. That, too, was part of the thrill.

Perhaps Elmeria was after something similar for her own party - though, in the end, they had each been striving for something different. Or perhaps they had simply drifted apart along the way.

It was unfortunate, but it was the way things had turned out.

And that was why Zeeg no longer felt at home.

("Alright! I'll form a party of my own! One that's truly mine - on my own terms!")

The future looked bright - but Zeeg knew that assembling a new team in this city would not be easy.

Elmeria's party was renowned here, and skilled hunters would be hesitant to join a boy who had just left her ranks.

It was painful to admit, but it made sense. Who wouldn't want to be part of Elmeria's party over his?

Though this realization annoyed him, Zeeg found himself remarkably calm. Could this be the kind of clarity that comes with becoming more seasoned as a hunter?

He bent down and retrieved the leather bag he'd thrown against the wall, inspecting its contents. Fortunately, none of the bottles had broken. The only other items inside were a change of clothes and some equipment maintenance tools.

The materials from his last hunt were being sent separately, and there was no immediate need for them. A delayed delivery wasn't a problem.

He pulled out the necessary items from his item box and packed them carefully into the bag. Then, opening the Guild Handbook, Zeeg began searching for information on other cities.

The closer to Minegarde, the better.

The area surrounding Minegarde was known for its excellent hunting grounds. Though not necessarily the same ones managed by the local Guild, they lay within fertile lands, rich with opportunity.

He paused, wondering if Elmeria would be disappointed in him for leaving. But the thought didn't linger long. He was convinced she wouldn't be.

Zeeg shook his head, brushing the thoughts aside, and sat cross-legged on the floor, diving back into the handbook with renewed focus.

Elmeria groaned as the morning light cut through her eyelids, piercing her skull like needles.

She tried to lift her arm, feeling as though it were weighed down by the hands of ten people, struggling to shield her eyes from the blinding daylight.

A long exhale escaped her lips, but it did nothing to banish the overwhelming stench of alcohol that assaulted her senses.

It was as if she'd been dunked into a barrel of beer, her blood turned to fermented liquid gold.

"Young Mistress, I believe it is time for you to wake up."

Even Gannon's normally soothing voice now felt like a hammer striking a metal basin. The sound rang from her head, down into her stomach, sending waves of nausea through her.

She knew exactly how she had ended up in this miserable state.

Too much to drink. Far too much.

She had stayed in the gathering hall well past dinner, neglecting to bathe, drinking until the line between memory and oblivion blurred.

She couldn't even remember how much she had consumed - or what she had done or said during that time.

As she slowly got up, she realized her armor had been removed, though her undershirt remained, stained and unkempt. Even Gannon wouldn't have dared to remove her clothes.

And Elmeria, of course, would never have allowed herself to be seen in such a state - not even by a foster parent. Especially not by a foster parent.

In any case, at that moment, Elmeria was a complete wreck.

Her undershirt was stained and reeked of beer, likely from spills she had caused herself. That was probably why, when she first awoke, she felt as if she had been trapped inside a barrel of the stuff.

There were also dark red stains, probably blood, though it was unclear whether it was her own or someone else's. From the quantity, it was clear it hadn't come from a monster.

As she attempted to gather her hair, something caught her fingers.

Her hair was matted with dirt, dried alcohol, and something else she couldn't quite identify. The thought of trying to fix it made her feel an intense sense of dread. It would take far too much effort - far more than she cared to deal with at the moment.

She turned her swollen eyes toward the window, and there was Gannon in his usual dress suit, opening the curtains and tying them up neatly with strings. His face was wrapped in fresh bandages, the neatness of the wrapping stark against the sloppy way she had tended to him before. She winced at the thought.

"Would you like me to prepare breakfast?" he asked.

The mere thought of food made her stomach churn. She wanted to throw up the remnants of last night, but strangely, nothing came up. It seemed her body had already processed whatever it had taken in.

"No... just... water," Elmeria croaked, her voice hoarse and unrecognizable.

She was startled by the sound of it. Her mouth felt sticky, as though it hadn't seen moisture in far too long. Gannon placed a pitcher and a small cup on the table, pouring the water and handing it to her. She drank greedily, feeling the coolness spread throughout her mouth, though there was still that faint, strange taste lingering in her throat.

"What's wrong with me...?" she muttered, almost to herself, as Gannon poured another cup of water.

"A slight overconsumption of beer, I would presume," he replied, his tone dry but gentle. "Your behavior was... less than admirable."

"...Sorry," she said softly, her voice barely above a whisper.

Normally, she was meticulous about her drinking. She had always known her limits, sipping moderately even during large gatherings. But last night... last night had been different. She couldn't seem to stop, not with Zeeg's attitude constantly nagging at her thoughts.

It wasn't that Elmeria didn't care about the team's recent failures - she did. But she saw things differently than Zeeg. To him, perhaps her caution seemed like cowardice, but to her, nothing was worse than the idea of ending a hunt with someone injured, or worse, dead.

If Zeeg had slain that Rathian but lost an arm in the process, what would that victory even mean? It might be worth it if such hunts were rare, once-in-a-lifetime opportunities, but for hunters like them, whose lives depended on the next hunt, that kind of price wasn't worth paying.

If it meant losing a part of her body just to succeed, she would rather choose failure.

That was the way she saw it. It was her duty.

But why didn't he understand that? The frustration churned inside her, and before she realized it, she had ordered herself another drink to try to wash it down.

She passed the empty cup to Gannon with a long, tired sigh.

She would have to talk to Zeeg. If she didn't - if she didn't make him understand that she wasn't just being a coward, she was certain he would get hurt, and badly. She made up her mind. She would do it, but first...

She needed to take a bath.

There was no way she was going anywhere, especially not to confront Zeeg, while smelling like this. The boy would never let her live it down - he'd probably make some mocking comment, or worse. It would be unbearable.

"Gannon, could you prepare the bath?"

"At once."

Gannon bowed and exited the room, making his way to the guest house manager. The Queen Rooms offered a private bathroom for tenants, should they wish to use it.

Elmeria sighed deeply once more. Then, as she turned, the sound of laughter reached her ears from the direction of the window.

Fradio was perched there, his usual gear lending him the air of an executioner about to swing an axe, crouched on the window frame like a mischievous primate.

"Late to rise today, aren't we?" he teased.

"Yeah. Got a bit too carried away last night," Elmeria admitted, rubbing her temples. "I didn't even manage to bathe... It's dreadful."

"Quite the state you're in," Fradio observed dryly.

"I know, I know... You don't need to rub it in."

Elmeria pouted in irritation. The last hunt had offered no chance to cleanse herself properly. Had it been in the Forest and Hills, she might have managed, but the Jungle was another story entirely. The air had been thick and muggy, the temperature sweltering, and the river water - far from clear.

"You doing alright, Fradio?" she asked, eyeing him suspiciously.

"Me? Of course. I didn't drink much, and I had a proper breakfast - scrambled eggs, sliced sausages, and plenty of cheese-"

"W-wait, stop!" Elmeria interjected, holding up her hands in a panic. The mere description made her stomach churn.

She searched her mind for any recollection of Fradio's drinking habits the previous night, but came up blank. He could be suffering from a hangover still, though with that helmet of his, she couldn't read his expression.

The nausea eased a bit, and Elmeria licked her lips, trying to shake off the unease.

"Oh, by the way... Where's that guy?"

"Who?" Fradio blinked, his head tilting slightly beneath his helmet, the sharp, goat-like horns making his posture even more curious.

Elmeria felt irritation surge again. He was playing dumb, acting as though he didn't know exactly who she meant. Fradio always positioned himself between her and the others, mediating, though his true enjoyment often came from the reactions he stirred with his teasing.

"...Zeeg. Where is he? He hasn't shown his face, and if he's just too embarrassed to come because of his attitude, well, I suppose I'll forgive him."

"Ah, him..." Fradio's red eyes seemed to glimmer behind his mask as he answered casually, "I'm afraid he already left town."

Elmeria froze, her mind struggling to catch up with the words.

Left town? Was he out for a walk or something? No, that wasn't right - Fradio wouldn't have phrased it that way...

"Wh-what do you mean, left?" Elmeria's voice tightened in disbelief as she found herself standing by the window.

Fradio's eyes gleamed with a hint of amusement. "He caught the first carriage out this morning. It wasn't one from the Hunter's Guild, so he might've gone back to his village..."

Reaching beneath his mask, Fradio scratched his chin, as if the whole situation were some kind of puzzle he was savoring.

When the words finally sank in - he actually left - Elmeria's fury ignited like wildfire. Without a second thought, she bolted from her room, as though she might outrun the storm inside her.

"That... that Goddamned idiot-!"

Her anger coiled around her chest like a wyvern's tail, tight and seething.

"Young Mistress!?"

Gannon's voice reached her, but she didn't pause. She didn't have time for pleasantries or explanations. Elmeria dashed down the corridor, her footsteps heavy, each stride sounding like a hunter stamping dirt off the soles of their boots. She reached the Bishop Room where Zeeg had been staying and, without hesitation, slammed her fist against the door.

She knew, of course, that he was gone - but something compelled her to check anyway. Perhaps, against all odds, he had returned. Perhaps there would be some sign he hadn't run off entirely.

But as expected, no answer came.

But maybe - just maybe - he had rushed back in a hurry and had fallen asleep again. Elmeria raised her hand to knock once more, but the sound of approaching footsteps stopped her. The manager of the guest house appeared, his eyes wide with concern from the racket she had caused.

"If you're looking for the hunter who stayed in that room," he said quickly, "he left this morning!"

"Tell me where he went!" Elmeria demanded, grabbing the manager by his collar. His face flushed a deep red, as though the desert heat had suddenly struck him. Elmeria wasn't sure why she was so angry, only that she couldn't seem to control it.

"I-I don't know! Wouldn't it be better to ask Becky!? She's the one who handles the comings and goings of the hunters, not me!"

Elmeria's teeth clenched. With a sharp click of her tongue, she shoved the manager aside, though she did so with more force than she had intended. He staggered back, slamming against the door, and let out a small groan of pain as he crumpled to the floor.

Ignoring him entirely, Elmeria turned on her heel and descended another flight of stairs. Lower-ranked hunters peeked out of their rooms, curious about the disturbance, but quickly averted their gazes when they met her fiery stare. She stormed past them, out of the guest house and into the bright midday light.

The clear sky above seemed to mock her with the reminder that it was already past noon. As if in response to the rising tide of frustration, Elmeria's head throbbed painfully, a sharp pain pulsing as though there was a heart beating inside her skull. Normally, the commotion of the marketplace would have been a welcome distraction, but today, it only grated against her ears. She pushed through it, each step a battle against her own senses.

Her mind was consumed by one thing: Zeeg had left, and she had no idea why.

With determination fueling her, Elmeria flung open the door to the gathering hall, only to be immediately assaulted by the stench of tobacco and stale alcohol. It was a sickening smell, and her stomach turned, threatening to rebel. The day drinkers all turned their eyes toward her, no doubt shocked by her appearance. She hadn't looked in a mirror, but the expressions she met told her everything she needed to know - she must have looked like a corpse.

She limped to the counter, clinging to it for support as she locked eyes with Becky - whose carefree demeanor was like a slap in the face today.

"I'm guessing you're looking for Zeeg," Becky said, her tone knowing, almost too calm. "But sorry, but I can't tell you where he went."

"Why not!?" Elmeria shouted, slamming her fist on the countertop. The impact made the entire hall fall silent, as if it was turned into a wyvern's lair.

Becky merely shrugged, her indifference infuriating.

"Did Zeeg ask you not to say anything...?" Elmeria's voice faltered for a moment - for reasons she couldn't explain, she asked it almost fearfully, her anger momentarily giving way to uncertainty.

Becky paused, her expression unreadable, before she nodded.

A sudden weakness swept over Elmeria, draining the strength from her knees. She felt the urge to sink to the floor, yet, somehow, she remained standing - propped up only by her hands clutching the countertop. A swirl of emotions, none of them anger or frustration, sapped what little energy she had left. She felt humiliated.

"I knew something was off when he left without a word," Becky said as she grasped Elmeria's arm to steady her. "But I'm sure he thought it through. It would have been hard for him to part ways with you all, don't you think?"

"Then why did he leave in the first place!?" Elmeria's voice trembled with confusion. "Doesn't that seem strange to you!?"

She still couldn't make sense of it. Sure, they'd fought - a big argument, at that - but it wasn't as though that was anything new. Leaving the party without a word, just walking away from everything... it didn't sit right with her.

"Without us, he'd have been torn apart by some monster by now! I can't believe he's repaid us by doing this! What a disgrace to the hunters' code of loyalty!"

Becky let out a long, slow sigh. "I'm not saying I don't get where you're coming from, but Zeeg didn't break any Guild rules. You know how it goes - hunters team up for the hunt, but once the quest ends, the party is dissolved. It's by the book. After that, each hunter is free to choose their next team, or if they're not interested, to go their own way."

Elmeria shot her a sharp look, her eyes narrowing as she barely contained her frustration.

She knew that. Of course she knew that. It was the same technicality they'd all heard a thousand times. She wasn't angry at Becky, but at the situation, at the senselessness of it all.

"Elmeria," Becky said, her tone turning serious, "do you really not know why he did it?"

"No, I... I don't."

It wasn't out of stubbornness. She was admitting she truly didn't know. The arguments - those were part of the daily routine. Yesterday's fight wasn't the reason. It couldn't be. After all, there had been worse. Like the time they had both thrown hands, and it had taken Gannon to break them up.

Becky leaned forward on the counter, glancing around, ensuring no one else could hear. She lowered her voice to a near whisper.

"Yesterday, you said something to him, didn't you? Something like, This isn't your party, it's mine."

A knot tightened in Elmeria's stomach. She did remember saying that.

But it felt like such an obvious statement - a fact, nothing more. What was the issue?

Becky's troubled expression only deepened. "That's exactly it," she grumbled. "Zeeg must have realized he wouldn't be able to hunt the way he wanted to if he stayed with your party. That's what the fight yesterday was about, wasn't it?"

The pieces fell into place.

Lately, Elmeria had been growing increasingly frustrated with Zeeg's tendency to act on his own whims. But now, she realized he was just as irritated with her.

"...That idiot just doesn't get it," Elmeria muttered, the words sharp, as if she were spitting them out.

Of course, he didn't understand - not the way she did. Not what it truly meant to lead a party.

It wasn't just about giving orders or taking the lead on a hunt. It was about shouldering the responsibility for others' lives.

Hunters, by nature, were individuals. They were ultimately responsible for their own survival. But when they teamed up for a hunt, the decisions of the leader held weight beyond their own life - they could mean life or death for everyone involved.

A leader wasn't obligated to carry the burden of every injury or death, but the wound would remain, buried deep within. Zeeg, naïve as he was, had no idea how heavy that burden could be.

"I know what you're thinking, Elmeria. But you also know you can't control how Zeeg feels, right? Every hunter wants their own party eventually. It's just his time, that's all. And honestly, for now, I think it's probably for the best."

"...What do you mean?" Elmeria asked, her voice trailing off.

"Well... aren't your recent failures a result of being too careful? Trying too hard to protect Zeeg from danger?"

Elmeria's skin prickled at the words.

She had never considered it that way before. She tried to laugh it off, but the tension in her neck and the stiffness of her posture betrayed her. Her face may have said otherwise, but her body had already confirmed Becky's words.

Becky gently rested her hand on Elmeria's, her touch soft and sympathetic.

"It's not like you won't see him again. But right now, things are a little too awkward, don't you think? I'd suggest giving him some space for a while. This time apart might be important for him too, to figure things out on his own."

Elmeria could feel the weight of Becky's advice settle into her chest.

What she meant was, if Zeeg truly wanted a party of his own, Elmeria couldn't stand in the way. If she did, he might act out of spite, out of frustration with her.

She understood that, fully.

But understanding didn't make the ache in her heart any less raw. She didn't feel any more at peace. So, without a word, Elmeria ordered a beer, then another. She drank in silence, pushing the thoughts aside, letting the alcohol blur the edges of her mind until the sun set.

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