Hunter Mythos

Path of the Slayer B1 C4: Live And Die And Rank Up

Added 2025-04-04 21:16:26 +0000 UTC

I remembered the days after I lost my hand from a bronze quest two years ago and still went to the guild, not missing a day off. I remembered how the same people who I started with as tin adventurers were looking at me with less worry and with more frustration, embarrassment, shame, and even disgust.

I remembered how they didn’t hold back their Rank 1 Suppression – or Rank 2 – while trying to coax me to stop being an adventurer and take on another job more fitting for non-rankers. They’d made it sound reasonable, as if they were looking out for me, as if we were still buddies, even though the looks in their eyes said otherwise.

I remembered one girl who had once shared a bed with me and told me sweet things when we were tin adventurers with great aspirations to reach the top together. Two years ago, she moved close, grabbed my arms with a grip that hurt, and whispered into my ear.

“The God Emperor made you lame for a reason. Whatever you’ve done, it’s your trial to bear, so stop making us suffer along with you. Stop making me look bad. Please disappear, cripple.”

Two years ago, she nearly broke me.

I’d nearly quit.

Yet, two years later, I was still doing my best as an adventurer, facing the forces of a Hell Realm, and I was about to open up my first Realm Treasure Chest, a Rank 2 at that. I was praying so hard for an ‘Epiphany Elixir’ I was on the verge of coughing blood or suffering a stroke.

Before I did anything rash, I stopped myself from touching the chest and shuffled back a few steps, a low moan escaping through my clenched teeth. Every breath was heavy and toxic and made it hard to think. My tongue felt heavy and dry. I turned back to my pack, my back feeling prickly from knowing there was worthwhile treasure right behind me.

I forced myself to ignore it. I pulled out the waterskin and took a slow sip. A pang of hunger struck, but I didn’t respond to it. I reserved the nuts for when I really needed them. There was still enough oil in the lantern, and despite all the action, my artificial half arm was doing dandy.

I took a deep and tired breath, which helped little. The rotten air was suffocating, and my lungs were overtaxed, even with the lingering Vitality inside of me.

My mind drifted toward the treasure chest. Looking over my shoulder, I saw it was still there. It wasn’t a figment of my imagination. And I was sure after some water and a short – and difficult – breather, I could think clearly.

I could ask questions.

Was the Realm Treasure Chest always there or was it ‘conjured’ there by the mystical powers of the System? Did I appease the System somehow? An occurrence like that was extremely rare.

Adventurer parties would break out into fights over who should get the treasure. And every Realm Treasure Chest always gave something that an adventurer needed or was extremely unique.

Scholars wanted to believe this was because of the Realm making use of the System. Or the System was making use of the Realm, making sense of its grand sentience in response to adventurers. The Holy Scriptures said that all fortune was bestowed because of the God Emperor’s reach through his faithful.

I wasn’t faithful, so I wasn’t sure what the answer was other than getting some favor out of the System or the Realm.

“There’s another factor…” I turned in the direction the ghouls went.

The Fallen Slayer.

What was that?

Why would the System announce a creature like that?

Why did it announce that the Fallen Slayer was weakened?

And what sort of reward would I get if I overcame a mysterious creature like that?

Despite everything, I felt a desire to go find out for myself. I knew I should do everything to survive. I knew I should somehow take down the Portal Boss and get out.

Yet, I really wanted to get that blatant reward promised by the System.

I’d been shafted enough, haven’t I? I’d suffered enough, faced trial after trial, and endured more than any non-ranker should, all with no real tangible rewards that would last me.

I licked my dry lips. “I want it all.”

Determined, I went back to the treasure chest and got down to my knees as if I was before a holy symbol. But it wasn’t one I dedicated to the System.

“You and me, System. Make this worth my while.”

I touched the top of the treasure chest.

A golden pulse traveled through its polished brown wood and bright steel bands. Then the treasure chest creaked open slowly before flipping all the way with a proud thunk. The ground shuddered a little under me, and I had to stop myself from swooning.

Realm Treasure Chests were theatrical.

And that was only the beginning.

A golden light ebbed from the belly of the treasure chest and three blue System boxes appeared above my head. Each one revealed the image of a different item.

One looked like a mask. Another looked like a strange mechanism or tool with an oval blade, sharp teeth on one side, and a box at the end. The third looked like a unique crossbow.

More notifications appeared in my System Log, listing off in the back of my mind. I took my time to read.

[Congrats! You’ve opened a Raining Ruin Hell Realm Treasure Chest: Rank 2!]

[Calibrating your prizes. Calibration complete. Behold!]

[Ruinous Plague Mask: Rank 2 (Uncommon): Having a hard time breathing, chum? Aye, no worries. With this mask, you’ll filter out all the bad stuff in the air and have a good time on your stroll through a Hell Realm. It’ll even turn some of that stuff into minor Aether to recharge you and your gear. The more toxic the better.]

Wow!

I turned away. I nearly fell to my impulses and took the first thing on the list. There were two more options, but the first item was already major.

It was an uncommon Quality. That was worth some serious Rank 2 coins. Maybe even a few Rank 3 coins. The higher the Quality, the greater the item, to where a higher Quality could out-do a higher Rank depending on the circumstances.

“Even Rank 3 crafters can’t make anything beyond common Quality.”

I was Rank 0 and my first offer was top-of-the-line. It didn’t matter that it was above my Rank. A treasure item would adapt to me, weakening itself to match me. But even the weaker version would be powerful.

Someone would kill me for this.

Heart thumping, I moved onto the next.

I had to stop, regain my composure, and wait for myself to get less shaky. With my hands clenched into tight fists, I continued reading the second option.

[Hellion Autosaw: Rank 2 (Rare): Grrrr! GRAH! Let it rip, rip, rip! Let it TEAR! Slaughter the hordes. Their grisly deaths will give up some Vitality, minor for you, moderate for the autosaw! Oh, and beware! If it isn’t fed when active, it’ll consume you! So keep murdering even if you go mad.]

I looked up and mouthed thank you … to the Realm. And maybe to the System. I wasn’t sure what had made this possible, but something was involved.

Uncommon-Quality was already great. The next Quality above uncommon was rare-Quality, and at that point, the autosaw might as well be common Rank 3.

Better yet, I could learn from the mechanisms and magic inside once I safely disassembled it. I’d never seen an autosaw before either, but it was obviously an advanced artifice! Glancing at the hovering image display, I was instantly sure of it.

Definite artifice of an alien nature.

With a weary breath, I checked the last option’s description.

[Demon Hunter Crossbow: Rank 2 (Rare): They think themselves untouchable. Unkillable. They think evil can rule without reproach. Prove them wrong. Draw and charge with Aether. Shoot a powerful magic bolt that delivers piercing damage or blunt damage. Especially effective against hellish monsters.]

I sighed. This one … disappointed me the most.

I checked that annoying part of my profile.

[Epiphany: 99%.]

The crossbow was useless to me. The amount of Aether I would need to empower it would cost me my artificial arm and the charges in my artificer toolkit. Even if it weakened itself for me to use, the cost would still make things difficult. If I could get both the plague mask and the crossbow, it would’ve been workable.

I’d shot crossbows before. I’d even made low-quality artifice crossbows with a loadable box and charging handle that could shoot repeat bolts.

I knew the Demon Hunter Crossbow would’ve been powerful for me. With it, I would’ve easily cleared most of the problems ahead … especially if I had a great position to snipe those damn imps.

Smiling sadly, I put the crossbow out of mind and looked at my remaining options. My body and health needed the plague mask.

My heart, filled with rage and desperation, wanted the autosaw. The smarter choice would be the plague mask. There were no downsides, and it would keep my artificial half arm and tools supplied with a constant flow of Aether.

That was truly the smartest choice.

But how was I supposed to kill the Fallen Slayer with it?

I looked in the direction the ghouls had gone. How many monsters were attacking the Fallen Slayer now? Would the Portal Boss attack the Fallen Slayer? What would happen if any of the monsters won the Realm Quest and got the reward?

“Hell no. I want that reward.”

I selected the autosaw with all of my mental intent.

The image of the autosaw jumped up while the other two image displays sank down.

[Congrats! You’ve chosen the Hellion Autosaw: Rank 2 (Rare)!]

The treasure chest emitted a flash of bright golden light, drizzling sparkles, and a merry tune that picked up my spirit. Then the treasure chest was gone, and in its place, something crude, edgy, and painted with the colors of dark gray and old blood remained in front of me.

It had jagged teeth on a chain that looped freely on the front while winding into a slot at the top of the blade’s spine, which seemed to direct most of the threat towards the front while protecting the user behind the weapon. There were two handholds on the top-left and back-right of the box casing. I also noticed a bigger slot in the direct back of the casing that was circular, a perfect fit for my nub if I were to remove my artificial half arm.

I wasn’t sure if I wanted to stick any of myself into the autosaw. Still, I marveled over the never-before-seen thing. I noticed there was a smaller handle to the side, and when I touched it, I felt a rushing desire to yank on it.

I forced myself to release the pull handle.

“Oh, you’re dangerous,” I said.

In response to my words, I faintly heard a noise, but couldn’t quite catch what it was exactly. I knew where it came from, though.

The autosaw … had tried to say something.

Whatever it was, the noise was gone, and I was left feeling some buyer’s remorse. Maybe I could’ve found a way around the Aether issue for the crossbow instead of getting this … thing.

Before I could fall into a spiral of regret, a distant rumble resounded in the direction the ghouls had gone. Something big was happening, and I had a way to go to reach it.

The Fallen Slayer.

I picked up the autosaw by the front handle and ignored the temptation to yank on the pull handle. As I held onto the autosaw, its magic nature and mechanics became familiar with me on the surface level, enough for me to take the proper steps to use it, but nothing deeper than that. It had secrets.

How exciting.

I collected my stuff and checked on the lantern’s oil supply. It was decent. Once I had the lantern attached to my belt and my ragged pack secured to my back, I checked on the Aether power levels to my half arm.

It was also decent. If necessary, I could strip the batteries out of my tools and hook them up inside of the half arm. But that was reserved for when times were desperate.

“The next treasure chest, I’m getting an Aether charger,” I said, even though that was unlikely.

I looked over the corpses of the monsters I’d slain just in case there was something worth looting. I found nothing worthwhile except for the organs of the imp, which could’ve sold well if transported back to my world.

That wasn’t happening now, so I left it all behind and went down the same way the ghouls had taken.

***

“My liege, when will the carnage begin?” asked a suave and baritone male voice.

“Once we catch up,” I muttered, huffing and puffing, doing my best not to trip over all the crags, debris, and uneven terrain across the dark tunnel floor.

The suave and baritone male spoke on. “Oh, I can’t wait. The bloodletting will be glorious, my liege! Glorious!”

“Yeah, sure, sure.” I came to a stumbling stop, my knees nearly buckling.

I forced myself to straighten and look around me. The tunnel was wide, dark, and hot. But so far, I’d found nothing but a few bony skeletons, ancient artefacts from a bygone era, gaping side passages, busted pipes, and ruined stone. I turned this way and that way, my lantern swishing with my movements, illuminating wherever I faced wholly.

There was nobody else but me.

Who the hell was talking to me?

Slowly, I looked down at the object in my right artificial hand. The autosaw gleamed with an eerie light in the deep darkness, with its gunmetal gray edges and dark red casing. The blade itself was a little longer than my old short sword, giving me more reach than what was usual for my style.

“Don’t talk to me,” I told the autosaw.

The autosaw didn’t respond.

I narrowed my eyes. “Don’t make me feel crazy or I’m busting you open to see what’s inside. Okay?”

The autosaw remained silent.

Satisfied, I looked up in the direction the ghouls went. I’d lost track of time, a mistake I wouldn’t normally make if I wasn’t so damn tired. Visions of my old mattress and ratty blanket came to mind, and my body swayed a little. I’d never felt so tired before.

I still had some Vitality Potion left, enough for one last dump of physical energy. Enough to make my heart want to explode, too.

“Save that as an emergency,” I grunted to myself.

Another rumbling shockwave, closer than the last, shook the ground and the tunnel walls. The ceiling came loose, and I had the desperate luck of standing in the right place to avoid a piece of rubble from breaking my Rank 0 head open. Once things settled down, I continued my trek forward.

“One step at a time,” I mumbled, my lungs begging for rest. The air was only a little better down here compared to above. “Watch the acid puddles.”

I stumbled a little to avoid a puddle and the melted bodies stuck in them. Acid dripped down in streams from above, and I shifted to avoid getting the stuff on me. There were some twitching ghouls that were already decomposing in the acid pools, having fallen victim to the Realm’s environmental hazard.

Getting around the acid slowed me down, and the fumes made every breath even more of a chore. I might’ve blacked out a few times, but somehow my feet kept going. That and the autosaw speaking in a weird dialect.

“Do not falter or rest. You are destined for bloody conquests and the splattering of foes! This is all but a mere stepping stone on your climb to the glorious slaughter of the heavens, my liege!”

I snapped awake just in time to avoid a big acid pool with hissing smoke clouding the surface. A dozen ghouls moaned while getting melted down at the deepest depths where they could not escape.

I would’ve joined them if I’d kept sleep-walking.

I glared down at the autosaw. “The voice you’re using doesn’t match the description from the treasure chest. When I disassemble you, I won’t do it because I dislike you. I’m getting curious about what’s really inside of you.”

The gunmetal gray and dark red autosaw made no reply.

I huffed before making what felt like a long journey sidling around the big acid pool. My lungs itched. My sinuses were destroyed. By the time I made it to the other side and left the acid obstacles behind me, I was so thirsty I had to stop, take out my waterskin, and drink.

I ran out right in the middle of feeling some relief.

“Hellion,” I croaked, looking at a random corner in the dark, away from the autosaw.

The suave male voice returned, like an invisible wraith hanging over my shoulder. “Yes, my liege?”

“I have a lot of frustration to work out.”

“Then let loose and be pleased with the bloodshed to come!”

Putting away my empty waterskin and redonning my backpack, I quickened the pace.

I was out of my mind. I wasn’t going to question the talking autosaw or if it was a hidden effect messing with me. It was probably cursed, knowing my luck.

Most cursed items wouldn’t give themselves away until it was too late.

I almost wanted to laugh, but then I nearly ran into the shuffling backs of the ghouls. There were far less of them now, only twenty. They were more messed up now than I last saw them, with a few missing their legs.

Yet, they kept the same pace toward the Fallen Slayer, assuming that was their course. I couldn’t really confirm that with any of them as they shuffled or dragged themselves nonstop.

I would gladly take their single-mindedness for weakness.

“First rule in getting new gear.”

I readjusted my metal hand on the autosaw’s front handle, with my left hand on the pull handle. Immediately, I felt a strong urge to pull and give in to my darkest desires.

I resisted for the sake of my willpower. I was the one who pulled. I was the one who wielded the autosaw. Not the other way around.

“Always test the new gear.”

I held my breath, stilled my heart, and steeled my will. Then I yanked on the pull handle. A shiver went down my spine as the autosaw made a sound that was more bestial than mechanical, more alive than artificial.

But just as soon as that guttural noise appeared, it faded. The cord reeled back into the casing. The urge to yank again was strong, but I took my time, checking my willpower while keeping track of the low purr that remained even as the noise dwindled.

The nearest ghouls stopped from their zealous crusade to reach the Fallen Slayer and turned to me.

I pulled again, yanking on the cord with all of my might, all the way to my arm’s limit. With a rumbling roar that was louder than the last, the autosaw growled and grumbled and shook in my grasp.

A few ghouls left behind the pack and rushed me.

Staring them down, I ignored the primal fear and focused on my primal madness. I let the cord reel back into the casing before I gave it a third yank and knew this one was right.

The autosaw made an explosive sound that roared up and down the tunnel. A bloody reddish light shone through the gaps in its casing. It shook so hard in my grasp, I nearly dropped it. Focused, I grabbed the obvious trigger and squeezed with all my might.

The edgy chain moved at rapid speeds out of the tip of the spine and down the front of the blade. Exhaust fumes exited out the side in a torrent of black smoke. And Hellion’s roaring grew so loud it hurt my ears.

The first ghoul was already in my face, its half melted visage filling my vision, its bony fingers flailing through the air to rip the flesh off of me. In that case, the ghoul succeeded.

One acid-melted hand caught my cheek and tore off half of my face. The other acid-melted hand struck my leather breastplate, smashed down on my clavicle, and broke it, while also fracturing my upper ribs.

Pain snapped me awake. I came out better for it instead of crumpling and crying, pushing forward no matter what. The first ghoul ran into Hellion, and the autosaw cut through its midsection faster than any common saw ever could.

The monster didn’t just fall over, either.

Its torso split apart in a geyser of putrid blood, the two halves shooting out of my way.