Chương 14: Chapter 11 - The Underdog Hunter

In the dense forest, Dendron was still laughing at his own performance.

"Unknown, what bullshit. His face was priceless." He laughed to himself, replaying Torou's stunned expression, way too funny to let go of just yet. The persona had started as a way to hide his identity, but somewhere along the way it had turned into something he was doing just because it was fun. If nobody knew who he really was, he figured, why not lean into looking cool and mysterious while he was at it?

He'd already done the same thing with the Brown Wolf Tribe, so extending it to his own avatars and anyone else he ended up talking to only made sense. Might as well build a persona grand enough to leave people in awe.

"Luan's the exception, obviously, since he was my first avatar. Not that it matters much. Luan already looks up to me anyway." Half a day later, Dendron spotted the Black Ape Tribe positioning themselves close to the door. Why would they set up this close and not just go in? He understood the caution, sure, but from everything he'd heard about the Brown Wolf Tribe, the Black Apes were supposed to be one of the stronger forces in the wilderness.

Going in first, claiming the temporary base before anyone else could, seemed like the obvious move. Then again, he hadn't fully considered how dangerous the realm inside might actually be. The Black Apes clearly had, cautious enough to let someone else take the first step. That was when he noticed someone else, hidden and easy to miss. A lone elf stood beneath a towering tree, one hand resting lazily on a bow taller than himself.

His green cloak blended so seamlessly into the forest that Dendron nearly overlooked him entirely. The elf wasn't looking at the door. He was watching everyone else.... Several hours passed before the ogre finally showed up, marching straight for the door and trying to force it open. It wouldn't budge, not for pulling, not for pushing. Confused, the ogre threw a punch at it. Nothing. He kept swinging, a barrage of blows landing one after another, and the door held firm, as if it were simply unbreakable.

The elf, watching the whole display, finally spoke, his voice carrying easily through the clearing.

"Oi, ogre, are you dumb or something? It's still closed. You can't force it open."

"Shut your mouth, you long-eared bast..."

"Yes, yes.

'Long-eared bastard.' Even your insults are predictable. Did your brain just stop developing at some point?" The elf laughed, cutting him off mid-sentence.

"You..."

"Let me guess. Bastard?" the elf finished for him, grinning. The ogre's nostrils flared. Veins crawled up his neck, jaw clenched hard enough to creak. Every muscle in his body screamed to crush the smug elf where he stood. Lightning gathered across his frame, crackling like he'd become some minor god of thunder. His feet slammed the ground and the earth shook violently beneath him as he charged, a body that size somehow closing the distance far too fast. Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road.

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"Exactly as expected," the elf muttered. The ogre grinned, certain he had the elf cornered, right before a poison bomb detonated between them, blooming into a wall of thick green smoke. He held his breath, straining to spot the elf through the haze, but the smoke swallowed everything.

"Careful where you step," the elf called out.

"Thinking clearly never was your strong suit." He grinned once more and vanished, laughter trailing behind him. The ogre slammed his fist into the ground, lightning tearing outward. Boom! The earth quaked violently, but the poison cloud barely thinned. Desperate, he lunged for open air outside the smoke. Ffft! An arrow cut through the haze straight at him. He reacted just in time, twisting away from it, the poison-slicked tip missing him by inches. He spat out a curse at the elf's cowardice.

"Fight me!" the ogre roared.

"No," the elf answered, simple and unbothered.

"Coward!"

"Tell that to hell," the elf replied, clearly enjoying himself. Before the ogre could even think about retreating, vines erupted from the ground around him—a trap that the elf had planted earlier, back when the ogre was still too busy being angry to notice. The elf didn't fight fair. He never did. Thunder rolled as lightning surged off his body, tearing up the ground around him, right as two arrows came whistling in. Thuck! Both struck his shoulders, burying deep into muscle.

"Ughk!" the ogre grunted. Poison crept through his veins like a slow-moving fire, and for the first time, real urgency set in. His life was on a countdown now. Jaw locked tight enough to ache, veins bulging along his neck, he screamed, "Coward! Fight me like a man!" The elf just laughed, like it was the most absurd thing he'd ever heard. Out here, being a coward was how you survived long enough to matter.

"A hunter fights like a hunter," he said simply. The ogre was starting to regret coming alone. Every second the fight dragged on worked against him. His own arrogance had put his life on the line, and for all his experience with the spiritual realm, he barely understood what actually lay behind it. His only real combat experience came from his own tribe's territory, where ogres rarely faced real resistance and skirmishes were few and far between.

Even a cultivator's greed had its limits, especially when the price got steep enough. He'd assumed his rank alone would let him crush anyone in his path. Instead, an elf a full stage below him was toying with him through tactics alone. Tactics meant little against overwhelming strength—but only when the gap in rank was large enough to matter. Here, it wasn't. The elf stayed patient, never closing the distance, content to whittle him down from range. Then Saro stepped forward, cutting the fight short.

"Still hunting things stronger than yourself?" Saro asked. The elf lined up one last shot before answering.

"Where's the fun in weaker prey?"

"That's enough, Sarante. We don't need him circling back with friends." Saro raised a hand, signaling him to stop. Sarante lowered the bow.

"An honor to be recognized by you, Elder Saro of the Black Ape Tribe."

"Only natural. You're famous out here, Sarante the Underdog Hunter. Everyone expects you to lose, given the rank and size difference, and yet you always walk away the winner." Saro's praise for the elf's skill was plain and genuine.

"Kind words, Saro, though as you've pointed out, it seems I was a bit shortsighted about what comes after." Saro's caution made sense. An ogre's innate ability was a particular kind of trouble, since their kin could sense a death in the bloodline almost instinctively, as if bound together at any distance. Low-intelligence beasts were always the hardest problem in the long run. Reasoning with them rarely worked, and if they wanted revenge, cost stopped mattering to them entirely....

Dendron had been watching the whole exchange.

"He's provoking the ogre on purpose." Dendron had seen a lot of fights since waking up in this body. Most of them were just people hitting each other until one of them stopped. This one was different. The elf wasn't fighting the ogre. He was undoing him, piece by piece, and the ogre didn't even realize it until it was too late. By turning insults into weapons, the elf had stripped the ogre of the one thing that might have saved him: a clear head.

Even with the ape's interruption, Dendron was fairly confident the elf could've finished the job alone, given enough time. Dendron reflected on the kobolds—how numbers gave them strength, how the ogre's rank gave him power. Yet the elf had almost killed him not because he possessed greater strength, but because he understood what his enemy wanted. He thought about Sarante's patience. The way he'd waited for the ogre to make the first move, then turned every mistake into a weapon.

"I could learn from that," he said.

"Not the patience part. That's overrated. But the part about watching." He laughed, but it was hollow.

"No, that's a lie. I need the patience too." The realization sat uncomfortably. He'd never been patient. He'd been careless, impulsive, and quick to give up.

"Maybe that's why I'm a tree," he said.

"To learn how to wait."

"Maybe being a coward isn't such a bad thing after all." It was a lesson worth remembering. Strength was not the only currency in a fight. Emotion could cut just as deep, if you knew how to aim it.