Chapter Twelve: Perilous Situation

"Young master, your archery is truly exceptional!" The group stared in disbelief, especially the three guards who had watched him grow up. They could never have imagined he would suddenly possess such remarkable skill—accuracy and prowess even they could not match.

Not long ago, he was completely unaccomplished, idling away his days, squandering his wealth with reckless abandon—behavior that drew scorn from many. Fortunately, his immense fortune made him disdainful of seizing anything by force; he always paid double, sometimes more, for what he wanted. This earned him the reputation of a prodigal young lord, with some secretly wagering how long it would take him to squander his family’s fortune.

No one expected that, in recent days, he would seem to become a different person, devoted wholly to study and martial training, abandoning all former debauchery. Even more astonishing, he suddenly displayed an uncanny aptitude for martial arts. Marcus boasted before them more than once, praising his extraordinary talent and calling him a late-blooming prodigy.

Had the gods themselves blessed him?

Charles merely smiled, offering no explanation. Remaining mysterious would serve him better in the future. With White Spirit’s modifications, it wouldn't be long before even Marcus would pose no threat, so long as he could deal with that person first.

His face darkened at the thought. "Move faster. If we return late, my father will punish me."

So you remember that, do you? The guards’ lips twitched in silent protest. Who would risk their neck in the forest at night for the sake of a far-fetched legend? At least they were only on the outskirts of Moonlight Forest—any deeper, and they would have forced him to turn back, for their own lives depended on his safety.

But he was their young master, and his generosity made it impossible to refuse him.

From then on, Charles deliberately restrained his skill. His archery was no longer so outrageous—now, four or five hits in ten. That seemed reasonable, considering the dim forest, bathed only in faint moonlight. If he hit every shot, it would have been monstrous.

They found no trace of the strange creature, but bagged a pile of game, which they left behind for now, planning to retrieve it on their return. If forest wolves came for it—well, they’d deal with them as they came.

All three guards were elite warriors, each capable of slaying wolves alone, and with two seasoned hunters, even a pack of a dozen would stand no chance.

As they pressed on, the woods thickened, blocking out the moon and casting everything into gloom. Suddenly, the black hunting hound whined and sniffed the ground, its hackles rising.

"Young master, Blackie has found the trace of a Moonborn Beast," said the bearded hunter gravely, worry etched across his face. "Judging by Blackie’s reaction, it’s more dangerous than a forest bear!"

"It’s just a beast," Charles replied grandly. "Capture it, and each of you will receive twenty gold coins. Any injuries, I’ll pay all medical expenses." His tone was as lavish and carefree as ever, but his curiosity about the creature had only grown. If he could capture it, he would gain a powerful advantage.

Even the hesitant guards exchanged glances, tempted. Twenty gold coins was more than half a year’s wages—an offer hard to refuse.

Thus, they followed the hound for several miles until a vast, mist-shrouded lake appeared before them. Ripples danced across its surface, the moonlight shimmering in layers, dreamlike and unreal.

"Young master, this is Moonlight Lake," the bearded hunter warned, calming the restless dog. "Many fierce beasts hunt here at night. We dare not go further!"

If they accompanied him any deeper into this madness, they might face unimaginable danger.

At that moment, a piercing cry split the night. The hunting falcon wheeled overhead, shrieking in alarm.

"What’s wrong?" Charles asked, seeing the two hunters’ faces go pale.

"Young master, the monster is near. The falcon won’t land; that means it’s close!"

The hound barked furiously, but the sound was cut short—its head pinned to the ground by a massive, silver-scaled foot, buried deep into the earth.

Using the hound as a springboard, the creature lunged at the nearest guard, who swung his sword without fear. Yet, the blade glanced harmlessly off the beast’s scales, sliding away without leaving a mark.

The monstrous figure’s scaly hand shot out, lightning-fast, a white blur aiming for the guard’s throat.

"Help—"

The guard hadn’t expected such speed. In an instant, the creature seized his neck and, before he could call for help, snapped it with a single wrench.

"What the hell is this thing? How can it be so terrifying?" Panic gripped Charles. He had never imagined anything so powerful—one blow, and a warrior stronger than himself was dead.

Such a fighter could slaughter wolves with ease and even take on a forest bear alone. Now, he hadn’t survived a single strike.

Only then did the other guards react. Instead of charging, they seized Charles and pulled him back.

"Save the hunters!" Charles shouted frantically.

"Young master, let them distract the creature! We must escape!" yelled the wiry guard, eyes wild with terror as he dragged him away.

Charles fell silent. No more childish protests. He fled with the two guards, understanding that with such a monster, even Marcus might not prevail—let alone two ordinary warriors. Without bait, they had no chance at all.

Less than a minute later, two anguished screams echoed behind them, then silence. Their hearts sank. The experienced hunters had only delayed the beast for moments. It was a massacre—utterly one-sided.

"Young master, if you survive, please take care of my family!"

One guard suddenly halted, voice choked with despair. Gripping his sword, he turned to face their pursuer.

Charles stared in shock, only jolted to his senses by the other guard’s tug. "I promise!" he shouted, then ran, heedless of the branches slashing his face and body. He didn’t even notice when he became separated from his companion.

Having died once, Charles would not die again.

But death was closing in. Behind him, a dreadful aura pressed like a thousand blades, raising every hair on his body.

"Damn it! If I can’t outrun it, then I’ll fight. If I die, you won’t live easily, either!"

He skidded to a halt as a silver figure flashed before him. Instinctively, he drew and fired his bow—having just forced himself to spend attribute points, raising his archery to the level of a master.

A flood of subtle insights filled his mind; bow and arrow became extensions of his body. He almost knew by instinct where the monster would land next.

With a sharp twang, the arrow flew, striking the creature’s left eye as it leapt from a tree—yet the beast still landed before him. Roaring in pain, it struck him with a massive swipe.

He felt as if a speeding carriage had hit him, flung him into a tree, snapping bones so he coughed blood.

In the last fading moments of consciousness, he saw a snowy figure appear silently, stepping between him and the monster, confronting the horror head-on.