Rin stood in front of the massive remnants of Leo's first-day hunt at the edge of the camp, where torches flickered. An A-rank monster that radiated danger even in death, the ten-foot Dreadmaw Wyrm lay sprawled, its charred scales and sharp fangs gleaming menacingly.
The Razorclaw Bear, another valuable kill, was lying next to it, its matted fur crusted with dried blood. With their combined skill against the bear's brute strength and the wyrm's lethal burrowing strategies, they worth of 370 points.
As a throng of nobles gathered, their whispers growing around her, Rin's pink eyes followed the wyrm's scarred length, her heart entangled with wonder and growing frustration.
In an adoring voice, a nobleman wearing a silver-trimmed cloak stated, "Leonhardt is showing that he is the rightful successor to the Caulem Dukedom."
"A Dreadmaw Wyrm, by himself? That is the beginning of a legend."
"Even experienced hunters hesitate against a burrowing beast like that."
