"If you have to ask, then you're not my target."
The faint smile on her lips didn't fade—it pierced deeper, especially as her sharp gaze locked onto Zhen's.
Zhen merely watched, silently scanning her movements. This was the first time, in all his hunting journeys, that he'd encountered a female hunter.
He let the sound of her metal bangles ring, caught in the wind.
"I'm hunting," Zhen finally said. "And Lorun is my prey ground."
Their eyes met—exchanging more than just intimidation, but also a silent reading of one another's intent.
The woman turned slowly toward the northwest, where a swirl of golden dust had begun to rise. She drew an arrow into her left hand. Her fingers didn't tremble—not even slightly.
"Want to be my partner?" she asked, releasing the arrow as she spoke.
"I work better alone," Zhen replied.
She gave a small smile at his answer. "Good. I don't play well with others."
Zhen didn't count her as an ally. His focus was on the surroundings—where the Hir breed of monsters nested. The Hir were gluttonous creatures, always in packs, resembling horned wolves with skin tough as steel. Their rotting stench made them easy to detect once they locked onto prey.
As if summoned by patience, a faint tremor—like the footsteps of giants—crawled through the golden sands of Lorun. A dragging rhythm, heavy and in sync. Most importantly, it wasn't a single step—it was a herd.
'The Hir are here.'
Zhen could smell it now—sharp, rotting, vile.
"I know this stench... it's…"
"Hir! A swarm of them!" The woman had already loosed another arrow into the dust-choked air.
From within the swirling haze, they emerged—a pack of ravenous Hir, their bodies lunging forward like beasts that had scented flesh from miles away.
Zhen spun his blade to life, letting it twirl in his grasp, a dance of steel.
Meanwhile, the woman planted her right foot firmly into the ground. Her stance was solid, her body leaned forward. She drew a long breath—and in a blink, another arrow flew.
The sound of its flight—silent to human ears—found its mark, sinking into a Hir's skull, precisely between the upper horn and its eye. The beast dropped instantly, but its pack didn't stop. In fact, they charged faster, mad with frenzy.
Zhen stepped away from her, observing a pattern unfamiliar to him. "She's using rhythm... in her strikes."
Zhen chose to wait, to watch her work.
He gave her the field first—to see what kind of hunter she truly was.
Every step the woman took came with the chime of her metal bangles, as if an ancient chant hummed along the curves of her body—releasing arrows one by one. Her draw on the bow looked light, yet every movement was seasoned and sharp.
The arrow landed flawlessly, piercing right between the chest of that foul creature. The monster struck by her arrow was slightly smaller than the rest of its pack. She had aimed straight at its budding heart—still young, still growing.
The young Hir let out a pained cry and fell, prompting the rest of the Hir to charge after it.
Their howls echoed, feral and terrifying, just as her next arrow sliced the air. Zhen knew then—he could no longer just stand and watch.
The woman narrowed her eyes. Her hands remained steady. One arrow in hand, another between her lips. She did not retreat.
"You're not going to help me?" she murmured.
Zhen didn't respond at first. He finally stepped forward, drawing the sword at his side—ready to cut down the Hir pack.
"Stand on your own feet," Zhen grinned. "You've trained too, haven't you?"
The woman scoffed. "Just watch me. Then you'll have something to judge."
"That line should've been mine," Zhen muttered under his breath.
He said nothing more—just focused on slicing through the Hir swarm.
This world was too wild for formalities. Every hunter had their own mission—and prey must be executed as assigned. In the world of hunters, that was enough.
As if to prove her worth, the woman unleashed arrow after arrow, each one hitting a weak point of the oncoming Hir.
Her aim never missed. She moved like a deadly dancer—her rhythm guided by the bow and its arrows.
On the other side, Zhen wielded his blade. He moved swiftly, like a shadow crawling beneath the feet of monsters. Every touch was venom—locking limbs, severing tendons, ending lives. He didn't slash—he pierced. His mission was to stab the hearts of the Hir offspring. And he did it with technique. Black blood was already soaking patches of golden sand.
Then, one of the Hir stepped forward—its roar so deafening it rattled their ears. They turned in unison, not speaking, just exchanging glances—as if they knew. The one approaching was the eldest Hir.
Their coordination wasn't made of words—it was born of instinct.
The instinct of hunters.
They were about twenty steps apart. Zhen moved to the right, drawing attention. The woman leapt, her bow aimed at the Hir monster that lunged straight at Zhen's body.
But of course, his sword had already sliced through the creature's leg. As Zhen slipped behind the Hir, opposite the arrow's shadow—a golden arrow inscribed with Eastern clan runes—he bit down on the woman's dangerous arrow.
Then he stabbed it straight into the Hir's heart, twisting the shaft, savoring the moment as black blood spilled from the core of his prey.
The massive corpse collapsed without even a roar.
Zhen looked satisfied. He wiped sweat from his temple.
"Name?"
He walked past her—only to ask the name of the huntress beside him.
She glanced at him. "Junji."
Zhen gave a slight nod, not bothering to look back. He was too busy wiping his blade, stained with too much blood.
The woman tried to remain indifferent.
But she had only ever wanted to meet the Cursed Hunter—the one her clan kept whispering about over and over again.
"You owe me. This wasn't a team hunt," she said, adjusting the bow strapped to her back.
Zhen gave a faint smile. "I never asked you to shoot that arrow."
They walked away from each other.
Two hunters.
Two missions.
Two directions.
Their paths had crossed—and in a world like this… a first meeting was rarely the last.
Zhen already knew—she was using an Eastern bow with light rune systems, capable of fusing her arrows with wind or fire, depending on her intent.
Likewise, she recognized his blade. A weapon from the North, able to freeze motion and mute sound. The signature technique of wild Northern hunters—never taught in any academy.
"I never owed you anything," Zhen said, handing her the golden arrow—the same one he had used to pierce the heart of the Hir.
She watched the tall figure radiating the aura of the Northern Tundra—cold and brutal.
But Junji saw what others refused to see.
Zhen was not mute. Despite what the Eastern Clan so cruelly claimed.
She took her arrow back—but not with her heart.
"I'll still collect it, if fate lets me meet you again." She turned and walked away.
But before the sound of her bangles faded into the drifting dust, she looked back.
"You… the Cursed Hunter who isn't cursed," she said flatly.
Zhen had already turned away. Once in hunting mode, he never looked back.
"Why hasn't the System sent me a notification?"
The thought passed through his mind as he prepared for the next hunt. And yet—something had distracted him.
He hadn't expected that arrow to linger in his mind for this long.
'Junji.'
Zhen continued across the golden sands of Lorun, leaving behind faint tracks that were quickly erased by the wind.
But then—he stopped.
A soft sound rose from the sand. Not the chime of bangles this time—a whisper.
"Cursed Hunter… you don't belong here."
Zhen narrowed his eyes. The ground beneath him began to crack, as if something was trying to emerge from beneath the surface.
He slowly stepped back.
But the voice returned. Closer this time. And not just in his ears—inside his mind.
"Even the Last Hunter will drown in this corridor..."
Zhen moved back, step by cautious step.
But it was too late.
The sand beneath him gave way.
"Akkkhhhh!!"
Zhen fell—not into a chasm—but into another dimension.