บท 4: Chapter: One Forest, One Bird, One Eye
Chapter: One Forest, One Bird, One Eye
It's been a few weeks since the meeting and healing of Batoshel. After dinner at my house, she asked my mom if she could stay with us. She offered to pay for the room and food, but my mom had a different idea. Instead of money, she proposed that Batoshel contributes by hunting nearby monsters in the forest 10 miles south of the village or in the desert 24 miles away. Additionally, she wanted Batoshel to teach me how to hunt. To my surprise, Batoshel quickly agreed. Honestly, at first glance, she didn't seem all that strong.
That impression didn't last long.
Training began in early mornings, long before sunrise. Batoshel woke me up for an hour of morning stretches. Her reasoning was simple: "Flexibility is crucial for hunting. Never underestimate it." I had no idea that touching my toes could feel like such a punishment. After stretching, she began teaching me how to use a bow.
First, we had to find a bow that suited me. Batoshel had my mom craft several designs so I could choose the most comfortable one. After testing them all, I settled on a Mongolian composite bow—or something that looked like it. Batoshel said it was one of the deadliest bows in history because of how many lives it claimed. A little grim, but it felt right in my hands.
Then, the lessons began.
The Basics of ArcheryStance: Stand with your feet shoulder-width apart, perpendicular to the target. For comfort, use an open stance. Balance your weight evenly on both feet. Grip: Hold the bow lightly with your non-dominant hand. Avoid gripping too tightly to prevent torque. Let the bow rest naturally against the web of your thumb and index finger. Shooting: Nock the Arrow: Place the arrow's nock on the bowstring, ensuring it aligns with the bow's rest. Draw the Bow: Pull the string back smoothly while keeping your bow arm straight. Anchor your drawing hand consistently (e.g., at the corner of your mouth or under your chin). Aim: Focus on the target. Use sights if available or aim instinctively. Release: Let the string slip from your fingers in a controlled motion. Avoid jerking or flinching. Follow Through: Keep your bow arm steady and maintain focus on the target after release.
We started at a distance of 15 yards. My goal was to hit the target at least 50 times within three hours before we increased the distance. It sounded simple, but it was exhausting.
The first time I shot a bow, I positioned myself as she instructed, taking a deep breath. I focused on the target, trying to block out everything else. My smaller bow, crafted by Mom to fit my size, felt good in my hands. I held the string taut, muscles straining.
Three minutes passed as I steadied myself, mentally aiming at the bullseye. Then, I released it.
The arrow flew faster than a plane, just kidding. It barely made it a few centimeters in front of me before plopping into the dirt. The bowstring snapped back and hit my hand and my face. A small scratch near my mouth started bleeding.
Batoshel burst out laughing.
"Don't worry," she said, her voice warm with encouragement. "Everyone gets hit by the string their first time. You'll learn."
I wasn't so sure, but seeing her confidence made me want to try again.
So I spent the whole morning to afternoon shooting the bow. My arms felt like jelly, and the string had left my fingers sore and red. I lost count of how many arrows I fired, but it was probably more than I'd ever imagined possible. I finally stopped when my mother called me inside for my magic lessons.
"Today, you will learn metamagic enhancements," my mom said as she stirred a pot of soup on the stove. Her tone was calm, but there was a glint of pride in her eyes. She loved teaching magic as much as I loved learning it.
"What's that?" I asked, trying to sound clueless. It wasn't hard to feign ignorance—I mean, how many kids here knew what meta-magic even was? Still, I couldn't help but think back to the Overlord series. It was hard not to grin at the thought of being able to tweak spells.
"Metamagic is like adding special effects or upgrades to your spells," she explained, setting the pot aside and turning to face me. "Think of it as tweaking a spell to make it stronger, faster, or more versatile. These upgrades don't change the spell itself—like turning a fireball into lightning—but they modify how the spell works."
She motioned for me to sit, and I did, feeling the ache in my legs from training with Batoshel earlier.
"Let's say you use the {Flame Bullet} spell," she continued. "If you apply Boost Magic, you can elevate its firepower to match a third-tier spell like {Fireball}. It's a way of maximizing your potential as a caster."
She started rattling off examples while I scribbled notes on a worn piece of parchment:
Boost Magic: Elevates the tier and power of the spell.
Delay Magic: Delays the moment a spell activates.
Extend Magic: Lengthens the duration a spell remains active.
Maximize Magic: Pushes a spell's attack power to its maximum potential.
Over Magic: Lets you cast a spell one tier higher than usual, but it eats through your mana like crazy.
Penetrate Magic: Helps you bypass magic defenses or resistances.
Silent Magic: Lets you cast spells without chanting, which is great for sneak attacks.
Twin Magic: Creates two effects from one spell.
Triplet Magic: Like Twin Magic, but with three effects instead.
Widen Magic: Expands a spell's range or area of effect.
Her explanations were straightforward, but her voice carried a warmth that made even the most tedious topics feel like an invitation to something extraordinary.
"There's more," she said, handing me a cup of water, "but these are the basics. Your first task is to memorize these formulas. It'll take months to fully grasp them—at least, it took me about four months when I was your age. Everyone's pace is different, though."
I groaned inwardly. Months? This was going to be brutal. But looking at her confident smile, I couldn't bring myself to complain.
The next three years fell into a steady rhythm.
Mornings were spent training with Batoshel, who had turned out to be far stronger and more skilled than I initially thought. Her sharp gaze missed nothing, and her no-nonsense attitude kept me on my toes. She could go from cracking a joke to demonstrating how to gut a monster in seconds, and her expertise was undeniable.
Afternoons were dedicated to magic lessons with Mom. She was patient but firm, guiding me through the complexities of spells and mana control with an ease I envied.
Even with the demanding schedule, I looked forward to rest days. Those days were for exploring the village, catching up on sleep, or hanging out with my new friends: Neo and Nea, the mischievous twin siblings. They were only eight, but their energy and antics always brought a smile to my face.
Life wasn't easy, but for the first time, I felt like I was building something worthwhile. Slowly but surely, I was becoming someone.
Today was the day. My heart pounded in my chest as I prepared to go on my first hunt with Batoshel. I had turned eight just yesterday, and as promised, she agreed to take me along. Our target? The legendary Silver Eagle—Argentus Veyrah.
I first read about it in Monsters and How to Kill Them, the third book in the series by Vekrin Durthas, an Adamantite-ranked adventurer. His description still haunted me:
"The Giant Silver Eagle, known to adventurers as Argentus Veyrah, is a majestic yet menacing avian beast that soars above the mountains of Avarindor, shrouded in mist and legend. Its wingspan exceeds 50 feet, each feather gleaming like polished silver under sunlight, creating a blinding spectacle that unnerves even the most seasoned hunters. The eagle's eyes burn with a golden, intelligent light, betraying a cunning far beyond mere animal instinct.
The razor-sharp beak glows faintly with a silvery sheen, enchanted with latent magical energy capable of rending steel like parchment. Its talons, each as long as a greatsword, pulse with divine radiance, said to have felled entire platoons with a single strike. The creature's body is adorned with markings resembling ancient runes etched into its feathers, faintly glowing when the beast channels its latent mana reserves."
Majestic? Sure. Terrifying? Absolutely. The description alone was enough to make me break into a cold sweat. Based on its abilities and aura, I guessed it was somewhere between levels 20 and 29. A monster like that? It could end me in seconds.
And that's why I prepared.
Paranoia or prudence, call it what you will, but I wasn't taking any chances. I had my bow, a full quiver of arrows tipped with potent poisons my mom had brewed, and needles enchanted with stored magic. Each needle was imbued with a spell: {Weaken}, {Sleep}, or {Paralyze}.
Even my arrows were enchanted with the same spells. I wasn't just preparing for a fight—I was preparing for survival.
"This might seem excessive to some people," I muttered to myself as I checked my gear, "but I'm an eight-year-old hunting a magical beast that could crush me like a bug. If that's not a good reason to overprepare, I don't know what is."
Batoshel, my mentor and protector, waited for me outside. Her presence was reassuring, though she had made it clear she wouldn't interfere unless my life was truly at risk. Her confidence in me was both motivating and nerve-wracking.
"You ready, kid?" she asked, her sharp eyes scanning me from head to toe.
"Ready as I'll ever be," I said, trying to sound braver than I felt.
We set off toward the mountains of Avarindor, where the Silver Eagle was said to roost. The climb was grueling, the air growing thinner as we ascended, but the thought of facing Argentus Veyrah kept me sharp.
As we neared its supposed nesting ground, Batoshel stopped and crouched, signaling me to do the same. She pointed ahead, and there it was.
The Silver Eagle was even more magnificent—and terrifying—than I had imagined. Its feathers caught the sunlight like molten silver, casting dazzling reflections that forced me to shield my eyes. Its golden gaze scanned the horizon with an intelligence that sent chills down my spine. The runic markings on its body glowed faintly as if sensing the magic in the air.
"Remember, stay calm," Batoshel whispered. "You've got this. Trust your training and your instincts."
I nodded, swallowing the lump in my throat. With a deep breath, I knocked my first arrow, aiming for one of its massive wings. If I could ground it, I'd have a chance.
The wind picked up as the eagle spread its wings, preparing to take flight. My heart raced as I drew the bowstring back, the poisoned arrow glinting in the sunlight.
This was it—the moment I had been preparing for.
I took another deep breath, steadying my trembling hands, and released the arrow, aiming for the Silver Eagle's head. My heart sank as it missed by inches, grazing the bird's neck instead. Blood glistened briefly against its silvery feathers, but the wound was superficial.
Before I could nock another arrow, the eagle let out a screech so piercing and primal that my body froze. Fear gripped me, rendering my mind blank and my legs immobile. It felt like an eternity before I forced myself to move, diving behind a fallen log.
Peering cautiously over the edge, I saw the bird's glowing golden eyes lock onto me. A wave of terror surged through me as it launched itself into a steep dive. Without thinking, I turned and bolted down the mountain, my feet skidding over loose rocks.
I found a cluster of jagged boulders and strangely gnarled trees—an imperfect sanctuary. Ducking behind one of the larger rocks, I drew a trembling breath and pulled out one of the enchanted arrows my mom had made. Only five left, each imbued with a spell, and this one held {Paralyze}.
With the eagle circling overhead, I aimed and loosed the arrow. It struck the bird's wing, and a faint glow spread across its body. For a moment, the creature froze midair, its wings locking stiff. My heart soared as it began to plummet, its massive form tumbling toward the jagged ground below.
But I didn't celebrate for long. As I climbed a twisted tree to hide and gather my composure, I noticed the eagle stirring. The spell hadn't fully paralyzed it—perhaps its mana reserves were stronger than I'd thought. One of my arrows still jutted from its wing, keeping it grounded, but it managed to stand and begin searching for me, talons tearing through the rocky terrain.
Its speed was unnerving. How could something that massive be so quick on foot? It darted between rocks and trees, moving faster than I could have imagined, its movements a blur of silver and gold. My stomach sank.
I nocked another arrow, this one tipped with poison both magical and mundane. Taking a deep breath, I aimed for its other wing and let the arrow fly. It struck true. The eagle faltered, its frantic movements throwing it off balance. With a heavy thud, it crashed to the ground.
Confidence surged through me. I approached cautiously, bow drawn and ready to end it. But as I got closer, the creature twitched, and before I could react, it surged to its feet. A single beat of its injured wing sent me flying, my bow skidding out of reach.
I scrambled toward it, but the eagle moved between me and the weapon, its golden eyes glowing with fury. Desperate, I drew my skinning knife in one hand and clutched my remaining needles in the other. I sprinted toward it, ignoring the pain in my limbs, but it lashed out with its damaged wing. The blow sent me sprawling, though I managed to stab it with a needle imbued with {Weaken}.
Rolling to the side just in time, I narrowly avoided a crushing swipe from its talons. A sharp pain seared through my arm as its claws grazed me, leaving deep, bloody gashes. I screamed, clutching the wound as the bird loomed over me, sensing my vulnerability.
An arrow streaked through the air, embedding itself in the eagle's leg. I had no idea who had fired it, but I seized the chance. Casting {Flash}, I blinded the creature momentarily, its screeches filling the air.
Seizing the opening, I plunged a needle into one of its glowing eyes. The bird's anguished cries echoed through the mountains as it flailed wildly, its wing striking me again and sending me crashing into the rocks.
Pain radiated through my body as I struggled to stand. My left arm hung uselessly at my side, likely broken, and my leg throbbed from the sharp stones digging into my flesh. But I refused to give up.
The Silver Eagle staggered toward me, blood dripping from its eyes and wings. Its steps grew unsteady, its glowing markings flickering faintly. It loomed over me, the sheer weight of its presence suffocating.
Then, with a final, wheezing breath, the great bird collapsed, its massive body falling on top of me.
It was dead.
I lay there, stunned and gasping, trapped beneath its lifeless form. I had survived—barely.
Crawling out from under the corpse, every muscle in my body screamed in protest. My arm throbbed with every heartbeat, and blood still seeped from the gashes on my side. I fumbled for my mana reserves and cast the only healing spell I knew, {Light Heal}, with as much magic as I could muster. A faint golden glow enveloped my wounds, easing some of the pain but doing little for my deeper injuries.
"You did well," came a soft voice behind me.
Startled, I turned and saw Batoshel standing there, her striking features framed by her ever-present smile. Her beauty was almost disarming, but her tone carried a blend of approval and something else—amusement?
"Even though this was a younger Silver Eagle, much weaker than an adult, I didn't think you'd kill it this quickly," she continued, stepping closer. "But you could have done better. That's for later. I'll scold you properly when we get home."
She knelt beside me, inspecting my arm with a sharp, assessing gaze. "Right now, it's time to go home. Are you ready?"
I groaned, trying to push myself up, but my body had other plans. "No. Everything hurts. I can't move," I admitted, gritting my teeth as I poured what little magic I had left into healing my arm and leg.
Batoshel sighed and crouched in front of me, turning her back. "Fine. Get on. I'll carry you home."
Her words were gentle, but there was a teasing lilt to them that made me bristle, even through the haze of exhaustion. "I can walk," I protested weakly, though my legs screamed otherwise.
"Sure, you can," she said with a soft laugh, glancing over her shoulder. "But you'll take forever and probably fall over halfway. So, come on."
Reluctantly, I allowed myself to lean onto her back. Her strength was comforting, and despite my injuries, I felt a flicker of warmth—safe, even if she was probably laughing at me on the inside.
As she lifted me effortlessly, I muttered, "You're not going to let me live this down, are you?"
Her laughter rang out, light and unburdened. "Not a chance."
With the setting sun casting its golden light over the bloodied mountainside, she began the trek home, carrying both me and the lessons I'd learned from my first hunt.
Name: Bei Fiori
Race: Human
Class: Druid (10), High Druid (10), Ranger (7)
Level: 27
Height: 6'0" (1.95 meters)
Eye Color: Golden (hawk-like)
Skin Color: Dark
Alignment: Neutral Good
Level & Quirks: Level 27, Quirks: Enjoys collecting plants, sometimes gets lost in thought while meditating or observing nature.
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