If the Genprey's appearance had only put everyone on edge, then that roar, clearly from some carnivorous Large Monster, instantly threw the group into panic.
Not even the presence of a Hunter could ease that fear. It was terror born of instinct.
The Elder, normally slow in both speech and movement, brandished his cane and shouted in a hoarse voice, "Leave everything except the rations and water you're carrying! Scatter and run!"
If the attackers were only a few Genprey, the group could rally around the livestock and wagons. These fierce Nomads, each carrying a curved blade, would teach those desert bandits that humans were not easy prey.
But if their opponent was a carnivorous Large Monster, they were truly helpless. Even with a Hunter among them, he could not hold off a Large Monster and a pack of Genprey at the same time while protecting everyone.
The Elder's hoarse shout not only reached the ears of the Nomads, it also jolted Altaïr out of his nightmarish memories.
His gaze swept swiftly over their surroundings.
Scattering and fleeing was not a good idea. Compared to the Large Monster that had yet to appear, the pack of Genprey actually posed a greater threat to the Nomads.
A rampaging Large Monster would scatter the caravan formation, trampling and biting many to death. Meanwhile, the Genprey, hunting in loose packs and skilled at tracking, could potentially kill every single person.
Even if he alone intercepted the attacking Large Monster, the Nomads still would not be safe.
If they scattered, they could not outrun the hunting Genprey. If they regrouped and held their ground, they could not defeat the ever-growing swarm of Genprey. At this rate, everyone would die.
Just like what he had experienced all those years ago. The Elder naturally understood what Altaïr was worried about, but they had no better option.
If necessary, the older ones among them would even take the initiative to draw the Monsters' attention, giving the young and the children a slightly better chance to escape.
Once more and more Genprey surrounded them, the odds of anyone surviving would approach zero.
Eliminate the incoming Genprey as best I can, intercept that Large Monster, do everything in my power, and leave the rest to fate. Even Teacher Karin back then couldn't have done any better.
The thought had only just surfaced in his mind when it was torn apart by an indescribable surge of complex emotions.
Altaïr took a deep breath.
Anger? Sorrow? Resolve? There was no time to analyze what these intense feelings really were. Firelight reflected in his eyes.
Do everything I can? Leave the rest to fate? No! Today, I will save everyone!
The instant he made that decision, he felt an unprecedented weight and pressure settle over him. Yet at the same time, his mind became extremely calm.
"We must not scatter!" His voice, far louder than the Elder's, stopped the crowd just as they were about to flee in separate directions.
His identity as a Hunter earned him greater trust from the Nomads. One by one, everyone halted and looked toward him, including the caravan leader and the Elder.
"Less than a kilometer north of here, there's a Hunter's Camp!" He spoke as concisely and clearly as he could, words firing out in rapid succession. "Everyone, group up and run there. Don't worry about the Genprey. I'll hold them off!"
The Nomads hesitated, turning toward the Elder. The old man immediately grasped Altaïr's intent.
He knew of that camp.
The area around them was open terrain, lacking any geographic features they could exploit. That camp had been built against a few large boulders, with its front fenced off by stakes as thick as tree trunks, along with some wooden spikes and Kelbi Horns.
Such a camp would effectively block attacks from Small Monsters like Genprey, but it could not withstand an assault from a Large Monster.
On top of that, the Genprey had come from that very direction, so he had not even considered sheltering in the Hunter's Camp from the start.
According to Altaïr's plan, he would eliminate all threats along the way. If everyone could safely hole up in the camp while he stood guard outside, they could indeed neutralize the threat posed by the Genprey pack.
However, the bloodshed from the fighting would undoubtedly draw the Large Monster over.
When that happened, Altaïr would have to fight the Large Monster and the Genprey simultaneously to hold the camp.
This young man was ready to shoulder the lives of everyone here. The Elder wasted no time asking Altaïr pointless questions like "Are you sure about this?"
They were already grasping at a sliver of hope in a nearly hopeless situation. The boy was resolved to fight with his life to carve out a path of survival for everyone. Any hesitation or doubt would be pure folly.
"Do as he says! Women, carry the children. Everyone else, form a perimeter outside. Move, hurry!"
Seeing the Nomads spring into action under the shouts of the Elder and the caravan leader, Altaïr let out a faint sigh of relief.
Fortunately, this Nomad band was not large, barely twenty people in total. After abandoning their herd and luggage, the clustered group was fairly compact, and they moved quickly.
The veteran caravan leader also found time to slash a few shallow but precise cuts across the herd animals' thighs. The wounded animals howled and scattered in all directions.
The ploy worked, if only briefly. The spreading scent of blood distracted the first few Genprey to arrive, buying everyone a little time.
Unfortunately, the herd animals could only serve as a limited distraction. Compared to the thick-skinned Aptonoth, these Genprey were clearly far more interested in human flesh.
Soon, two Genprey veered in their direction, lunging one after another at the fleeing Nomad group.
Several young men led by the caravan leader brandished their curved blades, instinctively ready to meet them, but someone was far faster.
Altaïr, having entered Demon Mode, moved like a golden shadow. Holding the strangely shaped Long Sword at a slant, he streaked past the two Genprey.
One flash of the blade, and two heads slid from their necks. The two headless Genprey, carried forward by their own inertia, staggered a few more steps before collapsing to the ground.
"Run at full speed! Don't stop!" Altaïr barked, then pushed his pace even faster, charging toward several Genprey closing in from another direction.
The scales and tough hide of the Genprey, difficult for ordinary blades to cut through, were no sturdier than paper before the heavy, razor-sharp edge of Tyrant Blade [Solar Eclipse].
Before many could even react, that first small pack of Genprey had been reduced to broken corpses scattered across the field.
A small child in his mother's arms let out a cheer, and the young mother hurriedly covered his mouth to keep the sound from drawing the attention of the Monsters lurking in the dark.
The Nomads ran in tense silence. Without even taking the time to shake the blood from his blade, Altaïr swiftly returned to the group's side and advanced with them.
They had run less than two hundred meters when a second, then a third, pack of Genprey attacked in succession.
Relying on his superior speed, Altaïr circled the group, weaving back and forth to sweep the field, dispatching each approaching Genprey at a pace nearly impossible for an ordinary person to follow.
These Desert Nomads, who migrated with their herds between oases year-round, had stamina far beyond that of the average city dweller.
In the short span of four or five minutes, the dark silhouette of the Hunter's Camp was already within sight.
With the hope of survival right before their eyes, everyone broke into a faster run.
Just then, a figure over eight meters long, far larger and more robust than any ordinary Genprey, led several Genprey underlings in a swift charge.
"A Gendrome!" someone among the Nomads cried out in panic.
"Keep running! Rush straight into the camp and slam the gate shut!" Altaïr roared, accelerating away from the group and charging directly at the approaching Gendrome.
The thick scent of its kin's blood hit the Gendrome's nose. Cunning and cautious by nature, it immediately realized that this foe, whose body was far smaller than its own, was no ordinary danger.
Without the slightest hesitation, the Gendrome's muscular hind legs surged with power, launching its massive body into a pounce, razor-sharp talons aimed straight at its opponent ten meters away.
This was its most powerful attack.
But Altaïr charged forward as if he had not seen it. Just as the Gendrome was about to pounce on him, he suddenly crouched into a slide, slipping right beneath the beast as it slammed down onto the ground.
Using his momentum to spring to his feet, Altaïr cross-stepped, twisted through his waist and back, and swept his Long Sword horizontally, cleaving the few Genprey trailing behind the Gendrome in two before they could react.
Only then did the Gendrome realize that the Hunter's first target had not been itself, but the underlings backing it up.
Infuriated, it hissed and shrieked, turning to pounce on the Hunter behind it.
Facing its gaping maw, its claws, and its paralysis-poison fangs, Altaïr advanced in silence, stepping forward and swinging his sword. A Spirit Fade Slash swept aside the Gendrome's claws and fangs while tearing a massive wound across its chest and neck.
The assault was only just beginning. With the blade wreathed in Spirit Gauge, his spirit blade combo burst forth at full speed.
Against such a ferocious onslaught, the Gendrome was utterly defenseless, driven back again and again by the slashes. In a matter of seconds, six or seven crisscrossing wounds deep enough to expose bone were carved into its chest.
One of its foreclaws was gone as well, torn off by the trident-shaped tip of Tyrant Blade [Solar Eclipse].
The following Spirit Roundslash severed its ankle in a single stroke, causing it to lose all control of its body and collapse awkwardly to the ground.
Altaïr guided the blade home into the scabbard on his back and rotated the hilt. The extended grip characteristic of the Long Sword retracted, simultaneously locking the blade and scabbard together into a single piece.
Charging forward a few steps to the side of the shrieking, struggling Gendrome's head, he lowered his center of gravity and shouldered Tyrant Blade [Solar Eclipse], now transformed into its Great Sword form.
After a brief charge, the massive sword fell vertically, cleanly and decisively severing the Gendrome's head.
Gushing blood dyed the surrounding sand and the Hunter's armor deep crimson. The stench of blood permeating the air was so thick it was nauseating.
Having swiftly dispatched the Gendrome, Altaïr slung Tyrant Blade [Solar Eclipse] back onto his back and glanced toward the camp.
The Nomads had successfully taken refuge inside. Their leader was still at the camp entrance, waving vigorously at him, as if telling him to take cover as well.
A slight sense of relief washed over Altaïr, but that taut string in his mind still refused to loosen.
He knew the real fight had yet to begin.
Just then, a lethal sense of danger, one that made his heart clench, seized him. Before conscious thought could catch up, his body reacted on instinct.
He threw himself backward with all his might.
"BOOM!"
A terrifying giant shadow, yellow and blue, plunged down from the pitch-black night sky. In a single blow, it crushed the Gendrome's corpse into a scattered pulp of shattered bone and meat.
(Translated by yourtl.app)