Chapter 8: The Hunting School
"Winner."
Snow watched as Instructor Bram declared the victor of the match.
The winner was a muscular boy with short brown hair and dark eyes. He held a large wooden hammer, the weapon resting easily on his shoulder.
While many students had struggled to use heavy weapons during the chaotic sparring matches, this boy had demonstrated the hammer's true advantage when wielded properly.
He had simply overwhelmed everyone.
One after another, he defeated his opponents using sheer strength.
He had also been the one who attacked Snow and the one who ultimately knocked him out of the ring.
As soon as the instructor declared the winner, he called all the young hunters to gather together.
Once everyone had formed a group again, he began to speak.
"It seems that all of you have received proper training from a young age."
When he said this, several of the students who had won their matches began to look proud of themselves.
Some even smirked.
Bram continued.
"And this match has shown me that your fighting skills have a solid foundation. Which is why tomorrow we will move on to beast identification, team coordination, and practical experience."
The students were surprised by this revelation.
Experience?
Almost all of them shared the same thought.
But the instructor ignored their shocked expressions and continued speaking.
"This exercise has revealed something that all of you lack."
His gaze swept across the group.
"Yes you have all been trained since childhood to become capable fighters...."
He paused briefly.
"But that training did not focus on making you hunters."
Snow frowned slightly, not fully understanding where the instructor was going with this.
"You were trained by humans," Bram continued. "Which means you were trained to fight against humans or at the very least something with a humanoid shape."
His expression hardened.
"But that knowledge does not apply to most beasts."
He gestured with his hand as if illustrating a creature's movement.
"How you fight something that moves on four legs is an entirely different matter."
"Creatures that walk on four legs fight differently from humans."
His voice became firm.
"So tomorrow, under my supervision and with assistance from one of the remaining D-Rank hunters in town you will perform your first hunt against a beast."
He clapped his hands once.
"Class dismissed."
The instructor ended the announcement so abruptly that the young hunters were momentarily stunned.
They stood there silently.
"Class is dismissed," Bram repeated again.
Only then did the students finally react.
The group of twenty-one fifteen-year-olds slowly dispersed.
Even though they were confused by the instructor's decision, none of them openly complained.
Years of surviving the harsh life in the town had already stripped away most childish foolishness and naivety.
They might not understand why they were already moving to field experience on the second day, but they trusted that the instructor had his reasons.
So they quietly went their separate ways.
Snow, being a loner, didn't join any of the other kids.
He headed home immediately.
As he walked through the streets, he kept trying to understand why Instructor Bram had rushed the training schedule.
Field training was usually conducted on the final day or at least the day before the final day of hunting school.
Unfortunately, deep analysis wasn't Snow's greatest strength.
He couldn't fully figure out the instructor's motive.
But he did have a suspicion.
The town was likely trying to fill as many hunter positions as possible.
Most likely in preparation for sending more reinforcements to the C-Rank dungeon conquest.
As Snow walked through the streets, he passed several townspeople who looked at him with clear prejudice.
Snow ignored them completely.
He didn't bother greeting them.
Eventually, he arrived at the familiar house he comfortably called home.
After entering, he removed the coat he usually wore outside, the one he kept on mostly for appearances.
Then he went to the kitchen and prepared a small snack.
After that, he settled onto the couch and opened a book.
Reading was one of the few forms of entertainment available in town.
The Riffy Cliffs were not capable of producing paper, let alone creating books.
They also didn't know how to produce ink or quills.
The books they possessed were ancient relics from long ago—treasures that the town had carefully preserved for generations.
Snow read quietly until Edward returned home from performing his duties as the town's chief.
The two of them shared dinner together.
As usual, they talked about how their days had gone.
When Snow mentioned that the instructor planned to begin field training the very next day, Edward did not seem surprised.
That reaction made Snow even more confident in his earlier suspicion.
After dinner, Snow went to sleep.
---
At the same time, at the campsite of the expeditionary force near the Amada Mountains, Rolland sat inside his tent.
He was carefully maintaining his weapons.
As he polished the blade of his silver sword, a sudden commotion erupted outside.
Rolland immediately grabbed his greatsword and rushed out of the tent.
When he stepped outside, he saw several of his party members gathered together as if surrounding someone.
He quickly approached them.
When he pushed through the group, he saw Hera the female scout he had sent ahead earlier, lying on the ground.
The female scout was nolonger wearing the protective goggles and the woolen scarf, that had been covering her face from the cold.
Her smooth skin was pale from the exposure from the cold and her body seemed to be too weak to regulate any qi to ward off the cold.
Blood covered her silver armor around her abdomen which was torn in multiple places, revealing deep claw marks across the metal.
After one glance, Rolland realized she didn't have long to live.
Without hesitation, he knelt beside her.
"What happened to you?" he asked urgently.
Hera's voice came out in broken rasps as she tried to explain what had happened.
"Monsters…" she whispered.
Her blood-stained fingers then weakly grabbed the edge of his armor.
"Too… many…"
Rolland's expression darkened.
"What monsters?" he asked quickly.
Hera coughed, and a small amount of blood escaped from her lips.
"White wolves… "
Her eyes trembled slightly as if recalling the scene.
"A whole pack.. _"
A murmur spread among the surrounding hunters.
Frost wolves were not unusual in the region.
But a large pack could easily overwhelm even experienced fighters.
Rolland remained calm.
"How many?"
Hera shook her head weakly.
"I… I couldn't count…"
Her voice was fading.
"More than twenty… maybe thirty…"
That answer made several of the hunters exchange worried looks.
A pack that large was extremely dangerous.
None of them were confident in surviving a confrontation with them.
Frost wolves otherwise known as white wolves were a species of the wolf family that were categorized in the C rank pillar with their alpha usually close to B rank.
Rolland's jaw tightened when he heard the dying scout's words.
"Where?"
Hera tried to lift her arm but didn't have the strength.
Rolland gently supported her hand.
She pointed weakly toward the dark forest beyond the camp.
"Moving… this way…"
Her breathing became more shallow.
"Captain those wolves_ they are abnormal"
The words were barely audible now.
Rolland knew that she was close to dying, so he pressed on.
"Abnormal how?"
Hera stared at Rolland, the life in her eyes fading.
She struggled with muttering her last breath, and eventually she managed to bring out two words.
"Two.....Alphas. "
Her words came out weakly, before she fell limp, her life quickly fading away.
Rolland was left staring at her corpse for a moment.
"He repeated the two words with a grim expression.
"Two.. Alphas"