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One, two, three consecutive arrows lodged themselves in quick succession. Najin’s eyes widened in surprise, as there had been no precursor to the fired arrows. Kapman had not made any motion to draw or wield a weapon.

It was only when the fourth arrow was shot that Najin realized it came from a small crossbow attached to Kapman’s wrist.

Despite the confusion clouding his mind delaying his reaction, allowing three arrows to hit, Najin was determined not to permit a fourth. Swinging his sword, he deflected the arrow and took a step towards Kapman.

The distance was short. A single step was all it took for his sword to reach.

Why Kapman attacked him, how he knew about the Underground City Artman, such considerations were postponed. Action was imperative.

With a swift motion, Najin closed the gap and swung his sword. At such a range, a swordsman held the advantage over an archer. An unseen ranger is to be feared, but a visible one is less so, as even Ivan had mentioned.

Najin’s judgment was not mistaken.

However, what Najin overlooked was that Kapman Theosis was not an ordinary ranger. Kapman’s arm, emerging from beneath his poncho, held a rugged machete. As it clashed with Najin’s sword…

A loud clang forced Najin’s arm backward. Kapman’s strength surpassed Najin’s. As Najin repelled the blade, leaving his abdomen exposed, Kapman kicked it. The arrows, previously halted by armor, were now crushed under Kapman’s boot, breaking the shaft and driving them deeper.

Najin grimaced and clenched his teeth, gripping his sword anew. He crouched, aiming to thrust his longsword into Kapman’s leg, but then,

“Engraving Release, Burst.”

With a thunderous explosion, the enchanted arrowheads detonated, scattering shrapnel into Najin’s body like buckshot. The blast sent him flying, creating another opening.

Kapman, now wielding a throwing dagger in his right hand, launched it while swinging his machete with his left. The nearly simultaneous actions made it exceedingly difficult for the unbalanced Najin to counter or dodge.

Yet, it wasn’t impossible.

With bloodshot eyes, Najin predicted Kapman’s attack and, despite his stiff body, managed to retaliate. He parried the machete and ducked under the thrown dagger,

But couldn’t avoid them all, as one dagger lodged itself into his shoulder. Realizing the glowing blue of the embedded dagger, Najin leaped backward, pulling it out and tossing it aside just in time.

The thrown dagger exploded upon removal, and Najin gritted his teeth. His abdomen throbbed painfully, and he coughed up blood. Spitting out the blood, he frowned.

He had misjudged the situation.
He had allowed too much distance.

Creating distance when facing an archer is a critical mistake. Najin caught sight of Kapman’s great bow, aimed at him, with an arrow gleaming at its tip.

With a twang, as Kapman released the bowstring, Najin also swung his sword. The collision with the massive arrow felt like his shoulder was being torn off. The stopping power of the arrow, shot from a great bow nearly as thick as a longsword, exceeded Najin’s expectations.

Sparks flew between the sword and the arrow. Despite firmly planting his feet, Najin was pushed back, his shoes scraping against the ground. When he finally managed to shake off the arrow…

Another was already on its way. Unable to duck or jump, the arrow flew at a height that made evasion impossible without sacrificing a part of his body.

Najin gritted his teeth and twisted his body.

The arrow grazed his side, ripping through the flesh with a loud tear. Blood poured from the wound. Despite the pain contorting his face, Najin kept his eyes open, allowing him to see

Kapman drawing his bow once again.

The hunter never releases prey once captured. Ultimately, Najin chose to flee, realizing he couldn’t turn the tide against Kapman here. Exposing one’s back to a ranger and giving them time is a grave mistake, but

Survival necessitated escape.

As Najin narrowly dodged another arrow, he sprinted deeper into the sewer. Watching Najin flee, Kapman took a long breath before initiating the chase.

The hunter’s eyes glittered in the darkness.

Kapman Theosis was a seasoned hunter.

Having served in the Techo Mountain Rangers, bordering the empire for many years, hunting those who opposed the empire’s name, he was adept in the art of hunting.

Imperial knights seeking asylum abroad, mages attempting to sell imperial secrets, countless fugitives, and occasionally, kingdom soldiers.

Kapman, who hunted various individuals under diverse conditions without discrimination, knew better than anyone how to commence a hunt. Especially against formidable opponents.

Understanding the prey’s habits, minor quirks, movement, response speed, weaponry, and combat style enriched the hunt. Thus, Kapman gathered all available information on the adventurer “Ivan”… rather, the young man named Najin, and observed him with his own eyes.

“A real madman.”

During the information gathering, Kapman couldn’t help but be astonished. According to the client, the young man was eighteen. Approaching the realm of a Sword Seeker at such a young age was unfathomable, an extraordinary talent beyond common sense.

Even Karan, a genius among geniuses, only became a Sword Seeker in his thirties. An eighteen-year-old Sword Seeker was beyond Kapman’s comprehension.

And there was more.

Surviving a duel with the Commander of the Arbenia Ducal Knights and the Demon Knight, challenging and living through encounters with stronger opponents. Such feats were impossible for those intoxicated by their talent.

Thus, Kapman observed with his own eyes.
And he had to acknowledge the truth.

The young man possessed more than just talent. Instantaneous decision-making and bold action, he was undoubtedly a youth climbing to great heights.

And Kapman had to kill him.

Because he had accepted the commission, and he couldn’t refuse it. Lighting a cigarette from his waistband as he pursued the fleeing Najin, Kapman cursed.

Taking a long drag, he spat out the smoke and clicked his tongue. Regardless of his foul mood or the desire to smash the client’s face, the hunt had begun. And it must be seen through to the end.

Otherwise, he would be the one to die.

Kapman never let his guard down.

Even if he seemed to have the upper hand, even if he felt like the stronger party… He had experienced and caused enough reversals to know better.

Above all, the young man he pursued possessed the talent and judgment to turn the tables. Managing to deal a critical blow to Fauve despite being gravely injured himself was no ordinary feat.

“He took down the dark mage Fauve head-on.”

There must be more tricks up his sleeve.
So press on relentlessly.
With that thought, Kapman tracked Najin’s trail. With the way up blocked by Kapman, Najin had no choice but to descend deeper into the sewer.

And there…

A deafening explosion shook the sewer. Tossing the spent cigarette into the water, Kapman scratched his chin.

It seemed he had triggered a trap.

Kapman had arrived in the city the night before.

And the hunt had begun from that very night.

He had laid traps throughout the sewer system. He had hoped to catch the dark mage, but it didn’t matter who got caught. Whether it was the dark mage or Najin, both were prey in Kapman’s eyes.

A scratch on his neck peeled skin, drawing blood. As he scratched the mark on his neck, Kapman moved towards the source of the sound.

Rangers are truly bothersome creatures.

Why, you ask? Their traps are a real pain in the neck. Setting such traps is a talent in itself. From what I’ve seen, a ranger’s skill is determined by how effectively they can set these “annoying” traps.

Horace, that guy, knows how to set a trap like no other.

Ah, it’s quite creative, really.

It’s hard to mess with people like that. I’m generally a mild-mannered person, but just seeing one of his traps makes my blood pressure rise. What? You don’t think I’m that mild-mannered?

Tsk. Just the fact that I’m not smashing your head in right now should prove how gentle I am, right? Huh, punk?

Anyway.

A ranger is most dangerous when you can’t see them. And if they’ve shown themselves… the hunt is already prepared. You know what they call Horace, right?

Land Spider.

That’s similar to the derogatory term used for rangers in the upper districts, actually. Some of my seniors used to call rangers “spider bastards.”

Spreading their webs and slowly drying out their prey.
Then, when the prey is completely drained, they strike with their fangs. That’s why they’re called spiders.

It’s similar, isn’t it? The hunting method.

That’s the way of the rangers.

Well… you probably won’t have to fight Horace, but just keep it in mind. The longer you fight a ranger, the more disadvantageous it becomes. Either decide the battle quickly or run far away. One of the two.

If you can’t do either?

Well, what can you do?

You might as well gamble.

Najin exhaled deeply, clutching his side. The accumulated fatigue from his battle with Fauve and the injuries sustained in his fight with Kapman gnawed at his spirit.

Blood flowed from the arrow-wound in his side.
His abdomen, directly hit by the explosion and deeply embedded with arrow shrapnel, throbbed with every step.

Groaning, Najin pulled the shrapnel from his body and continued forward. His injuries weren’t limited to these; stepping on a trap during his escape had compounded them. Now, he had to be cautious with every step.

Traps filled this sewer.

Their operating mechanism was a mystery, and they were hidden everywhere, invisible to the eye. The mental exhaustion from being constantly on guard doubled.

Yet, he hadn’t given up thinking.

Najin mulled over everything he knew about rangers and the information Ivan had shared, searching for a way to turn the tables.

「Don’t play by their rules on their game board.」
「Even if it’s madness, you have to flip the board.」

Ivan and Offen had taught Najin much, casually sharing stories over drinks, but to Najin, those tales were his world. Thus, he remembered every word vividly.

「Hey, Offen, remember that story?」
「Which one are you talking about?」
「The one where you got screwed over by a ranger. No better story for a drink.」
「I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve told it.」
「Najin hasn’t heard it yet. Tell it again.」

The stories from the outside world, shared by Offen, with Ivan interjecting and applauding, exclaiming how utterly mad it was, under the twilight glow, clinking glasses with his two mentors, and munching on snacks—these memories swirled in Najin’s mind.

There was a clue in those stories.

Najin made his choice.

“Merlin.”
-Tell me.
“Show me the way.”

To Merlin, who shared the same scenery and thoughts, Najin, seeking guidance, requested a path to success for his plan.

The rough outline of Najin’s plan,
Formed only in its basic structure.

Merlin fleshed it out, completing the unfinished picture. That was her role, after all.