Having dealt with the Tigrex, the most immediate threat, Altaïr let out a long breath, but he still could not lower his guard completely.
Without taking the time to draw his Carving Knife, he rushed back to the camp, dispatched the few stubborn Genprey that still refused to retreat with several swings of his blade, and called for the camp gate to be opened.
The Nomads hiding inside hurriedly opened the gate. Seeing the Hunter drenched in blood, they were deeply moved and immensely grateful, but Altaïr cut them off before they could voice their thanks.
"The main threat is gone, but the area is not safe. There is likely an even more terrifying Monster roaming nearby, and I am completely unequipped to face it right now.
"The scent of blood from the battle is very likely to draw it here. You have half an hour at most to round up the scattered herds. After that, we must leave this oasis immediately and travel through the night. We will not truly be safe until we reach Loc Lac."
The caravan leader glanced past Altaïr's shoulder at the Tigrex's corpse in the distance and swallowed hard. "An opponent that even you, who took down a Tigrex, can't handle?"
Though they had gradually grown more familiar with one another, Altaïr had saved their lives that night and slain a Monster the Nomads considered unimaginably powerful. The caravan leader and the others unconsciously reverted to addressing him formally.
"Yes." Altaïr nodded, his expression grave. "If that thing catches up to us, we'd have almost no chance of escaping.
"If there weren't so many elderly people and children in the group who depend on pack animals such as woolly camels for long-distance travel across the sand sea, I'd even demand that you abandon all your beasts and evacuate immediately."
"Understood."
The Elder raised a hand to silence a young nomad who was about to ask what kind of Monster it was, then turned to the caravan leader. "Take the wranglers. Return to our previous campsite and use your whistles to call the woolly camels. Rounding up just two or three for the children to ride will be enough.
"Abandon all the Aptonoth. We leave at once."
A pained expression flickered across the caravan leader's face, but he nodded firmly and left swiftly with the wranglers.
Altaïr told the Elder to secure the camp gate while he accompanied the caravan leader and the others, as Genprey might still be prowling around the original campsite.
Perhaps their luck had finally turned after so much misfortune, because when the caravan leader and the wranglers reached the campsite and blew their bone whistles, they managed to gather most of the beasts, including quite a few Aptonoth.
Since rounding them up had cost no extra time, Altaïr saw no reason to force the Nomads to abandon their most important property.
The group drove the herd back to the Hunter's Camp and collected the women, children, and elderly people hiding inside.
Altaïr still did not take the time to carve the Tigrex's corpse. He merely took out his portable camera and snapped several pictures of the massive, horrifying claw marks raked across the Tigrex's back.
He then escorted the Nomad caravan away from the oasis, which had only just begun to recover but might harbor an even greater dormant threat.
—--
The group urged their herd onward, galloping at full speed for a full day and night. Still, there was no sign of anything pursuing them, and the tension hanging over them finally eased a little.
Over the next two days, they took the shortest route and did not detour around areas frequented by Monsters such as Cephalos. They suffered one small-scale attack, but with the Hunter protecting them, the journey was otherwise uneventful.
—--
The moment they stepped onto Loc Lac's rocky platform, Altaïr felt a weight lift from his shoulders. The strength seemed to drain from his body, leaving his limbs slightly weak.
Leaning against Loc Lac's iconic giant stone gate to steady himself, he took a deep breath and murmured so softly that only he could hear.
"I did it."
Noticing the Hunter's condition, the caravan leader walked over with concern and reached out to support him. "Young Altaïr, are you all right?"
Altaïr shook his head to indicate that he was fine. He knew this was not yet the time to rest.
He asked the caravan leader to settle the others while he and the Elder hurried toward the Guild Hall.
During the battle, he had been drenched in blood, and there had been no chance to wash after the fight. He had only managed to scrub himself roughly with a couple of handfuls of dry sand and gravel.
After several more days spent rushing through wind and sun, the odor clinging to Altaïr was ghastly. As he strode through the bustling streets, the surrounding crowds parted to avoid him.
Of course, it was not entirely because of the smell. Anyone with a sound mind would choose to get out of the way of a Hunter clad head to toe in armor caked with dried blood, advancing toward the Guild Hall with a grim expression and urgent strides.
Arriving at the Guild Hall, Altaïr headed directly for the Quest Counter.
Some Hunters who recognized him wanted to greet him and call him over for a drink, but when they noticed his hurried, serious expression, they refrained from disturbing him and merely strained their ears to listen in.
He strode quickly to the counter. The Guild receptionist on duty was an unfamiliar face, and explaining the situation to her might take some time. Fortunately, another familiar face was present.
"Lady Aisha," Altaïr said, greeting the brown-skinned woman who favored bright red clothing.
Lady Aisha had worked there for many years. When he first arrived in Loc Lac, she had already been the Supervisor of the Loc Lac Guild, a high-ranking official whose status was second only to the mustachioed Guild Master.
Lady Aisha was organizing files when she heard someone call her name. When she recognized the visitor, a trace of surprise crossed the usually gentle woman's face.
"You're... Altaïr? You're back?"
She remembered this young man well, though he had been just a boy then.
"Is the Guild Master in? There's something important to report." Altaïr came straight to the point.
Lady Aisha realized the gravity of the matter from Altaïr's condition and serious tone. Rather than press him for details in a noisy tavern full of prying ears, she simply said, "Follow me," and led him out of the open-air Guild Hall.
Before long, they found the little mustachioed Guild Master near the Guild Hall, at the entrance to the public bathhouse, holding a tiny parasol and riding aimlessly atop a Mosswine.
The capricious elder wore a lecherous grin, his gaze fixed unblinkingly on the back of a full-figured lady with damp, long hair who had just stepped out of the bathhouse.
A hookah stood beside him. Thoroughly enjoying the view, he gleefully grabbed the hose and took a deep, satisfied pull, exhaling billowing clouds of smoke.
"Oink..." The Mosswine beneath him also snorted a puff of hot air through its nostrils with remarkably humanlike timing.
"..."
Even knowing that Loc Lac's current prosperity could practically be said to have been built single-handedly by this Guild Master, Altaïr still could not suppress one thought: "Is it really okay not to lock this guy up?"
Veins bulged at Lady Aisha's temples.
Gritting her teeth, she strode over and gave the Mosswine, which was every bit as lecherous as the Guild Master and had even been using its snout to flip up young girls' skirts, a hard kick on the rump.
The Mosswine leaped up with a shrill "Squeee!" and bucked the mustachioed Guild Master, who had been sitting cross-legged on its back, onto the ground in a sprawl.
Rubbing his back as he got up, the mustachioed Guild Master found himself staring at Lady Aisha's dark, glowering face and muttered, "Oh, it's little Aisha. Now, you really shouldn't assault the Guild Master, you know? That's quite disrespectful."
Lady Aisha crossed her arms, her tone icy. "I kicked the pig. You not being able to stay seated is your own problem.
"And speaking of which, it's work hours right now. Why did you leave the Guild Hall to lounge by the bathhouse entrance?"
"Uhh..." Knowing he was in the wrong, the mustachioed Guild Master chuckled sheepishly and said no more, turning instead to Altaïr and the Elder, who wore equally peculiar expressions.
"Huh? Isn't that young Altaïr? And you're... Muhanda?"
Altaïr was a little surprised. In the week they had spent together, he had not even learned the Elder's name, yet the Guild Master recognized him at a glance. On second thought, however, it was not so strange. Both were elderly Wyverians of advanced age, and it was perfectly natural for their long lives to have intersected at some point.
Compared with the mustachioed Guild Master's casual demeanor, the Nomad Elder was far more formal, bowing his head slightly. "Guild Master, it has been a long time."
"They have something important to report," Lady Aisha added.
"Three nights ago, we were attacked by a pack of Genprey and a Tigrex at the Great Horn Flats," Altaïr explained quickly and concisely. "I killed the Tigrex–"
"And came away with a huge haul of Tigrex materials?" The Guild Master blinked, wearing an expression that said, "Don't I know you by now?"
"...No, I didn't take those materials." After offering that wry clarification, Altaïr continued, "On that Tigrex's back, I found a massive set of claw marks.
"The wounds had only recently healed. Given a Large Monster's regenerative abilities, they must have been inflicted between a week and ten days ago."
"A massive set of claw marks on a Tigrex's back?" The Guild Master's impish grin vanished as he frowned.
"I took photos with my portable camera." Altaïr handed over the photographs.
The Guild Master took them and glanced through them, his expression gradually turning serious. "Aisha, notify all the High Rank Hunters currently in the city and have them assemble for a meeting. Hmm... drag that Marydan girl along too."
"Understood." Seeing the Guild Master turn serious, Lady Aisha nodded and swiftly departed.
The Guild Master then turned his gaze to Altaïr. "As for you..."
Altaïr immediately straightened, looking every bit like a soldier awaiting orders.
The mustachioed Guild Master pointed at the bathhouse beside them. "You reek. Go take a good bath first, then come join the meeting."
"...Fine."
(Translated by yourtl.app)