Raskel wandered through the fog-laden forest, where the sound of crickets and the crunching of leaves were the only sounds filling the stagnant air. He was hunting a beast whose coat was white snowy and eyes blue like the endless seas. Raskel had forgotten how long he had traveled as his mind wandered to the past.
He recalled his humble beginnings in a small Hamlet, the calming waves that brought music to his ears, and the warmth of his parents. His journey led him to the church, where he found his calling as a hunter. The church, the wise Laurence, the noble Ludwig, the beautiful Lady Maria, the first hunter, Gehrman, and many others became his family and purpose. He took pride in his role as a hunter and the necessity of their actions.
Raskel stopped. He could smell the beast, the smell of blood. The scent made Raskel's blood boil, and a thirst soon crept towards his throat. Raskel felt his hair straighten, his mouth water, and the smell of acrid blood replaced the scent of saltwater from his home. And there it was, the creature he had been tracking—the snow-white beast with eyes as blue as sapphires, a sight to behold in the dim light of the forest. Many hunters felt different emotions when facing a beast: sadness, anger, fear, or a sense of responsibility or honor. For Raskel, he once felt fear, then honor, but now he only felt one thing.
Thirst.
Raskel slowly moved toward the beast with his favorite weapon, the Beast Cutter, Mallory, and his blunderbuss, Norman, the names of his mother and father.
The Beast Cutter was a crude and brutal weapon, not as swift as Gehrman Burial Blade, not as elegant as Lady Marias Rakuyo, but it did the job well, cutting through the thickest of hides, and Raskel loved the splatter.
Raskel dashed towards the beast, determined to cut through the fog like a blade through flesh. He aimed to slash downwards and cut the beast in half, but it quickly dodged the attack. Raskel wasn't surprised; these beasts always had heightened senses and probably sniffed him out before he got here. For Raskel, this was good news; he didn't want the fight to end too quickly.
Raskel's breathing began to become ragged. He was excited by the thrill of the hunt, but then a fog became heavier, and the beast had the opportunity to run. The beast's running took Raskel by surprise and made his hands tighten around the handle of the Beast Cutter, Mallory, as Raskel started to chase it. As he advanced, his mind began to flicker to his time in the hamlet.
Once a glowing blue, the seas turned crimson red as the residents' bodies became mountains. Decaying, bloody arms reach out to a dead mother who drifted to shore—sounds of screaming replaced the calm waves. The floor, once a patch of Earth, was now filled with dark waters, but this didn't stop Raskel. Even when his mind pulled memories of his mother and father, how he cut down his mother and let his father's mind be scratched open to search for eyes.
Raskel's heart raced with every step through the thick fog, and his boots splattered with every step against the dark, dense waters. The forest became gnarled; dead trees and hanging bodies now covered it. Or has the forest always been like that?
The beast darted further into the mist; only its blue eyes pierced the fog, but Raskel cared not for the beast's cowardice as relentless hunger that gnawed at him from within kept him going. Its sapphire eyes flickered in and out of view, dancing like will-o'-wisps in the swirling mist, tempting him to chase, which Raskel obliged. The beast was fast, but Raskel was more rapid as he caught up and cornered the vile creature.
The beast growled as Raskel growled back. The fight he'd been looking for was now here as he lunged towards the snow-colored creature, swinging his beloved Beast Cutter, Mallory.
Raskel's mind became more scattered; tactics and strategy should have come into place, but memories of the hamlet replaced them. Memories of his past, his sins, the traitorous child to the dead mother and her unborn child, washed ashore before the great moonlight. Visions of his comrades, friends, torn apart by beast, no, monsters beyond the understanding of the feeble-minded, their broken bodies taint the Earth, as if the soil itself rejects them. Raskel saw the thousand-eyed overseers grasping one of his comrades and twisting his body until he vanished. The gods demand sacrifice, and if Earth rejects the hunter's peace, they shall find peace in the skies, among the stars.
Raskel looked down at his hands, covered in blood. He felt disgusted, but he wanted to lick them, to drink them, to lose himself in them. In this forest, Raskel felt excited yet terrified, energized yet tired, enraged yet calm, but all of these were meaningless to the thirst, the mother, the overseers, and those beyond.
Raskel's mind snapped back. Gore and viscera covered his body from head to toe. The beast was gone. It had escaped. But it couldn't have gone far.
Raskel wandered through the fog-laden forest, where crickets and leaves crunching were the only sounds filling the stagnant air. He was hunting a beast with a snowy white coat and eyes blue like the endless seas.
