I moved toward western tree line. It didn't take long to find them. In the center of a torn clearing lay a mound of massive, fur-covered bodies: six Frenzy Red Bears.

  Massive slash and burn wounds were clearly visible on four of the corpses. Aura Blade. Hoiler had killed four of them at once with a single slash.

  I stepped over a severed limb to inspect the fifth carcass. This one also carried the burn of an aura blade, but the cut was shallow and erratic—a glancing blow.

  Buried deep at the base of the bear's skull, perfectly severing the brain stem, was a single, black-fletched arrow.

  A grim smile tugged at my lips.

  She knows exactly where the weak points are.

  I moved to the final corpse. Another arrow, another clean kill. But the story etched into the trampled dirt painted a chaotic picture. I crouched, tracing the deep, frantic gouges in the soil.

  I see. Hoiler had panicked and tried to flee when his aura failed to drop the fifth bear. Mathilda must have dropped from the branches, executing the remaining two beasts in the blink of an eye to save his life.

  I stood, brushing the dirt from my gloves, and gave the bodies one last look. The massive, hooked claws on their paws were completely untouched.

  At first, I thought they had carelessly forgotten the proof. But then my eyes caught a fresh disturbance in the soil. Mathilda’s light, calculated footprints suddenly morphed into deep, frantic sprint heading deeper into the woods.

  Fuck. My blood ran cold.

  I spun on my heel, breaking into a dead sprint as I tracked the frantic trail of her boots.

  Minutes later, the crisp, unmistakable scent of crushed pine washed over me. I immediately vaulted into the branches of a dense elm, holding my breath.

  Mathilda was close.

  My eyes scoured the underbrush. Where are you?

  KRA-KOOM!

  The sound of splintering wood shattered the silence. A body was launched backward through the air, violently snapping through three young saplings before slamming into the trunk of a centuries-old oak with a bone-jarring thud.

  Shit. Hoiler.

  Hoiler struggled to stand. His twin blades were shattered, and his leather armor was in tatters. He was soaked in blood, and dark bruising was already visible beneath his eyes. He was on the verge of passing out.

  "HRRAAAAAAAGGHHHHH!"

  deafening roar echoed from the other side of the clearing. A towering, grotesque figure—a troll—was charging toward him.

  Before I could draw my dagger, a flash of crimson hair darted from the canopy. Mathilda materialized in midair, drawing her bowstring taut and releasing a high-velocity shot aimed straight for the monster's eye.

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  It won't work.

  The troll didn't even flinch. It casually swatted the arrow away with the back of its massive hand, as if brushing off a gnat. Hitting the dirt, Mathilda immediately transitioned into a rapid-fire stance, unleashing a blur of arrows in quick succession.

  Sigh. Troll skin is tougher than solid rock. She clearly had no experience fighting humanoid monsters.

  Suddenly, the air around the oak tree warped. A volatile, suffocating pressure erupted from Hoiler's battered form. He reached for his hip, wrapping his bloody fingers around the hilt of his heirloom blade.

  "Hoiler, no! Don’t use it!" Mathilda screamed, abandoning her stance.

  "Shut up! I’ll butcher this ugly bastard!" he roared, his voice cracking with desperate, wild fury.

  "It won't—"

  Hoiler ripped the heirloom blade from its scabbard, unleashing a torrential wave of blue aura that tore a trench through the forest floor. The lethal energy crashed over the troll.

  And the monster simply shrugged it off.

  It wiped a smudge of glowing ash from its shoulder, tilting its head and staring down at Hoiler with eyes full of malicious amusement.

  "What the... fuck?!" Hoiler gasped, his knees buckling.

  "I told you it wouldn't work, you idiot!" Mathilda shrieked.

  "Shut up, you useless bitch!"

  "Watch your damn mouth!" In a moment of sheer panic and rage, Mathilda leveled her loaded bow directly at Hoiler's chest.

  Really? Arguing during a battle? They’ve fallen right into the troll’s trap.

  Trolls are a different breed of monster. They are as large as giants but as cunning as goblins. The most dangerous thing about them isn't their high resistance to magic or their physical prowess. It is their cruel wit. Trolls love to play with their prey. They deliberately incite desperation, stressing their victims into a corner and intimidating them repeatedly before tearing them apart piece by piece. A truly nasty monster.

  While the two children screamed at each other over petty pride, the troll dropped its arms, assuming a sprinter's stance. A wide, horrific grin split its jagged face as it launched itself forward, closing the distance with impossible, terrifying speed.

  In a fraction of a second, the two rookies threw themselves out of the beast's path. The troll's colossal fist connected squarely with the ancient oak tree instead.

  BAM!! CRACCK!!!

  The deafening crack of splintering wood echoed through the clearing as the massive trunk simply exploded into shrapnel. Mathilda vaulted backward, landing unsteadily on her feet, while Hoiler tumbled into the dirt, coughing up dust and blood.

  Alright, I think that’s enough.

  The troll pivoted, its malicious gaze locking onto Hoiler's broken form. But before the beast could close the distance, I dropped silently from the canopy.

  Using the momentum of my fall, I lunged forward, closing the gap in a blur. I didn't use the sharp point of my dagger. It was the absolute, unbreakable rule of the guild: no matter how dire the situation, a guide is strictly forbidden from executing monsters inside the training grounds. Instead, I flipped my dagger, gripping the flat of the blade against my forearm, and drove the heavy steel pommel directly into the troll's crushed windpipe with bone-shattering force.

  CRACK.

  All the air violently left the troll's lungs. Its eyes rolled back into its skull, and the massive, granite-skinned nightmare folded like a puppet with cut strings. It slammed face-first into the dirt, completely unconscious, sending a tremor through the soles of my boots.

  "Alright, let’s pack it up and head back to the rendezvous area," I said, casually adjusting my grip before sheathing my dagger.

  Hoiler choked on a gasp, his bruised, wide eyes darting between my calm posture and the mountain of unconscious flesh at my feet. "How... how did you do that?"

  I ignored him, turning my gaze to the trembling archer. "Hey, redhead. Pick him up."

  Mathilda flinched as if I had struck her. She stared at me and then nodded frantically, her red hair whipping around her pale face.

  Without another word, I turned my back on the fallen monster and marched toward the starting point, leaving them to carry the weight of their own arrogance.