Chapter 175: The Amateur Hunter
The brightly lit bar stood quietly in the middle of a desolate stretch of countryside. In the distance, the faint outline of a city shimmered beneath the night sky, while all around lay nothing but open road, barren land, and patches of sparse weeds.
The moment Charles stepped outside, the noise of the bar faded rapidly into a dull murmur. In its place came the crisp, chaotic chorus of insects and distant birds.
He tilted his head up.
Dark clouds drifted across the sky, partially veiling a deep field of stars. The moon hung half-hidden behind them, casting a cold, muted glow over everything.
A few cars were parked in the open lot before the bar—Chevrolet, Volkswagen, Volvo, Honda, along with others he couldn't quite name. The sight stirred fragments of memory…
But no matter how hard he tried, they remained hazy and indistinct.
Pulling the worn brown-black leather jacket Ellen had given him tighter around himself, Charles glanced once more at the flickering neon sign of the bar. Then he shook his head and strolled casually toward the back.
Just as he expected—
Not long after he left, the bar door swung open again.
Hearing his footsteps and catching his direction, someone followed.
…
The bar was small—even the restroom was outside. Beyond it stretched nothing but open land, with little cover to hide behind. Gordon, who had followed him out, wasn't worried about losing his target.
And yet…
When he reached the back, the "prey" was nowhere to be seen. Only an empty stretch of wilderness lay before him.
Gordon's expression hardened.
Then—a faint sound came from behind him.
The prey hadn't gone far.
"The restroom?" Gordon spun around instantly—
Only to see Charles walking toward him, hands tucked casually into his jacket pockets, as if he had been expecting this all along.
Gordon pressed his lips together, tightening his grip on the dagger in his hand.
"A normal high school kid?" he sneered. "Ridiculous. You fooled those idiots—but not me. I know what you are."
His gaze locked onto Charles, filled with hostility.
"A monster. One that can manipulate light. Some kind of specialty? Doesn't matter."
"All monsters deserve to die."
He spoke in same language.
For a moment, Charles looked surprised—but then replied in the same language:
"You didn't bring a gun?"
Gordon let out a cold snort. "Too loud. And against something like you…" He raised the dagger slightly. "I trust silver more."
"What a shame," Charles sighed. "Because I did."
Gordon's expression changed instantly.
Especially when he noticed that Charles's hand, still inside his jacket pocket, was gripping something beneath the leather.
His heart sank.
"Ellen's cautious," Charles continued calmly, "but Jo? She's still a rookie. Leaves weapons lying around."
He paused, then added lightly:
"Of course, 'lying around' doesn't mean easy to find… It actually took some effort."
The young man paused mid-sentence, as if suddenly remembering something. The outline of a gun beneath his jacket pocket disappeared.
"Though you've got a point," he added lightly. "Guns are… loud."
Seeing this moment of carelessness, Gordon's expression brightened. He tightened his grip on the dagger and lunged forward—the distance between them was barely five meters.
But the instant he moved, Charles reacted.
In the darkness of the night, it became unmistakably clear—
The oversized jacket hanging loosely on the boy's frame seemed to swallow his figure, yet his eyes—those deep black eyes—shifted in an instant.
They turned a brilliant, crystalline blue.
Pure. Radiant. Almost mesmerizing.
In the darkness, they even seemed to glow.
The moment Gordon met that gaze, a chill ran down his spine. His mind faltered, his body stiffened, and his advancing steps slowed involuntarily.
Then he noticed his own breath turning into faint white mist.
His teeth clenched.
"I knew it… you're a… monster…"
His voice started steady, but quickly weakened. His thoughts slowed, his reactions lagged—
What should have been a swift close-range attack inexplicably stalled for several seconds before he could even process what was happening.
By then—
It was already too late.
A biting cold spread through his entire body. His mind dulled further, every movement dragging as if rust had seized his limbs. He tried to charge forward, but his body refused to respond properly.
Too slow.
Nowhere near fast enough.
Realizing something was terribly wrong, Gordon opened his mouth to shout—
But before he could make a sound, Charles suddenly closed the distance.
No more retreat. No more evasion.
A sharp kick drove straight into Gordon's lower abdomen.
The pain exploded through him.
This seasoned hunter, who should never have appeared so vulnerable, bent over instinctively, his body collapsing inward.
Something was very wrong.
Under normal circumstances, Gordon would never have been this weak. But now—his strength, his reactions, even his thoughts—were all several beats too slow.
Even though Charles's movements weren't particularly refined, Gordon found himself utterly unable to fight back.
"So the 'hunters' in this world…" Charles said, almost curiously, "are all just ordinary people like you? No special abilities at all?"
Gordon couldn't respond.
This wasn't something he could overcome by sheer will. It felt more like a curse had taken root—body, mind, and spirit all slowing down… growing dull… growing cold.
His vision blurred, as if a layer of fog had settled over everything. By the time he struggled to think of calling for help again—
Charles had already stopped him.
A flash of cold metal.
A sudden, sharp pain at his throat.
Warm liquid spilled down his neck—thick, sticky—bringing a fleeting clarity to his sluggish mind.
But only for a moment.
The blood froze almost instantly.
He couldn't recover.
But strangely… it also kept him alive, just barely.
Unfortunately, Charles reacted just as quickly.
When the cut failed to finish him, another strike followed—
A stabbing pain pierced his chest.
In his fading awareness, Gordon understood what came next.
"Damn… monster…"
Those were his last words.
Then, his frost-covered body collapsed heavily onto the ground.
From start to finish—
No more than two or three minutes had passed.
…
Charles stood there silently, watching the fallen man for a moment.
Then the blue in his eyes faded, returning to their original black.
He crouched down and wiped the blood from his dagger against Gordon's clothes.
"So… aside from guns, these people don't seem to have anything else worth noting," he murmured. "Which means the 'monsters' in this world…"
He trailed off, sheathing the dagger as he rose, preparing to deal with the body.
At that moment—
Footsteps approached from behind.
And a pleasant female voice called out:
"Hey, Charles, there you are. Arthur asked me to—"
Her words cut off abruptly.
Jo stood frozen a short distance away, staring at Charles… and at the motionless body at his feet.
"You killed him?"
The situation was obvious. Her eyes widened, the friendliness on her face giving way to suspicion—and a trace of hostility.
This wasn't the world of Ice and Fire. Killing someone casually… that was something only a psychopath would do.
"No," Charles replied calmly, his expression unchanged.
Behind his back, his hand made a subtle gesture toward the corpse.
A faint, eerie whisper—almost imperceptible—seemed to ripple through the air.
Then—
The frost-covered body twitched.
Under Jo's stunned gaze, Gordon slowly pushed himself up from the ground… then staggered away, fleeing into the darkness in a panic.
"He suspected me and tried to attack," Charles explained smoothly. "I kicked him in a sensitive spot. He must've blacked out just now."
"I see…" Jo let out a relieved breath.
Though she still found Gordon's sudden escape a bit strange, she didn't dwell on it.
Gordon had always been extreme in his behavior—attacking someone wasn't out of character. As for running away… maybe guilt had finally caught up with him.
And the frost?
The lighting was dim. She had noticed something odd, but hadn't taken a closer look—so she simply assumed her eyes had been playing tricks on her.
Seeing her expression return to normal, Charles quietly let out a breath of relief.
Then he changed the subject.
"You were looking for me?"
"Oh—right!" Jo snapped back to reality. "Arthur said he found some information about you. He asked me to let you know."
As she spoke, she turned and headed back toward the bar. After a few steps, though, she suddenly stopped.
Then she turned back, frowning slightly in confusion.
"Wait… your speech… isn't it a lot more normal now?"
"My talent for languages is actually pretty good," Charles replied.