The forest was unnaturally silent.
The mercenary group stood frozen, backs pressed together as the colossal python circled them—its scales scraping across the leaves like grinding stones. Moonlight filtered through the canopy, reflecting off its dark, glossy hide. The stench of blood on its fangs twisted the air into something foul.
No one needed Fark to say anything.
They were standing in front of a Mutamal—freshly turned, unstable, unpredictable.
The rookie mercenary's voice trembled.
"C-Captain… i-is that…?"
Fark didn't take his eyes off the python.
"Yes. A newborn Mutamal. And newborns are the most ferocious."
The serpent hissed, tongue flicking—tasting the blood a few drops away on the forest floor. Its pupils tightened. The creature's body coiled like a compressed spring.
"Formation!" Fark barked.
Shields locked. Spears angled. Everyone held their breath.
The python exploded forward.
A blur of massive scales shot toward them, smashing through bushes.
The ground cracked. Leaves flew. Two mercenaries stumbled back instantly.
"Block—!" someone screamed.
The python slammed its head into a shield-bearer. The impact hurled the poor man back several meters, tumbling across roots and dirt. His shield dented inward like tin.
He groaned in pain but was alive.
Fark's jaw tightened.
Too fast for a newborn… this one was already strong before mutating.
The python swung again—this time going for the rookie.
The boy froze, terror rooting him.
Fark moved.
One step.
One breath.
One motion.
His spear cut a perfect arc as he dropped his weight.
"1st Beginning—Gale Strike!"
A gust of compressed air followed the spear, slicing across the python's face.
The blow forced the serpent's head sideways, scraping bark off a tree as it crashed into it.
But when the dust settled—
The python only had a shallow cut along its cheek.
The rookie stared in horror.
"I-It barely… scratched it…"
"Mutamal hides harden instantly," Fark said, calm but stern. "Stay close. Don't panic."
The serpent's pupils narrowed again. It lunged straight at Fark this time, jaws wide enough to swallow him whole.
Fark didn't flinch.
He spun the spear behind him, used the serpent's momentum, and vaulted upward, flipping above its snapping jaws. The python tore into the ground instead, uprooting soil and stone.
The mercenaries stared in disbelief.
"Captain moves like a damn phantom…"
"I've never seen someone jump like that… is he even human?"
Fark ignored the comments. His eyes had sharpened—calculating distance, angle, timing.
The python whipped its tail, nearly snapping a mercenary's leg. Another mercenary thrust his spear into the moving body, but the weapon bounced off like hitting stone.
"Fall back! Don't attack blindly!" Fark ordered.
The python turned toward the sound—toward the rookie slipping on blood-stained leaves.
It lunged again—
"NO!"
A mercenary shoved the rookie aside.
The snake's fangs grazed the man's shoulder, ripping flesh—not deep but bleeding.
The group's fear spiked.
"This is bad, Captain!"
"It's hunting us one by one!"
Fark planted his spear into the ground, steadying his breath.
I have to end this before someone dies.
He raised his spear.
The air around him thinned—growing sharp, focused.
The mercenaries felt it.
The wind itself trembled.
Fark whispered:
"First Beginning…"
His stance lowered.
Left foot forward.
Right hand angled back.
Spear tilted like a striking adder.
The python sensed danger.
It hissed violently, body recoiling.
"…Second Form—Serpent's Bane."
Fark vanished.
No—he moved, but too fast for the eye.
A single step.
A single breath.
A single lethal strike.
The spear thrust forward with such precision that it slipped between the serpent's plated scales—right into the softer underside beneath its jaw.
A flash of steel.
A burst of wind.
A spray of blood across the leaves.
The python convulsed, smashing trees as it thrashed violently—but Fark held his ground, spear anchored, muscles unmoving.
With one final heave—
He sliced upward.
The python's head separated cleanly, falling with a heavy thud that shook the forest floor.
Silence.
Only the wind moved.
The mercenaries stood frozen, mouths open, unsure whether to cheer or cry.
The rookie broke the silence:
"C-Captain… you're insane…"
Then the cheers came.
"HELL YEAH!"
"We survived!"
"Captain, you're a monster!"
"Thank the gods for your spear!"
Fark wiped his spear clean, breathing out slowly.
"Quiet," he said.
The tone wiped the smiles instantly.
"This python turned recently. Which means…"
His eyes scanned the dark forest.
"…the creature that infected it is still here."
A wave of dread passed through the group.
The rookie gulped.
"C-Captain… should we retreat?"
"Not yet. Mission first," Fark said. "Burn the maffle nest."
They moved quickly.
Five minutes later, flames rose into the air—the maffle nest reduced to ash. The forest rustled anxiously, as if watching their every step.
It took four long, tense hours to return to the forest edge.
The sky was orange.
Their bodies were exhausted.
But they were alive.
"Captain… seriously… without you we'd be dead," a mercenary said, patting Fark's shoulder.
Fark gave a small, tired smile.
"Just doing my job. You all were brave today."
The mercenaries dispersed—some heading to report to the leader, others heading home.
Fark turned toward his own house, exhausted but relieved.
But when he reached the entrance…
A figure stood there.
Tall.
Blonde hair.
Wearing military gear of the Arghaban Kingdom.
Expression sharp.
Eyes cold.
Fark's entire posture shifted.
The man bowed slightly.
"It's been a while… Instructor Fark."
Fark's heart stopped.
His face stiffened.
He stepped forward slowly, anger and shock fighting in his expression.
"What," Fark said, voice low and steady—
"…are you doing here?"
---
Chapter End
---