Ulrich broke into a sprint, his sword gripped as he bolted toward the source of the cry. Though he often presented an emotionally detached exterior, he wasn't so cold as to simply ignore a slaughter. If this were a Hunter in distress, he had a duty to intervene. These men and women actively risked their lives to keep his territory secure, and he would not let them die in the mud without a fight.
Vaulting over a massive, moss-slicked root, Ulrich channeled a burst of mana into his legs. He launched himself upward, landing silently on a canopy branch to gain a proper vantage point. Below him, the underbrush was violently swaying. The erratic rustling confirmed his suspicions: someone was being chased, and based on the pitch of the voice, there was a young girl.
