Chapter 13 : Water source (13)

Hunting those kinds of things doesn’t even require weapons.

When people think of the word “hunter,” they usually imagine meticulous planning, bows, or traps.

But in reality, most hunters are just lunatics who face off against monsters with nothing but a single blade.

After all, without the strength to stand against monsters, it’s impossible to survive in a labyrinth as a combatant.

And if someone has both the physical ability to fight and the intelligence to devise strategies and utilize multiple means, they wouldn’t remain a mere hunter for long.

A true expert who fights monsters in close combat, armed with only their bare hands or a single weapon.

Smack!

Smack!

Smack!

If they seriously decide to use violence against a human, the result is nothing short of one-sided.

“……”

Hans was demonstrating that right now—his blows ringing through bone.

Gatherers carried pouches of witchweed powder to ward off monsters.

If thrown into an opponent’s eyes, it could even be effective against humans.

But relentless, unyielding fists gave no opportunity for resistance.

Like a three-eyed hound, Hans pounced on the gatherer and took him down in an instant.

Only after confirming the man was completely unconscious did Hans nod and call for Alje.

“You can come out now.”

“…Alje?”

For some reason, there was no response.

Alje had only barely peeked her head out, still hidden in the underbrush.

It didn’t seem like she was just embarrassed—her expression was frozen.

“What’s wrong?”

“Mister… what exactly did you just do?”

“What do you mean?”

In her face, Hans recognized something familiar.

Something he had seen before when he looked at her—a shadow.

It wasn’t quite fear.

More like… rejection.

“I told you. I needed clothes.”

“Just for that…?”

“If you went in there without covering up, you’d end up being hunted instead.”

Hans casually stripped the gatherer of his clothes.

Of course, the quality was poor—no better than what the lowest of the low would wear.

Now, with bloodstains added, it was an even sorrier sight.

But at least it was still something that could be called clothing—far better than the rags Hans was currently wearing.

Even after catching the clothes Hans tossed her way, Alje hesitated, fidgeting.

“Just bear with it, even if it’s dirty. I’ll buy you new clothes once we reach the city.”

“It’s not about that… What about that person?”

Ah.

Hans finally realized what had been bothering Alje.

It had been a long time since he’d heard something so naïve.

If anyone else had said something like that, he would’ve smacked them upside the head and told them to shut up.

But since it was Alje, he responded with a rare bit of kindness.

“Don’t worry. I didn’t kill him.”

Hans needed clothes, and the person who had them was weak enough to take them from.

That was all there was to it.

In the labyrinth, this was just an everyday occurrence.

“But if we just leave him like that…”

He might die.

This was the outskirts of the city, where monsters roamed freely.

Who knew when he would regain consciousness?

Hans let out a sigh as he looked at Alje, then reached into one of the gatherer’s pouches.

“Ugh.”

Alje instinctively wrinkled her nose and stepped back at the unpleasant stench.

Hans, already used to the smell, only furrowed his brows slightly before turning the pouch over.

Shhhk.

A dark, powdery substance—witchweed powder—spilled over the half-naked, emaciated man.

Looking at the blackened stains forming on his body, Hans shrugged.

“There, that should do it. Now he won’t be attacked by monsters.”

What happened after that?

Frankly, it wasn’t his problem.

Not only had he spared the man’s life, but he had also ensured he wouldn’t be targeted by monsters—a kindness far beyond what was necessary.

Of course, if the witchweed failed to repel certain creatures or if the man returned only to find his supplies stolen, he’d still suffer.

But at least he was alive.

That was lucky enough.

If he had a problem with it, he shouldn’t have taken such a deserted route in the first place.

Then again, the more crowded paths were full of competition, making it harder to gather resources.

“…What now?”

Even after all this, Alje still seemed uneasy.

“It feels… wrong.”

“What does?”

“I was taught to respect others and not use force recklessly…”

“A monster discussing human dignity—Hans nearly laughed.”

That’s how it is outside.

Or is it not?

My memories are hazy, but I don’t recall it being much different out there.

Maybe because I was just a commoner.

But Alje, this is the labyrinth.

“Once inside, conventional rules and social status meant nothing—unless one held a title that was power in itself, like a witch or a saint.”

So just because it’s the labyrinth, that’s all there is to it?

Then when do people rest?

When do they build relationships?

“Despite her words, Alje still hesitantly put on the clothes”.

Instead of answering, Hans simply pointed ahead.

The direction the gatherer had come from.

And the direction they were headed.

A cavern.

“That’s what the city is for.”

Heimvig.

If Alje’s translation was correct, it meant the road home.

Of course, the only city in the labyrinth was anything but home.

Still, it was the closest thing to a sanctuary in this place.

*

Their journey to Heimvig continued without incident.

But the mood between them remained heavy.

Some truths were simply too difficult to accept in a single conversation.

Hans didn’t try to convince her any further.

This wasn’t something that could be understood through words alone.

It was something one had to experience firsthand.

Alje wasn’t the first newcomer to say such things.

But after their initiation, they all fell silent.

Not that Hans ever did anything grand for that so-called initiation.

“Is that Heimvig?”

“Yeah, you can see it now.”

All it took was one night spent surviving in the labyrinth.

Once they looked upon the city, their bodies drenched in blood and exhaustion—Even the dumbest, most naïve fools came to understand.

“…That’s a city?”

“What, it’s a fine city.”

That this place was absolute hell.

That to survive here, anyone would have to become just as wretched.

From the hill, the city slowly came into view.

A place that was close to home, yet could never truly be home.

To put it simply, the sight was like the ruins of a town riddled with holes from a witch’s bombardment.

And that wasn’t far from the truth.

The walls stood tall, yet the city gates were missing—sold off to who-knows-where.

Gaping holes, like the gnawed remains of a rat-infested house, rendered the defenses meaningless.

Some were large enough for not just people, but even massive monsters to pass through.

Beyond those holes, the inside looked just as grim.

Emaciated figures, like the gatherer who had “donated” his clothes earlier, staggered through the streets.

Those who seemed slightly better off—scarred, muscular, hardened survivors—shoved them aside in irritation as they hurried along.

The streets were littered with filth.

With sunlight scarce, streetlamps lined the roads, burning dried monster dung that reeked as it smoldered.

The roads weren’t originally that dark, bloodstained color.

It was simply the result of countless layers of dried and congealed blood.

Some tried to scrape the layers off, but more often than not, they ended up adding their own blood to the streets instead.

“No point making that disgusted face. You’ll have to live here now.”

“Ugh… Then what about that part?”

Of course, not every part of the city was this bad.

As they got closer, the view of the inner city became clearer.

The outskirts were as wretched as they appeared, but deeper inside—The bloodstains gave way to smooth, gray stone pavement.

Instead of makeshift shacks, there were brick buildings that at least looked sturdy.

The air didn’t stink, and instead of burning dung, the streets were illuminated by near-permanent glowstones embedded in proper lampposts.

“We can’t live there.”

“Why not?”

Hans blinked at the sheer stupidity of the question.

Even for a newcomer, this was a first.

Then again, if Alje had truly been raised as a saint, maybe it made sense.

She had been locked away, longing for the outside world—But in reality, she had only ever known the finest, most privileged parts of it.

“Because no one’s going to let scum like us live there.Now, let’s go.”

The labyrinth, in a way, had even stricter social divisions than the outside world.

Birthright meant nothing here—only strength determined one’s place.

A mere hunter, neither an explorer nor even a guide, had no place in those streets.

Of course, there was one thing even less welcome than a hunter.

“Oh, right. Alje, be careful once we enter the city.”

“Careful? About what? Are there rules?”

“Rules… There are some, but we can talk about those later. This is far more important.”

The hunter took the monster girl’s hand and led her toward the city.

“Listen carefully. Don’t show your mouth tendrils. And don’t let anyone see the hole in your chest.Never. No matter what.”

“If… if they do?”

“If they do—kill them. No matter what.”

“K-Kill…?”

“Yeah.”

Alje was already strong.

Even without the power of a saint, her physical abilities far surpassed Hans’, a veteran hunter.

And she had that mouth.

But paradoxically, despite her monstrous power—her heart was too human.

It didn’t matter how strong she was.

If her mindset was softer than even a fresh recruit’s, she wouldn’t survive.

She had no qualms about devouring monsters.

But if her opponent was human—”If you get caught, even I won’t be able to protect you.”