PATH OF THE STAR HUNTER

Unfortunately, several arrows were too damaged to continue being useful; after closer observation, Desmond realized he only had ten arrows left. If that wasn’t bad news enough, this was just his first night in this place.

After realizing his cruel reality, the young hunter took it out on his poor and unfortunate prey. Too tired to keep kicking the spider that he hated so much, Desmond moved the corpse as far away from the cave as possible, not even interested in the possible materials that he could extract from it. Moreover, he obtained a lot of spider silk that adhered to the arrows he took from the spider’s rear.

Moments later, Desmond, on the verge of fainting, returned to the cave, quickly checking that there were no dangers. After spreading a beast repellent that came within his small backpack of supplies, he slept with only a tiny blanket to move away from the cold.

¨ I miss Claire, at least this seems like an opportunity, and if I succeed, things can be different for us... I had to succeed ¨ after lamenting, he headed to dreamland one last time.

(hours later)

¨ Desmond. . . Desmond wakes up. It is morning, come on, we are gonna miss our date... I love you Desmond¨

.....

Blurred by the fog of Morpheus, the scenery in front of Desmond was hard to describe, but he could swear that the one sharing his bed was the beautiful and very naked Claire looking at him with hazy eyes full of seductive charm.

As if hundreds of cups of coffee were running through his veins, Desmond got up at a speed that would embarrass the light itself, and with a frankly disgusting smile that made the author want to punch him, he exclaimed:

¨I’m totally awake, let’s go on our date... and it was a dream ¨

It took the perverted hunter a couple of seconds to realize that his fantasies were fantasies. A look of sadness, desire, and nostalgia shone in his eyes for just a few moments before a flame of passion that threatened to burn the skies ignited in the depths of his pupils.

¨ You think you are very big and powerful, coming to destroy my dreams, isn’t that real life? But I have news for you, you underestimate me. I can be an idiot with a terrible sense of humor. But above all, I am a womanizer in love with his sister, just imagining her in all those sexy and provocative costumes asking me to pervert her in a thousand and one ways; it’s more than enough to feel the power running through my veins. Afraid? I’m just scared I won’t see her again, pain? I would suffer anything to protect her. . . so trembles Serefia forest because this pervert is on fire ¨

Without even a hint of shame for what could be the worst heroic speech ever, Desmond seemed a completely different man from the day before.

Of course, he was still an idiot, and his speech made it clear, but there was great truth in everything he said: For his sister, he would fight demons and dragons if necessary, and he would not think twice about putting life on the line for her.

So despite the hilariousness of his statements, the aura around him completely changed, his conviction was almost palpable, and he perfectly embodied the image of a hunter ready to lead his prey to its inevitable deaths.

That was the most incongruous thing about Desmond; as random as his thoughts and actions could be, there was no way to hide that under all the masks he wore; Claire used to keep him focused.

After all, due to certain events in the past, Desmond had ceased to be a perfectly functional person, and without Claire being an emotional anchor for him, it was hard to know what would become of Desmond today.

With all in the past, Desmond took a little moment to smooth his stuff, sharpen his arrows, and eat some dry food from his supply backpack; once all this was done, he was ready to hunt.

Although it cannot be considered a personality disorder or anything like that, there is a great difference between the carefree and playful Desmond versus Desmond, who now finds himself stalking his next prey.

A terra wolf was resting peacefully while sunbathing; apparently, these beasts tend to be relatively carefree; after all, these do not have natural predators. Not that these are invincible or anything like that; the reason lies in their elemental affinity that makes them relatively difficult to kill and gives their meat a horrible sandy taste. This Terra Wolf could only pass its life peacefully, trusting that no one had such bad taste as to want to eat it.

Unfortunately for it, it wasn’t a predator watching it with murderous intentions; no, he was a hunter, one with a clear mission: complete all the objectives in the hunter’s book and return to the sweet arms of his beloved sister. Despite the desire burning in Desmond’s chest, he remained calm, waiting. He knew that the terrestrial wolf would not be easy to kill, not because he was strong but because of its defensive capabilities. So he had to wait for the perfect opportunity.

And so 5 minutes passed, then 15 and finally 45 minutes until the moment came. A strange purple bird of the size of a dog flew over the Terra Wolf at a considerable speed; either the noise or the disturbance in the wind caused by its speed caused the Terra Wolf to wake up. When the wolf raises its head to observe its surroundings, Desmond makes his move. A single arrow was all that Desmond planned to use. It was clear that the wolf Terra was the wrong kind of enemy to try to fight with his steel dagger, and he needed a great shot to finish it off, or he would be destroying his reserves of arrows against the wolf’s skin of stone.

Desmond put the arrow in the bow and drew it to the maximum but did not shoot. Instead, he kept waiting; he needed the perfect opportunity; A couple of seconds passed. His arms began to ache from maintaining the bow’s tension, but he still maintained his composure and waited.

Crack!

A slight, almost insignificant noise of a branch breaking occurred on the opposite side of the place where Desmond was still waiting; it could be anything. But if Desmond had to guess, he would say it was something as much or smaller than an aqua rabbit. But no matter what it was, it had given Desmond the opportunity he had been waiting for; the wolf seemed to hear the sound and adjust its stone-covered ears to hear better. Little did the wolf know that the sound of an arrow ripping through the air would be the last it would listen to.

Swift! Puck!

Followed by the sound of meat being pierced, the poor wolf never expected a hunter to be watching it all this time, one who was waiting for the ideal moment to strike a fatal blow; when the wolf readjusted its ears, Desmond released the bowstring. The arrow travels a beautiful parabola trajectory before piercing the wolf’s eardrum hard enough that only half an arrow will remain outside the skull.

Watching his prey succumb, Desmond didn’t change his expression one bit, as if the result didn’t surprise him. He only made a small affirmation in a low voice:

¨ One less, there are six left.¨