I admired the woman, but had only spoken to her a few times. Our last conversation was when she personally informed me that there would be a lottery system for the new scouts. I had managed to dissuade her from implementing such a system by volunteering to go. She had agreed out of desperation, not confidence.
“Good evening,” Verna said as she turned her attention to me, closing the door behind her. “I am glad to hear that you are alive and well.”
“The Doc had a say in keeping me alive,” I said, stretching out my leg.
“Indeed, you came in gravely injured, but with meat cut into steaks and bundled up in paper,” Verna said, sitting on the edge of the bed. Her face was stern and grim, as if she were expecting the worst of news. “What injured you?”
“Some wormbeast. I’d describe it to you, but if you’ve never been to the surface you wouldn’t be able to picture it,” I replied. “I know I couldn’t picture most of the monsters talked about in legend.”
“And the beast’s fate?” Verna asked, swallowing hard. I could see a pained look of anticipation on her face, as if expecting me to tell her that the beast followed me home.
“Relax, I killed it,” I said. “I…had a powerful experience on the surface. It’s really crazy but, it happened.”
“You became a Venator,” Verna whispered, a solitary tear running down her cheek.
I frowned. “Are you okay? What’s going on?”
Verna wiped the tear and shook her head. “I’m sorry, Avery, I really am.”
“What are you talking about? I don’t think a Venator is what you think it is. It’s a good thing.”
Verna stood and began to pace back and forth. “You are blessed with some kind of power that allows you to grow stronger as you hunt these monsters,” she said. “I know full well what a Venator is. And it is something that I fear more than anything else.”
“So it seems,” I said. “Listen, I am really out of the picture here, Verna. Elder Verna, I mean. I don’t know why you are so upset about this. I just killed two monsters and brought back enough meat to feed us for a week. And I have months’ worth of food in storage above. What could possibly be the issue?”
“The issue?” Verna said, turning to face me. “Is that you’re a dead woman walking. There are no Venators left. Our village, so long ago, had Venators. Skilled ones. Ones who were capable of leading us to the Home Cave. Venators who stood vigil, day and night, keeping the jungle safe while we built our haven.”
“I never heard this story,” I said.
“For many reasons,” Verna replied, resuming her pacing. “Anyone can become a Venator. If you kill a monster, you gain their power. Simple enough. But you can’t kill a monster without a Venator’s power. It’s nigh impossible.”
“A large enough group could probably kill one of the small ones, if they coordinated,” I said.
“That is what they said a hundred years ago, when our village still had a name,” Verna replied. “When they all believed they could still reclaim the surface. Our Venators died, one by one, in the beginning. Soon, we found ourselves without a mighty hunter. And the strong men in the village, the young and the ones in search for glory, all banded together to form a hunting group. Just one man needed the power, they said. Just one man.”
“How…how many died?”
“The first group? 30 men. Gone. The second group? 50. Gone,” Verna said, her voice quivering as she shared this knowledge. “And the last group? Desperate survivors who would do anything to get their lives back. 100 total. All gone. The Elders, who were many at the time for our village was so large, decided that we could no longer lose our strongest workers to the dream of reclaiming the surface. The name Venator was banished, our village name, Hunter’s Hope, was removed and forgotten by all who knew better. A decree was spoken. No one shall speak of Venators again.”
“How do you know all this?”
Verna shrugged. “Elders keep long records to pass down to their replacement. I learned all of this day one of being sworn in. Venators are not good for this village. They create a foolish hope, a hope that we can return to the toplands and see the sun again. For the young and the idiotic to hear of such a chance, they might decide to risk everything for a chance to be the hero. And in the end, the village loses a healthy worker. A potential scavenger. A passage guard.”
“So the young don’t know about Venators,” I murmured. “But why does someone like Jace know? He certainly wasn’t alive when the village was founded.”
“Stories were still passed down,” Verna replied. “Knowledge can be suppressed but as long as someone can speak, it cannot be destroyed. But, those who know, like Jace, certainly know to keep their mouth shut. The older folks cannot risk the younger leaving for good.”
I shifted in my bed. “Over the years, there have been incidents of people leaving, here and there, never to return. You always said they were trying to find other villages.”
“They somehow learned about Venators and decided to chance it,” Verna said.
I sank back into the bed and sighed at that. I had a friend, Harlan, who had been one who ‘ran away.’ Turns out he had learned a secret and wanted to save the village. I had always assumed he died out on the surface, but at least now, my memory of him would be a little founder. He hadn’t abandoned us; he was simply trying to help.
“I understand this decision,” I said. “But now you have a Venator! So you don’t have to worry, because I can hunt for food. We won’t need scavengers anymore.”
Verna ceased her pacing at this and merely looked at the floor. “You’re a bright woman, Avery. You can’t connect the dots here?”
I tilted my head and looked at the Elder. If even the thought of Venators caused such desperation and delusion in the hearts of the young, a real life one would certainly fuel them to try their luck even harder. After all, I was a success story. But in reality, I had just gotten really, really lucky. I felt anxiousness begin to well up in my stomach at the realization.
“You won’t let me stay here, will you?” I whispered.
Verna did not look at me. She merely continued to stare down at the floor, her body facing away from my bed. “It’s not a decision I am pleased with,” she said. “You are one of the best people in the village. A skilled nurse, a good woman. A volunteer who chose to come up to the surface in spite of having no formal training. And now you are being punished to preserve our village.”
My heart sank at her words. “You can’t be serious,” I said. “I could uh…just stay quiet about the whole thing.”
Verna shook her head. “I am sorry, but I simply cannot risk this story getting loose. There are less than a hundred people left here. And twenty of them are unable to work. If we lose a single man or woman from the work force…our village will suffer.”
“Wait, I have more to tell you,” I said. “Please, hear me out first.”
Verna nodded and sank down onto the bed again, but still not facing me. I admired her for the strength to do something so unbelievably difficult. Was I upset about the threat of being expelled? Not really. Working in the medical ward had taught me that when you had limited supplies and beds, you had to do the most good with what you had available. Sometimes saving three people came at the expense of depriving one person of those life-saving supplies. These were hard decisions to make, but I had learned early on that you can’t save everyone. You just had to do the most amount of good. And Verna knew what would help the village out the most. I couldn’t fault her for that.
“What is it?” Verna asked. “Tell me everything.”
“I have knowledge of a human village outside, on the surface,” I said. “It’s eighty miles from here. There are mighty Venators who hunt the monsters and keep it safe.”
Verna shook her head. “Our scouts have been everywhere within 100 miles of the Home Cave,” she said. “Not a single settlement has been spotted. I have the maps to prove it, if you need.”
“I don’t know what to tell you,�
�� I said, “but Rashar, the one who trained me, has seen the humans with his own eyes.”
Verna said nothing at first, she merely looked down. “What am I going to tell the others about you?” she whispered. “I can’t say you ran away. We might have to declare you dead. Only Jace has seen you alive.”
“You don’t believe me?” I asked.
Verna shrugged. “Even if I did believe you, how would we ever get there? A great Titan wanders in the area. He will smell us the moment we come out of the cave.”
“Well that’s the other thing…” I said, taking a deep breath, preparing to be mocked. “I’m going to kill it.”
Verna sharply looked at me. “What?”
“You heard me. I’m going to kill the Titan. Then I’m going to lead you all to the village,” I said. “And even if you kick me out, you’re still my village. And I will still hunt on your behalf and protect you.”
The Elder looked at me long and hard. She wasn’t upset, but rather seemed curious. “Are you really serious about this?”
“I am,” I said. “I will kill the Titan, no matter what it takes.”
“I said that you were a dead woman walking, I wasn’t wrong,” Verna said, shaking her head. “You barely survived an encounter with a regular monster. What makes you think you can take down a Titan?”
“Practice. Training. Preparation,” I replied. “I almost died, sure, but I’m still alive and stronger because of it. Verna, you have always been a reasonable woman. You hold the traditions that protect us while pushing for new traditions that make life worth living. I can’t ask you to tell everyone the truth about Venators, I understand the risks. But…I need resources. I need somewhere to come when I’m wounded or tired. I need a workshop of my own, and the help of the smith here. You can choose for us to stay ignorant and I’m fine with that, but you have to let me stay. For the sake of our people.”
“And if I ask you to leave?”
“I’ll leave,” I whispered. “Because you are the rightful Elder and I follow your words, even if I don’t like them. But I have a chance to kill that Titan someday. To give us all a shot at a real life, back in the sun where we belong.”
“You’ll die,” Verna said. “Every Venator we had died.”
“Maybe. But as long as I’m alive, I’m the single most valuable resource you have in this village,” I said. “Don’t throw that away. Please.”
Verna sighed at those words and stood. “No one can know you’re a Venator, save for a select few. Jace, the smith, myself and my assistant, Lindy. Other than that, we keep this a secret. As far as anyone else knows, you’re a very good scavenger. That’s it.”
I nodded eagerly. “I won’t tell a soul, I swear.”
“Okay,” Verna said as she stretched out her hand to shake mine. “Then it’s a deal. You can stay. But the moment a youth departs to the surface to kill a monster, you’re out on your ass. Understood?”
“I’ll shoot them in the leg before they get to the outer passage,” I said, shaking her hand. “I swear it.”
“Good,” Verna said. “Now…let me take you to your new workshop.”
“You have a space in mind?” I asked, surprised at how quickly she was adapting to this plan.
“We buried the old Venator’s workshop,” Verna said, gesturing for me to follow. “But there’s still a passage that leads there. Our first Elder was content with hiding the knowledge; however their books are so valuable that he knew it would be a great crime to destroy them. Perhaps he knew that someday we would be ready to use them. Perhaps that day is now.”
Chapter 11
Cranston, the village blacksmith and perhaps the burliest man I had ever seen, gave the wooden door another whack with his hammer, smashing it wide open. The door, located in a cellar deep, deep beneath the Elder’s office, had been hidden behind a seemingly innocuous bookshelf. The handle had been detached, rendering the door impossible to open without finding the apparatus. Verna had gone looking for it ten minutes ago, but those ten minutes were too long for Cranston.
“Oh look!” the big man grunted as he smashed another hole in the door, opening it wide enough for me to fit through. “I found a secret passage into the workshop.”
“She’s gonna make you repair that door,” I said as I stepped through the hole, into a narrow passageway with stairs leading deeper underground. Just how far was this workshop buried?
“I was going to replace it anyway,” Cranston said. “We’ll need a big, metal door to keep thieves and curious kids out. Someone’s gonna follow you down here at some point. We’ll need good security to ensure they can’t sneak in when you’re away.”
“Good thinking,” I said as I began to descend down into the workshop. Cranston remained upstairs and I could hear Verna shouting angrily at him for wrecking the door instead of just waiting for the handle to be found.
At the bottom of the stairs was another door. Thankfully this one had a handle and was unlocked. I twisted the brass knob and opened the door, revealing a large circular room filled to the brim with books.
“Woah!” I gasped, raising the lantern at my side high to inspect the area. There were many tables up against the wall, forming a semi-circle. On these tables were old weapons, books upon books, and what seemed to be trophies of different dead beasts scattered about. A phrase was chiseled into the granite wall: To Protect, We Hunt.
I glanced at the tables on the opposite side of me, and realized that they were workbenches identical to what Rashar had in his own home. Hand drills, chisels and bottles upon bottles of alchemical agents were present, all to assist me in creating my own charms. Tucked carefully in my bag back home was the mandible of the wormbeast. I could craft the charm here and see what benefits I could gain from it.
“There you are,” Verna said as she walked beside me. “What do you think?”
“I think it’s the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen,” I whispered, still in awe of what I was seeing. I walked over to a collection of books and read the title of one. Zinoss Monster Migration Patterns and Eating Habits Volume 1 . I grabbed the book and flipped it open. Much to my surprise, while the lettering had been professional set, this was not a mass-printed book, but rather it was a handwritten journal.
Study of Hunter’s Journal has begun: progress 0/33 pages appeared in my vision as I flipped through the pages. I could see illustrations, as well as descriptions of different monsters. Apparently, reading other journals was something the Hunter’s Sight kept track of. I wondered if the knowledge I gleaned from this book would be saved in the Sight, for me to recall at a later time. Perhaps reading about a weakness or two would automatically apply to my Archer’s Eye ability.
“This is the collection the Venators brought with them, when we finally fled to the underground,” Verna said, walking over to inspect the stuffed and mounted head of a Kinru. Its eyes were most fierce and I shivered as I held the lantern up to look at the beast. “Some of these journals were owned by those who fought here. The rest were found on the bodies of dead hunters.”
“No kidding,” I mumbled, only half listening to her. The book’s introduction was fascinating.
You are reading this because you have either disregarded your father’s desire for privacy, or because this has been passed down to you. Either way, it is imperative that you treat what I have written with great respect. Assuming that the pages after this introduction are filled out, know that everything that I write has been tested and proven in the field of battle. This is not a book of theories. Every weakness has been learned by the blade on flesh. Every pattern of movement, every habit, has been observed with my own eyes. I have earned this knowledge; you will merely build on it. We are not in this alone. Every Venator carries wisdom to follow. I only hope that what I have learned will contribute to the good of mankind. To the good of Hunter’s Hope.
-Mannin
Despite the amount of pages in this journal, I was quick to discover that there were only four entries listed. The jo
urnal was far from completed. I took a moment to flip a few more journals open, ignoring Verna as she rattled endlessly about how this workshop had been so carefully preserved. Most entries were similar to Mannin’s. Just as his book had run short, the other journals were light on information as well. There were serious attempts to document the monsters they faced, but usually after the third entry, the pages were blank. Only one man had made it to six entries.
I swallowed nervously, placing the books down on the table. Verna was still talking, staring at the Kinru trophy, seemingly unable to move her head away from it. The average survival rate for a Venator, it would seem, was about three monsters. I had already killed two.
“You okay, Aves?” Cranston said as he walked beside me, carrying a few tools into the room. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
“I’ve seen a lot of ghosts,” I weakly replied, taking a moment to shake the fear out of my head. These Venators might have died, but at least they had left behind valuable tools for me to take up the mantle. I would study these books intensely before going back out; I would learn their methods and prepare for my third battle. I would not die on the third monster. I still had a Titan to take care of.
“Reality finally settling in?” Verna asked, as she turned to face me. Cranston brushed past me and began to set up a few tools on one of the tables.
“I could say I’m not afraid, but I’d be lying,” I replied, watching as the smith began to nail a wooden rack on the wall. The rack was curved, meant to hold a bow on display. “I just…the enormity of it all is kind of hitting.”
Monster Hunting 101: A LitRPG Fantasy Adventure (Titan Termination) Page 6