Mark made it through the east gate without being stopped by the guards. They just gave their respectful salute as he jumped over the gates like they were a small hurdle. The guards did have a wide-eyed look at his increase in size, but most just assumed he was always that big.
He quickly made his way out into the greater village area, where villagers could be seen tending to crops in the patches of fertile earth that were scattered on the mountain in this area near the village.
He received a few waves here and there as he made his way to the wilderness area of the mountain on the east side.
With his spear in his hand and his ore sack slung over his shoulder, it was obvious to everyone what the giant blacksmith was doing out and about.
As he passed the last field, a rather large hill with a jutting cliff that dropped down several meters formed a natural barrier between the farmlands and the rest of the mountain. After climbing down, Mark looked out at the stone and scrub of the mountain, which opened wide after the small cliff to the village.
At the precipice of the wilderness, Mark steeled his gaze as he prepared to enter the territory of the beasts. Now was the time to prepare for the struggle of life or death.
He began to adjust his pace, bringing his stride in to short, quick steps while taking care of where he placed each foot to prevent any excess sound as he followed the gradual downward slope of this side of the mountain.
As he fell into his hunting momentum, he quickly approached the forest of the east side of the mountain. He didn't like coming here as much since the hunters of the village kept the monster population down on the periphery, and there was not much ore to be found.
The rocks and gravel of the mountainside soon gave way to the brush and pine needles of the lower sprawling forest.
As his path became littered with the foliage of a forest, his pace slowed even further. He was not racing anyone; he needed to keep his silence.
The scent of pine was heavy, with the tall trees stretching up into the sky. The humidity had changed as he made his way through the forest; it became denser, making the air feel heavy.
He avoided the faint trails of the hunters before him and pushed past the periphery, where they had grooved a no-go zone for the monsters.
As he entered the known dangerous territories, marked by a large pond, he moved his hand to his back where his spear was strapped.
His thumb instinctively went to the slight groove, worn into the hard bone after years of use. He subconsciously felt a bit of relief, knowing his best form of defense was at hand.
As he moved along, he found a patch of soft clay that had been exposed from under the pine needles that were thick in this area.
'Looks like a predator caught some prey here. No blood, so it must have been a while back but not too long ago.'
Mark proceeded to move carefully through the small exposed area, looking for anything that could tell him what kind of monster he was potentially going to hunt down.
The clay soil was mostly disturbed, no solid prints, and still no blood. As he moved past a few trees, he noticed a freshly fallen twig with some green needles on it.
He reached down and pulled back the branch to reveal a print. It was massive, bigger than any wolf known to these mountains.
'Warg, figures. Looks like it's moving in this direction. Hopefully, I can find it somewhere up ahead.'
He moved past the disturbed forest floor back into pine needle-blanketed ground.
During his trek through the forest, the sounds of birds and the creak of the swaying trees overhead kept him company, helping mask the sound of his soft footsteps.
He lost the trail, since it was old and he was not really a hunter who trained daily in hunting down these beasts. But he did pick up on something after walking in the same direction for a while.
'Damn, did they always smell this bad? Why is the scent so strong?'
He smelled it at least 200 meters before he could see it through the thicket of trees and foliage.
It also seemed to have smelled him before it could see him.
With his spear in hand, Mark readied himself for a battle against the large beast. Looking into its eyes, he could see that it was also ready.
He watched it saunter toward him, eyes sharp and steadily fixed on the human before it. Its dark fur brushing up against trees as its wide frame took up most of the room made in the brush from other monsters and animals traveling through the area.
It was twice the size of any normal mountain wolf, being at eye level with Mark when it was on its four legs. Even through that thick fur, Mark could see massive coiled muscles like steel cords wrapped around its bones.
The beast paused when it was about 20 meters from Mark. Within the range of his ability to throw the spear accurately. But he didn't want to toss his best weapon so early. Not with how intimidating this beast was.
The beast lowered its head as it prepared to rush at him. Its lips peeled back to reveal large, wet fangs as a low growl came from its throat.
Mark braced for imminent battle, bloodlust coursing through his consciousness. Ready to take this life of this monster.
For a moment, Mark noticed that the Warg hesitated. It seemed to second-guess itself. But only for a moment.
The Warg lunged.
The distance between them was closed in a split second. Mark had taken a defensive stance, which he planned to leverage for a quick blow to the Warg before rolling away.
The Warg, used to easily overpowering any creature it came across, just rushed right into Mark with no fear of the sharp point on the spear.
Why would it fear the weapon of a human? Most were barely able to get past its fur, while the rest left scratches at best. Just like the other animals on this mountain. This was prey, and it was cornered.
As the Warg was about to bite into Mark, time seemed to slow to a crawl for the blacksmith. He thrust once with his spear, too fast for the Warg to see. It easily slid through its ribs, at the angle that Mark was striking from, its thick fur and skin parting like a piece of linen cloth.
Mark rolled to the right as the Warg snapped its jaws to the left.
When he looked over after his roll, he witnessed the large beast crumble onto the ground with a high-pitched yelp. And that was it. The beast stopped moving after its body had a quick spasm as a large amount of blood pooled out from the hole in its chest.
The brown needles covering most of the ground where they clashed were painted deep red with the blood of the beast.
Mark was breathing heavily. Not from exhaustion, but from the adrenaline that now had nothing to do.
'After years of trading blow for blow against these monsters, and this is all they amount to after my growth spurt? What the hell did that witch lady do?'
He stared down at the Warg as his pounding heart calmed down.
'One strike? That is all it took to take down such a monster? . . . What a disappointment. I was looking forward to a challenge today.'
He quickly dressed the beast and packed up the useful parts for the butcher, keeping the pelt intact.
As he finished up, he couldn't help but say out loud.
"Was hunting always this easy?"