With the help of the Gargwa, the journey that would have taken nearly a week on foot was completed in just over three days.
It was the same muddy swamp as before, and the same Barroth.
Compared to the anxiety she felt when accepting the Barroth hunting mission last time, Isis was much calmer now.
On one hand, after the previous battle, she had gained a deeper understanding of the Barroth and could respond more effectively to some of its moves.
More importantly, she had a companion with her this time.
"Should we start the hunt directly, or head to the camp first to rest?" Isis asked Altaïr.
As the one who accepted this mission, she was the nominal leader, but in her view, Altaïr's abilities were no less than hers, and in some aspects, even surpassed her.
Additionally, since he was here to help, it was important to consult each other on key decisions.
"Let's go to the camp first, park the Gargwa cart, adjust our condition, and plan some tactics," Altaïr replied. "We have plenty of time for the mission, so there's no need to rush."
"Mm," Isis nodded. "I usually don't hunt on the day I arrive at the hunting grounds either. I spend it preparing, scouting the terrain and such, and start the actual hunt after resting overnight."
"It seems the one who taught us how to hunt is the same, a rather cautious person," Altaïr said with a hint of amusement.
The two arrived at a hunter camp a few kilometers away from the swamp, unloaded the Gargwa cart, fed the Gargwa, and then tied them up.
"We've already scouted the terrain before. It's been less than half a month, so the terrain shouldn't have changed much," Isis said, taking out her map and sharing the details she had marked during her previous scouting with her companion.
Altaïr copied down the information. "We're both familiar with that Barroth, so starting the hunt directly wouldn't be a problem. However, since our goal is to use it as a whetstone to sharpen our skills, the fight might take longer. So, we need to make sure there are no other large Monsters nearby. If there are annoying things like Konchu, it'd be better to clear them out in advance."
"Ah, those rolling insects, right? They are indeed a headache."
After a brief rest, the two left the camp and began searching the outskirts in concentric circles centered around the swamp where their target was located.
By evening, aside from two harmless Bnahabra, they had encountered nothing, the best possible news.
Before returning to the camp, they stealthily approached the edge of the swamp. Luck was on their side; their hunting target was there.
"I see it," Isis whispered, lowering her binoculars. "Near the center of the swamp, that protruding thing that looks like a rock."
"Mm," Altaïr nodded softly. He had also noticed the "rock," it was the Barroth's crest.
To avoid parasites and the desert heat, Barroth liked to bury their entire bodies in the mud, leaving only the top of their crests exposed. These crests had air holes connected to their respiratory tracts, allowing them to breathe while submerged.
Altaïr took a Paintball from his Item Pouch and looked at Isis. "Confident you can hit it?"
"I'll give it a try." Isis took the Paintball.
The distance between their hiding rock and the Barroth was nearly fifty meters. At this range, accurately hitting its head crest, no larger than an ordinary dining table, with a Paintball was quite challenging. Altaïr admitted he didn't have the skill for it.
But Isis had a better tool than just her bare hands.
On her left arm, a small, exquisite crossbow that might be mistaken for a decorative accessory at first glance unfolded, this was a Slinger.
Developed by the Guild's equipment division, tested and refined through the New World survey corps' practical experience, this special equipment had gradually become widespread in the Old World over the past decade or so.
In major central cities like Dundorma, hunter training camps even offered specialized courses focused on the Slinger.
However, Loc Lac was remote, and its desert-dwelling people valued tradition and tended to be conservative, with few hunters willing to try this new equipment.
With little demand, local workshops couldn't be bothered to refine the craftsmanship, resulting in Slingers available in Loc Lac having poor accuracy and high failure rates. This further discouraged hunters from using them, creating a vicious cycle.
Before coming to Val Habar, Altaïr had always thought the Slinger was just a slingshot-like device mounted on an armguard.
Loading the Paintball Altaïr handed her onto the Slinger's string, Isis extended her left arm, aimed for a few seconds, and pulled the trigger.
"Whoosh–"
The Paintball shot toward the distant Barroth in the swamp at a speed and flat trajectory impossible to achieve by hand.
The next moment, it struck true, dyeing the head crest, which from afar looked no different from ordinary rock, a vivid pink. An intense scent spread through the air.
"Grooowl!"
Startled awake, the Barroth climbed out of the mud, shaking its head vigorously.
Its "nostrils" were located atop the head crest, directly splattered with the Paintball's dye. The pungent smell was extremely irritating to the Barroth's sensitive sense of smell.
It glared around fiercely, searching for the hidden attackers, but the culprits, Isis and Altaïr, had already crouched down, hidden motionless behind the large rock they were using for cover.
With its keenest sense disrupted and rendered useless, the Barroth wandered around the swamp for a long time without finding anything. Eventually, it dismissed the incident as droppings left by some flying creature.
Rubbing its dye-covered head forcefully against the sandy ground a few times, the Barroth returned to its beloved mud swamp, curled up, and lay down. Soon, low, muffled snores echoed through the area.
After waiting a while longer to confirm the Barroth was fully asleep, the two cautiously left their hiding spot and headed back to camp.
"Great shot." Altaïr gave Isis a thumbs-up.
With this Paintball, they wouldn't have to worry about losing track of the Barroth the next day.
"It's mostly because my Slinger has good accuracy." Isis seemed somewhat unaccustomed to praise, but her expression showed she was quite pleased.
"Which workshop did you order it from?" Altaïr glanced enviously at Isis's left arm. "I'm planning to get one too. There are hardly any workshops in all of Loc Lac that sell Slingers."
"This was a gift from my grandfather. But there are skilled craftsmen in Val Habar too. I'll introduce you to them when we return. For them, making a Slinger is like crafting a small toy, they can finish it quickly."
"Thank you then."
The two returned to the camp, filled their stomachs with rations, and went to bed early to conserve their strength for the next day's hunt.
The night passed without incident.
The next day, before dawn had even broken, Isis opened her eyes. She sat up on her bedding and sniffed the air.
"Huh? The smell of frying bacon... so it wasn't a dream?" she muttered as she stepped out of the tent.
"Morning." Altaïr greeted her from beside the rekindled campfire.
Staring at the cast iron skillet sizzling over the flames, Isis asked uncertainly, "Are you... making breakfast?"
"Did you think I was Crafting potions?" Altaïr chuckled and handed her a large chunk of cheese skewered on a branch. "Help me roast this. Just melt the surface a bit, don't hold it too close to the fire."
"Right!" Isis hastily wiped her hands on her clothes before taking the cheese. Sitting across the fire, she began slowly roasting it while her gaze kept drifting toward the thick-cut bacon covering the entire skillet.
Who brings bacon on a hunting trip?!
"Fried until the fat renders out, both sides slightly crispy." Altaïr checked the recipe in his memo. "Should be about done. Hold this for me."
He shoved the skillet full of fried thick-cut bacon into Isis' hands. "Careful, don't drool into it."
Slurp "Sorry..."
Altaïr then pulled several large, thick naan breads from his pack, warming them briefly near the fire before extending his hand toward Isis. "Give me the cheese."
"Right!"
Taking the semi-melted cheese from Isis, he used a small knife to scrape off the softened, liquefied parts onto the naan. Then he speared a large piece of fried bacon from the skillet and rolled everything together.
"Eat up." He handed the bacon wrap loaded with cheese to Isis. "The recipe calls for bread, but naan should work fine too."
"Th-thank you..." Isis accepted it somewhat sheepishly, seemingly impervious to the heat as she devoured it in just a few bites.
Altaïr made another wrap for himself and took a bite. "Hmm, next time I should buy thinner naan. This is a bit tough to chew. Could use some more spices too."
"I think it's delicious already!" Isis mumbled through a full mouth. "When hunting out in the field before, we'd always just mix rations with water into porridge for breakfast."
"I used to just chew on rations too." Altaïr handed the naan to Isis so she could make her own wraps. "But later I thought, there's no harm in eating well and filling up before a hunt. Consider it our Canteen meal."
"Makes sense. Ah–nom."
The entire skillet, containing at least two kilograms of bacon, along with a large block of cheese and numerous naan breads, disappeared into their stomachs in under fifteen minutes.
Isis even used the last pieces of naan to wipe the grease clean from the iron skillet, making washing seem unnecessary.
"Full?" Altaïr looked at Isis' wistful expression.
"...I'm full!"
"That was a subtle hesitation." Altaïr placed the spotless cast iron skillet back over the campfire. "We had ingredients left over that I was planning to save for after the hunt. Ah well, let's just eat everything in one go!"