It was February. In the southern and central regions of the Old World, the cold season was drawing to a close and temperatures were gradually beginning to rise.
But in the continent's frozen north, polar winds still raged without mercy.
As the northernmost human settlement in the Old World large enough to qualify as a "city," Liber had short days and extraordinarily long nights.
The biting winds had frozen the Frozen Seaway into a vast expanse of ice. Anyone bold enough, and lucky enough not to die along the way, could even walk from Liber Port to the Akura Region at the world's northernmost reaches.
With the sea frozen solid in winter, this direct route across the ice also brought seasonal threats to the northern city.
Many Monsters from the polar reaches of the Akura Region crossed the frozen sea to forage and roam along the continent's northern coast.
Among them were powerful Monsters such as Zamtrios, Barioth, and even Glacial Agnaktor.
In the latter half of winter especially, the starving polar Monsters that came south in search of food were extraordinarily aggressive. That was why the Hunters of the Liber Guild were busiest at this time of year.
They could not let their guard down for a moment while patrolling, tracking, and hunting the Monsters that crossed the Frozen Seaway.
Beneath an aurora-veiled night sky, a three-Hunter team had just finished a Hunt on the frozen sea dozens of kilometers from the city.
A massive Barioth lay dead on the ice, its blood staining a broad swath of snow crimson.
The cautious Lance user raised his shield and approached the Barioth carefully, thrusting his Lance deep into its throat and twisting hard.
The Barioth remained completely motionless. Only then did he breathe a sigh of relief and let his taut muscles relax.
He stowed his weapon and signaled "safe" to his companions. The others, who had held their formation, gathered around.
The Hunt had not been easy. There had been some close calls, but it had ended well enough, with no one killed or seriously wounded.
As captain of the small team, the Lance user scratched at his thick beard, now stiff with frozen blood and chips of ice, and said in a low voice, "Morgan, you carve first. We'll keep watch."
This blatant show of favoritism did not bother the team's other Hunter. On the contrary, it seemed only natural.
They all knew who had contributed most to the Hunt.
Small and delicate enough to look frailer than many girls, the Heavy Bowgunner had provided powerful fire support throughout the Hunt.
More importantly, when the Barioth's breath attack blasted the Lance user away, Morgan had stepped up at the critical moment and pinned the Monster down at close range with spread ammo. He had saved the Lance user's life and bought the team precious time to reform its ranks.
Had Morgan not stepped in when their frontliner fell, the agile Barioth would likely have picked off the others one by one.
The entire team might easily have been wiped out.
Morgan did not stand on ceremony. He went straight to the Barioth's back, carefully selected two pale spines, and carved them off. Then he put away his knife and gestured for the others to take whatever they wanted.
"That's all?" the Lance user could not help asking.
Although the Barioth's corpse was covered in wounds, its sheer size meant there were still plenty of useful materials to carve. Morgan had taken only two spines, hardly any different from taking nothing at all.
"This is all I need." A barely perceptible glimmer of delight shone in Morgan's calm eyes.
"I'll keep watch. The rest of you, hurry up and carve. The smell of blood might attract other Monsters. We leave as soon as you're done."
"That's our 'Barioth Slayer,' chasing a High Rank armor set!" the team's Switch Axe user said with a chuckle, only to receive a kick from the team leader.
"Enough chatter. Get carving!"
The Switch Axe user had run his mouth when the leader first invited Morgan along as outside support. Now he was grinning like a fool again. He really was asking for another lesson.
Morgan remained indifferent. People had mocked his build and appearance, or underestimated his strength because of them, more times than he could count.
By now, such trivial things no longer angered him.
Besides, he could tell that the teasing held no malice. If anything, it was born of respect.
This was already the sixth Barioth Hunt he had joined in the two months since arriving in the north.
"Barioth Slayer" and "Barioth Specialist" sounded far too grand to him, but "experienced Barioth hunter" was a label he felt he could live up to.
Nearly every Hunter in Liber's Guild Hall knew about the Heavy Bowgunner from the South who was hunting Barioth relentlessly to forge a Barioth armor set.
He welcomed team Hunts, but insisted on first choice of the finest materials.
Each successful Hunt had gradually transformed the Liber Hunters' initial distrust into eager competition for his help. The current team was among those vying for his aid.
Hunters were simple and direct. To them, strength earned respect.
Some time later, once they had finished carving, the Hunters bundled up the Barioth materials, loaded them onto the sled, and set out through the wind and snow.
—--
A short while after they left, the ice beneath the Barioth's corpse suddenly cracked open.
A Glacial Agnaktor coiled around the bloody carcass and dragged it into the cold, lightless depths beneath ice several meters thick.
—--
The Anteka-drawn sled sped across the smooth ice.
—--
Barely two or three hours later, they were back at the Hunters' Guild Hall in Liber.
At this time of year, snow lay at least a meter deep on the city's roads. Few shops were open, and most residents had stocked up for winter long ago and holed up at home to hibernate through the cold.
The Hunters' Guild Hall tavern seemed to be the liveliest place in the entire city.
The main fire roared, and braziers burned beneath every table. The instant they pushed open the door, stifling heat rushed over them and melted the frost and snow clinging to their beards, hair, and eyelashes.
Recognizing them, a familiar Hunter shouted, "Back already? Went that smoothly, did it?"
Someone else immediately called back with a laugh, "Of course it did! With our adorable 'Barioth Slayer' along, how could it not?"
The words were not quite an insult, but they still grated. The title made Morgan sound less like a Hunter than some sort of mascot.
The bearded Lance user glared at the speaker and growled, "Morgan saved my life out there. Let me hear anyone spout that garbage again..."
He raised a fist the size of an ordinary man's head, and the Switch Axe user beside him flashed a menacing grin.
The heckler gave an awkward laugh and raised his glass toward Morgan in apology.
Morgan calmly tipped his chin toward the man to show he took no offense. The bearded Lance user gave the man one last glare, then let the matter drop.
Hunters raised in the frozen north were usually rough around the edges, women included. Morgan had once found them difficult to get along with because they casually threw around insults like "little missy" and "sissy."
He used to argue over it and sometimes even came to blows.
He knew better now. He had been childish to waste time arguing when he could have spent it getting stronger. Once he was strong enough, no one would look down on him for his appearance.
Once he reached High Rank, the last few mocking whispers would vanish as well.
"I was worried you wouldn't fit in here, but look at you. Settling in nicely, aren't you?" A familiar teasing voice reached him.
The two big men walking beside Morgan whipped around with vicious glares, ready to see who had dared ignore their warning.
An instant later, their expressions turned to surprise.
Morgan, whom they had only ever known as stone-faced, was wearing a rare smile.
"I've already finished everything I came here to do, and you two are only just getting here? Aren't you a little late?"
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