Watching Freyde rise slowly and with pain from the grass while Harper and Meneur did everything in their power to keep the horned rabbit's attention on them made me realize how different it was to fight as a team. When I was alone, the focus of the beast, be it rabbit, mossbear, or fucking northern eagle, was on me and me alone.

Being solo meant there was no one there to pull me out of the mess if I fucked up. Fighting alone gave me no room for error and hesitation. And honestly, it sucked. Though, it wasn't just my human brain that yearned not to fight solo. My instincts, too. At least some of them.

As I watched what was unfolding in front of me, a trio of my squadmates fighting as a team, a unit, a squad, part of my instincts was drawn to it. The other, on the other hand, saw it as a sign of weakness. The pride was in taking down the prey yourself. Apparently, some of the beasts whose blood coursed through my veins were pack animals, and others were solitary. So when it came to the question of solo or packs...a whole maelstrom of feelings and emotions swept through me.

Anyway, apart from that inner fight, one other thing nagged at my mind.

"Why are they mainly attacking its front legs?" The leaflet that I received from Enola at the City Hall before my first labyrint dive, said nothing about a weakness like that. Eyes, ears, muzzle, neck, belly, crotch, ass. 

"The hornet rabbit leans on them."

"What?"

"It may not have as much strength in front legs as in the hind, but it leans on them, uses them for support and balance."

Well, that's what my hands were for, in a roundabout way. Didn't mean losing them would take me out of the fight, though. "Is it common to fight horned rabbits this way?"

"For rookies. A lengthy yet safe method. As safe as it can be, slowly draining a beast of its strength. I know it looks lame, but trust me, it will help them gain self-confidence, one step at a time. You yourself know how much fighting beasts out of the blue can be pretty overwhelming. Then when the beast kicks your ass in your first fight..."

He didn't need to say more. It wasn't just pride that would suffer then but confidence in one's ability and skills too. That's most likely why Rayden drilled this method into them, and why Sergeant Pinescar insisted they fight this way. They didn't want to make them into merely another rank-and-file city guards, satisfied with a decent salary and the level they had, no drive, no passion. They had more than enough of those.

What Castiana City Guards needed were more people like the master guards.

The squeak-roar drew my attention back to the battlefield. In the short time I spent pondering the way they fought, Harper managed to shoot a striking amount of bolts into its front legs. Blood was pouring from several cuts, and the left leg was burned. The beast's frustration was glaring. Even without the help of [Ride of Ancestors], it was easy to tell how angry it was at his inability to bite into the meat it craved.

"Harper!" Freyde shouted moments before the beast went after the Baker, the squad markswoman. Reading into the body movements of the horned rabbit, he was able to warn her in advance.

Sure, an unexpected shout from your squadmate could be as distracting as the itch on the tip of your nose. But if one expected a warning, and Harper did, it could give her, and it did, just enough time to react and avoid the charging beast without too much difficulty.

The horned rabbit missed again.

Then, a pained whine rippled through the battlefield as the beast tried to stop its momentum and leaned on its wounded forelegs. They gave way underneath the weight, and the rabbit ended up doing a few somersaults through the grass before coming to a halt. At that moment, a bolt plunged into the beast's exposed gut, followed by ember magic that burned through the fur, the skin, and the fat underneath. That was the damage I could see. I still remembered what Meneur's magic had done to me, and the burn could easily go deeper into the muscles and organs.

By the time Freyde reached the horned rabbit, the beast was on its feet, confronting him with its horns, hissing with rage and pain. In this fight, the quarter-gnome had a considerable handicap. In my experience, he was not the speed-based fighter that the beast was. It moved back and forth across the battlefield, up and down, giving him a hard time in dealing any hits.

And then, when he finally got close, he faced claws, fangs, and horns. Poor guy learned what it's like to get hit really hard twice now. Painful, I tell you. The hurt was in the quarter gnome's eyes, his breathing heavy.

The fight continued in that pace and manner for a few more minutes when I noticed one interesting thing. All three of them were using only the most basic of attacks. They were not warriors, master mages, or archers, that was for sure. Even so, what they used was the most basic of the basics. No flour bombs, attempts at fancy swipes, or magic other than a stream of ambers. Kind of like me relying on brute force. 

"In the first fights, it's good to rely on what you know best," Deckard told me when I asked. One could not disagree with that. But what that meant was that my squadmates were as restricted as I was when I faced them at the barracks training grounds. I wasn't sure if Rayden or Pinescar outright forbade them to do more or just advised them not to, but they stuck to what they knew best. That is, besides baking, bookkeeping, and tending the campfire.

The rhythm of the struggle went unchanged for a few more minutes until the horned rabbit could not take another step and just rolled onto its side. Even in that position, it proved dangerous, trying to kick and bite the trio, but all the injuries took their toll. The beast died when, with an effort, Freyde drove the sword into its chest.

For a moment, silence fell among the three members of Squad Four as one looked at the other. Then, fairly likely, as the system announced their kill, they erupted in cheers.

"Fuck yeah," Harper shouted at the top of her lungs, her hands held high, a look of utter elation on her face.

Freyde wore the same expression. Only his joy was mixed with the pain that every shout and movement caused him. Yet, swept up in their triumph, he joined Harper's victory dance. Guess who didn't miss out on the fun when I ran up to them? Idleaf.

"We did it," Meneur said with a pride I had never heard from him before. The big guy stood there, chest out, chin up, standing tall. I could have sworn he was half a head taller than usual. 

And honestly, I was happy for him. 

Still in my tier III beast form, unable to use human language, I gripped his shoulder and nodded with a praising grunt. It was the best I could do at that moment.

 

***

 

"Welkes, stop!" Sergeant Pinescar growled still dozens of steps away. Freyde, a vial of healing potion in his hands, stared at him, puzzled. 

"Sir?"

The master guard tossed him another vial, which the quarter gnome caught with a hiss of pain. "Drink this one. Save yours. It'll spare you the trouble in the barracks." Then, as he looked at the others, I let go of Meneur, adjusted my clothes and waited anxiously to see what he had to say about their feat. Well, the bastard was silent, just looking at them and enjoying their tension. Did they do well, or did they screw up?

"I would say..." he said, pausing, prolonging the suspense. "Not bad. Plenty of room for improvement, but not bad for your first real fight. Congratulations on the first kill."

The trio broke out into cheers again before quickly cooling down, realizing who stood before them. Pinescar didn't seem to mind, though. In this case, at least. He turned out not to be the heartless man he made us believe he was. After all, he, too, once had to experience his first kill, that joy. Yet moments later, he went over their mistakes while they had the fights still fresh in their minds. And there were a hell of a lot of them. So much so that one might get the impression that instead of rejoicing at the first kill, they should be glad to be alive at all.

Sure, most of Pinescar's gripes were minor details, but...

‘Shit! Why was he looking at me?’

"Take it off."

What? What was he talking about? What was I supposed to take off? Did he mean my tier III beast form?

"Your clothes, Grey. If you want to fight in that form, which I recommend, take your clothes off?"

Was he serious?

"Deckard?" 

"Did you honestly not notice, Little Beast?"

Noticed what? What was wrong with my clothes? Then I subconsciously adjusted my undies, and it hit me. 

"Yeah, you fidget all the time since your beast turn."

"Did I?" I did, didn't I? Damn!

Having so much fur hidden under the fabric was highly uncomfortable, not to mention that my body grew and bulked up with the beast form. So, why hadn't it been such an issue until now? Because usually, by the time I shifted into this form, my clothes were already in tatters, or in anticipation of them ending up that way, I took them off beforehand.

It would be a smart thing to do the same here, but...getting naked in front of others while I was still a human was highly embarrassing. Undressing afterwards, in turn, noting that I found it awkward. I know, stupid. The Squad Four had already seen me in my full beast form, my clothes in tatters. Yet I still wanted to make a good impression on them. Make them not think I was just a beast.

What I achieved was even more awkward, though.

There wasn't much to take off, even less to look at then. Still embarrassing. It was one thing to know why I was doing it, another to sort it out in my head and get over it. Judging by Freyde's bulging pants, I clearly wasn't the only one who had a hard time with my nudity.

"I recommend you get outfit-spatial rings," Sergeant Pinescar said as I handed the folded clothes to Deckard for safekeeping. Raising my eyebrows, I cocked my ears and hummed 'Huh?' to let him know I had no idea what he was talking about. The outfit-spatial rings? What the hell were those?

"You either get clothes designed specifically for the shifters or buy pins to go with the rings. You clip them on your clothes, and then the same way when you take out and put things in a regular spatial ring, you simply take them off and put them on. No hassle with dressing and undressing. You can imagine it's not just a thing that shifters use."

I looked at Deckard. "Why the fuck didn't you tell me?"

"You were the one who didn't want help from me."

All I could do was grit my teeth and clench my fists. He was right about that, but he damn well could have told me about that.

"You should also watch out for common tools like rings, bracelets, chains, and such. Get the ones with enchantments for automatic size adjustments." It wasn't hard to figure out why. If the next tier of my beast transformation was even more substantial, the rings on my hand could choke my fingers. The same was true for bracelets, necklaces and other accessories.

Leaving me with that bombshell information, he glanced at the rest of Squad Four. "If you're going into a fight with clothes that don't fit, a weapon that's off balance and cuts your hands, you're better off not fighting at all. Whether you will be aware of it or not, such small things will nag your mind and fuck you up at the worst possible moment. Trust me, experience."

"Not every fight you can be prepared for," Deckard noted, once again showing his go with your gut approach. It made me realize what had seemed so familiar about Sergeant Pinescar all along. He insisted on being prepared the way Rayden did. Thinking about it, she most likely drilled that into his head.

"...nor will the enemy wait for you until you are. Sure," said the master guard, unfazed by Deckard's remark. "No harm in being as prepared as you can, though."

My mentor just shrugged, not taking the argument any further. There was no point. He wasn't going to change his mind now when even Rayden couldn't convince him, and Sergeant Pinescar didn't even bother. Instead, he turned his attention back to us, Squad Four.

It was time to fight together, like the squad we were supposed to be. And to do that, we needed to know our roles, which…we did. Sort of. I was supposed to be a tank, but apart from the general idea I had of it from the games that was about the extent of my knowledge of the role I was assigned. And the master guard was aware of the issue. I mean my lack of understanding of my part in the squad, not the games. That's why he briefed us before releasing us on the next hunt.

The fight was supposed to go like the last one, except I was to engage the horned rabbit more up close, keeping the attention on me so that Freyde could attack as well. 

It sounded simple. 

 

***

 

"What do you think? Are they going to fuck up?" asked Pinescar in a whisper. The Squad Four was moving a short distance ahead of them, looking for another beast, and he didn't want them to hear him.

Deckard raised an eyebrow. "You mean...?"

"Yeah, the curse of the second fight." It wasn't really a curse and didn't have to be necessarily the second fight. It might as well have happened in the third or fourth, but almost without exception at some point, it always happened. The rookies, carried away by their cautious approach and victories, gained too much confidence and started taking risks, showing off in front of each other, leading to the beast teaching them a lesson.

"No, not now. They will stick to what they have been told, and Little Beast will do her best to keep them safe."

"You have a lot of confidence in her."

"You would too if you saw what I did..." said Deckard but didn't elaborate further. "I see them getting in each other's way, that's it."

"Oh, I see what you mean. It's their first fight together. They'll be careful. The next beast, then?"

"Yeah, the baker girl is itching for more action, the accountant's frustrated with the way the fight went, and the mage? He's cool-headed but inexperienced. I think he'll panic when things get hairy."

Pinescar smirked. "Heard you were an exceptional drill instructor in the army, not just the rumors, I see. Anyway, the only unknown to me is your gal."

"You want to bet?" Deckard asked.

"On what?"

"Whether or not she'll fuck up too."

Pinescar glanced at Korra Grey, actually Korra'leigh Grey, the Guardian of the fucking World Tree whose spirit was running silently between them. 

"Nah, I'm not much of a betting man." Not true. He just liked to bet when he was sure what he was betting on, and the hybrid of man and beast was a great unknown to him. 

Deckard just shrugged, smiling under his breath, knowing full well that his apprentice had heard them despite the sergeant's best efforts to keep his voice down.

 

***

 

Are we really gonna fuck this up? The words of the two seasoned men behind us boggled my mind. Was it really inevitable? If not in this fight, then in the next one or the one after that? Sure, it hadn't always gone according to plan, but if everyone keeps doing their best, then...yeah, it was inevitable. There was no point in telling myself otherwise.

And it might not just be mistakes made by Meneur, Freyde, or Harper. It could very well be me. I was prone to do them, too, even more so when I had a seriously hard time communicating with them. How the fuck was I supposed to tell them what I wanted to do when all that was coming out of my throat were growls?

I was considering asking Deckard for his union ring when Idleaf saved the day. She actually enjoyed translating my growls for my squadmate, and she did it well, no shenanigans.

So, when we found our prey, my squadmates knew I wasn't going to prowl through the grass as I showed them earlier nor wait for it to attack first. Well, the plans were one thing. The execution was another. It was a struggle to fight the urge to prowl through the grass imposed on me by my instincts and intensified by [Ride of Ancestors] - it felt as if it went against the very essence of my being - but I held on, my will stronger than my drive. I didn't prowl, nor did I sneak. Just slightly crouched like the others and in formation with them, we closed in on the horned rabbit, our prey. 

The moment the beast noticed us, the struggle with my unruly instincts was over. The prowl no longer mattered, prey did. And on how to take it down, me and my body were in accord this time.

I dashed forward, putting all the strength I could into my legs. It was essential not to allow the beast to attack, not to give it the chance to use its greatest weapon, its charge. In seconds, I was by the horned rabbit. The stupid beast hadn't finished his squeak-roar yet, and I punched it in the side with my fist.

The blow wasn't supposed to hurt it. At least, I didn't think it would. It didn't. What my punch was supposed to do was get the beast's attention and test the strength of my strike without [Fierce Pounce] among my skills on something I knew - hard to judge one's punches on a beast like mossbear - and well...it wasn't as bad as I thought it would be. 

Sure, I was several levels stronger than the last time I faced a horned rabbit, but those few skill points didn't replace the entire skill with bonuses. No, my blows weren't as strong as with the skill, but the force behind them caught me off guard.

The reason wasn't hard to find, though. Thanks to the experience gained in Esulmor and [Ride of Ancestors] I utilized the strength I had much more effectively. 

Two more strikes, and the beast's paw was hit by a bolt. One more punch and its front leg was struck by hot embers, the smell of burnt fur immediately hitting my nose. The horned rabbit squeaked-roared, and its gaze went to Meneur.

The beast's muscles tensed - that much wasn't hard to tell through my punches - its target, our mage, no doubt. 

"Meneur," Freyde roared, heralding the horned rabbit's aim a few heartbeats later. How the beast's intent could not be clear to others was beyond me. 

Their blindness aside, I had to do something if I wanted to stop the beast from taking charge at the taurus. The question was, what? My mind raced. If I used my beast presence, I'd paralyze everyone. The poison was out of the question, completely unsuited to this fight. So, what options did I have? The realization hit me. Just punches, kicks, and my claws. I had a lot of skills, allowing me to survive and defend myself pretty well, but my offense was severely hampered.

Glancing at my clenched fists, I wished more than ever that I was able to control mana at a usable level - to utilize [Mantle of Magic] to a degree where I could do some real damage.

With no time to cry over spilled milk, I pulled out my claws and attacked the rabbit's head, the place I always tried to avoid in confrontation with these beasts, any beast, actually. It put me too close to its fangs and the claws of its forelegs.

It worked, though. Sure, the scratches I left on the snout of the quarter-ton beast I wouldn't call real damage, but I had its attention. Too much of it, actually. I dodged sideways, rolled, ducked, tumbled, and wondered.

'What the actual f...!'

Something didn't add up. I trained, but....this was way too easy. What was it, though? What was different?

Was it that I was part of the team? Harper was hitting the horned rabbit with one bolt after another, finding an opening fairly easily between me and Freyde, who had finally joined me in the front line and was working to find chances to strike the beast. Meneur struggled more and eventually gave up attacking the horned rabbit's front legs altogether, targeting its body instead.

But no, that wasn't why I found facing claws and a mouth with long sharp teeth so easy. I knew this dance. Only my dance partner used to be a beast almost ten times the level of this one, the mossbear.

I almost laughed when I realized that.

Compared to the mossbear, the horned rabbit was an all but harmless little beast. Still, deadly for sure. If I relaxed for just a moment, I would end up ripped to shreds. That much I was aware of. But, the horned rabbit was simply no match for the denizens of the Esulmor woods.

The beast came to a similar realization, it seemed. I may have been agile and a big fucking pain in the ass, but to my annoyance, relatively harmless. So, despite my best efforts, the beast changed its target.

It tried to go after Freyde first. I was always there, though. Every lunge it made, every attempt to bite the quarter-gnome in half, I fended off either with my own body or with the barrier. Sure, I got in Freyde's way a few times, but it couldn't be helped.

When that didn't work, the already heavily bleeding horned rabbit jumped up.

"Meneur!" shouted Freyde moments before the beast pushed off the ground. I found his warnings more annoying than helpful, hurting my ears. After all, it wasn't hard for me to tell what the horned rabbit was up to. The question was how to respond to that.

Should I jump too?

I opted for a dash in an arc through the grass towards the taurus. With Freyde's warning, he was sure to get away in time. No, my target was not him but the landing beast. The moment the ground trembled under the weight of the horned rabbit's impact, I slammed into its side with full force.

The beast let out a pained roar as the weight of its body came down on its injured forelegs, and they buckled under it as it tried to resist at the same time my effort to topple it. Belly exposed, I took the chance and was about to thrust my hand into his chest claw-first like a spear - I did that once before - instead, I hastily put them in front of me to shield my head from the kick of his hind leg.

Earlier I had wondered how much strength his hind legs must have had. Now I was regretting finding out at all. The kick shattered the barrier I put up in a hurry as if it wasn't even there and hit my arms. This time, a pained roar ripped from my throat, my arms broken, me flying through the air like a rag doll. 

Well, for a few heartbeats.

Just like under the branches of the World Tree, my flight instincts kicked in fast, and I righted myself mid-air, landing on the ground feet first. Without hesitation, I sent mana into my broken arms to boost the regeneration. Then, gritting my teeth, I raised my head to look at the beast and my squad. 

 

• Your group has defeated [Horned Rabbit: lvl 41]

 

They finished the bastard.