"I killed a demon. I cut off its head and left its corpse to be gnawed by beasts and maggots. I have already completed my revenge!"
"But you haven't!"
"I killed the ringleader—but that alone cannot end your hatred. You need more demon lives. Slaughter them. Reap them. Let their blood soak into this land, dye the ruins of Val City a deep crimson!"
"We must let the demons know that they have awakened a pack of wolves that should have slept their entire lives. Once the wild is awakened, fangs and claws will tear apart their flesh—and their souls!"
"I swear on my life that I will train you into the most elite warriors—so that you will beco—"
"The demons' nightmare!"
Darrick grew more and more impassioned, his voice hoarse by the end, nearly a roar.
The speech itself might not have been particularly eloquent, but for the survivors of Val City—people starving for revenge and desperate for soone to lead them—it was more than enough.
Their emotions ignited. Shouts erupted, and a fanatical fervor filled the air.
At that mont, Darrick continued, his voice ringing out:
"We do not yet possess enough strength! We have not received the recognition of the Wolf's Blood, nor have we defeated the Undead Legion! We are not worthy of calling ourselves the Undead Legion!"
"But I hope that one day, we will truly earn the recognition of the Farron Undead Legion and inherit their legacy! And so, I have boldly chosen the title closest to them!"
"Our na is—the Farron Guard!"
Amid thunderous cheers, the Farron Guard was officially born into this world.
"Well said."
Luluwo quietly lowered her hand and dispelled the Excitation Spell. She had planned to magically stimulate everyone's emotions if Darrick's speech failed to resonate.
Judging by the current atmosphere, that clearly hadn't been necessary.
Whether the speech was good or bad didn't truly matter to the survivors—who should now be called the Farron Guard. As long as they could receive guidance, it was sothing worth celebrating.
That night, massive bonfires were lit across the farm. Darrick personally hunted two whole pigs from the gourt zone and paid out of pocket for several cartloads of fine alcohol.
Amid firelight and drink, emotions that had been suppressed for far too long finally found release—curses, shouts, sobs—every tangled feeling lting into the flas.
The next day, training for the Farron Guard officially began.
Everyone's circumstances were different. So had never fought before. So knew a trick or two. Others were seasoned but low-level adventurers.
For those with little or no combat experience, Darrick taught the most basic combat stances. Only after they beca familiar with these fundantals would they be allowed to enter dungeon combat.
Those with prior experience were taken directly into the dungeon, engaging in live battles with the goal of harvesting souls to level up.
The bonfires and the souls of the Sein Dungeon truly brought hope to the weak.
The Luluwo Group's speedrun routes proved invaluable. By following them, the Guard could bypass troubleso areas and hunt monsters that yielded greater soul rewards, greatly improving leveling efficiency.
Since everyone's strength was still low, the soul requirents for leveling weren't high either. Early progress was obvious, and morale soared.
Once their strength reached a certain threshold, Darrick planned—depending on individual willingness—to bring them to et the Old Wolf of Farron and undergo the Wolf Blood Trial.
The success rate might be low, but Darrick possessed a thod to improve it—one he hadn't yet shared with anyone.
Darrick was only one man and couldn't oversee every mber. Most of his ti was spent leading teams into the dungeon.
As for those still learning basic combat stances, they were handed over to reinforcents dispatched by the Adventurers' Guild—an elderly instructor.
"I never thought that at the brink of retirent, I'd end up teaching such a legendary organization," the instructor said. Though he had only ever been a Silver-rank adventurer, his mastery of combat fundantals was encyclopedic.
"Thank you for your hard work, Mr. Kari," Darrick said sincerely.
"Haha! I hate demons too. I'll give it my all to train them into the best demon killers possible!"
At night, Darrick occasionally offered additional instruction, teaching the sword techniques of the Farron Undead Legion.
Very few could truly comprehend the style. Most wore utterly baffled expressions.
In such cases, Darrick would have them wield his Farron greatsword—its damage in the painted world wasn't real—and activate the combat arts engraved upon it.
People would often shout in surprise as their bodies were forcibly dragged along by the sword, involuntarily breakdancing across the ground.
Though inefficient, this thod allowed them to experience the elegance of the techniques in advance, which was still valuable.
It was said that among the Legion's allies were magic users, but unfortunately, none of the people here possessed magical talent.
Using the farm as their base, the Farron Guard trained day after day, gradually growing accustod to Darrick's wolf pack.
Later, they even received guidance from an unexpected figure—the Sword Saint, Gapar.
One day, he appeared at the farm without warning. With just a few words of instruction, so mbers' swordsmanship improved by leaps and bounds, earning widespread admiration.
Unfortunately, Gapar never stayed long and only appeared occasionally.
The most recent ti, Darrick noticed his complexion looked off and asked what had happened.
Gapar replied:
"I got punched a few tis by a golden monster in the forest that looks like a gorilla but calls itself a lion."
What kind of monster could beat up Gapar? Darrick was shocked—and deeply curious. He vowed to see it with his own eyes soday.
After the Farron Guard began training, the Farron Exploration Team rarely disturbed them, though Darrick maintained close contact. Occasionally, he invited them over to recount stories of Farron, if only to stabilize morale.
The Wolf Knight painting was entrusted to the Exploration Team for safekeeping. Unfortunately, almost no one dared enter it—after hearing that once you died inside, you could never escape.
Darrick's hundreds of death scenarios remained undiscovered, much to his imnse relief.
Occasionally, guild mbers borrowed the painting, and as ti passed, so even collected Wolf Knight paintings themselves—it wasn't a unique item, after all.
Everything was proceeding smoothly. Darrick even began to entertain a bold idea.
Once these people grew strong enough, they would challenge the Farron Undead Legion. After defeating them, they could rightfully rena themselves the Undead Legion.
It was an ambitious goal—but not an impossible one.
With the Wolf Blood activated, Darrick could now fight the Legion for over a hundred exchanges and even injure them slightly.
He could still grow stronger.
Perhaps the day he defeated the Legion wasn't so far away.
But accidents always ca.
The leveling bottleneck arrived faster than expected. Perhaps it was because everyone was too motivated, spending all day imrsed in the dungeon.
The Farron Guard mostly fard souls in Farron Keep. Aside from its atmosphere, the difficulty there was relatively low.
But low difficulty ant low rewards. The souls from monsters there were no longer enough to go around.
That was when Luluwo made a proposal.
"How about switching regions? I highly recomnd the forest. As for why—"
She pulled out a map, wearing a smug grin.
"I made a route for it."
The forest region was slightly more difficult than Farron Keep.
But unlike the fortress, which teed with monsters, the forest had very few trash mobs. Most enemies there were elite-level monsters.
With the Farron Guard's current strength, hunting a single monster in five-man teams seed manageable.
Elite monsters yielded far more souls than Ghrus, and the intense battles provided invaluable training.
Luluwo's map marked several elite monsters and the shortest routes to reach them. Of course, monster locations could change at any ti—these were simply the most likely encounter points.
Simple sketches depicted the monsters: so resembled giant wolves, others flying dragons, and one looked like a parasol-shaped bird.
At the deepest part of the map, a location was marked with a bright red X—a clear warning never to approach it.
After careful consideration, the Farron Guard relocated to the forest region to hone their strength.
That day, Darrick ford a three-man team and entered the forest.
They planned to hunt a monster called the Great Jagras, which often traveled with a pack of smaller ones, making it troubleso to deal with.
One of his companions was a tall, powerfully built, hot-blooded youth nad Wisk.
The other, slimr and carrying a scholarly air, was nad Klan. Though born into a hunter family, his appearance made him look more like a graduate of a magic academy.
These two were currently the strongest among the Farron Guard, each possessing roughly half the strength Darrick had when he first appeared.
"This forest feels like it has its own ecosystem," Klan said, picking a wildflower as he watched herbivorous monsters drinking peacefully by a lake. "No wonder scholars are interested in this place."
Suddenly, earth-shaking footsteps echoed through the forest, startling the herbivores into fleeing.
The next mont, a massive figure burst from the trees.
It was a wingless dragon—fierce-looking, yet its mane was combed into sothing resembling a middle-part hairstyle, making it unintentionally ridiculous.
Their target had arrived—the Great Jagras.
"Sa as yesterday. Go."
Darrick stayed where he was. Wisk laughed loudly and charged forward, swinging his greatsword.
"Too reckless," Klan muttered, drawing his straight sword and following close behind.
Sensing hostility, the Great Jagras imdiately engaged them in fierce combat.
Despite their vastly different personalities, the two worked together seamlessly, battering the monster into disarray.
Suddenly, the injured Great Jagras roared and fled.
"Not again! Why do monsters here always run halfway through a fight?!" Wisk shouted angrily as he chased after it, with Klan close behind.
Darrick followed while observing their movents, nodding repeatedly. They had clearly grown stronger.
Then, without warning, a shadow fell from the sky, accompanied by a far more ferocious dragon's roar.
Before anyone could react, sothing plunged downward—followed by violent flas and explosions.
Darrick's eyelid twitched as he looked up.
As expected—it was that bastard again.
Appearing on the battlefield was the absolute scum among scum—the so-called "map police" that had once blasted mining workers and Roger to smithereens in the Sein Dungeon—
Bazelgeuse.
This monster was infamous among adventurers. Anyone exploring the forest region might encounter it.
And once you did, you were guaranteed a nightmare you'd never forget.
"Mr. Darrick!" Flas cut him off from Wisk's group.
"You two chase the Great Jagras!" Darrick shouted. "I'll handle this one!"
He deliberately drew Bazelgeuse's attention until Wisk and the others escaped safely.
Then Bazelgeuse grew tired of bombing from above and dove straight toward him.
Not entirely by choice—it couldn't stay airborne for long and needed to glide down to conserve stamina.
The situation was dire. How would Darrick evade it?
"Hah!"
He shouted and suddenly leapt into the air—far beyond his previous limits.
Why?
Because he had exchanged the emblem obtained from painting fragnts with Rogue for a blessing.
[Skeleton's Leap: Grants jumping power akin to a Skeleton Warrior.]
He had once been lucky enough to bring this blessing out—and redeeming it again now had upgraded it.
Twisting midair, Darrick delivered a devastating Wolf Leap straight onto Bazelgeuse's head, smashing it into the ground.
But in an instant, Bazelgeuse beat its wings and surged back into the sky—dragging Darrick with it.
Fortunately, it didn't climb high—more like a glide.
Unfortunately, that height was still extrely dangerous.
"This is bad."
He dared not provoke Bazelgeuse further. If it fell, he would beco at paste.
All he could do was endure its violent shaking, searching for a chance to land safely—but—
Why was Bazelgeuse gliding in this direction?
Darrick suddenly rembered Luluwo's map. Cold sweat poured down his back.
They were heading straight toward the red X.
If I jump now, will I make it?
He didn't dare approach such a place recklessly.
At that mont, an even more savage roar echoed from deep within the forest.
Darrick froze.
But Bazelgeuse reacted differently.
It was excited.
It seed eager—desperate—to challenge the owner of that roar.
Gales tore past Darrick's ears as the world spun violently.
This kind of high-speed aerial glide was not sothing one experienced often—
And Darrick sincerely hoped he never would again.
He gripped Bazelgeuse's scales tightly, preparing to use it as a cushion upon impact.
Then—
He saw it.
A massive, golden figure suddenly leapt into view.
Upon seeing it clearly, Darrick recalled Gapar's words.
"A golden monster that looks like a gorilla but calls itself a lion."
Staring at it with his own eyes, Darrick could only mutter:
"How can this thing possibly be called a lion…?"
From Monster Hunter—
Rajang makes its grand entrance.
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