Facing a C Rank Again.

Adrian and Ruck stalked through the terror filled silence of Hellbound Forest, their eyes like flint-striking steel as they scanned the gnarled trees and teeming shadows.

Protocol, made by Adrian and Cecil dictated avoiding anything above an F-rank beast, a necessary precaution if one prioritiesed survival. Today, however, protocol be damned. They were hunting for something far more ferocious.

Both men bore the crimson evidence of their journey – a trail of blood staining the damp earth, spilt from unlucky F-rank creatures who mistook them for easy prey. The metallic smell hung heavy in the humid air.

Then, as if summoned by the scent of violence, a pack of six F-rank wolves materialized from the dense foliage, their eyes gleaming with predatory hunger.

A collective snarl ripped through the stillness. Ruck, with a sigh that spoke volumes of weary routine, swung his blade in a casual arc.