March

They arrived at the end of the long queue.

A tall, tanned man wearing a knight's uniform and a committee badge gave them an emergency distress flare, a parchment paper, and quill, "write your name and sign here." He pointed at the bottom of the waiver.

Deon was about to sign without reading the contents when Mikael stopped him.

"WAIT! Let me read it first."

"Huh? Ah. Okay…" Deon's quill-holding hand hovered above the parchment as Mikael scanned the paper.

[ Hunting Competition Waiver]

[Name of Participant:

By signing this waiver, I accept the responsibility to ensure that I am medically and physically fit before entering into the competition.

I am also aware that participating in this event has its risks. Even so, I release the Heinken Kingdom treasury department as well as the organizing committee from any liabilities, costs, and expenses that might arise from all types of accidents (e.g. robbery, death, injury, etc.) that may occur during the competition.

I fully understand that I am responsible for my life in the hunting field.]

'Ohoh… they're washing their hands off of any responsibility. Does this mean they won't take action even when there's murder between the participants?' Mikael analyzed the nuances and scoffed, 'how cruel you are, king. To send your youngest son into a lawless zone.' His eyes landed on the king's wide back.

Now he knew why the king had a dark grey aura through the blessing of the mist skill—He was a ruthless father.

"Uhmm… are you done reading, sir Mikael?" Deon nervously asked as he felt the piercing glares coming from the impatient lot behind him.

'well, it's not like we can back out.' Mikael thought as he replied, "Yeah. You can sign it now."

With a few fast strokes, Deon signed the paper, handed it to the knight, and hurriedly left.

After all the participants had registered, the parade started.

With the king's royal carriage at the forefront and the attending nobles' carriage at the immediate back, the competitors formed three lines behind their parade.

The citizens of Heinken kingdom went out to the streets and cheered for a good hunt. Those, whose houses were on the route, tossed colorful confetti and petals from their second-floor windows.

"Mama, why are we cheering? My friend says he hates the competition 'cause his father died in it last year…" A young boy asked his mother who was cheering by the roadside.

"Ah… Well, they say it brings good luck. The louder we cheer, the more monsters the participants will slay and the safer we will be." the mother explained as she stroked her son's hair, "Why? Did your friend not know that his father died heroically?"

"His father was a hero? Woooow~" the child's eyes widened in awe.

His mother chuckled at his silly face, "Yes. everyone who dies in the hunt is regarded as a hero. You see? They sacrificed their lives to protect us. By keeping the monsters at bay yearly, you and I can enjoy going outside without worry."

"I see! Then, I have to give them loooots of good luck, mama!" convinced, the young boy cheered at the top of his lungs.

The mood was festive, but the participants were not. The mercenaries and commoners furtively glanced around as if warily seizing the others up. The knights had their signature arrogant expressions while the Combat Almagi were indifferent, probably confident of their fighting abilities.

Deon was lined in the middle lane and around him was a group of middle-aged mercenaries with cruel mugs full of scars. They jovially chatted with each other, not minding the pitiful lamb—a small Deon—caught in between them.

"HAHAHA! I bet we'll have a good harvest again this year!" the one on Deon's right loudly told his companion.

"Yer damn right, mate! I already feel sorry for 'em poor monsters HAHAHA!" the other agreed.

The two large men exchanged a knowing wink and a sidelong glance toward Deon.

"BWAHAHAHA!" they roared, earning them a spiteful glare from other participants.

After circling the capital, the royal carriage left the procession. One by one, the noble's carriages dispersed and only the organizing committee and the participants were left.

Deon's feet hurt. His whole body shook with exhaustion. Not only was the armor set heavy, but he was also unaccustomed to overexertion.

He was a prince! He always had people to serve him so he never knew what it was like to live among the masses. To live without his servants. Without his trusted steed—he never knew hardship and now that he was thrust into this unfamiliar situation, Deon almost cursed his father.

Almost.

But he didn't because he was a filial child.

'Ugh! I. AM. NEVER. GOING TO. ANGER FATHER. AGAIN.' He strongly thought as they arrived at a town north of the kingdom.

"Participants may rest for the night! We shall resume the march tomorrow at 8! Be sure to come on time or else you'll be listed as defectors forfeiting the event." The officers barked for everyone to hear.

Loud sighs erupted from the competitors' mouths. It was not only Deon who thought the march was torture.

However, they could not let themselves relax just yet as they knew that another race was about to start.

Hundreds of participants ran in different directions.

"HUH?! WHA- WHAT'S HAPPENING?!" Deon turned around in panic, but no one cared to answer his question.

He was at a complete loss when Mikael shouted from inside the medium, "Don't just stand there! Follow them!"

"W-who?!" Deon desperately asked.

"ANYONE!"

Deon followed a combat Almaga**. He figured that an anemic Almaga wouldn't be hard to track but to his surprise, the Almaga's black cloak disappeared into an alley.

'Where did she go?! How can an Almaga run faster than me? AAHHH!' Deon's heart powerfully beat against his ribs. He was so frustrated at his own inadequacy that he stomped the ground, forgetting to keep his royal composure.

"Hey, kid! Keep your wits with you and get out of this dark alley." Mikael ordered.

Only then did Deon realize that he had been lured into a dark alley.

Fear engulfed Deon.

'Did the nobles supporting my brothers send assassins?! But why? Why now? And how did they know? Only the royal family knows of this… no way… did my second brother tip them off? I thought he didn't care about me!' all sorts of negative thoughts swirled inside Deon's mind.

With his eyes alert for any movement, Deon unconsciously backed off.

Clang!

His heel collided with a half-empty wine bottle. Its contents sloshed, spilling blood-red wine on the dirty pavement.

Tall shadows appeared from different directions, approaching his location fast!

Deon bit his lower lip. It was not the time to wonder about who sent him assassins. For now, his priority was to escape.

'I will not go down without a fight!' He bravely thought but his body failed to respond to his courage. His feet were planted on the ground, refusing to move, while his hand that held his spear trembled in fear.

The shadows swayed and enlarged like a venomous king cobra.

"WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR?! RUUUN!!" Mikael screamed inside Deon's head, spurring him into action.

Deon turned around—Away from the approaching figures.

Thoughts of fighting completely flew out the window as terror overcame his mind.

--Chapter end--

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**Almaga = female Almagus

Almagus= male Almagus

Almagi = plural form of Almagus

Almagology = the study of Almageia