GameDev Reincarnated into His Own Creation

Chapter 4.2: Profiling

The time for action had finally arrived—not for Vel, but for the adventurers. Curious villagers gathered in clusters around the square, craning their necks toward the far end where Clara's team prepared for departure.

The adventurers' camp looked different in daylight. Last night's fire had turned to ash, with bedrolls and packs bundled for travel. Honka cracked his knuckles methodically. Bestiel traced sigils on his grimoire's cover. Mora counted crossbow bolts. Clara stood apart, greatsword on shoulder, watching the village path.

The Chief stepped forward, raising his hand. The murmuring crowd fell silent.

"People of Oakhaven," he began, his voice carrying across the square. "Today, these gifted adventurers venture forth to eliminate the threat that has been menacing our village. While they fulfill their duty, our guards will maintain vigilance within our walls." He gestured toward the four adventurers with reverence. "Have faith in their proven abilities, as I do. We shall prepare for their victorious return."

Von placed a hand on Vel's shoulder, his expression firm but gentle.

"This is as far as you go," he said. "You stay here, with your mother and sister. Understand?"

Vel nodded, watching the crowd shift restlessly. Some villagers clasped their hands together. Others stared with hollow expressions. A few children tugged at their mothers' skirts, sensing the adults' unease without understanding why.

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The dirt road wound through dense woodland toward the portal's location. Branches creaked overhead as the group moved along the path, weapons ready. Every rustling bush could hide a threat in this corrupted area.

Clara stopped abruptly, raising a hand to signal the group to halt.

"We'll proceed in formation," she commanded, her voice low and steady. "Honka, you take point. Bestiel, stay close to me. Mora, watch the rear. The rest of you, spread out."

Honka cracked his knuckles and took point, bare hands ready. Bestiel stayed close to Clara, clutching his worn grimoire. Mora fell back with her crossbow, scanning the treeline. The guards spread out around them, weapons drawn.

Von took position on the right flank near Honka, his grip tight on his sword hilt. Despite his experience as a guard, sweat beaded on his forehead. He forced himself to scan the treeline methodically.

A rustling in the undergrowth to their left broke the silence. Two dark shapes emerged from the trees, their red eyes glowing menacingly. Wulfangs. Their coarse fur was matted, bony spikes jutting from their necks like grotesque manes.

"Wulfangs!" Von shouted, drawing his sword.

"Hold formation!" Clara commanded.

As everyone turned toward the threat, two more Wulfangs burst from the right flank. The first leaped at a guard near Von, claws extended toward his exposed back—inches from tearing flesh when a crossbow bolt suddenly punched through the creature's shoulder mid-leap. Mora's lightning-quick shot sent it crashing sideways. The wounded Wulfang scrambled up and bolted back into the trees.

The second attacker landed gracefully at the front near Honka and snarled, its red eyes fixed on the monk. It lunged again, aiming for Honka's throat. Honka, with a fluid, almost impossible quickness for his size, dodged the attack, pivoting on his heel and countering with a powerful palm strike to the creature's chest. The Wulfang was sent flying backward, crashing into the undergrowth with a thud.