Gaark Velter.
A former Hunter who, after retiring, was recruited by the Explorer's Guild and now serves as the chief of the Imperial Capital Branch. A man of extraordinary caliber.
There was likely no Hunter in the capital who didn't know his name.
Though he had long since retired, his legendary exploits were still widely known among active Hunters.
A man who wielded a halberd — a weapon notoriously difficult to handle — with absolute mastery, annihilating every obstacle, Monster, and Phantom in his path. He earned the epithet "War Demon."
His exceptional combat skills placed him among the upper echelon even among Level 7 certified Hunters.
Having withdrawn from the front lines and lost the power that came with Mana Materials, his strength still rivaled that of active Hunters. It was practically a tradition of the Imperial Capital Branch for any Hunter foolish enough to hassle a Guild staff member to receive a painful lesson from Gaark.
But Gaark was one of the capital's most important figures. He held a prominent position, and on top of that, he was busy with negotiations involving the Empire and whatnot.
No matter how much strength he retained, he was not someone who should have been coming out to a dangerous battlefield like this.
Gaark narrowed his eyes with a nostalgic expression, seemingly moved by the atmosphere of the Treasure Hall he hadn't visited in so long. Sven pointed out with exasperation: "Chief, you're not a Hunter anymore, you know that?"
"Of course I do. Well, I haven't lost to any active Hunters yet, though."
Gaark grinned, thumping his chest with his fist.
His appearance — a physique packed with lean, unblemished muscle, encased in heavy crimson armor, a Treasure Weapon gripped in his hand — said he was completely ready for action.
Ah, this guy doesn't get it at all. Can't believe the Deputy Chief actually signed off on this.
Sven let out a deep sigh.
Gaark had indeed maintained his strength remarkably well for someone with over a decade of inactivity. His Mana Material retention rate must have been exceptionally high. He also appeared to have kept up his physical training. Even from Sven's perspective, he was more than qualified as a Hunter.
But that didn't make coming to the front lines any less problematic.
Two men who appeared to be researchers from the Relic Investigation Institute — whom Gaark had brought along — were frowning and glancing around at the roars of the Phantoms echoing from somewhere.
The Relic Investigation Institute was the Empire's department responsible for investigating Treasure Halls and Treasure Weapons.
Investigations into anomalies like the one in this Treasure Hall fell under their jurisdiction. Due to the nature of their work, they were closely connected to the Explorer's Guild.
However, most of their members were researchers and non-combatants.
The two men brought along by Gaark this time likely had combat ability no different from ordinary civilians.
Sven looked at the pair crouching on the ground, scooping up dirt and chatting about something, then turned to Gaark.
"What about those two?"
"I had to push through a major budget increase for this operation. They insisted on coming, and I couldn't refuse. They won't get in the way."
Faced with words that left no room for argument, Sven decided to accept it for now.
This wasn't the time for bickering, and complaining wouldn't make them leave anyway.
Many members of the Relic Investigation Institute tended to look down on Hunters, but with Gaark present, there shouldn't be any issues. Best to keep them where Gaark could keep an eye on them.
Chief Gaark was a former high-level Hunter. Even with his gap in service, he wouldn't be a hindrance. More importantly, a former Hunter who had created all sorts of legends joining the fray would boost morale.
Above all, they had no right of refusal.
Sven led them to the center of the formation and gave a status report.
As Sven explained with the map spread out, Gaark snorted and grunted.
His expression held both relief at having arrived in time and a deep, wary vigilance.
One of the researchers spoke up in response to Sven's report.
"Slimes...? What comes out of this Treasure Hall is wolves. There have been no reports of any other Phantoms appearing, and there's no terrain around here suitable for slimes to inhabit."
As if they didn't already know that.
When Sven and the Black Gold Cross had first arrived at the Treasure Hall, they hadn't had Klay's information yet. But the reinforcements who came after had investigated every possible angle before arriving.
Just as Sven was about to respond, the other researcher — a sharp-eyed middle-aged man who had been standing with his arms crossed in thought — spoke up.
Bitterness seeped into his tone.
"But these are the words of the Thousand Transformations. That man is eccentric, but he doesn't miss anomalies in Treasure Halls. ...We've had our share of miserable experiences because of him too."
"Miserable experiences...?"
"Because of that bastard who predicts accidents that come completely out of nowhere, our whole department gets treated like incompetents. This time too, if something happens and we didn't increase personnel, the blame will come pouring in from every direction. We're completely cornered... Dammit!"
The man kicked the ground in frustration, and for some reason, Sven felt a sense of kinship with him.
"Honestly, wouldn't it be better if he got it wrong for once? Don't you think it's absurd how everything revolves around the words of a man who can only shrug and say 'bad luck' when he's wrong?"
"...Hey, cool it with that."
"Ah, slip of the tongue."
He apologized after the other researcher tapped him on the shoulder.
But hearing the man's words, the Hunters who had been eyeing Sven and his group with suspicion began to look at them differently.
The suspicion hadn't disappeared entirely, but the dismissive attitude was gone.
"Still, the probability of a powerful slime or whatever showing up here is practically zero. No — there doesn't exist a Treasure Hall within the Empire that would produce slimes harmful to you. At least, that's the case for now. Unfortunately, we can predict but precognition is outside our expertise. I can't entirely rule out the possibility that this Treasure Hall could immediately become a slime-exclusive Treasure Hall, but speaking as a reasonably sane expert, I'd say that's rather unlikely."
"Yeah, I'd agree."
Sven nodded at the roundabout, somewhat sarcastic phrasing. Gaark, standing beside him, just scowled and said nothing.
There were rare cases where a Treasure Hall's characteristics changed drastically. But so far, only a handful had ever been confirmed.
More importantly, if something like that happened, not even the Black Gold Cross could handle it.
"Any other possibilities?"
"Who knows. I have no idea what could come out of here. If it weren't for orders from above, I would never have come to a place like this."
The man shrugged dramatically and sighed.
The middle-aged man seemed to outrank the other researcher, who, though he looked disapproving, said nothing.
It seemed the members here were unanimous: they wanted to get out of this alive.
Another Party returned, filling in another section of the map.
"If the chance of wild slimes appearing is low, what about non-wild ones?"
Gaark suddenly looked up and spoke to Sven.
"Creating slimes is one of an Alchemist's specialty skills. It's true that wild ones showing up in that form is practically impossible, but if one was created by an Alchemist, there could still be a possibility."
Sven considered Gaark's suggestion for a moment, then shook his head.
"...Nah, that's hard to imagine. A skilled Alchemist could certainly create powerful slimes, but even that has its limits. If you were going to invest that much money and time into researching powerful slimes, I'd rather study Magical Puppets or Mechanical Puppets."
"S-Slimes do have... their good points, that's what Citry told me..."
Talia, the only Alchemist among them, chimed in, though she didn't deny Sven's words.
An Alchemist's magic differed from a Mage's in that it required both cost and time. If you were going to spend time on slimes, you'd be better off spending it on other fields. That was the common understanding.
Sven glanced at the glass bottle of dark liquid hanging from his belt.
"...Either way, at the worst, we have the Anti-Slime Potion on our side. Though it'd be best if we never had to use it."
"There's only one bottle, so we have to be careful."
Talia clenched her fists nervously and nodded.
The source of the intelligence was nothing more than a single Hunter's word. No concrete evidence had been provided.
But everyone present — to varying degrees — were on guard against what had been said.
Their vigilance was directed not only inside the Treasure Hall but also toward the forest, where the curtain of darkness was steadily falling.
"...Come to think of it, the one who went into the forest earlier —"
Had he come back?
Just as Sven was about to check, a faint sound reached his ears.
It was so small it could have been swallowed by the wind. It vanished in an instant, but it was no mistake.
"Single whistle. All hands, alert!"
Sven shouted.
A single whistle blast was the signal for Monster detection. The reason it was so faint was probably because there hadn't been time to blow it longer.
The Hunters remaining in the formation quickly took up battle stances.
The investigation was nearly complete.
Three Parties were still inside the Treasure Hall. Most of the Hunters mobilized for this operation were gathered in front of it.
Gaark gripped his Treasure Weapon — Ice Storm Fang — and asked Sven with a grim expression: "Hey, Sven. That whistle — where did it come from?"
Sven was an Archer. Good eyes, and good ears.
In an enclosed space with echoing acoustics, pinpointing the source of a sound would be difficult, but in this situation, there was no chance of misheathing.
He steadied his breathing and stared intently.
His gaze wasn't directed at the Treasure Hall, but toward the depths of the brush where the brown-haired Hunter had headed earlier.
"It's in the forest... not the Treasure Hall. Damn it!"
The trees rustled. The earth shook.
A thunderous shock — the kind that resonated from deep in one's gut — rumbled in from the depths of the forest, accompanied by a deep, resonant sound.
The whistle was no longer audible.
Daylight was already fading. The forest, dense and overgrown, was dark enough as it was, and visibility was deteriorating rapidly.
The Mages among the Hunters each cast illumination spells. Soft orbs of light floated into the air, dispelling the darkness.
The two non-combatants from the Relic Investigation Institute backed away. Sven nocked an arrow to his bow and aimed in the direction the sound had come from.
And then, from beyond the darkness, a figure burst out as if being dragged forward.
"Guh... damn... it's... coming."
It was the brown-haired Hunter. But his face was twisted in agony, and both his arms had been severed roughly halfway down. Mangled bone jutted out where flesh had been. Blood dripped steadily. The armor that should have been covering his body was gouged through, and the sword he'd been carrying was nowhere to be found.
He tumbled into the formation, and Party members rushed to his side, grabbing him and pulling him to safety.
He was combat-disabled. This wasn't a simple case of broken fingers. With both arms gone past the hands, gripping a sword was impossible.
"Henrik, healing — now!"
"...! Y-Yes!"
Henrik, the Wound Healer, rushed over at Sven's command.
He examined the injuries with a grave expression, then froze in disbelief.
Both arms, as if torn and twisted apart — wounds that no ordinary attack could produce.
The severed ends were warped as if wrung by tremendous force. Even if the arms were still intact, reattaching them would have been highly questionable.
Sven didn't know either. He had fought countless Monsters over the years, but he couldn't imagine what kind of attack could cause injuries like these.
The sound of destruction was steadily approaching, like a massive Magical Beast crashing through trees as it closed in.
A faint white light spread from Henrik's palms.
The exposed bone and dripping blood swelled and reformed in moments, the wounds sealing over as flesh knitted back together. The bleeding stopped. But the lost hands were gone for good.
While receiving magical treatment, the brown-haired Hunter screamed in a hoarse, ragged voice: "Pant... pant... It's not... a slime! What... what is that — don't get caught up in it. Don't go near it! Run!"
At his words, the Party stationed near the forest's edge backed away from the brush and repositioned.
And then, fully prepared and braced for whatever was coming, the Hunters watched as the monster emerged from the depths of the forest.
Under the glow of their magic, Sven's eyes went wide in shock as the creature's form was illuminated.
"A sli... me?"
It was utterly unlike any creature Sven and his group had ever fought.
Its footsteps were nearly silent, but if one listened closely, a bizarre sound could be heard — something wet and heavy dragging itself across the ground.
It was large. Taller than Sven, if one were to judge by height.
A humanoid figure, entire body deep crimson. Its frame was bigger than Sven's, but rather than calling it imposing, "mass" was the more apt description.
"Is it... melting?"
Talia gasped at the grotesque sight and took a step back.
Hearing her words, Sven realized that the creature in front of them bore a resemblance to the Phantoms that appeared in this Treasure Hall.
Its original form was almost entirely gone.
But if forced to describe it, it was a "melted Wolf Knight."
Arms, legs, fur, armor — more than half of every surface had dissolved into a dripping, shapeless mass. It couldn't even hold its posture, nearly collapsing in on itself.
Yet the one thing that remained perfectly clear was a pair of gleaming golden eyes, reflecting the Hunters waiting before it.
A creature with a liquid body.
If one listed only its characteristics, it could perhaps be called a slime.
But its appearance was far too violent to warrant such a name.
Slimes were "that kind" of creature, but the thing before them was a failed attempt at constructing a physical form.
In the wake of the monster's passage, nothing remained at all.
A portion of its near-liquid shoulder brushed against a single tree. That alone was enough — the tree snapped and crumbled to the ground.
It wasn't magic. It hadn't launched an attack. It had simply touched it.
The surface of its body — one couldn't even tell if it was blood or flesh — bubbled and frothed. The sheer grotesqueness of it made one of the researchers widen his eyes to their limit and clamp a hand over his mouth.
It wasn't fast. Only as fast as an injured Hunter could flee.
One of the Hunters muttered while slowly backing away: "Is it... dying?"
"N-No! From the moment I encountered it, it was already —"
The enemy that the Thousand Transformations had been about to dispatch the Clan's strongest Hero to face.
That phrase suddenly flashed through Sven's mind. He drew his bowstring back and roared: "All hands, open fire! Keep your distance and take it down from range! What the hell, Klay — where the hell is this thing a slime?! Are you kidding me?!"