The moment the party entered the forest, the searing sunlight dimmed, the oppressive heat subsided, and an instant wave of humid suffocation enveloped them, as if stepping into a massive sauna.
Richard Angley remained composed, expression unchanging, moving steadily with the group.
Time crept by as they ventured deeper. Aside from encountering two gray rabbits and an aged, ailing wolf, nothing remarkable appeared.
Richard remained unfazed, but he noted Turk Hale's growing impatience. The captain's gaze toward the hunter sharpened, a sign that his patience was wearing thin. Richard guessed that if the Firebear remained unfound, Turk would be the first to act—punishing the hunter mercilessly.
Another hour passed, still without results. Turk's temper finally flared. Without warning, he kicked the lead hunter to the ground, raining blows upon him while shouting, "Where is the Firebear? Your Firebear! How is it you haven't found it yet?! If you dare lie to Master Richard, I won't just kill you—I'll crush your skull piece by piece!"
The hunter curled into a protective ball, silent and terrified, glancing toward Richard as if pleading for salvation.
Richard, however, was engrossed in a small sapling by the path. Its bark was slightly wrinkled, leaves emitting a faint fragrance.
He recognized it as a species known on Earth as Citrus medica—commonly called the "Moon Citron"—valued for its analgesic and hemostatic properties. While mundane in Earth's world, in a medieval society with limited medical knowledge, such a plant was a rare and precious resource. Without hesitation, Richard plucked all its medicinal portions, then turned to the hunter.
"You needn't look at me. If by dusk you fail to locate the Firebear, I will not stop Turk from enacting his threats. I may even make your punishment harsher. So… leading me to the Firebear is your only chance to survive."
The hunter shivered violently, abandoning all hope of escape, and scrambled to his feet, racing forward while gasping, "Don't kill me, don't kill me! Master Richard, I swear I'll lead you to the Firebear! I swear it!"
"Let's hope so," Richard replied casually, eyes scanning the path ahead.
Hours slipped by. The afternoon sun sank low, yet the Firebear remained elusive. The hunter's despair grew, and Turk's menacing glance sent him stumbling forward in fear.
Suddenly, a roar echoed from the distance.
"ROAR!"
The entire guard unit, including Turk, instantly converged around Richard, forming a protective circle, eyes scanning for any threat.
The hunter, left on the periphery, froze momentarily before recognition lit his face. Tears streaked his cheeks as he cried out, "Master Richard! Master Richard! That's the Firebear! Its roar! I swear, that's exactly the sound it made when I first saw it days ago!"
"Really?" Turk rolled his eyes skeptically.
Richard's gaze sharpened, decisive. "Let's go see."
"Understood," Turk ordered, leading the unit toward the source of the roar.
As they approached, the sound grew louder, reverberating through the forest. Then, atop a distant hill, a massive silhouette emerged.
At first glance, Richard thought it a bear—normal in shape and posture—but the surrounding air shimmered oddly.
Squinting, he observed more closely, and his eyes brightened: this was no ordinary bear. Flames engulfed its body, warping the air around it from the heat. A Firebear.
The others had no understanding of the phenomenon. Turk reacted first, eyes hardening. He drew his longsword, placing the tip at the hunter's neck while barking toward the distant bear, "This is the 'Firebear' you wasted half a day trying to find? The one that's supposedly engulfed in flames? Where's the fire? I don't see any!"
"It's true… it really is on fire!" the trembling hunter stammered, shivering from head to toe. "You just can't see it unless you're close… it's normally subtle…"
"Lies!" Turk spat, refusing to believe.
Richard sighed lightly. "He speaks the truth. The bear is indeed aflame."
He pointed to the hill a hundred meters away. "Notice the air around it? That's heat distortion from the flames. In simple terms, light bends as it passes through mediums of different temperatures. You don't need to understand the physics—just know we've found the Firebear."
"Ah… I see," Turk muttered, eyes narrowing as he turned to assess the beast. "Master Richard, shall we begin the capture?"
"Yes. And release the hunter—no need to waste manpower guarding him." Richard indicated the man.
"Understood." Turk's boot struck the hunter's backside, hurling him into the forest with a growl of contempt. "Move!"
The hunter darted into the woods, heart hammering, disappearing from sight.
All eyes now focused on the Firebear.
The capture commenced. Turk waved his hand, and the guard unit advanced to encircle the hill. Richard stayed behind, observing.
The plan was precise:
Harassment: Repeatedly fire hand-crossbows and heavy crossbows to provoke the Firebear without triggering full rage, gradually weakening it and extinguishing superficial flames.
Restraint: Shoot rope-tipped bolts to pin and control its movements.
Termination: Deliver the final strike.
Arrows whistled through the air from three directions. The Firebear, lacking complex strategy, hesitated, shifting erratically to avoid projectiles. Left, then right, then back again—chaos in motion.
Repeated harassment fueled its anger. The fire on its body intensified, flames growing from barely noticeable to a dozen centimeters high, deep crimson in color.
Richard's brow lifted.
The assault continued. With each volley, the Firebear's rage escalated, flames now leaping over half a meter, shifting from red to a blazing blue. From his vantage point, Richard's expression tightened in concentration.