Witch Taming System-Chapter 47: Darkmaw

Inside the adventurer’s guild, two receptionists were in the middle of a discussion.

"Anna. Where did that request go? The one assigned to the wastefield?"

"You mean the one to procure seven Fangscales?"

"Yeah. That one."

Anna, the receptionist, glanced up from her desk, already sensing something off in his tone.

"What about it?"

"Countess Gretelle submitted a revision," he said. "She’s increasing the difficulty and wants it formally converted into a party-restricted request."

"...."

The request had originally been classified for B-rank adventurers. It was even something that could be handled solo with enough experience.

"I’ve already assigned it to someone... But I think it’s fine. I gave it to an A-rank adventurer."

The other receptionist let out a tired sigh.

"We’ll have to file another mismanagement case..."

The change in classification wasn’t minor. A request that could be handled solo by a B-rank had now been escalated to a party-restricted A-rank request.

That alone spoke volumes of its difficulty.

"...Let me check," he said, flipping through the records. "Lancel. A-rank adventurer..."

He stopped, his expression scrunching up.

"...You’ve got to be kidding me."

"What is it?"

He looked up at Anna, irritation clear on his face.

"Just how unlucky is this guy? He’s listed as the sole survivor from the labyrinth subjugation last week..."

"...Seriously?"

Anna frowned.

"You didn’t run a background check before assigning it?"

"I did," she replied, her tone turning defensive. "He’s A-rank. That should’ve been more than enough. How was I supposed to know the conditions would change today?"

The other receptionist let out a long sigh, rubbing his temple.

"...This is exactly why I hate dealing with witches."

Cases like this weren’t rare. Requests would change overnight, and someone would always be caught in the middle of it.

More often than not, that someone ended up dead.

And the worst part, no one on their end seemed to care.

To the witches, it was just another adjustment. Another variable in their work.

But for adventurers... it was their lives.

* * *

Lancel moved first. The moment a silhouette formed through the fog, he struck without much thought, his blade cutting straight toward it.

In a place like this, there were only two possibilities.

A monster, or a fellow adventurer. If it turned out to be a person, then he would apologize afterward. That was simply how things worked in fields with dense fogs.

Hesitate for even a moment, and the figure you thought was human, the one you considered approaching or cooperating with, would already be on top of you.

A monster, ready to tear you apart.

Slash——!

The blade cut through the air.

Luckily for Lancel, or perhaps unluckily, it wasn’t a person.

"Eh...!"

Lancel immediately reacted, rolling to the side as the silhouette surged forward. What had seemed human at first glance suddenly expanded the moment he closed the distance.

Its body was far taller than he expected.

All of a sudden, a massive arm came crashing down.

Bang——!

The ground shook with a heavy impact, dirt and debris scattering from the force as a roar followed.

Lancel’s eyes narrowed as he finally got a clearer look. Up close, the distorted silhouette settled into that of a massive bear-like figure.

He recognized it immediately.

A Darkmaw.

A ferocious species that did not discriminate between kin and foe. To a Darkmaw, everything was prey, everything was a threat, and everything was something to be crushed.

In the wild, they were known for domination. A Darkmaw would rampage through its territory, tearing apart anything that moved until nothing remained to challenge it, even fellow Darkmaws were no exempt from this.

Only then would it stop.

Only then would it stand at the top, reigning as the undisputed King of the Woods.

The creature before him let out a rumbling growl. Its chest was vibrating with each breath as its jaws parted slightly. Rows of jagged teeth lined its mouth.

Its body was massive, but that wasn’t what made it dangerous.

It was the way it moved.

Despite its colossal size, there was no sluggishness to it. Its claws dug into the soil, capable of ripping through flesh and bone as if it were butter.

Compared to a Mother Silkbane, which was the equivalent of an assassin, a Darkmaw was a Behemoth.

Bang——!

Once again, Lancel rolled to the side as its massive claws came crashing down. It relentlessly chased him, and Lancel was unable to find an opening.

Thankfully, there were no wounds yet.

"Tsk."

Lancel found the situation troublesome. He had expected all sorts of beasts to be lurking here, but not a Darkmaw.

He dodged another attack, then used its arm as a foothold to launch himself in the air.

Extending a hand below, Lancel opened his mouth.

"Frostnova."

Crackle——!

The frost spread rapidly across the ground with a sharp crackling sound. The Darkmaw roared in anger as ice formed around its massive paws, momentarily slowing its charge.

Lancel used the brief opening to leap higher, landing on the creature’s broad shoulder. He drove his dagger deep into the thick fur and muscle.

The beast bucked wildly, trying to shake him off. Lancel held on tight, twisting the blade to widen the wound.

"Die already!"

He pulled the dagger free and stabbed again, aiming for the neck. Blood sprayed hot across his arm.

The Darkmaw let out a deafening roar and slammed its body against a nearby tree, trying to crush him.

Crash——!

Lancel jumped off at the last second, rolling across the muddy ground as the tree trunk shattered behind him.

The creature turned with glowing, rageful eyes, before charging again.

Lancel barely dodged the next swipe. The claws missed him by inches, leaving deep gouges in the ground. He countered with another slash, cutting across the beast’s forearm.

More blood flowed, but the Darkmaw didn’t slow down. If anything, the pain seemed to make it even more furious.

"Shit..."

It lunged forward, trying to bite him in half. Lancel threw himself backward, the hot breath washing over his face as the teeth clamped shut just short of his chest.

He hit the ground hard and rolled to his feet, trying to steady his breathing.

The Darkmaw shook its head, blood dripping from its wounds, and prepared for another charge.