Magical Beasts were, true to their name, creatures born of magic. Unlike ordinary animals such as ordinary horses, hounds, or cats that still roamed the world, these entities possessed an anatomical difference: condensed Mana/Beast Core beating within them.

Historical records suggest these creatures first emerged some three thousand years ago, a timeline that perfectly aligned with the rise of the Original Covens of Witches. It was a correlation that would spark centuries of debate. Scholars and commoners alike often whispered that one of these founding covens was directly responsible for breeding the first Magical Beasts into existence. However, surviving archives are a lot fragmented and very much contradictory. It is possible that their simultaneous appearance was merely a grim coincidence, and a terrified populace sought a convenient scapegoat in witches for the sudden influx of monstrosities.

While not all of these creatures were mindless monsters, a significant number of them were apex predators of staggering power, titans capable of leveling an entire town in a matter of hours. Because of this persistent threat, the general public came to permanently associate the beasts with unpredictable danger, a stigma that ultimately bled over to the witches themselves.

Fueled by the latent energy of their Beast Cores, these monsters held a devastating advantage. In the early eras, before the phenomenon of the First Core manifesting inside a human, ordinary people were powerless against them. Humanity survived only by relying heavily on the protection of the Witches. Yet, as the tides of history turned and Witches fell out of favor to become objects of widespread hatred, a new dawn arrived for mankind. Mana Cores and the awakening process known as ’Blossoming’ began to naturally appear in human children. Armed with their own internal magic, humanity finally forged a permanent solution to the beastly plague: the Hunter Union.

The organization was officially established exactly eight hundred years ago, rising from the ashes of an unprecedented catastrophe. An entire kingdom was wiped from the map, eradicated by an entity so powerful that the term ’Magical Beast’ felt like a laughable understatement. Following the slaughter of tens of thousands, the surviving nations realized that isolation was a death sentence. In response, the Hunter Union was forged.

Today, every reigning authority recognizes and sanctions the Union. By international agreement, these trained hunters are granted unrestricted jurisdiction, legally permitted to cross sovereign borders and trek into the deepest wilderness to dispatch Magical Beasts directly within their own territories.

The survival of the kingdoms did not merely rely on individual prowess but on the cooperation among the Hunters themselves. Magical Beasts were not solitary anomalies; they naturally congregated, forming sprawling dens in every shadowed forest, jagged ravine, and forgotten ruin across the Kingdoms. Left to their own devices, their populations would rapidly multiply and destabilize the local environments. This unchecked breeding inevitably triggered a terrifying, recurrent phenomenon known simply as a Stampede.

A Stampede was a localized apocalypse. Driven by territorial pressure or frenzied starvation, an overwhelming tide of beasts would surge from their overflowing dens, indiscriminately flattening any village, town, or trade route unfortunate enough to be in their path. To prevent these disasters, Hunters acted as a vital culling force. By coordinating large-scale raids on known dens, they thinned the monster populations and maintained a necessary balance across the world.

However, the Union’s presence in a region was not entirely unconditional. While international treaties granted them the general right to cross borders, the sovereign Lords of individual territories still retained the legal right to refuse them entry. Yet, exercising this veto was a dangerous gamble. Should a noble turn the Hunters away, the responsibility of managing the monsters and preventing a Stampede fell squarely onto their own private guards, a burden that usually ended in slaughter.

As a result, the majority of Lords swallowed their pride and strictly managed these threats through the Union. The local nobility was expected to officially commission the guild, recruiting an appropriate number of Hunters suited to the severity of the local dens. The Lords were tasked with providing precise intelligence, detailing the exact location and suspected nature of the threat, and, most importantly, paying the heavy bounties required to fund the expedition. With magical beast dens lurking on the fringes of nearly every settlement, this financial and tacticall alliance between the nobility and the Hunters was the only true shield civilization had left.

For this reason, it was a common sight to find the borders of known Magical Beast dens cordoned off. Local knights stood as strict sentries along these perimeters, holding the line to ensure no ordinary citizen wandered into the slaughter. Past these blockades, Hunters, whether marching in armed companies or stalking as solitary veterans, crossed into the danger zones. Their mandate was to purge the festering dens or track down the highly erratic, stray monsters that had broken away to prowl the fringes of vulnerable villages. These lone strays, unpredictable and starved, were often the most immediate threat to the common folk.

Because monster attacks could strike with zero warning, maintaining a rapid response force was critical. To meet this ever-present demand, grand Union Houses were constructed in the heart of every major city. These bustling guildhalls served as central hubs where Hunters could congregate, repair their gear, and immediately mobilize to answer subjugation requests. While the local nobility issued the bulk of these official bounties, the Union also kept its doors open to the peasantry. Frightened villagers and traveling merchants frequently brought frantic warnings directly to the guild, ensuring no roaming beast went unnoticed by the authorities.

In the lands overseen by Ulrich, the logistical burden of this system was strictly delegated. Ulrich did not personally trudge through the mud to assess a newly formed den or draft individual bounties. Instead, those localized matters were thrust upon the tenant lords who managed the minor fiefdoms scattered beneath his jurisdiction. Ulrich’s role was far more global and important. From his seat, he managed the web of vassals, oversaw the broader stability of the territory, and authorized the sums of coin required to keep the Hunters protecting his County.

Despite his lofty position managing ledgers and vassal lords from the comfort of his estate, Ulrich currently found himself miles beyond the safety of New Ruben, standing dead center in a festering beast den. The forest here was thick enough to choke out the daylight, casting the gnarled roots and damp earth into a permanent, murky morning light. He had not come to delegate. Circling him in the gloom was a leopard, though the term barely did justice to the creature warped by the Mana Core burning inside its chest.

Not only one for sure, however.

It was a monstrosity nearly twice the size of a natural feline, its muscles bulging beneath a coat of shadowed rosettes. When the beast, it displaced the damp forest air with an unnatural pressure, its magical mutation granted it a terrifying speed that ordinary predators could never achieve.

With a snarl that rattled the nearby branches, the leopard launched itself forward, crossing the clearing in a fraction of a second. Ulrich didn’t flinch. Instead of bracing for the impact, his movements were deft and fluid as expected, as he moved with a calculated pivot that allowed the monster’s massive, razor-sharp claws to swipe through empty space just inches from his throat. He did not rely on the brute force typical of common Hunters. He moved rather with precision, predicting the beast’s movements.

As the leopard’s own momentum carried it past him, Ulrich calmly raised a single hand. Magic flared to life around his fingers, illuminating the dark woods with a sharp, crackling light. With a crisp flick of his wrist, he unleashed a concentrated spell directly into the beast’s exposed flank. The kinetic impact echoed through the trees like a cannon shot, sending the oversized feline skidding across the dirt, its unnatural agility shattered by his spell.

The beast refused to stay down. With a furious roar, the mutated leopard scrambled to its paws and launched itself at Ulrich again. This time, Ulrich held his ground. A translucent, crimson barrier flared into existence just inches from his face. The leopard slammed into the magical shield, its snout crumpling against the surface.

Before the dazed creature could peel itself away, Ulrich flicked his wrists. A ring of glowing spell runes materialized along the inward-facing curve of the crimson dome, effectively caging the monster in its own attack. With a calm gaze, Ulrich triggered the trap. A destructive fire erupted strictly within the confines of the barrier. The leopard shrieked as blinding fire engulfed it from all sides, the contained explosion cooking the air and scorching the beast where it stood.

When the roaring flames finally subsided, a heavy thud echoed through the clearing. The charred, smoking remains of the oversized feline collapsed into the dirt. Ulrich canceled his spell, letting the crimson light shatter and fade into the forest gloom, and calmly closed the distance. Drawing his sword, he drove the steel deep into the back of the creature’s neck. He felt a satisfying crunch as the blade pierced and shattered the active Beast Core lodged inside the spine, permanently extinguishing its unnatural life.

Wiping his blade clean, Ulrich allowed himself a moment to catch his breath. This solitary fight was the exact reason he had changed his morning routine. Rather than settling for the safe, predictable routine of swinging a sword in his estate courtyard, he now alternated his days by venturing into active dens. He needed to put his life on the line on a regular basis. The memory of the ambush by Libra had taught him that safe practice was no longer enough; he had to temper his instincts in real-life or-death struggles to prepare for whatever came next.

"N—Nooo!!!

His calm reflection was suddenly shattered by a panicked scream. The sound tore through the foliage, echoing from a ridge barely a hundred meters away. Without a second thought, Ulrich sheathed his sword and ran into the dark woods, rushing directly toward the source of the cry.