Love Letter From The Future

I almost died. I thought that as I roughly released the breath I had momentarily held.

The end was pure gambling. It was a strategy I wasn’t even sure would work.

It was precisely “playing dead.”

Typically, “playing dead” was a method that only worked on dull beasts. When faced with a sharp-sensed monster, it could very well backfire.

Even if I held my breath, my heart kept beating. The presence unique to the living was not something that could be so easily concealed. No matter how faint the trace, animals with senses as keen as monsters could distinguish between life and death.

That’s why I decided to play dead.

It was a monster that seemed to be the leader of the forest. It was strong and intelligent. However, it was not without weaknesses.

Every year, a Hunting Festival is held in this forest. If a monster of that size existed, it would have been dealt with during last year’s festival.

With hundreds of talented individuals from across the continent ransacking the forest, where could such a creature hide?

If that was the case, it meant that it was less than a year old. It was far too young to be compared to the notorious monsters known throughout the continent.

Moreover, judging by how it boasted of its “prey” that it had eviscerated proudly, it seemed to possess an arrogant and boastful nature.

Entities with such dispositions, whether human or beast, typically had a tendency toward overconfidence.

Each time I showed signs of exhaustion, it only became more excited. I guessed that I was the first formidable opponent it had ever faced. With victory in sight against such a foe, it was inevitable that its primal instincts would emerge.

Thus, I decided to take a gamble. After all, continuing down this path meant my life was forfeit.

If I could wager that life as the stake, it would be more beneficial. So, I wrapped my whole body in magical energy and deliberately allowed the wolf to land a blow on me.

To be honest, the moment my body flew through the air from that terrifying collision, I felt a hint of regret.

It was a shock of that intensity. With a thud, I crashed into a tree, and the sensation of my body sliding down was merely a result of losing consciousness for a fleeting moment.

And the moment my senses returned, I almost exhaled a deep breath instinctively, but I barely held it back.

I was suffocating. I wanted to breathe immediately. Every corner of my body that had been struck by the living battering ram desperately craved oxygen.

But I held on. I did not calm my breath, nor did I cool the heart rate accelerated by the excitement of battle as best as I could.

Even so, my breath leaked out, and my heart raced. That was an unavoidable phenomenon of being alive.

It was not a creature that would miss such cues. Yet, I had one thing I could rely on.

The potion Emma had given me; its effect was precisely to conceal my presence.

Presence is a complex interplay of various elements. Sounds included, but also movements and the will to kill, all contributed to create what is called “presence.”

However, among those, the most significant factors were audible stimuli like breath sounds and heartbeat.

There was no need to mention the sounds made while moving. Emma’s potion had the effect of severely diminishing those breath sounds and heartbeat.

When I first took the potion and ambushed the wolves, my heart rate slowed down and my movements became sluggish for that reason. It truly felt as though my body was floating, like a ghost.

It was not that the creature did not remain vigilant. Hiding my presence had proven effective during the process of slaughtering ten of its subordinates.

However, the excitement of battle ignited its brain, and when its hidden primal instincts woke, it would easily forget such facts.

No matter how intelligent, a beast is still a beast. Its memory wouldn’t last long, and it had few means to resist its instincts.

If it were a named monster, perhaps it would be different. But it was merely an immature monster that had not yet earned a name.

So it was a plan worth attempting. However, I could not be sure of the outcome. It was indeed a gamble.

The result of that gamble was now right before my eyes.

The sight of the wolf, gazing blankly at me as it bled profusely, as if it couldn’t believe it.

While it was examining my body with rapt eyes, magical energy slowly began to accumulate in my sword. A blade imbued with even stronger and sharper magical power.

In my life, I had never ignited such a brilliant light in my sword. Yet today, as the fight continued, my aura continuously deepened in saturation.

That climax now pierced through the wolf’s neck.

Dense muscle tore like paper. As I pushed with strength, I felt the sensation of skin ripping away.

In a last-ditch effort, as if to thrash, the wolf tried to attack me with its front paw. But as I thrust my sword upward to support it, with a scream, the strength in its forepaw gave way.

Blood flowed in streams. The wolf’s damp breath gradually slowed. The feeling of life extinguishing, at first unpleasant, was no longer so now.

I gritted my teeth and gasped out.

“Did Emma… huff… did Emma fall like this, huff, without a word?”

The wolf could not respond. Its throat had been completely pierced. Naturally, I found that silence unbearable.

With a violent motion, I twisted the blade that had pierced its neck, and the sound of bones crunching filled the air. A deeper groan escaped the wolf’s mouth.

Emma’s gentle smile flashed before my eyes. Her father, who had howled in despair and could not even pray in the temple, also appeared.

A deeper killing intent clouded my vision.

“So, huff… so, huff, did I believe I was dead too? Huh?”

The wolf’s body began to slump. It was over. Just before death.

The sword that had pierced its throat finally withdrew.

Like a torrential downpour, blood gushed forth. The sound of blood splattering against the earth echoed. As I staggered aside, with a heavy thud, the wolf’s body collapsed to the ground.

The wolf’s eyes, still focused on me, looked vacant.

They appeared beggarly, yet also seemed to surrender everything.

With a surge, the anger that had been bubbling in my chest erupted.

I wanted to slice open its belly while it was still alive, to spill its entrails. I wanted to return just a fraction of the pain, just as Emma had experienced.

In fact, I almost did that. My hand gripping the sword trembled. Just before I could rip open its smooth belly and spill its contents on the ground.

I caught sight of the corpses that the monsters had ripped open.

Those were the monsters. Creatures that toyed with lives for sport and reveled in inflicting pain.

And I was not a monster; I was a human being. The second son of a rural landowner and a third-year Academy student named Ian Fercurus.

In the end, I hesitated, stopping the foot I was about to slam down to make it show its belly. Instead, I steadied my breath and gripped the hilt of my sword with both hands.

Magical energy gathered. A silver aura, the color representing my thoughts.

“The owner of those rags you spat out…”

I couldn’t tell if it heard me. Even its moans were fading. Yet I felt its gaze flickering slightly.

It might just be my imagination, but I spoke one last time before driving my sword down.

“That person… huff, killed you… you must remember.”

Hoping that it would be the only revenge for Emma.

And with a crack, blood spurted again.

Perhaps due to fatigue in my muscles, the blade halted midway through the wolf’s neck. Yet, that was enough.

It was enough to offer peace to the stubborn life fading away.

The wolf’s last breath faded away, and at that moment, I confirmed that the light of life had completely extinguished from its eyes.

My body crumbled as if it were collapsing.

It was now my limit.

Professor Derek had been racing madly since the moment he heard the message from Ceria.

He wielded his sword when faced with the numerous trees before him. Each time, it was as if he had struck a bomb, and the trees in front of him exploded.

He was an experienced swordsman. Upon seeing Ceria’s condition, he was able to roughly deduce the situation.

He didn’t know the precise cause, but Ceria had sustained an injury to her ankle. Meanwhile, the monsters had attacked Ian and Ceria, and Ian sent her away to protect her and requested reinforcements.

It couldn’t have been low-tier monsters. Otherwise, Ceria wouldn’t have been so desperate.

And if they were of such a mundane level, they wouldn’t have requested such assistance. Ian and Ceria would have handled them themselves.

With that, there was only one answer.

Ian’s life was in danger. The moment that thought crossed his mind, Derek began to run with all his might.

Derek knew well how dangerous monsters could be. He had hunted numerous monsters while wandering the continent for dozens of years. Still, he never relaxed even when facing them.

Ian was Derek’s student.

Of course, all students at the Academy were precious, but Ian had particularly caught Derek’s eye lately.

At first, he overwhelmed Ceria with movements that he himself wasn’t even aware of, and the following week, he returned with his will to kill subdued.

It seemed like his skills had reverted to their previous state when, with just a single piece of advice from Derek, he managed to achieve a draw. And his generosity towards a junior, who was in a state of helplessness, left him impressed.

He even heard that lately, he had been hanging around with that ‘lack of manners’ Ceria. Given that he saw them teamed up today, that rumor seemed to be true.

It was an admirable attitude. It seemed Ceria also strangely followed him, and she was especially docile in front of Ian, which made Derek secretly pleased to think perhaps even that “Yuridina’s lack of manners” had finally come to an end.

Who would have thought such an incident would occur?

It was complacent. No matter how much it was the forest, he should have anticipated the emergence of high-ranking monsters with the Hunting Festival approaching.

Derek simply hoped Ian was alive. It would be acceptable if he was seriously injured or in a state of unconsciousness. As long as there was a way to save him, he could do anything.

Derek was an adult and not cowardly enough to shirk responsibility. He was prepared for the appropriate expenditures that would entail.

But the dead could not be resurrected no matter the means. If he had to face a dead student, he wouldn’t be able to lift his head in front of their family and friends either.

Before long, the thick scent of blood wafted towards Derek’s nose. His anxiety heightened.

With a fervent wish that the stench did not belong to Ian, the moment he entered a clearing.

Derek’s body came to a sudden halt.

It was blood-soaked. Surrounding him were the carcasses of massive wolves. At first glance, there was not just one or two. Counting them revealed ten.

It was a number beyond imagination. If he knew Ian well, it was an insurmountable number for him.

Yet why, in this clearing, were there only the corpses of monsters?

As if in a trance, Derek walked over and knelt down to inspect the monster corpses closely. His pants stained with blood, but he didn’t care. He was a seasoned monster hunter after all.

Most of the causes of death were ambushes. They had been fatal blows without having the opportunity to resist. There had still been a certain level of struggle, however.

Even in that dire situation, they must have suppressed their screams and hidden, waiting for their next prey.

Derek, a seasoned monster hunter, naturally envisioned such a scene in his mind. A shiver ran down his spine.

It was not because he felt sympathy for the brutal fight. Rather, it was because the assessment was too precise.

It was unfeasible to take on many foes alone. Then, one must somehow hide and execute an ambush. But to scream during that process? As soon as one did, the danger of losing their life would escalate exponentially.

In that context, Ian was right. But could a mere Academy student, who hadn’t truly experienced combat, accomplish such a feat?

From the depths of memory, the image of Ian from a certain day resurfaced. That day, his golden eyes wore a fatigued expression.

It was the gaze of an experienced killer. While Derek was lost in thought, a small figure rushed into the clearing, breathless. A girl with black hair tied up in a ponytail approached with a lively demeanor.

Celin Haster. She had followed Derek.

Her eyes frantically swept the surroundings. She must have been extremely anxious to the point of desperation during the chase.

After looking around multiple times, Celin spotted Derek and shouted with an anxious voice.

“Professor! W-where is Ian onii-chan… huff, where is Ian onii-chan?”

“He is not here.”

Derek’s dazed voice and his plain words darkened Celin’s expression. Around that time, students who had been coming to join Derek began arriving one by one.

Unlike Celin, who was distracted by Ian’s situation, the students froze upon entering the clearing, as if they were sharing similar feelings to Derek.

It was a horrific sight. Some wolves had perished instantly from fatal blows, while others appeared to have been struck repeatedly with axes, with their brains and blood spilling from their heads. Some wolves lay dead with their noses buried in the dirt.

Celin was not the only one feeling anxious. She bit her lip and was about to dart off in a random direction when suddenly—

“Follow me.”

Derek said so, slowly moving forward. The students exchanged bewildered glances at his strangely assured voice.

Celin looked at the direction Derek was heading and, perhaps unable to bear her impatience, dashed off ahead.

However, it did not take long before she and Derek encountered each other again.

In a not too distant clearing, Celin stood still.

The next one to arrive was Derek, followed by students arriving one after the other.

They all stood there as if frozen, watching the scene before them.

There sat a man with black hair and golden eyes crouched down.

Leaning against an enormous wolf that was overwhelming merely to behold.

The earth was soaked in blood. There was no trace of life in the wolf with closed eyes. It was undoubtedly a corpse.

Then, had he hunted it?

It was inevitable that all eyes turned toward the man.

He seemed to immerse himself in the fluffiness of the wolf’s thick fur, burying his body deep within it.

And as if he were about to pass out at any moment, he lifted his weary gaze toward everyone.

His hand lifted weakly, seemingly a gesture of greeting.

“……You came too late, Professor Derek.”

There was a vague hint of resentment in those words.

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