Modern Monster

Ayame watched as the young man kneeled before her, crying tears of joy. “Thank you... thank you! You saved my life!”

Ayame didn’t know if she deserved the praise. After all, she hadn’t intended to save the stranger at all. She just so happened to see the monster at the right time and dash behind it, not knowing she had saved the man in doing so. Well, all's well it ends well, I guess, she thought to herself, looking at her techno watch.

“Identifying monster, please wait,” the watch said, a hologram popping up, circling as it processed. “Monster confirmed: Bearst. Eight points added to Team Ayame. Total points: One hundred and fifty-five.”

“Not bad, for only day two,” she mused. Though she had a rather indifferent reaction, the young boy stood still, gawking in shock after hearing the points from the watch.

“O-O-One hundred and f-f-fifty-five points?” he stammered, eyes wide.

“It’s really not that much,” she insisted. “We got our one hundred points for surviving day one at midnight.”

“That still means you got fifty-five extra points from slaying monsters!” the boy exclaimed. “That’s incredible. How are you so strong?”

Ayame could deny that he was boosting her ego, but she couldn’t bring herself to enjoy the compliments as much as she wanted to. If she had been just a few seconds slower, the boy’s body would have been mutilated. Just thinking about the hypothetical scenario made her shiver.

“It doesn’t matter,” she replied, sheathing her personal sword back in its scabbard. The sword she carried wasn’t like the ones the academy had given out. Ayame had refused theirs, saying she was perfectly fine with her own weapon. After all, her sword was made from the finest materials and forged by a master with decades of experience. However, nothing could compare to the sword Genkai had been given. Even after all these years, she was still jealous that her grandfather had gifted him the family sword and not her. It was for that reason alone that she was participating in the challenges in the first place.

“Say, what’s your name?” she asked the gaping blonde-haired boy.

“Oh, my name is Jamie.”

From his European-looking features, Ayame concluded that one of his parents must have been European, though he had no accent, suggesting he was born and raised in Japan. The most obvious clue was simply his name.

“Well, Jamie, you got quite lucky,” Ayame told him, turning away to look at the limp body of the Bearst. Jamie’s expression darkened, and he lowered his gaze to the ground.

“Yeah, I know... but I was actually fighting pretty well at the start. I—”

“That’s not good enough.” Ayame cut off any excuse that the boy could come up with. Her firm words took Jamie aback, and it told her that he simply didn’t know the severity of the situation he was in. “You probably noticed the lack of blood, correct?” she asked, and Jamie slowly nodded. “It’s because the body of a Bearst works far differently than normal monsters. As you know, blood is necessary for the function of a body, yet a Bearst is completely absent of it.”

“No blood?” he echoed. “Is that even possible?”

“Unfortunately, it is. However, its body is not infallible either. It still has a nervous system running through its body, but if a hand or foot gets chopped off, it bears no damage aside from the fact it’s now lost a limb. That’s because the brain constantly distributes something similar to sense energy throughout its body, allowing skin and flesh to grow without blood and stem cells. However, this particular monster is a rare case; it is not a gifted monster with a Sense, but more or less just a genetic phenomenon. To this day, no scientist has figured out its odd body.”

Jamie’s head was swirling with a question before he uncertainly said, “I did manage to land a strike to the belly. So, did the stomach get damaged?”

Ayame faced him, thinking with a frown. “Yes, it most likely did. Did the monster act strangely after you did that?”

Jamie nodded, shivering as he reminisced about the moment he had almost died. “The monster suddenly went still for a minute as if it had died, and after I pulled my sword out, it jolted back to life. That’s when you came along and slayed it.”

“I see, that’s why.” Ayame understood now, with more context of what happened. “When you hit its stomach and intestines, its brain forcefully tried to repair the damage made, prioritizing that over attacking you. It’s a tricky monster to get rid of. Even if you manage to get a good hit, the brain will repair the damage with its unique energy. That’s why the best way to kill it in one go is to aim for the head.”

The information made Jamie fall silent as he thought of what would have happened if Ayame had never saved him. He quickly began to realize that he was bound to lose the battle no matter how many hits he inflicted on the monster due to his lack of knowledge. Ayame didn’t blame such a reaction.

Many people face death foolishly only to be taken by it. In the end, a dead person can never reflect and understand their mistakes. However, when a person faces death and, by some miracle, survives, it changes them. Ayame had experienced that many times when training with her grandfather.

It wasn’t something that could be put into words, but the closest thing Ayame could say to contextualize the aftereffects of facing death was that life just felt more real afterward. Things you would never have noticed before became palpable—like the colors of trees or nature—they stood out more. But just like many things, the feeling disappears after a while once someone gets used to living again. However, the memory of the terror one felt at that moment would always remain.

“This is not a game,” Ayame stalked toward the kneeling blondie. “You have no second chances.”

The boy’s slumped-over head jerked up as he faced her defiantly, tears welling up in his eyes, teeth gritting. “I know it’s not a game, okay!” he snapped, then soon averted his stare, unable to keep eye contact with her cold scrutiny. “This is the moment I’ve been waiting for my whole life; I can’t just back out now.”

“But is it the moment you were prepared for?” she asked.

“I...” Jamie offered no reply, asking himself that very same question. Yet, after moments of consideration, Jamie didn’t want to admit defeat, even after coming to an answer. He was stubborn. “I... I don’t know.”

Ayame shook her head with a sigh. It couldn’t be helped. “Just because you wait for something doesn’t mean you’re any more prepared for it,” Ayame told him truthfully. “You can’t wait for strength. Strength waits for you.”

With that, Ayame turned her head from him, heading back into the forest—but before she could disappear, she stopped when she heard Jamie sob. It was difficult listening to his cries and even tougher trying to get away from them. She wasn’t heartless as many thought. If she were, it would be quite easy to leave the crying blondie be–but it simply wasn’t. Ayame had seen the desire in his eyes—the passion to be a Knight. Yet Ayame knew far too well that passion wasn’t the only thing that created Knights. They needed discipline and strength. That boy simply had none.

“Techno watch... I forfeit.”

Ayame almost didn’t hear his words in between the cries. Twirling, she saw a screen projected out of Jamie’s Techno watch, depicting a yellow triangle alert and emitting a beeping sound. Ayame opened her mouth to say something, yet nothing came out. She knew the best thing for him was to quit, though she hadn’t expected him to follow through with it.

“Request granted... Please go to these coordinates or wait for our personnel to arrive.”

...

“You’re right...” Jamie said loud enough for her to hear, his voice defeated. He lifted his head, eyeing the clouds while he knelt on the forest floor. “Next time... I won’t wait for strength.”

Ayame stood on the bloody corpse of a monster, its features unrecognizable from her precise cuts. Only chunks of sliced furry body parts remained of the beast. She couldn’t even find its head if she tried. The sun glowed on her bright blue hair, and her primarily white tracksuit was stained with blood.

“Monster confirmed: Kuhoo. Five points added to Team Ayame. Total points: one hundred and seventy-eight.”

Ayame breathed out, sweat dripping down her cheek even though it was quite cold out.

“You’re really going at it,” Genkai noted, sitting on the ground against a tree trunk. “That’s like five monsters in the past hour.”

She hopped down from the pile of monster parts. “I mean, you’re helping out too, so it’s not like I’m the only one contributing to the points.”

“True, but honestly, I can’t even keep up with you. I’m already exhausted,” Genkai yawned, rubbing his wet eyes. Ayame didn’t believe him. She knew he was far stronger than her, so his compliments seemed forced. But that was common for Genkai—he always did that—and Ayame wasn’t a fan of it. Although it might hurt her ego, she’d rather somebody tell her the truth than sugarcoat things. But her brother always tried to be supportive, so she would look like dick if she ever told him that. Well... she was already kind of a dick, so she didn’t know why she was concerned about that.

“On another note,” Ayame started, “have you noticed anything odd? About the monsters, I mean?”

Genkai’s smile faded into a thoughtful frown. “Hmm, I guess so, now that you mention it. They seem kinda...”

“Weak,” she finished his sentence. “I thought it must have been some coincidence, but not a single monster I’ve encountered has been over a silver rank so far.” Ayame deduced. She could understand encountering a few weak monsters in a row, but every single one so far had been a silver rank or less.

“Same on my end, too,” Genkai agreed, then shrugged. “I can’t really say I’m surprised they decided to pull a little stunt on us. There was no way they’d put a bunch of newbies in an actual danger zone. We could probably manage because we're... you know... us.”

She wasn’t so convinced. “But how are they able to only give us low-ranked monsters? That’s impossible to keep track of.”

Genkai pointed toward the depths of the forest that extended beyond the small clearing where they rested. “Remember that wall we saw a little while ago when we were hunting monsters?”

Ayame slowly nodded. “Yeah, but a small wall like that is not going to stop monsters from coming in.”

“You’re right, but if you remember how serious that Asashi guy was about not going over it, it makes you wonder why. I actually think the walls are keeping us safe, but they’re more of an outline of a bigger thing that’s being put into place,” Genkai guessed, piecing together the hints so far. “Allegedly, of course.”

“Bigger thing?” Ayame echoed silently. What could be so powerful as to both trap monsters and deter others? That sounded too far-fetched to her.

“Quite an interesting hypothesis,” a voice said.

“Why thank you, Ayame. Quite rare that you give me a complimen—wait a damn—” Genkai stood up from the tree trunk, looking around in confusion.

Ayame had never said those words... and she was just as confused as to where the voice had come from. Eyeing the trees that encircled the small glade, Ayame caught movement behind a tree to her left. She unsheathed her sword defensively and pointed, scrutinizing the shadowy figure that was veiled in the forest.

“Hey! Who are you? Get out of there and show yourself!” Ayame growled, as her brother put his hand on her shoulder, signaling her to compose herself. It didn’t matter if it was a person or a monster; she needed to be wary in these situations.

“My, my, no need for such hostility,” the stranger said, his shadowy figure raising his arms unthreateningly. “I’m no monster.”

The man revealed himself, causing both Ayame and Genkai to gasp audibly.

“Yior?”