Visit from Dream

Every Great One loses its child…

She silently walked around the city. Her right hand holding a rapier - blood soaking the blade – and her left hand holding a pistol. Her eyes were cautious, observing every corner that can be used to hide. Her body was in a position ready to jump backward in case of a sudden ambush.

She stopped her walk when she heard something. She closed her eyes and listened closely. Once she located the source, she opened her eyes and went towards it, as silent as she was before. When she almost reached the end of the alley that she traveled through, she pushed herself into the wall and took a peek.

There, patrolling around the street, was a group consisting of seven men and three dogs. The men were wearing ragged clothes, exposed skins adorned with bandages, a hand holding a torch while another holding pitchfork, scythe, or axe. The dogs…the term "rabid dogs" have never been more appropriate; they were drooling, teeth bared ready to bite on any threat they find.

As they were walking away from her position, she silently approached them as she holstered her pistol to grabbed a Molotov cocktail. She lightened up the fuse, just in time for one of the dogs to smelled her scent. She immediately threw it at the dog, putting not only the canine on fire but also the man beside it.

The two other dogs ran towards her. She grabbed her gun and aimed at one of them, hitting it in the head. The other dog, now was a lot closer, jumped and was about to bite her when she used her rapier to stab it from the mouth into the throat. The end of the rapier emerged from the back of the dog's throat.

"Beast!" One of the men shouted.

She diverted her attention from the dog and towards the men, who were approaching her. One of them swung an axe, which she dodged by rolling under his attack. She then dashed away to avoid a stab from a pitchfork. She also shot her pistol at the owner of the farm tool.

She made a dash towards the man with a pitchfork and slashed him at the throat. She avoided an attack from a man with axe and retaliated by stabbing him in the chest and stomach. Noticing another man, also with an axe, was approaching her, she shot him, staggering him. Seeing it, she sheathed her rapier and embedded her now-free right hand into his chest. She violently pulled out while grabbing his heart, resulting in his death.

With only three of them left, she ran away from them first, creating a distance. She took out a small spherical bomb, ignited the fuse, and threw it at them. It rolled towards them and – once the entire fuse was burned – let out only two fizzles from the hole where the fuse was used to be. She was about to curse when it suddenly exploded, taking out her last three targets.

"Well…I guess that's enough for tonight." She said to no one but herself as she fixed her hat and walked away from the carnage.

As much as she preferred a hot bath to clean the blood that adorned her skin, she had a meeting in plan which meant she could only clean herself with a hot wet towel if she wished to arrive in time. As for her clothes, she didn't know how but they always as clean as to how they were when she received them after cleaning herself. Maybe thanks to the Messengers.

Her "bath" was interrupted when she heard a sound; a sound that she had often heard and had identified as the sound of a wheelchair. She turned her head, seeing two women approaching her with one of them sitting on the wheelchair and another pushing it.

The first woman had long white hair and yellow eyes with her clothes reminding one about the clothes worn by dolls that girls usually played with. Her hands were bare, showing her joints were similar to that of dolls' as well. It was not strange that many – even herself – called her the "Plain Doll."

The second woman had short black hair and red eyes. Her clothes consisted of a grey blouse worn underneath a black long coat with a white belt being worn like a bandolier. Her black trousers – but of lighter shade compared to her coat – was fastened with a dark brown belt. On her head was a tattered tricorne and her feet were protected by a pair of a brown combat boot.

"I see that you have returned." The woman on the wheelchair opened her mouth.

She spoke in a soft tone. It was not because she was sick. It was not because she was weak. It was not even because she had a reserved personality. It was because she knew that she only needed to speak at such a tone for her voice to be heard of. She used, as one tends to put it, just use enough energy and air.

"That, I have." She replied, putting the towel into the bowl containing hot water. "Anything you need me to do?"

She went towards the clothesline where her outfit was. She didn't exactly wash it, just rinsing and giving a rub or two before putting it on the line. When she looked at it, just as she expected, it was already dry and lacking any trace of blood. She picked up her shorts first.

"None of that." The woman waved her hand gently. "Just checking on you."

"I see." She fastened her belt that was used for her shorts before picking up her top. "There's…really no side effect, right?"

"There's always a side effect. It's just a matter of whether you can handle it."

"Very helpful." She sarcastically said as she put on her boots.

The Plain Doll, who was merely standing behind the wheelchair during the whole conversation, walked towards her. She had just finished checking her weapons when the Doll stopped in front of her.

"Young Hunter, what is it that you desire?" The Doll said, her voice soft and kind.

She didn't say anything in return, merely offering her right hand. The Doll grabbed the hand with both of her hands. She closed her eyes, focusing on her desire to improve. Not even a minute passed before she opened her eyes. She gave the Doll a smile and a nod as she grabbed her hat and walked away.

"I better get going." She said as she put on her hat.

"Good luck. And remember…" The woman in the wheelchair said. "Fear the old blood."

"I already fear ordinary one."

Of all the thing that she expected when she returned, this was certainly not one of them.

The entire mansion – the building itself and the surrounding area – looked like a warzone. Craters on the ground and holes in the building indicating the usage of explosive. She knew that the region was known for producing explosive and that some of the experiments enacted can be quite volatile but this certainly took the cake.

"What happened?" She asked a passing maid who – from her purchase – had just returned from getting materials to fix the mansion.

"Madam decided to do an experiment despite being inebriated." The maid explained. "She didn't do it in her lab."

That was more than enough to explain it. There was a good reason the Powder Kegs were known as heretics. Friendly heretics, sure, you can't even call them bad guys but you can't also blame people for disliking you because you have a tendency to blow up a workshop or two.

She walked around the front yard, looking around. They did make a promise to meet in here but she wondered if the condition made them decide to move the meeting place to somewhere else.

"Oi, Charlie! Over here!"

She looked at the source of the voice, finding them already sitting in…whatever the name of the thing was. Its frame made from metal, has a roof, and was used to enjoy the garden while having a teatime. She could ask but, well, she and others didn't exactly see eye-to-eye with the Madam of this place.

She walked towards them, finding out that each of them was currently enjoying a plate of fish and chips. There was one plate being left alone, likely her portion.

"Hey, girls." Charlie sat down and grabbed the plate. "How's the night?"

"Are you talking about this night, which is eternal, or…"

"The Night, Athia." She dipped a chip into mustard. "No ketchup?"

"We rather not have anything red after the Hunt. Especially since it will ruin Parthia's appetite." Athia pointed her with her thumb.

"Shut up." Parthia retorted as she put a piece of the fish into her mouth.

"Anyway, there's nothing worthy to tell about. So, let's just get straight to the point." She took a bite of a chip. "Aramia, the map."

Aramia, who mostly silent and simply eat her food, took out the folded map from her pocket. The other three cleaned up some space for it. She put it on the provided space and rubbed it a bit to smoothed it.

"As we all know, some things better remain hidden and it is our job to ensure it. Well, one of it anyway." Athia opened the meeting. "In any case, we need to ensure that nothing bad will happen thanks to this shipment."

"Are we sure that one of the books contained…unworldly knowledge?" Charlie asked.

"The books belonged to an alchemist who was obsessed with eyes. I am sure that's good enough." She explained.

"Do we really have to pass through here?" Aramia asked as she pointed at the dot labeled "Lescatie."

"We have to. It's the shortest route. Every second is important when dealing with eldritch knowledge." Athia explained. "Besides, you're a former priestess. I am sure you can make sure we pass the city undetected."

"In case you forgotten, I am no longer one after I slept with an acolyte."

"That's just mean you simply don't follow the teachings rather than not knowing one."

Aramia couldn't retort that. She simply picked three chips and ate them at the same time. Athia let out a small laugh before taking the map off the table.

"Get it, girls? There's nothing to worry about." She stated as she ate her fish. "This will be a piece of cake."

"…"

"…"

"…"

"…on second thought, I should have know saying that will jinx it."

Currently, the four Hunters were standing in what was used to be a small but prosperous port town. "Used to be" being the keyword; they had just arrived in the town and was about to inspect the ship where the books supposed to be when a bunch of Mamono decided to invade the settlement. They ran towards the ship and once reaching the deck, the three of them decided to glare at Athia.

"Whatever, let's just finish this whole thing and get some rest," Charlie stated as she unsheathed her rapier.

"Yeah, let's." Athia agreed, doing the same thing.

One of the silver linings of the attack was that it created a distracted for them. There was basically nobody on board of the ship; all of them were busy dealing with the invasion. That meant there would be no distraction for them.

"Damn, there's a lot of cargo here," Parthia commented. "How are we going to find them?"

"Just open any of them until we find it," Athia said as she opened one of the crates, which didn't contain the books.

Slowly but steadily, they opened the crates one by one. There were various types of cargo being transported by the ship; from fabrics made from various materials to export corps like cotton and tea leaves. Finally, they managed to find the books though rather than a crate, they were inside a chest with a lock.

"I already check the manifest. There's only one crate – or rather a chest – containing books." Parthia stated as they looked at the content of the chest. "Should we…"

Without any warning, Athia simply took out a Molotov cocktail and broke the top so that she could pour the content inside into the books. Knowing what would happen next, the other three took a step back, just in time for their leader to threw a match into the chest, burning the books inside.

"You know, a warning would be appreciated," Charlie said with a voice full of sarcasm.

"Considering how you act, I don't think that's necessary," Athia replied. "Let's go."

The four of them went into the top. When they reached there, they couldn't help but have their eyes widened by the sight before them; the town was on its very last leg with many of them being raped by the Mamono that invaded the place, regardless of gender or age.

"Well, damn, that is fast," Parthia commented as she prepared her weapons. "Should we help them?"

"I don't know," Aramia stated. "Extermination is our expertise, not saving."

"Then let's do that." Athia declared. "If there's someone that can still be saved, we shall save them. If not, at least we stop the spread, just like how doctors amputated infected limbs of patients."

And extermination they did.

There were various types of Mamono that invaded the town. There were the Werewolves, Mamono who lived in a pack and socially on par or even exceed that of humans, sharing their mates with each other. There were also the Minotaurs, Mamono with enormous strength capable of effortlessly using the heaviest weapons available and possessing an extremely rough temperament. Then there were the Black Harpies, the "evil cousins" of the Harpy family that attacked men even when it's not their mating season, robbing food, and stealing shiny material.

None of them was a match for a Hunter, let alone four.

It was not an uncommon knowledge that Mamono were better than humans in some fields. Physical strength, magical ability, beauty, and more. All – if not most – of them possessed an Achilles' heel; when they find a man that takes their fancy, they will suffer a very severe tunnel vision, focusing on mating with him without any care for their surroundings.

An advantage that the Hunters made use of without prejudice.

Many of their opponents were too busy with their victims to notice their throats being slit, their hearts being stabbed, their heads being decapitated, their insides splattered by quicksilver bullets or many other ways of being killed. Those who didn't try to warn their friends or even attacked the Hunters. Their actions resulted in nothing but them being the first among the dead.

While the street was nowhere close to clean due to the invasion, it was now bathed in blood along with the walls. The usage of Molotov cocktails, bombs, and torches caused a fire to spread, spreading chaos and mayhem even further. Corpses littered the street, both Mamono, and humans alike.

Those who mate with a Mamono were considered to be tainted and more often than not exiled by society. Their fate was either living with those who taint them or let those who seek to "purge" their uncleanness does their job. So, was it really wrong to spare them the pain and gave them the final mercy?

When Athia pulled her rapier out from the chest of a Werewolf, the "battle" – which would be more appropriate to be called a massacre – was over. She looked at her sisters-in-arms. Just like herself, they were covered by blood from head to toe. Nothing out of ordinary.

Besides them, there were only corpses on the street. Those who were still sane in mind had run away from the town. Buildings started to fall apart thanks to the fire that consumed them.

"Oh my," Charlie said, attracting the attention of others. "You're still alive."

Leaning on the wall, pressing the wound on her abdomen, was a Minotaur. She was more armored compared to others, wearing leather armors that unfortunately didn't help in the slightest against the blade of the Hunters. She stared at them, eyes full of hatred, despair, and sadness.

"Why…?" Her voice was sore, barely hearable. "Why…all of this…"

"Interesting question, don't you think?" Charlie stepped forward, pistol in hand. "Tell me, why a doctor cut a limb of a patient if it is infected?"

"That's…that's how you…see us…see them…" Her voice was close to breaking. "Infection?!"

She said nothing in return, merely pointing the barrel of her firearm at the head of the Minotaur.

"W-Wait, please!" She pleaded to them; tears started to drip from her eyes. "My husband and daughters…I…I just want to help them find someone that they love…and will love them in return…"

"You should have thought about your family."

With that, Charlie pulled the trigger, letting the Minotaur slowly fell to the ground, already letting out her last breath. She let out a sigh and holstered her pistol before joining her companions.

"That's the last of them," Parthia stated as she cleaned the blade of her rapier. "There's no one living still in the area."

"We should leave then before the Order or more Mamono arrives," Aramia suggested. "Enough blood has been shed today."

"Let's go then," Athia said. "Let us return."

On cue, several little creatures emerged from the street. They let out a soft moan and, despite their appearance, one could consider them adorable. They brought with them a lantern that emitted violet light. The Hunters approached them with Parthia deciding to play with them a little. All of them grabbed the pull chain and together, pulled it, sending them back to the Dream.

Under the light of the Pale Moon, sitting in a wheelchair, surrounded by white flowers, one known as the Good Hunter was writing on her journal. It was a curious thing; there was still empty pages for her to write despite its size and who-knows-how-long she had been using it. She could also open it right at the page that she wanted almost every time. When she didn't, she only needed to flip several pages.

A part of her wondered if it was a mere coincidence or the hands of fate that caused her to pick surrogates from this realm, trained them in the arts of the Hunt, and tasked them to help the denizens from those who were sympathetic in spirit, whether they were locals or came from the Cosmos.

She could descend into the realm and take care of the problem by herself. But at what cost? How many innocents would have to die? How many settlements that would be ruined and forgotten? How much of the realm would be tainted by the knowledge that the denizens better not know about?

She couldn't help but want to hate herself for that. She could not, however, for it would be a mere distraction that prevented her from doing her job. All that she could do was to do her best. Just like during the Night of the Hunt.

She stopped writing when she noticed four Messengers emerged and gave her a rolled-up parchment. She unrolled it, read the sentences written on it, before giving it back to the Messengers. As they disappeared back into the ground, she slowly stood up from her wheelchair. Once she was straight up, she looked at the Moon hanging in the sky.

"And thus, a new Hunt begins."

…and then yearns for a surrogate.

Thus, the prologue is over.

If you have a question or suggestion, feel free to tell me.

Review, please!