Since it would take Kichiro a full day to walk back to the Teal Banner’s main camp and it was already past noon, he knew that he would have to spent at least one night on the steppe. The nights here were perilous. Many high-Level monsters were most active at night, but an even greater danger was the freezing cold, which could sneak up on an exposed traveller and kill them as cleanly as any skilled assassin. Kichiro looked at the dead giant marmot’s enormous behind, sticking out of the earth, and an idea struck him.

A couple hours were spent heaving the abundant corpse onto its side. It felt like trying to turn a boulder. When the cut Kichiro had made in the marmot’s stomach rolled into view, the stench of its still-warm guts hit Kichiro and he almost puked. Doing his best to ignore the smell, he shoved his right arm deep into the monster’s insides, pulling out stinking ropes of intestines and wobbling organs. Then, holding his nose, he dived head first into the dead marmot with his katana and cut the fleshy bits that connected the marmot’s guts to its body. Now he was able to rip all of its guts out of its corpse and drag the jelly-like mass of organs thirty paces or so away.

When Kichiro put his hands up to his nose and took a whiff, he immediately bent over to vomit, but he was pleased with his work. He had successfully hollowed out the giant marmot’s cadaver, and when he peeked through the slit in its stomach, he found he had excavated a fleshy cave as spacious as a little tent within the monster’s ribcage.

Unfortunately, brown slivers of half-digested grass had spilled on the bones; Kichiro’s katana had sliced open a part of the intestines. Kichiro snatched some leaves from outside and cleaned up. Then, he went to the river to wash the stinking blood and gore off his arms. By that time, the sun hung low in the sky and the daylight dulled. Kichiro stalked the birch copse gathering dry wood, grunting with pain from his mutilated shoulder, and built a campfire. Fixing some marmot meat onto a stick, he roasted it over the fire and devoured it. The meat was a little tough, but surprisingly juicy.

As Kichiro licked his fingers and the sun dipped below the horizon, a distant howl carried across the land, followed by a profound silence. Kichiro frowned.

A wolf?

The howl came again, and then it was joined by another howl, and another, until Kichiro thought there were about a dozen howls at once. They seemed to grow closer each time they sounded.

A whole pack of wolves?

Kichiro was now shaking. He glanced at his arm. His HP was fully restored, but HP was not an accurate indicator of a person’s fitness. It merely showed how close a person was to death. A grievously injured person whose condition had stabilised could retain a higher percentage of their HP than a person with a comparatively minor wound who was bleeding out. Kichiro was still barely able to move his left arm, and he wondered how he was supposed to fend off a determined pack of wolves.

Clutching his sword tightly, he hurriedly scrambled over to the giant marmot and wriggled through the slit in its stomach. Lying silently in the darkness of his fleshy little hollow, he prayed to Ebisu, the God of Fortune of the Rising Sun Isles, that the wolves would not come for him. Yet his fear mounted. The Rising Sun Isles were far away, across the sea. Would Ebisu even notice his prayer?

Hours passed and Kichiro was struggling to keep his eyes open when howls pierced his ears again. They were so loud that Kichiro swore the wolves must be upon him. He heard growling, and the ripping of flesh.

Curse my stupidity, thought Kichiro, The wolves must be eating the marmot’s organs I left out! Why didn’t I think to drag them further away?

He heard rustling in the undergrowth, steadily coming closer. He heard canine panting and sniffing, and held his sword tightly. Then, a grey wolf poked its head through the slit in the giant marmot’s stomach. Startled golden eyes met Kichiro’s.

‘Big mistake, you worm-ridden dog!’ cried Kichiro as he pushed the blade into the wolf’s throat. The poor wolf was utterly helpless as a waterfall of blood gushed out of the wound, bathing Kichiro’s legs.

You inflict 53 HP in damage to the Level 14 wolf! The Level 14 wolf dies!

Immediately, Kichiro erupted out of the giant marmot’s corpse like an enormous, blood-splattered parasite, screaming like a madman. The pack of wolves who had been feasting on the bloody heap of marmot insides stared at him with timid eyes shining with terror. With only the dull light of the moon to guide him, Kichiro could hardly see a thing, but he hurled at the pack, slicing the air around him furiously with his sword.

The pack of wolves yelped in terror and flew, disappearing into the inky night, but not before Kichiro had succeeded in severing the shrieking alpha male’s tail.

You inflict 18 HP in damage to the Level 29 wolf!

When he realised what he had done, Kichiro raised his sword to the heavens and roared, revelling in his victory. He felt like a great samurai champion who single-handedly routed an army. His celebration was cut short, however, when a seemingly human hand slapped him across the face with incredible force, sending him crashing to the ground.

The Level 8 Äbädä inflicts 3 HP in damage to you!

Kichiro sprawled on the ground, utterly dazed. When his eyes adjusted somewhat to the diminutive humanoid silhouette looming over him, he saw an ancient woman with a face lined with deep grooves, glaring at him from under a red headscarf.

It must be a ghost, thought Kichiro, trembling with fear, Old women don’t just walk around the steppe at night!

‘Be off, you old hag,’ he cried, ‘Spare me!’

‘What have you done to my beloved trees?’ demanded the old woman, looking stern.

‘Who are you?’

‘I am the Äbädä, the guardian of these woods,’ she replied coldly, ‘Look what you’ve done!’

She pointed to the side. Kichiro could see little in the dark, but he guessed that she was referring to the uprooted trees, broken trunks and blood-splattered birches.

‘Forgive me, my good lady,’ he said, grovelling in the dirt, ‘I had to defend myself from a giant marmot, and that was the result.’

‘Yes, you went on to butcher the big, ugly furball and spill its organs all over my home.’

‘Forgive me, my good lady.’

‘And then to top it off, you’ve added a wolf’s corpse and a tail to the mess!’

‘I will leave as soon as possible tomorrow morning,’ said Kichiro, bowing repeatedly in apology and shaking with terror.

‘You will leave at daybreak or I will turn you into a sapling and trample on you!’

‘Yes, my good lady!’

Kichiro snuck back to his giant marmot corpse, looking like a dog with its tail between its legs.

The next day, when Ilha the Steppe Champion, riding speedily on her horse, came across a dishevelled, horse-less Kichiro in blood-soaked clothes, trudging wearily across the steppe in the direction of the Teal Banner’s main camp, she was startled.

‘Kichiro!’ she cried out, ‘I thought you were dead!’

He merely turned a pair of tired eyes on her and muttered, ‘The steppe is a weird place.’