The Useless Prince Is A Gangster
Chapter 38. Hunting Season

Chapter 38 - 38. Hunting Season

On the dark streets of Avermoor, the band of hooded mercenaries marched like ghosts as they tracked their prey, a carefree noble boy and his maid. Their movements were careful, waiting for the perfect moment to strike.

The boy led them deeper into the abandoned alleys, his path turning unpredictably. The mercenaries advanced, their patience thinning as the two made another turn, vanishing from view. Fear spread through the group as they rushed to the corner, turning it hastily.

The street was empty. Silent. Still. Only crumbling buildings and shattered windows. The mercenaries scanning the area.

"We lost him," a slim man muttered with frustration. His fists clenched, knuckles white. "Should've acted sooner. Shouldn't have waited."

Another mercenary grumbled, "Yeah. This was a mistake."

The muscular leader silenced them with a sharp glare, his eyes darting between the shadows. "He wouldn't have gone far," he said firmly, his voice low and commanding. "He's here somewhere. We find him—and bring him and the maid back alive."

"Why are we chasing them anyway?" a younger mercenary asked, his voice breaking the tension.

The leader sneered, irritated by the question. A nearby man scoffed, rolling his eyes. "Why? That brat's bounty is 800 gold crowns if we deliver him alive!" His voice was filled with greed.

"What about his maid?" the younger mercenary asked again, his tone cautious.

The leader sneered, his irritation growing. "She's valuable too," he grumbled. "She's beautiful—we could—" His words stopped abruptly, his face stiffening as he turned toward the source of the younger mercenary's voice.

There, standing casually in the center of their formation, was the boy they were hunting. Leonhardt Caulem, with his bright red hair and crimson eyes, smirks at the stunned mercenaries. His posture was relaxed, his presence was calm.

The mercenaries looked at him, their eyes wide with shock. They realized that their prey hadn't escaped. He had turned the hunt on them.

Leo's smirk deepened.

"Well," he said casually, his tone sharp and deliberate, "looks like it's hunting season."

Before anyone could react, Leo's arm moved in a swift, fluid motion. His hunting knife summoned into his hand from his item space as if it had always been there. He drove the blade into the nearest mercenary's throat.

Blood gushed from his throat, drenching Leo's hand as he let out a low, guttural groan. With a twist, he took out the hunting knife free, only to plunge it back into the man's chest—then his stomach, then his face—stabbing with relentless force.

"Motherfuckers," Leo snarled, his voice filled with frustration.

"Why does every bastard want to sell my maid?" The mercenary's body crumpled, hitting the cobblestones with a thud, blood spreading pool beneath him. The others stood like they paralyzed, trembling.

[HOSTILE ELIMINATED! 1/10]

Sweat streaked down their pale faces as they stared, unable to process the violence before them. Even as mercenaries, they never saw someone killing like this.

Leo wipes the blood from his cheek with a careless swipe, smearing it across his skin like war paint. "No one matches her cooking," he muttered. "Tastes better than your worthless lives."

The words lingered, taunting, as three of the mercenaries shook off their shock, fury igniting in their eyes. Two charged forward, their curses tearing through the stillness of the night.

"You psychotic fuck!" one roared, slashing a dagger in a wild, desperate arc. Leo ducked low, the blade slicing air above his head, and countered with a vicious thrust—his hunting knife sinking deep into the man's chest with a sickening crunch.

The mercenary wheezed, staggering, but before Leo could wrench the blade free, the second attacker lunged, spitting venom. "Die, you twisted little prick!" His dagger came crashing down in a brutal overhead strike.

Leo pivoted, deflecting the blow with a sharp clang of steel, then retaliated with a slash upward. The knife ripped through flesh and muscle, carving a deep cut man's navel to his collarbone.

Leo stepped back, settling into a low stance. The two wounded mercenaries clutched their wounds, pain etched across their faces—until they smirked.

A shimmering green light flared around them, mana weaving through the air as their wounds began to close, skin stitching itself shut with eerie speed.

Leo's gaze landed on the third figure, standing a few steps back, his hands glowing with the same mana, fingers trembling faintly from the strain. A mage.

Leo's smirk widened, his crimson eyes gleaming with dark amusement. "A mage, huh?" he said lightly, letting his hunting knife vanish into his item space.

A moment later, his katana appeared in his hand, its sleek blade catching the moonlight as he unsheathed it. The sheath hit the ground with a clatter. "Let's see how much you can fix," he said, daring the mage with a wicked grin.

One of the mercenaries charged, his dagger raised, but Leo moved faster. The katana sliced cleanly through the man's wrist, the severed hand hitting the ground with a wet thud. Blood sprayed as the mercenary screamed, clutching his stump. Leo tilted his head toward the mage. "Heal him," he said coldly.

The mage's hands trembled, his focus faltering. Before he could act, Leo's blade swung again—a clean, deadly arc that severed the mercenary's head. It rolled across the cobblestones, leaving a blood trail in its wake.

[HOSTILE ELIMINATED! 2/10]

The mage's composure shattered. "You monster!" he shouted, rising his hands out as sharp stone spikes materialized, shooting toward Leo.

Leo dodged smoothly, his movements fluid as the projectiles slammed into the walls around him. The mage sent another volley, faster this time, but Leo was quicker, closing the distance in an instant. Hw made a strike from shoulder to hip.

The mage's body split cleanly in two, spilling blood and entrails as it crumpled to the ground.

Leo spun instinctively, sensing another mercenary behind him. The guy attacked with dagger raised high, but Leo's katana struck first—a single, sweeping cut from chest to belly. The mercenary falling into a dead body.

[HOSTILE ELIMINATED! 4/10]

Leo straightened, his katana dripping red, the metallic scent of blood thick in the air. His crimson eyes swept over the remaining mercenaries, their faces pale, their weapons trembling in their hands. They stood frozen, fear etched into every line of their expressions.

But as Leo's gaze moved across them, his smirk faded, replaced by a cold, sharp focus.

Then he saw her.

Liana.

She was held tightly by the leader of the mercenaries, his muscular arm wrapped around her neck like a vice. The glint of a dagger pressed against her throat, its blade so close it could draw blood with the slightest movement. Her brown eyes were wide with fear, her breaths shallow and panicked as she struggled against his grip.

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