Chapter 1 - Water Fairy

A tranquil lake rested deep within the forest. Wildflowers swayed gently along its shore, their colors bright beneath the afternoon sun. At first glance, the place looked untouched by the world's suffering.

Then the silence became impossible to ignore. No birds sang. No insects buzzed. No fish disturbed the water's surface. Even the wind seemed reluctant to linger.

In a small clearing beside the lake lay a large chunk of fresh meat.

Hidden among the trees, a man licked his lips as he watched the bait. Resting against his hip, secured by a heavy iron chain, hung a thick leather-bound tome that looked as though it had never been opened.

Monstrum Codex

Issued by the Holy Church to: Gregon Tarthal.

Beneath the title, a glowing sigil shimmered.

3 / 150

Gregon pulled the chained book into his hands and flipped through its pages until he found the entry he wanted.

Water Fairy.

The illustration resembled a mermaid only in the loosest sense. Its oversized, insect-like eyes bulged from its skull, while its mouth stretched unnaturally wide, lined with rows of needle-like teeth.

Carnivorous. Consumes any living creature entering its hunting grounds. Do not engage alone. Proceed with extreme caution.

"Bah…what do those holy men know?” Gregon muttered with a snort. "I don't share…ever again.”

He shut the manual with a clap and let it drop. Before it could hit the ground, the chain snapped tight, leaving the book hanging comfortably at his belt.

Gregon was tall, lean, and wiry, with the hardened muscles of someone who had spent a lifetime working the fields rather than training in barracks. A weathered tricorn hat shaded his broad, rough-hewn face, which looked less sculpted than hacked from a block of granite and abandoned halfway through the job. A worn leather vest and thick gloves completed his practical attire.

He drew an old flintlock pistol from his belt. The weapon had seen better decades. Scratches covered the barrel, and the grip was polished smooth from years of use.

He checked the chamber. Empty.

"I need to reach the next church to restock," he sighed.

The pistol disappeared back into its holster.

Instead, Gregon grabbed a thick tree branch overhead, so thick his fingers didn’t touch, and ripped it free with a sharp crack. He then stripped away the smaller twigs until only a sturdy club remained.

At that exact moment, the lake rippled. Water exploded upward as something burst from beneath the surface.

The Water Fairy lunged onto the discarded meat, clutching it greedily as it tore into the flesh with ecstatic shrieks.

Gregon's lips curled into a satisfied grin. "My perfect trap..." He stepped out from the trees, resting the makeshift club across his shoulder. "...got you exactly where I wanted.”

The Water Fairy's oversized eyes immediately locked onto him.

"...Shit." He stopped dead. "My plan failed!"

Instead of fleeing, however, the creature simply continued devouring the bait. It ripped off bloody chunks with sharp teeth, all while keeping one wary eye fixed on Gregon.

The catcher relaxed. The dumb bastard doesn't even realize the danger it's in. Monstrums are really just stupid beasts.

Casually strolling forward, he awkwardly hid the thick branch behind his back. It wasn't convincing in the slightest, but the creature didn't seem to care.

When he was only a few steps away, Gregon's lips curled into a vicious grin. He swung the club overhead. Then he froze.

The Water Fairy extended a bloody piece of meat toward him. Offering it.

"...Huh? What are you... some intelligent beast? The priests said you things were all mindless monsters."

For a brief moment, the creature reminded him of the livestock back home. People always called cows, pigs, and goats stupid. Maybe they were. But when you raised them yourself... fed them every morning... worked beside them every day...you started noticing their little habits. Their personalities.

Without realizing it, Gregon's arm slowly lowered. He reached toward the offered meat.

When he got close enough, the Water Fairy grabbed around his wrist and yanked him straight into the lake.

The world vanished beneath the water. Gregon thrashed wildly as bubbles escaped his mouth.

...My trap trapped me?

The creature pinned him against the lakebed. Sharp teeth tore into his shoulder. Blood clouded the water as it calmly feasted while Gregon slowly drowned.

For an ordinary man that would have been the end. But Gregon hadn't learned to fight from knights, or soldiers. He hadn't even learned from hunters. He'd learned from farm animals.

Without hesitation, he lunged forward and bit straight into the creature's ear hole. The Water Fairy shrieked in agony. Its grip loosened.

Got you.

The monster lunged again. Now it wasn't a hunter and prey. It was two animals tearing at each other.

Gregon tried kicking it away, but underwater his movements were sluggish. The Water Fairy caught his leg between its jaws. Pain shot through him.

As they struggled, the creature's tail slammed across Gregon's face. Instinctively, he grabbed it. Then...An idea sparked.

"Monstrum Catching Lesson One: Know their weak spots."

He raised his free hand. Only two fingers extended.

The Water Fairy blinked confused.

Gregon drove those two fingers straight into its rear.

You thought I was gonna fight fair? A savage grin spread across his face. I'm a farmhand. I've had to shove my whole arm up an animal's ass before. I don't mind getting my hands dirty.

The lake erupted into violent splashes. Water churned. Bubbles burst across the surface.

The struggle continued for several long seconds. Then Gregon exploded from the water with a desperate gasp.

He dragged himself toward shore, coughing up half the lake. On his right arm the Water Fairy was still attached by its ass. With one violent swing, he ripped the creature free and hurled it across the clearing.

It hit the ground with a wet thud. "Another one down." He wiped water from his face.

Only then did he notice what coated his fingers. His expression twisted in disgust. "...Ugh."

He cautiously sniffed his hand. "Smells like shit...Figures."

Walking over to the dying monster, Gregon grabbed its head with both hands.

Twist. Crack. The neck snapped cleanly.

He opened the soaked Monstrum Killing Manual to the Water Fairy's page and pressed the severed head against the illustration.

The corpse dissolved into bubbling black sludge.

A heartbeat later, it was sucked into the page as though the paper itself had swallowed it.

The glowing sigil on the cover flickered.

4 / 150

Gregon stared at the number for a moment.

"...Still a long road."

Then a wild, almost manic grin slowly spread across his face.

"But…Gotta hunt 'em all.”

***

Two Weeks Earlier

The barn echoed with the familiar sounds of livestock.

A cow let out a protesting moo as Gregon slipped both arms beneath her belly and effortlessly lifted the several-hundred-kilogram animal off the ground. Carrying her across the stable as though she weighed little more than a sack of grain, he gently set her inside a separate pen.

"There you go, Betsy." He patted her neck. "You've gotta stay here until you calve."

The cow answered by lazily licking his entire face.

Gregon burst into laughter. "Cheeky girl."

"Hey, Gregon! Get out here!" The shout came from outside the barn.

As Gregon headed for the door, the rest of the animals immediately reacted.

A chicken fluttered onto his shoulder while a parade of tiny chicks hurried after his boots, chirping as if he were their mother. A stubborn goat latched onto his trouser leg and began happily chewing the fabric.

"Guys, calm down," Gregon said, gently lifting the chicken from his shoulder. "I'll be right back."

He pried the goat off his pants with a sigh before finally pushing open the heavy barn doors.

The view outside wasn't what anyone imagined when they heard the words family farm.

There were no endless fields. No rolling hills. No countryside.

Just beyond the barn stood an enormous stone wall, stretching dozens of meters into the sky. The city's outer wall.

On the other side of the narrow street, people hurried through their daily routines. Some wore masks of leather fitted with cloudy glass lenses, while others had only dirty cloth wrapped around their mouths and noses.

"Over here, boy!"

Gregon turned toward the voice. Old Master Chrissen was emptying large metal water containers into an equally massive steel reservoir.

"Let me help with the water ration, Master Chrissen!" Gregon hurried over and grabbed one of the heavy jugs as though it were empty.

Only then did he notice the two figures standing behind the old farmer.

Two soldier-priests. Their white tabards brushed against mud-stained boots, the Holy Church's emblem stitched proudly across their chests. Leather masks covered the lower halves of their faces, and sabers rested at their hips next to flintlock pistols.

"They're here for the weekly inspection," Chrissen explained quietly.

One of the priests stepped forward. "The Church cannot allow the sick to tend livestock."

His cold gaze swept over both farmers. "You two…Strip."

Gregon didn't argue. It was routine. Every week he inspected animals for signs of illness. Every week the Church inspected the people the same way.

He removed his clothes in practiced motions and stood naked next to Chrissen.

The priest never touched them directly. Instead, he used long wooden rods to prod their arms, shoulders, back, and chest while examining every inch of exposed skin.

"A healthy specimen." His eyes lingered on Gregon's lean, weathered physique. Old whip scars crisscrossed his back.

The priest reached into his robes and produced a folded piece of paper. Without ceremony, he tossed it into the mud at Gregon's feet.

"Be there…Or hang." The two soldier-priests turned and walked away without another word.

"...Fucking priests," Gregon muttered.

Master Chrissen was already tying his trousers back on. "Watch your mouth, boy. If they hear you saying that, they'll kill you."

Gregon let out a sigh as he gathered his clothes before picking the muddy letter off the ground.

Across the front, elegant black letters read: Invitation to a New World.

"What the hell is this?"

Chrissen shrugged. "No idea. Just be there."

Gregon finished dressing before looking toward the old farmer. "Will you look after my brother while I'm gone?"

"As always." Chrissen smiled and dropped a handful of copper coins into Gregon's palm. "Your pay for the week."

Gregon weighed the coins in his hand before looking back toward the direction the priests had disappeared. "You always do whatever the Church says? They've been ordering everyone around ever since the plague. Like we're livestock."

Chrissen chuckled. "Yes. And that's exactly why I've lived this long."

The old farmer started walking back toward the water tank.

"If you want to keep helping your brother...I'd suggest doing the same." He paused only long enough to glance over his shoulder. "There's only one battle a man gets to choose. Pick it carefully."

Gregon silently tightened his fist around the coins until the edges bit into his palm.

****

Later that evening, Gregon pushed open the door of a tiny wooden shack.

"I'm back."

The room was barely large enough for two people. A narrow bed stood against one wall, a small fireplace crackled in the corner, and a crooked table occupied the center.

"Hey, Ian." Gregon set a small glass vial filled with dark green liquid onto the table, followed by a single lonely coin. "I got your medicine."

A frail boy of about ten turned from the fireplace with a bright smile.

"You didn't have to buy it, big brother. I'm feeling much better." He proudly lifted a wooden bowl. "And I made dinner. Sit!"

Gregon obediently sat. Ian placed the bowl in front of him. The contents...looked horrifying.

It was an unidentifiable gray sludge that even pigs would probably inspect twice before eating.

Gregon stared at it. "...When did you learn to cook?"

"I wanted to help." Ian scratched the back of his head shyly. "I'm tired of just lying around all day. I don't want to be a burden forever."

Gregon smiled. Then, with the determination of a soldier marching into battle, he grabbed the wooden spoon. He finished the entire bowl without changing his expression once.

Setting the spoon down, he nodded firmly. "Thanks for the mea. It was…delicious."

Ian's face lit up. "Really? Then I'll have some too!"

"W-Wait—" Too late. Ian had already scooped up a spoonful and stuffed it into his mouth.

He chewed. "...Hmm. It's...special."

Gregon quietly exhaled. Thank goodness...At least he seasoned it the way he likes...

The thought hadn't even finished crossing his mind when Ian's eyes rolled back. Thud. The boy collapsed onto the floor.

"Ian!" Gregon rushed over, scooping his brother into his arms before laying him gently on the bed. He uncorked the green vial and carefully poured a few drops into Ian's mouth.

After a few tense moments...Ian slowly opened his eyes. “...Brother. Why didn't you tell me the food tasted awful?"

"W-What are you talking about?" Gregon quickly picked up Ian's abandoned bowl. "I loved it! See? I'm even having seconds."

Without hesitation, he shoveled the rest into his mouth.

Ian watched him quietly. A small smile appeared on his pale face. "I heard from Master Chrissen you received an invitation."

He picked up the folded paper resting on the table. "What do they want?"

Gregon shrugged. "What else? War, probably. I doubt they're recruiting me to be their new altar boy."

He laughed at his own joke. Ian didn't. His smile slowly faded as he read the letter.

"Whatever this is..." Gregon adjusted the straps of his worn travel sack. "...maybe it'll finally earn enough money to get you treated."

Ian gently lowered the paper. "It's too dangerous. You don't have to risk your life just to save mine." His voice remained calm. "I've already made peace with dying."

Smack! The slap echoed through the tiny room. Ian's head snapped sideways. A bright red handprint slowly appeared across his cheek.

Gregon stood over him with a face utterly devoid of humor. "Don't ever say that again…or I'll kill you myself."

Ian blinked. "Brother. That doesn't make any sense."

Gregon immediately became flustered "Y-You know what I mean! And besides...The royal physician cured the prince of the exact same sickness!"

Ian sighed. "That's just a rumor."

"It's not! I heard it from the prince's chambermaid's son. So it's true."

Ian looked unconvinced. "The prince was born sick, the same as me? So weak he couldn't even walk around town?"

Gregon scratched his chin. "I'm pretty sure princes don't stroll around town. They're too important for that." He grinned. "But yeah. So…Just hang in there a little longer."

Ian quietly watched his brother gather his few belongings. A small travel sack. An old tricorn hat. Some leather gloves.

At the doorway, Gregon stopped without looking back. "As your big brother...it's my job to save you."

He pulled the hat low over his eyes. Then stepped outside. The door closed behind him with a solid thud.

****

The grand hall of the Holy Church was filled with young men and women.

Rich nobles stood beside poor farmers. Sons of merchants stood shoulder to shoulder with laborers who had never held a proper weapon in their lives.

The Church had spared no expense decorating the chamber. Golden ornaments lined the walls, massive candles illuminated the towering ceiling, and holy symbols covered every corner.

For many gathered there, it was the first time they had ever stepped inside such a magnificent place. They looked around in awe.

Then the murmuring stopped. A man stepped onto the pulpit. The Priest General.

Unlike the ordinary priests, he wore a white military robe reinforced with a leather belt. A saber rested at his side, and a strange ceremonial hat sat atop his head.

He looked over at the crowd. "We are going to war!"

The hall erupted into whispers. Some cheered immediately. Others exchanged uncertain looks.

Gregon stood among them with his arms crossed, a faint smile on his face. "Figures."

The young man beside him glanced over. He looked completely out of place among the crowd of hopeful recruits.

His dark blue coat was spotless, decorated with polished silver buttons. His long dark hair was perfectly maintained, every strand in place.

"Against who?" the young noble asked. "After the plague struck Europe ten years ago, humanity's population dropped below ten percent." He looked around the hall. "The nearest city from here is over two weeks away on foot."

The Priest General smiled. "You have studied well, Marquess Thierry."

Thierry sighed. "Yes. Which is why I know conquest is impossible. Are the Church truly this bored? There is nothing out there except monstrums. They can roam freely because humanity no longer has the numbers to challenge them."

A deep voice suddenly interrupted. "That is correct."

Every head turned. A new figure stepped onto the stage. He was enormous. Over two meters tall, with a body built like a war statue. His coat was simply thrown over his bare upper body, exposing muscles covered with countless scars.

A beautiful woman rested against each of his arms. "That is exactly why...we go to war against the monstrums."

The crowd exploded with enthusias. Someone shouted from the back. "We love you, Lakar!"

The man smiled confidently. The most famous Monstrum Catcher alive. The man who defended the king during the 1812 Nightcrawler Massacre. The warrior who cleared the lower districts of giant rats, allowing civilians to reclaim the area.

Every woman dreamed of him. Every man wanted to become him. Some said he was even more famous than the Pope himself.

Then someone noticed the large stitched wound across his shoulder. "Lakar!" A recruit shouted. "What monstrum did that?"

Lakar looked down at the scar. Then he laughed. "One that paid for it with its life."

The crowd cheered.

"The king's physician patched me up. Nothing to worry about."

Gregon's smile disappeared. The king's personal physician…The same person who cured the prince. The same person who could cure Ian. Famous Monstrum catchers even can hire him?

His fists tightened.

Lakar reached inside his coat and pulled out a thick book. He raised it above his head.

"Behold! The Holy Church's newest invention! The key to our victory! The Monstrum Codex!"

The crowd stared. Someone laughed. "A book? We're going to kill monstrums with words? Lakar must be getting sentimental in his old age!"

Without even looking, Lakar kicked his own shoe into the air. He caught it, then threw it. The shoe flew across the room and slammed directly into the heckler's face.

The hall went silent. Lakar smiled. "You. How would you defeat a Creepycrawly hiding in the darkness without weapons?"

The man opened his mouth. No answer came.

Lakar held out the opened Codex toward the crowd. "The moonlight burns their shell. That information is written right here."

The Priest General stepped forward. "The Codex contains vital information about every known monstrum. Knowledge that will allow humanity to reclaim the world."

Lakar closed the book. On its cover, a glowing symbol appeared.

0 / 150

"Every person who manages to kill all one hundred and fifty kinds of monstrums..." His grin widened. "...will reach my level. An Elite Monstrum Catcher."

The crowd stared in amazement.

The Priest General raised his hand. "Together, we will create an army of Monstrum Catchers. An army that will take back our world. Everyone, line up. Receive your Codex."

The doors opened. Soldier-priests carried in two enormous wooden crates filled with books.

The crowd rushed forward. People shoved each other aside. Everyone wanted one. Everyone wanted a chance.

Lakar raised his arms. "With this...Grab your luck. Grab your honor. Become divine!"

The hall erupted with cheers. Behind the crowd, Thierry let out a quiet sigh.

"These poor fools...They don't even realize they are being used as free monster hunters." He glanced at Gregon. "Don't you agree?"

Gregon face seethed like a hungry dog with a smile. "No! This is my chance."

The moment the crates opened, Gregon moved. He pushed through the crowd like a charging bull. People stumbled aside.

A few seconds later, he returned holding two Codex books. One in each hand. "One for me…And one if I lose the first."

Thierry stared at him. Then sighed. He snatched one book away. "Idiot."

He opened it. Inside was a set of instructions. Attached to the page was a metal chain. "Everyone receives one Codex. So you can't steal another person's progress."

Thierry clipped the chain around Gregon's belt. Then he pricked Gregon's finger with a small needle. A single drop of blood fell onto the page.

The letters began glowing. The Codex wrote a name: Gregon Tarthal.

Thierry looked at him carefully.

He's stupid. But he's strong. And that look in his eyes…That hunger. A small smile appeared. Exactly the kind of person I need.

"Hey. Want to team up, friend?"

Gregon looked at him.

"Two people can complete the one hundred fifty faster." said Thierry.

A way to reach his goal sooner. Gregon didn't hesitate. "I'm in."

Thierry nodded. "Good. Then follow me. We're going to the Church armory. We need equipment before we leave."

As Thierry walked away, Gregon looked down at his Codex. His fingers tightened around the cover.

"I'm going to save you, brother. No matter what." His eyes hardened. "Even if I have to kill every single monstrum."