Maneating Hulk is a lethal finishing move available to Nature-typed Environ users. It is one of the hardest Epic Nature skills to execute due to its long build-up and cooldown period as well as its huge consumption of Flair reserve. A Level 1 Maneating Hulk already costs 985 reserves, which equals to the entire reserve of a typical Level 15 Flair User. Most flair users usually just skip unlocking the skill altogether, since it is deemed to difficult too perform.

The skill is also infamous for its small execution range, which makes luring the opponent into the trap a dangerous sport. However, once the adversary is trapped inside a Maneating Hulk, they take a massive amount of damage which equals to 800% of a Hail of a Sapling of the same level, and 300% of that of Curse of Aogikahara.

Excerpt from "The Encyclopedia of Flair Skills, Volume 9 (9th edition)"

Azra Kolkov

"You must live. You must avenge our family."

I swing my whip on a tree trunk, hoping that the words echoing inside my head will fade from my mind and pass to the wood somehow. But they don't. The whispers rarely ever go away.

Lately, that dream surfaces more often. The dream where my dying father clutches my arm with his bloody hand, passing his burden on me as if I only exist to fulfill some legacy.

As if I'm cursed with our bloodline on my shoulder.

Socenian war veterans having fought in the great World War have often said they were bedamned with an eternity of dread and misery. They see remnants of their past looming over their head as they lay down to rest, and shadows of their enemies' corpses in the corner of their mirrors when morning comes. They hear voices inside their head, urging them to do unspeakable things, poisoning their mind with trickles of impure, abhorrent thoughts.

I guess this is bound to happen to me. I have lived my life has been just like a devoted soldier, after all. Following the rules, upholding order, living by the code. It's better being cursed and safe rather than being disordered and dead.

The sun's passed my head and is moving closer to Mount Hirai. The day's growing ripe. Most of the troop are either hunting, on patrol, or at the Training Ground for the test. Since we only have exactly twenty people anyway, there are usually only one or two people tending to the barrack. And today, that person is me.

I set my whip aside and proceed to clean the one-wheeled Soulbikes. Since Leviathan got his hand on one of the Imperial Army's blueprints ten years ago, he's made a total of eleven bikes, making horses redundant. He's spent years to make them as fuel-efficient as they are now: a speck of dust can last you through Likimi forest.

After the chores are taken care of, I ran out of things to do. This shouldn't have happened. When the sun passes your head, some people need to be back at the barrack for their afternoon duties.

"This is unusual. Carlo and Fabrizio should've been back from their hunt by now."

Maybe they've dropped by the Training Ground to watch Melodi's Promotion Test? They're not allowed to do that without permission. The last time these guys slack off was two months ago, and I've given them an earful about it. It irritates me that they dare not show up in time again. I have to find them and give them a piece of my mind.

I pick up my weapon, leave the barrack, and follow the path we usually traverse to the edge of the woods where there are more bisons around than we're ever going to hunt. I follow the well-travelled path to the greenest part of the forest. It's also supposed to be the liveliest corner of Likimi, too, but for some reason the chirpy birds aren't anywhere in sight today.

I have a bad feeling about this. And statistically speaking, my hunches been more correct than not.

But what can go wrong? Our forest is protected by the ancient barrier that shields itself from the outside world, so the only threats are Soul Rifts. Both Carlo and Fabrizio are trained soldiers and flair users, and they know better than staying inside a Soul Rift whenever they're at low health.

Speaking of Carlo, I think I see him near the opening to the plain. Wearing his favorite white shirt under his wooden armor. Lying face down on the ground, in his own pool of blood.

I raise my weapon then look around me for danger. There doesn't seem to be anyone around. With my back against the trees, I creep towards Carlo.

"Carlo," I whisper. "Carlo. You're late for barrack duty."

No response. I approach him then place two fingers on the side of his neck. No sign of breathing.

I flip his face over. His dull, lifeless half-opened eyes meet mine. The blood running from the corner of his mouth has yet to have dried.

Carlo is dead.

I walk away from the opening, deeper into the thick groves. Only when I move into a position where I can't be ambushed do I squeeze my forehead and heave a sigh.

A man who I've known for eighteen years has just been murdered. Just yesterday, he still cooked the finest braised fish for dinner. There's a book written in Cercelian I borrowed from him, I have yet to return.

And he's dead.

But I must keep calm. I'm a Leader; the Leader of my people. I must master my emotions.

A man in haste can never avenge.

I take another deep breath. By the time I exhale, my mind has cleared of throbs and thrills. The first thing I need to do is summoning my SC. I take out my Orb and after a few seconds, Okra appears. "How can I be of service today, Mister Kolkov?"

I tell him about the situation and order him to find the General and relay the news.

"Tell the General that. . . he was right. The forest is no longer safe," I say. Okra nods once and disappears into the woods.

After Okra has gone, I walk back to the corpse and check for blood trails and footprints. The blood trail leads to the plain, but there's only Carlo's footsteps imprinted on the grass. It seems like he tried to escaped and died here from the loss of blood.

There's no bison in sight in the open, which means that something must've scared the beasts off. Our protection barrier cuts right through the plain, so if Carlo was attacked while out there, the fight must've taken place within a scope of about a square kilometer. There's no sign of Fabrizio or any intruder. They might be hiding under the tall grass at the edges of the plain.

I kneel, open my hand, then press it on the ground. My Root Force can connect with the root system and find out which areas of grass have been damaged.

After a minute of searching, I feel a lack of nutrient on a rather large area to the far right of the plain. If the parts above the ground are damaged, the roots will have to go into a pseudo-hibernation mode to keep itself alive. The ones I'm feeling seems to have begun that process.

Using Tropical Summoning, I summon tree trunks to shield myself from four sides. The roots support the trunks, and these shields travel with me as I rush to the suspicious area. When I arrive there, I find another bloodied corpse.

Fabrizio.

Something rams into my left side, tearing my shield apart with one swift sword strike.

"Another low-level idiot seeking death!" Comes the snappy female scream along with it. The remaining parts of my shields transform into spear-shaped countersinks, shooting at the source of aggression. The assailant jumps back a few steps, then I hear another sets of footstep coming at me from behind. I swing my whip at the direction of the noise, hitting that figure and sending it staggering backward.

I stand between two unfamiliar face: a swordswoman with a black ponytail on the left, and a spearman on the right. The swordswoman's blade is scorching red with sparks of flame crackling from the tip, so she's probably a Fire-typed Flair user. I'm not yet sure what the spearman can do.

"Let me have at him!" The swordswoman thumps on her chest and slices her blade through the air. "These forest dwellers are garbage! They've been stuck in this hole for so long, they've forgotten how to fight!"

These must be the attackers. They tried to ambush me, but I'm more than well-prepared.

"He's all yours, sis," says the spearman. "Don't make me have to aid you. If you so much let him touches you, you gon have no rights to complain that I steal your kills."

Phoenix badges on their shoulder blades. They're wearing Duneroi Infantry Armor. No star on the badges; must be low-level. Stronger than Fabrizio and Carlo, but reckless.

"Heh heh! What do you take me for?" The woman charges forward, her sword-holding hand over her head. The Southern Wind Sword Stance.

She swings her blade to my left, and I dodge to the right. She swings again, in an angle I can't dodge. But I've already summoned two layers of wood to hinder her. Her sword smashes through my wooden trunk, leaving the woodchips burning on the ground.

"Stop dodging and fight back, coward!" She screams. I deliberately leave an opening for her to shoot fire beams at me, but she doesn't. Either she's way too cocky, or her Flair is Artifact-based.

"Nature-typed, and a coward! You stands no chance!" She advances, and I take another few steps back. Her attacks are swift but predictable. But I need to appear vulnerable.

I form another layer of defense. I leave a gap in my wooden shield, and she attempts to stab through it. "Die!" She growls as she closes the distance.

Just where I want her to be.

"W-what. . ." Before she knows it, my Vinestrap Hawser has already emerged from the ground and tied her legs before creeping up to her wrists. "Help me, Bjork!"

"Damn it!" The spearman yells. "Endure it, Bjorline! He'll only leave a scar at most!"

The spearman charges at me, but he's too late.

"Maneating Hulk." I clench my hand into a fist. A giant plum red man-eater plant emerges from the ground, opens its massive jaw-like mouth, swallows the woman, and snaps its mouth shut. The woman is clinched inside its fly trap with her arms and legs still on the outside. She lets out shrill screams, then flounces her limbs around in desperation. A few seconds later, the screams stop and her limbs drop. Her sword falls to the ground, the fire sparks no longer shoots out from it.

One left.

"Freaking Bjorline." I turn back to the spearman to see him gazing at the giant plant, his spear-holding hand shakes like a leaf in the wind. However, he soon regains composure and locks eyes with me. I silently applaud his courage. Or his idiocy.

"Who are you?" He asks. "The Lordship said there are only two people with fighting skills worth a dime here."

"Captain Kolkov."

"Just my damn luck." He snorts. "But if the captain is here, that means that the living quarter stands no chance."

"Tell me everything you know, and I'll make your death quick and painless."

"Oh. I'm not the one who has to fear for my life." He smirks. "We have already infiltrated this forest. Your time counts by the seconds. Tik. Tok. Tik. Tok." He swerves the tip of his spear with each word he utters.

"How did you get pass the barrier?"

The man laughs hysterically until he coughs. "Barrier? Your barrier has been neutralized hours ago. It's nothing for our Lord Pyro."

"Pyro?" I inhale sharply. This isn't the first time I've heard of this name. And there's a reason the name rings a bell.

"Whichever Pyro you're thinking of, he is the one. The Fire Demon of the South. The leader of Duneroi Kingdom's Almighty Council. The bearer of your worst nightmare."