“Gods damn it.” the Ranger hissed as she looked at the growing gaggle of monsters and monster-worshipers from a vantage point more than a mile away and roughly a kilometer above the ground. “As if my hunt couldn’t get more difficult.”

Her allied pet moved up to rub against her, but The Ranger couldn’t be asked to even lower a hand to caress its fur. She ignored her pet and instead used a mix of her looted binoculars and her own supernatural senses to secretly spy on her prey.

“You.” she spat that word with all the venom she could. “I’ll kill you if it’s the last thing I do.”

[“Do so as soon as you can, my Hunter.”]

The gaze of The Ranger tilted upwards slightly as the voice of her Patron filled her mind.

“My almighty Lord, please do not disturb me while I stalk my prey.”

[“You dare to demand anything of the Alpha Hunter, mortal?”]

A chill worse than that felt when facing imminent doom ran over The Ranger, and she quickly shook her head.

“N-no. I merely beg of you to allow me the time and quiet needed to do the task you have set me to with the-”

[“A true Hunter does not beg, whore.”] Her Patron interjected with audible disdain for their own Follower. [“You would do well to bow your head to no one unless you truly are some weak little creature further down the food chain.”]

The Ranger stopped herself from even thinking the word “hypocrite”. The last time she had thought that word, let alone anything remotely similar when her Patron God was keeping such a close eye on her, it had ended in her being nearly killed by a mass of ravenous beasts drawn to her by a temporary curse.

“As you wish.” was her reply. It worked more often than it didn’t, and that was usually enough to get her Patron to leave her be for a bit. She just needed to be quiet so she could formulate a plan of attack. Even if she couldn’t take a trophy from the corpse of the ‘Lyrhean Progenitor’, she could at least confirm the kill and hope that would be enough to sate the Quest given to her after her previous failure.

[“Ah, hey, woman.”] The Hunter-God said snarkily.

She sighed and already knew what was going to be ‘said’, but as protocol demanded, she would answer regardless.

“Yes, my Master?”

A bit of annoying, rather obnoxious laughter filled her head and she forced herself to not sigh. She liked the power, but she hated her Patron, not that she could simply change it without suffering terribly and quite possibly being eaten alive.

[“Looks like your prey has left the area. Maybe you should have acted like a true hunter and paid closer attention. Look, they’re gone.”]

She found her mind once again returning to the mortal world, and not only had the monsters and their cultists long since vanished, there was a rain storm going on and it was night. She cursed under her breath at these facts. After all, the next rain was predicted to be more than a few days away from when she had first been contacted by her Patron.

“I’d best get back to tracking again.” he half-grumbled.

[“Yes, you do that. Do keep me appraised. Oh, and I am updating the Quest.”]

She saw the screen pop up in front of her, with the wording changing instantly.

“This was never part of our arrangement.” She said to no one.

[“Yeah, well, I am altering the deal. Pray I do not alter it further.”]

As the presence in her head finally faded, she felt it was now perfectly time to give one last fuck you for now.

“Yes, Lord Vader. Should I wear clown shoes, a bonnet a dress, ride a unicycle and call myself ‘Mary’, as well?”

Silence was her reply, and that was just the way that she liked it. Well, she needed to pick up the pace. That monster bitch wouldn’t hunt itself.

…

As it sat on its throne of bone and pelts and the like, the God of the Hunt held its head with on hand, an elbow rested on the arm of his massive throne. Every second that passed added new trophies to its realm, and more prey for it and its ascended subjects to hunt forever and always.

Like a certain Prince from a game about Old Rolled Texts, this God of the Hunt was, well, playful. Perhaps that wasn’t the truly right word, but at the same time, it was, because it honestly didn’t give a rat’s ass about the nature or whatnot of its Chosen, only that they entertain it.

After all, what was a good hunt that was not entertaining? A waste of time, of course. It knew that the Ranger hunting the Primordial Snake-bitch’s new Chosen didn’t hold it in any high regard, but it never cared about that, either. It may have acted as it did, but that was all part of the game, as it itself had no gender or sexual orientation. What truly great God would be limited by such pathetic and weak mortal limitations?

Besides, it didn’t matter if the Ranger actually succeeded in the Quest that It had given to her. After all, the goal was never to have any of its Chosen actually ‘win’, but to keep the hunt going as long as possible before eventually, as It itself had put it so many times before to every Chosen that arrived here after a final failed hunt; “The Predator Stumbles, and thus becomes The Prey.”

Of course, the Ranger girl, poor thing that she was, was not even aware of the fate It had in store for her. It would constantly push the ‘goal post’ as the mortals called it, just that little bit further away, and if It had not intervened just that little bit ago, the hunt might’ve ended a tad bit too soon, and with the result that It did not want.

After all, the Chosen of the God of the Hunt never arrived here in Its divine realm as they were mere days before their final hunt had begun. For no sapient being would be truly a great and mighty predator and prey simultaneously. The fate of all that followed It, whether they wanted or not, was to become the very beasts they hunted.

To quote the words spoken by the one mad Hunt-Priest that was the only one to ever piece together It’s desire for all that serve it….

“For such is the law of the Hunt-God; Eternal, Ancient, and High. Only the feral shall prosper, and all of the thinking will die.”