Could it really be you… Leo?
That name echoed in Zach's mind like a hammer blow.
With the Wells brothers gone, who else in the entire hunting party could've used a bow?
But... it couldn't be, right?
Zach's gaze fell to the pile of beasts laid on the ground—every single one of them killed cleanly, a single arrow through the vital spot. No slashes. No stabs. No second wounds.
One shot. One kill.
Which meant… no one else even had time to lift a weapon.
Could it really have been Leo?
He was just a beginner—hell, it was his first time stepping outside the hold. And now he was the one responsible for this?
That made no sense.
Zach's eyes scanned the crowd, finally settling on the group of returning hunters. But Leo wasn't among them.
Others began to notice too. Warren, Zhao, and the rest exchanged glances. A faint worry crept in… until they saw Grant standing in the center, smiling like a man who'd just watched his son lift a mountain.
If something had happened to Leo, Grant would never look like that.
Still, it was odd.
More villagers gathered around, unable to hide their joy. Some were grinning like children, others on the verge of tears. A few older ones were already mumbling prayers of thanks. It had been too long since they'd seen a haul like this.
Then Briggs stepped forward, raising his hand for quiet. His voice carried over the crowd.
"Alright, alright. Settle down."
The noise died down to whispers.
Briggs pointed to the animals on the ground.
"You're probably wondering how we brought all this back, right?"
The villagers glanced at each other.
Someone finally offered, "Shot with arrows, I guess?"
Briggs grinned. "Exactly!"
Then, turning toward the crowd, he locked eyes with Warren.
Hundreds of heads turned at once.
Warren stiffened, gulping. "Uh… Uncle Briggs, was it… was it Leo?"
The answer came quickly—too quickly to be anything but true.
"It was him."
Briggs swept his gaze across the villagers, letting the words settle.
"Every last one of these beasts? Killed by Leo Carter. We were just there to help carry the meat."
A collective gasp rolled through the crowd.
Leo? Grant's boy? The one who'd just picked up a bow?
They remembered him leaving this morning, the longbow slung over his shoulder. People had whispered then—mostly out of worry. No one expected much.
Certainly not this.
Now Briggs was saying he'd done it all on his own?
That couldn't be real.
But then another hunter chimed in, unable to hold it in anymore.
"You should've seen it with your own eyes! That shot on the horned charger—hell, it was art. He loosed three arrows before we even blinked!"
Another man laughed. "I thought he missed the first one and blew it! But then—bam! Right through the throat. Dropped it in a second."
"That kid's a damn miracle. With him around, we might finally stop starving!"
That last sentence hit hard.
Everyone fell quiet, eyes gleaming with the same unspoken hope.
No more hunger.
In this world, that was more than just good news.
It was salvation.
"Uncle Briggs!" Warren shouted, scanning the crowd. "But where is Leo?"
Others joined in, finally realizing the missing piece.
"Yeah! Where's the kid?"
"We gotta thank him properly!"
Briggs chuckled, rubbing his bald head. "He's not used to the attention. Already slipped home. But don't worry—you'll have plenty of chances to thank him later."
He clapped his hands together. "Now! Line up, folks. Time to share the meat!"
Cheers erupted like a storm.
At that moment, Leo was sitting on a wooden stool inside his home, nursing a cup of boiled water.
"I swear, Mom, I'm fine. Not a scratch," he said, spinning in place to prove it.
Helen narrowed her eyes, unconvinced.
"You're sure?" she asked again.
Nate peeked around her side, looking up at Leo like he was trying to read his soul.
Leo sighed. "Yes. Really."
Water might be all they had for now, but at least the stronghold still had plenty of it. When the hunger got too strong, a warm cup was better than nothing.
Helen finally exhaled, the tightness in her chest loosening a little.
"I was so scared, Leo," she said quietly. "You and your father… out there. I kept thinking—what if neither of you comes back?"
Her voice trembled at the end.
"But we did," Leo said gently. "We're both fine."
"Right…" She blinked, then frowned. "Wait. Why are you back so early?"
"And what's with all the shouting outside?" Nate chimed in. "Did you catch something?"
Leo smiled, ruffling his little brother's hair.
"Not just something," he said. "It was a full harvest."
Nate's mouth fell open.
Helen froze.
Leo chuckled and began explaining what happened, skipping none of the details.
When he finished, the room was silent.
"You mean… all of it?" Helen whispered. "You killed all those beasts? By yourself?"
Leo scratched the back of his head. "Well, not exactly by myself. Everyone helped."
"They helped carry it, maybe," Helen muttered, rolling her eyes. "But the kills were yours."
Still, her voice carried no blame—only awe and a strange pride. She sighed. "The Wells brothers used to do most of the work too. No one ever complained about the split. I won't start now. But if only they'd left a day later…"
"Yeah…" Leo nodded, his smile fading slightly. "Just one day."
By noon, Grant returned with a sack holding nearly thirty pounds of meat. The moment he stepped inside, the smell of raw blood and fresh kill filled the little home.
"I tried not to take too much, but people insisted," he said, shaking his head in disbelief.
Every family got a share this time—five or six pounds each. If they rationed well, it could last a week.
Helen beamed as she took a large hunk of meat—two, maybe three pounds—and hurried to the cooking pot. The rest would be preserved as best they could. Autumn was here, and the weather helped a little. Still, without salt, even fresh meat wouldn't last long.
Salt was rarer than grain now. Just a pinch per meal. Using it for preservation? Unthinkable.
Leo's stomach rumbled at the smell already filling the room. His mind drifted.
Last time, just ten slices of prairie rabbit meat had earned him one Stat Point. Judging by weight, that was maybe a few ounces total—half a bowl at most.
This time? He was planning to eat a full pound, maybe more.
At least +5 Stat points worth, easy.
And if this meat was from the horned charger?
Even better.
More than enough to strengthen his body once—maybe even twice.
But the meal wasn't ready just yet. He still had some time.
Turning toward his father, Leo asked casually, "Dad, is there anyone in the hold who knows any kind of martial art? Something like… Taichi, maybe?"