The Epic of The Tyrant King’s Chosen One

Anthanasia was on her way back from a hunt when she heard the news. She had two of her close friends—Helia and Helena run up to her as she carried a divine beast over her shoulder. 

"Casper said they're sending you out because you're the strongest and most beautiful woman in the guild," Helena said breathlessly.

Anthanasia smiled at the first part of the statement, pleased by the compliment. But as soon as Helena finished, her brow furrowed. They were sending her on this mission because she was a woman—and because she was beautiful?

Without a word, she dumped the beast onto the twins, her movements brusque and decisive. She didn't have time to waste. She made her way straight to the captain's quarters, where Aryan was deep in discussion with the vice captain.

"What the hell, Captain?!" she stormed as she burst into the room.

The two men looked up, and the vice captain immediately sensed that a storm was about to hit the room. He took it as his sign to leave as he quickly excused himself, giving Anthanasia a brief, sympathetic pat on the shoulder before leaving.

Aryan didn't look up from his chair as he responded coolly, "It's good manners to greet your captain after a three-day hunt."

"I would give my greetings under normal circumstances, but forgive me if my manners elude me after hearing that I'll be sent out in less than a day to hunt some beast in the forest—just because I'm a woman!" she snapped, her frustration clear in her voice.

Aryan flinched at her words. He couldn't exactly argue back to her since her words held some truth. 

He sighed, rubbing his temples. 

"We didn't choose you just because you're a woman," Aryan began, his tone measured. "Though, I won't lie—your gender did play a part. But we also recognize your skill. Casper thought it might be worthwhile to test the waters, see if the manbeast would respond differently to you. Perhaps he'd be more open to negotiations, if possible."

He paused, letting the weight of his words settle. 

"We're in desperate need of the animals in that forest, Anthanasia."

Her frustration flared, and her voice rose before she could stop it. "Then why not send someone else? What about the twins?"

Aryan raised an eyebrow, a hint of amusement in his expression. "Helia and Helena? Those two little rascals?"

Anthanasia's lips pressed into a thin line. She realized, reluctantly, that the troublemaking twins might not be the best choice. They worked in teams, and they only needed one person for this mission. 

"T-Then what about Isis?"

At that, Aryan's expression shifted, his gaze cool but thoughtful. "Isis is beautiful and skilled, but she's a little too…"

"Rough," Anthanasia finished for him, her tone dry. Aryan nodded in agreement.

Isis was a firecracker—quick-tempered, intense, and not exactly the type for delicate negotiations.

Anthanasia let out an exasperated sigh, her frustration growing. She tried to rack her brain for anyone else, but no one came to mind. The other women in the guild were either not strong enough, too timid, or already on other hunts. Despite the guild's reputation for diversity, there were still very few women who could handle the harshness of the work. Most didn't want to get covered in mud, blood, and sweat, or run for miles under the hot sun, so they were lacking in that department. 

The more she thought about it, the more it became painfully obvious—she was the only option.

Anthanasia let out an angry groan of frustration, and Aryan could only watch, silently sympathizing. He could see how displeased she was with the situation, but in the end, she reluctantly agreed.

"I promise, once you're back, I'll give you two weeks off," Aryan said with a smile, trying to lighten the mood.

Anthanasia grumbled, barely acknowledging his words as she turned and left the room.

With little time to prepare, she packed only the essentials: a small bag with provisions, her weapons, and an emergency beacon. The beacon was infused with divine power—if she found herself in serious trouble, it would alert the guild to come to her aid. Once everything was set, she wasted no time and headed out the following morning.

The Aphthonia Forest lay on the outskirts of the city, a treacherous expanse that would take her at least seven hours to reach on foot. Five if she took a horse. Or, three if she ran. 

Anthanasia, blessed with the power of the goddess of the hunt, was capable of extraordinary speeds. Since there was no immediate urgency to return, she decided to take a more leisurely approach—walking for the first two hours to gather her thoughts, then running the rest of the way. 

As she picked up the pace, her legs stretching into a powerful sprint, she couldn't help but hope the manbeast would live up to its reputation. 

Before leaving, she made sure to ask around, and according to the testimonies received by the three men who ventured near the forest, the manbeast was quite the fighter. She had been itching for a fight for quite some time now, and was glad that she would be able to let out some of her pent up frustrations today. As she thought this, the prospect of going to the forest didn't seem that bad anymore. 

*

Hael secluded himself to his cave after his encounter with the humans. He made sure to tend to Brontus' injuries, and once he was certain the bear was healed, he decided to sequester himself in the cave for some closed-off training. 

He had learned much from his fight with the humans and using this newfound knowledge he gathered from those hunters, he put everything he remembered into practice. 

It was the first time Hael had seen someone wield such finely crafted weapons, and it stirred something in him. A curiosity about the world beyond the forest began to bloom within him, a hunger to know more. 

He decided, then and there, to fashion a weapon of his own—something like the ones he'd seen the humans use. Taking a sturdy stick, he began to mimic the patterns he'd observed, swinging it through the air with careful intent. The next three days passed in solitude as he honed his makeshift skills. With each swing, his movements became smoother, more fluid, and his desire to learn deepened. It wasn't just about the weapon anymore; it was the flow of it—the rhythm, the energy. Each time he added a new movement, his body felt lighter, like the air itself was becoming easier to navigate.

On the fourth day, as Hael was about to test the third weapon he had crafted, the quiet of his cave was abruptly shattered. Loki burst in, wings flapping wildly, his usual calm demeanor replaced by frantic energy. The bird's panic broke Hael's concentration, and he looked up, concerned. Loki never disturbed him when he wanted solitude. It was a silent agreement between them—the bird respected Hael's space, and in turn, Hael respected his need for distance. For Loki to break that unspoken rule meant only one thing: something was terribly wrong.

Hael immediately dropped the stick and tools, turning his full attention to Loki.

"I'm sorry to disturb you, Hael," Loki began, his voice tight with urgency. "But we've got another problem. There's a human—a woman—trying to enter the forest. And she's stronger than the others... much stronger. I fear none of us (animals) will be able to stop her."

At those words, Hael's curiosity ignited like a spark. He abandoned his weapons without a second thought and followed Loki, his mind racing with questions. What could a human be doing here? Why were they so persistent? And why was this one different?

As they made their way toward the forest's edge, the other animals watched quietly, their gaze following Hael's every step.

"Why do they keep coming back?" Maximus muttered from the shadows, his voice laced with frustration. "Haven't they learned their lesson yet?"

At the forest's entrance, Hael's eyes landed on the intruder. She stood with her back to him, unaware of his presence, focused entirely on the forest ahead. She couldn't have been much older than him—perhaps in her mid-twenties. Her long black hair was neatly tied back, with two braids framing her face. She wore a red tunic, with silver armor gleaming under the soft light filtering through the trees. A sword hung at her side, a dagger strapped to her leg.

Hael didn't move, choosing instead to stay hidden, watching her from a distance. There was something about the way she carried herself—a quiet strength, an unspoken resolve—that captured his attention. 

Loki was correct to say that she was different from the three other humans he had encountered. For one, she was a woman, and secondly, the power emanating from her body was sharper and fiercer compared to the others. He could tell from one glance that she was strong.