The Primal Hunter Chapter 1296 - Questioning Assumptions

Jake was truly fortunate with the group he encountered soon after entering this Minor World, which he promptly named Venus. Naming their world wasn’t disrespectful at all, since it had no name originally. The various enormous floating islands carried names, but as the Shaman explained, no one had ever thought to name the whole world itself.

The reason for Jake’s good fortune was clear: many races on Venus weren’t exactly welcoming, and even fellow Venusians would rarely risk bringing him home or chatting with him upon first sight. This Minor World brimmed with hostility, so facing an unknown typically meant fleeing or clashing immediately.

Yet the Shaman stood apart, partly thanks to his unusually high education. As the Oracle’s apprentice, he possessed deeper knowledge of the world than most Venusians, leaving him more willing to explore new ideas from outsiders. Unlike many of his kind, he faced no backlash for escorting a stranger to the village—his standing there outranked even those far higher in levels.

Only Shamans could evolve into Oracles, it seemed, so the frog Jake met was being groomed for potential A-grade status. From what he gathered, the Shaman’s evolution was practically anticipated now. Of course, the alternative was death, as most Shamans perished well before achieving it.

“How many Shamans does the village have?” Jake inquired, taking another sip from his remarkably fine bowl of tea. Yes, a bowl, because Venusian “cups” clearly weren’t designed for human use.

“I and three others, with me as the second youngest,” the Shaman replied. “We’re chosen as Shamans early in life. It requires an innate gift for speaking with the world’s spirits, and even in the Life Pool, I began studying magic. Upon emerging as C-grade, I’d already become a Shaman Neophyte, sealing my destiny forever.”

Jake nodded, captivated by insights into Venusian life. Though he understood some monster Paths, gaps remained, particularly with these nearly enlightened races. Their society mirrored humanity’s in many aspects, yet boasted distinct cultural quirks.

One fascinating detail was the absence of “parents” in Venusian culture. Males and females paired up, but eggs went straight into the Life Pool to hatch as the next generation—no one knew which belonged to whom. All tadpoles grew into frogs collectively under caretakers until exiting the pool.

It seemed quite detached, yet offered clear benefits. Nepotism didn’t exist, so resources depended purely on merit and performance. This suited their long generational gaps and high death rates, where egg parents might not even survive to hatching.

While Jake absorbed much knowledge, the Shaman grew curious about Jake’s race too.

“How do humans handle fate and ensuring new generations serve the village?” he asked, sipping his tea. Indeed, the tea was intensely poisonous from its toxic leaves, but Jake found it enhanced the taste.

“It varies by birthplace and cultural values,” Jake replied, shaking his head. “Humans aren’t a single united race. The outer world spans near infinity, with humans as just one element in most factions. Some prioritize selflessness for the collective good, others pure individualism where trust is scarce. Reality usually blends both. I lean toward individualism, letting each forge their own Path and face the results.”

Never did Jake expect a Venus visit to involve lounging in a grand tent, sipping tea with a cosmic frog over philosophy, but surprises defined life.

“Fascinating,” the Shaman nodded. “I wonder what other races join these factions?”

Having satisfied Jake’s questions generously, the Shaman earned reciprocity, so Jake shared basic multiverse facts freely. No point concealing them—the Venusians would discover it all upon entering the real universe someday, so why not prepare them a bit?

They chatted deeply and drained ample tea in the opulent tent, a clear marker of the Shaman’s prestige. Adorned vibrantly, it sat lakeside by the Life Pool and temple, impressively spacious too.

Eventually, the tea depleted, urging Jake to explore Venus’s offerings. He knew his first stop.

“Remember where we first met?” Jake asked the Shaman, who nodded affirmatively.

“I saw you fight a Boglord back then. You wounded it, it fled, and you didn’t chase. Since it lingers alive, shall we end it for good?” Jake proposed with a grin.

Jake had craved battling the Boglord instantly. Plus, showing off to his frog friend against a foe that had troubled the Shaman’s group sounded perfect.

Instead of eager rematch vibes, the Shaman stared at Jake in bewilderment. “You wish to kill the Boglord?”

Jake saw the Shaman underestimated his power and nodded confidently. “Of course. My level’s low, but you’ll soon see I’m more than capable—enough to take it solo, even.”

The Shaman’s eyes widened in shock. “Heavens, no! That would spell disaster!”

Now Jake puzzled. “Why?”

“Do you know what... no, you wouldn’t,” the Shaman sighed, shaking his head. “Boglords spawn from one of the world’s five mightiest beings. Killing one alerts it, inviting wrath. Worse, Boglords enrich the land—their waters pulse with energy, fostering lush life and plants nearby. They’re a boon, not a bane. True, active ones ravage areas, so we dispatch teams like ours to lull them back to sleep for years. Never to slay, just to submerge them long-term.”

You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

“Oh,” Jake murmured, slumping in his oversized chair. “Good I didn’t rush off alone to kill it, then.”

“Absolutely,” the Shaman agreed fervently. “Yet countless foes await your blade freely—solitary monsters roam islands, and enemy factions are fair game too.”

Jake nodded thoughtfully. “How about we fly out, you point me at deserving targets, and introduce this world properly?”

“Gladly,” the Shaman smiled, rising. “Off we go.”

“Indeed,” Jake grinned, appreciating the frog’s prompt decisiveness.

“The others await at the village edge. Follow me,” the Shaman instructed, guiding Jake from the tent and village. The bowl-shaped valley relied on natural ridges for defense, defining its bounds without walls.

They soon arrived, greeted by four waiting frogs: three Warriors and one Virumancer from the original party. Fixed teams suited them best, building unspoken synergy and teamwork over time—Jake knew this well from Nevermore.

Jake admitted a misconception: he’d pegged Warriors as male and Virumancer female by builds—bulky versus slender. But the male Shaman was lithe too. Appearance tied to variants, not sex, a lesson against human biases on B-grade frogs. Two Warriors were female, one male—he couldn’t distinguish. Skin patterns revealed it, but Jake skipped the effort.

Trailing the Shaman opposite their first meeting spot, he quizzed more, learning islands lay months apart by flight—the nearest two months off.

This highlighted Venus’s uniqueness versus normal space. Interplanetary flight outpaced planetary due to vacuum’s lack of drag, enabling steady speed. Here, thick atmosphere hindered all.

Jake noted One Step’s range shrank already, suspecting attacks weakened too. Toxic energy eroded foreign energies, hitting big blasts hardest.

Still, Jake doubted much impact. His stable arcane energy resisted environments near-perfectly, and Protean Arrow’s raw power overwhelmed atmospheric interference.

Jake pondered Venusians’ non-enlightened status—and all local races’. Initially blaming lacking civilization seemed wrong; Endless Empire and dragons proved otherwise.

He questioned his assumption: why presume social races default to enlightened? Especially if detrimental here.

Monsters grew from ambient Records and energy alone, refining it passively. Enlightened needed class/profession levels—even single-path ones like vampires progressed that way.

Venusian crafters gained scant experience crafting, fighters little from combat. Battles honed Records and skills; core growth stemmed from toxic energy absorption saturating the world.

Thus, enlightenment handicapped locals, forgoing atmospheric gifts—professions especially, starved of resources.

Evolution sought perfection; enlightenment wouldn’t qualify here. Even pre-system “survival of fittest” doomed an enlightened Venusian to early death, low levels.

Retrospectively, assuming all races craved enlightenment was naive. Both paths had trade-offs, environment dictating superiority. Venusians on Earth might enlighten eventually, but who knew? Jake’s initial view was deeply misguided—ironic for a Monster’s Chosen, yet so be it.

The six flew steadily two days to target. En route, B-grade beasts appeared aplenty, but none hunt-worthy per Shaman. Venusians prioritized village threats or rivals.

Which matched their goal perfectly.

“Few races make true foes of us,” the Shaman noted nearing a hoped-for hunting paradise.

“Most stay neutral, like Nomads, but some embody hostility,” he added. “Not always malice-driven, but natures demand endless resources or territory. Incompatibility breeds inevitable enmity.”

Jake agreed, a timeless tale. Multiverse factions clashed similarly: Risen barred from Holy Church by soul quirks, shrinking recruits; Endless Empire and Rigoria over devouring expansion needs.

“What beasts lurk in this faction?” Jake wondered.

“You’ll witness shortly,” the Shaman cautioned. “Tread warily—many Venusians met fates worse than death by them.”

The grim alert spiked Jake’s intrigue, soon sensing foes: death-tainted energy piercing the corrosive, toxic haze ahead.

Fitting for this realm. Jake bore no undead grudge—his Risen pal proved that. But nearing the first sight...

Yeah, these bastards needed wiping out.