Old Hunter in Dimension:Monster Chapter 1: Vengeful Hunt.

Chapter 1: Vengeful Hunt.

From my drafts. Anodite Update coming up later.

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The rain came down in punishing sheets, turning the forest into a treacherous swamp.

Each step Steen took sent his prosthetic leg sinking into the mud, the metallic limb groaning faintly with the strain.

At seventy-eight years old, he was far past his prime, but his hunter’s instincts were as sharp as ever.

His grizzled face, weathered by decades of storms, scrapes, and heartache, was set in a determined scowl beneath his wide-brimmed hat.

His raincoat kept him dry, the hood over his hat ensuring that he could see through the haze of rainfall. With the torchlight fixed on his rifle, nothing escaped his notice.

The forest was alive with unease. The Kodiak Brown Bear he was tracking had to be near.

It wasn’t just a Bear. Not anymore.

The creature that had terrorized these mountains for years was something monstrous.

Its unnatural size, cunning, and the sheer malice it exuded set it apart from any beast Steen had ever hunted.

It didn’t just kill to eat; it left carnage as if to make a point. For 16 good years, he'd been after it, from California to Colorado.

This might be his last chance to kill the Demon. The San Juan Mountains would either be the Bear's grave or Steen's.

He leaned on his rifle for a moment, catching his breath, shielded from the rain under a pine tree.

His prosthetic leg, the one that damn bear had gifted him years ago, was caked in mud and slowed him down more than he liked.

His hand absently tapped the side of it—a habit born of frustration and memory.

'Keep moving.' Was his motto as he dragged his old aching bones up and continued trekking through the dark forest, following the plate sized Bear prints on the mud.

The flicker of a campfire’s dying embers ahead broke through the storm.

Steen’s grip tightened on his hunting rifle as he moved closer, the smell of blood thick in the air and the sound of raindrops pattering on the tarp over the campfire reaching his ears.

When the campsite fully came into view, it hit him like a punch to the gut.

The scene was a massacre.

Tents were shredded beyond recognition, their remains hanging like limp sails in the storm.

Gear was scattered everywhere—torn backpacks, crushed lanterns, smashed coolers.

The ground was churned up mud mixed with crimson pools that glistened under the faint light of the fire.

Pieces of flesh and viscera were strewn about, as if the bear had deliberately scattered its victims like discarded playthings.

Steen knelt next to a mangled torso—the torso of a man, the upper half so mutilated it was unrecognizable.

Nearby, a woman’s severed arm with a bloody watch on the wrist dangled from a tree branch, rainwater dripping from the exposed bone.

The bodies were still warm. The bear was close.

Then Steen heard it—a faint, muffled whimper. He turned sharply toward the remains of a tent.

Moving cautiously, he pulled back a flap of torn fabric and spotted a cooler wedged in the corner. He opened the lid.

Two children were crammed inside, shaking violently. They looked up at him with wide, tear-streaked eyes, their faces pale as ghosts.

“Stay put,” Steen whispered, his scratchy voice firm yet assuring. “Don’t make a sound. Don’t come out until help arrives.”

The kids nodded frantically, clutching each other. Steen shut the lid gently, his mind already racing.

He turned toward the van at the edge of the campsite, its tires shredded into ribbons, its body gouged with deep claw marks.

He limped toward it, his prosthetic leg dragging slightly in the mud. Lightning flashed across the sky, illuminating the scene for a split second.

That was when he saw it.

Blood smeared across the side of the van, streaks trailing downward.

Chunks of meat clung to the gouges in the metal, bits of sinew and entrails hanging like grotesque decorations.

The van’s roof sagged unnaturally, as if something far heavier than it was designed for had perched on top.

A faint creak pierced the rain. Steen froze, every muscle in his body tensing.

A thick drop of saliva splattered onto his hat.

His heart clenched as he slowly tilted his head upward, the dim light of the Torch providing visibility.

The bear was crouched on the roof of the van, its hulking frame blending with the stormy night.

Its matted fur was streaked with blood and mud, and its single amber eye glowed with an almost predatory intelligence.

The wide jaws hung open, strings of gore-drenched saliva dangling from its teeth.

'It's him alright.' The old hunter could never forget the soulless malice in it's lone eye.

Steen moved to fire his rifle, but the bear lunged with terrifying speed.

Its massive claw struck the weapon, sending it spinning into the darkness with a deafening crack.

The impact knocked Steen to the ground, pain shooting through his aging body as he hit the mud hard.

The bear landed with an earth-shaking thud, its roar splitting the air like a bomb.

The sound froze the forest, even the rain seeming to falter for a moment.

Frightened screams ripped through the night in response to the roar. And the bear’s eye locked onto the torn tent, where the children were hiding.

“No, you don’t,” Steen growled, his voice a rasp.

He drew his revolver and fired, the .44 Magnum kicking in his hand. The first shot slammed into the bear’s flank, jerking its body to the side. The second grazed its shoulder.

The third missed entirely as the beast ducked into the shadows of the forest, snarling like a demon.

Steen staggered to his feet, his prosthetic leg creaking under the strain.

His revolver trembled in his hand as he limped toward the tent, planting himself between the children and the forest.

The rain came down harder, the storm whipping through the trees with violent force.

Lightning tore across the sky, illuminating the forest for fleeting moments.

Click.

Steen’s revolver was empty

As if aware of the fact, the bear emerged from the darkness, its movements slow, deliberate. Its eye burned with savagery, its wet bulk seeming even larger now.

Steen dropped the revolver, drawing his knife instead. The blade was long, wickedly sharp, and stained with years of use.

“You remember me,” Steen growled at the beast eyeing him with recognition.

He tapped his metal leg with the blade. The sound was sharp and metallic, cutting through the storm. "A leg for an eye was traded that night but you wanted more, didn't you Bastard?"

As if recalling It's lost eye, the bear's growl deepened, a low rumble that vibrated the ground beneath his feet.

“You took my family,” Steen spat, his voice raw with fury, as Man and Beast circled each other. “You tore them apart. I can still hear my wife and daughter screaming while being eaten alive.” His chest heaved, but his grip on the knife was steady. “16 years ago, you left me alive. And that was your mistake.”

Back then he'd passed out from blood loss and the beast had thought him dead. Steen had sworn revenge when he woke up a widower and bereaved parent.

The Bear reared onto its hind legs, towering over him, its silhouette filling the clearing. Rain poured off its body, blood dripping from its maw.

“This time, I finish it,” Steen said.

The bear roared, and the fight began.

Steen fought with the desperation of a man who had nothing to lose. His blade flashed in the lightning, slashing deep into the bear’s thick hide.

The beast struck back with unrelenting force, its claws tearing through muscle and bone.

Blood soaked the muddy ground beneath them, mixing into a nightmarish slurry.

When it was over, the clearing was silent except for heavy rasping and the fading sound of the storm.

Steen lay broken, his body a ruin of blood and torn flesh. His other leg was gone, ripped from his hip.

His face was shredded, one side a mess of flesh and eye juices. His stomach was sliced open, intestines spilling into the mud.

The bear stood over him, alive but also wounded. Its good eye was blinded, its left forelimb dragging uselessly. Steen's blade was still embedded in its shoulder. Yet it stood.

Steen’s breath came in shallow gasps. Despite the pain, a faint smile tugged at his bloodied lip.

“Go a-ahead,” he rasped. “Finish me bastard.”

The bear leaned down, Its teeth sinking into his torso, with deliberate slowness. It loved the dying screams that prey made. And especially for this hated foe, the torment inflicted would be excruciating.

While its maw closed around his chest, shattering ribs and crushing his lungs, Steen’s fingers groped for the hidden button on his prosthetic leg.

“For my family,” he whispered, pressind down on the detonator.

The bomb installed in the prosthetic exploded with a resounding boom, lighting up the forest and shaking the campsite.

Nothing remained of the Hunter and Predator save for chunks of charred flesh.

-0-

Steen’s last thought wasn’t of pain as the flash of white light swallowed him. It was of peace.

He could see their faces again—his wife’s smile, his daughter’s laugh. He welcomed the darkness as it took him.

When he awoke, there was no pain. No rain. Just silence.

A glowing window appeared before him in the mouth of an alien cave.

(Welcome Hunter to Dimension: Monster.)

(Your First Hunt Prize 'Kodiak Brown Bear' is ready to claim. Proceed?)

Steen’s contentment faded, replaced by the old fire in his chest.

The hunt wasn’t over for him. He'd track down whoever or whatever was responsible for denying him his well-earned rest and show them the definition of a Hunter.