Damien smirked as he looked down at the corpse laying beneath him.

The black boar's massive body still twitched once in a while, its eyes now lifeless.

The stench of blood filled the air, lingering around the clearing where the fight took place.

His lips curved upward almost instinctively, feeling satisfaction at the sight.

He had not only survived the dangerous encounter but had also won against the boar. That alone was enough to make him excited.

He found still feel adrenaline coursing through his veins, and he didn't let his guard down despite already killing the boar.

Slowly, deliberately, he slid his daggers free from where they dripped with the dark blood of the beast.

The steel caught faint traces of light that filtered through the canopy, glinting faintly despite the blood coating them.

He swiped them through the air, causing some of the blood sticking to the blades to splash away.

He then slid them back into their sheaths, giving the corpse one last glance before raising his hand.

A faint ripple shimmered across the air as his inventory appeared before him.

The huge boar's corpse suddenly vanished, reappearing in one of his inventory boxes.

Except for the streaks and small pools of blood still laying on the ground where it was previously laying, one couldn't tell such a huge body had once been lying there.

"That should be enough for today," Damien murmured inwardly, his tone carrying a faint trace of finality.

Even if it had been dangerous, even if it had come far too close for comfort, it had ended well. That was what mattered.

The value of a boar was certainly far greater than that of rabbits.

Rabbits fetched barely enough to justify the time spent skinning them, while a beast like this—an E-rank black boar—offered a bounty of materials.

The tusks, hide, and meat all held their worth in the right markets.

Merchants, craftsmen, and even amateur adventurers would pay for such things, and Damien could already imagine the coin that would pass into his hands.

'Even better.' he thought, a grin spreading across his face.

Yet just as he basked in that thought, he suddenly remembered something.

He blinked, pausing mid-thought.

He remembered a notification flashing before him just as the wild boar attacked him.

At the time, he had dismissed it, too focused on survival to spare even a heartbeat of attention for anything else. But now, with the forest quiet around him, the moment replayed clearly.

His eyes narrowed faintly, sharp suspicion cutting across his expression.

'I wonder what that was about,' he thought. Notifications didn't just appear without cause, and if it had come at the exact moment of the battle, then surely it held some significance.

As if responding to his curiosity, the faint shimmer of text suddenly reappeared before his eyes, materializing in the air like a phantom.

[Quest Completed!]

[Objective: Kill the Wild Black Boar]

[Reward Granted: 70 Hunter Points]

Damien's eyes widened slightly at the message. His smirk faded into a look of intent focus as he processed the words one by one.

'So I can also get points from hunting beasts!' he realized, the thought striking him with surprising weight.

It made sense—almost too much sense. After all, the points were called 'Hunter Points'.

It was only natural that the system would reward him for hunting more than just the prey he had initially targeted. The name itself implied a broader scope.

A short chuckle escaped his throat, low and amused.

"Of course," he muttered to himself, shaking his head faintly.

But though the logic was sound, the value itself was hardly anything to get excited over.

Seventy points for felling an E-rank beast wasn't terrible, but it paled in comparison to what he had reaped from his very 'hard work' with Claire the previous night.

He could not help but compare it—the number was laughably small. Beasts might have their worth in materials, but when it came to points, they simply couldn't compete.

His lips curved again into that sly grin, his thoughts running sharp and unfiltered. 'I'd choose MILFs over hunting beasts any day.'

The thrill, the satisfaction, the sheer reward—there was no comparison. MILFs were worth infinitely more, both in points and in pleasure.

His eyes gleamed with that thought, light sparking faintly within them as if driven by a hunger that no beast in this forest could ever sate.

The idea alone sent a pleasant buzz through him, a reminder of where his true focus lay.

'I should head home now,' Damien thought, the words steady and certain.

He had already accomplished his goal for today, so there was no need to remain in the forest.

A few minutes later, Damien finally arrived back home.

The steady rhythm of his boots against the path slowed as the familiar sight of the small house came into view.

He stood still for a moment in front of the door, his hand resting lightly on the handle, his chest rising and falling with measured breaths.

Though his hands were no longer streaked with blood—he had taken the time to wash them clean at a nearby stream—the roughened state of his clothes betrayed where he had been.

The once-sturdy fabric was scuffed and dirt-stained, the edges flecked with faint spots where blood had soaked through and dried.

No amount of quick washing had been enough to erase those signs completely.

In his other hand, he carried a plain-looking bag. It was not the same space where the black boar rested; no, that secret lay hidden within his inventory.

This bag was simpler, cruder, and far more practical for his immediate purpose.

Within it rested the rabbit meat he had gathered earlier—ordinary prey that he could safely explain without raising any questions.

He couldn't exactly reveal the truth of his inventory to Claire or Nora, nor could he casually show off the spoils of the boar without drawing suspicion.

So he had done the reasonable thing: he had retrieved a simple bag and stored the meat inside, presenting only what was acceptable, hiding everything else where no one could see.

With a steady exhale, Damien twisted the handle and pushed the door open.

The hinges gave a soft creak as he stepped inside, the faint smell of the home's interior greeting him.

The warmth within contrasted sharply with the cool air outside, a kind of intimate comfort that immediately enveloped him.

And there, in the living room, was Nora.

She stood in partial silhouette against the light of the lamps, her posture casual, but her attire anything but innocent.

She was dressed in a thin, white shirt, the material transparent enough that his eyes immediately drank in the sight beneath.

The fabric clung loosely to her curves, unbuttoned just enough to tease but doing nothing to restrain the luscious swell of her breasts.

They moved with a subtle, hypnotic sway as she shifted slightly, catching the eye and refusing to let go.

Beneath the hem of the shirt, a short black skirt hugged her hips, baring her long, slim waist and leading down into thighs as pale and smooth as poured milk.

Damien's gaze lingered with deliberate slowness. His eyes traced the gentle dip of her waist, the alluring line of her thighs, before inevitably returning to the undeniable centerpiece of her figure.

Her chest—full, heavy, almost scandalously unrestrained—pressed faintly against the thin white fabric.

The outline of her nipples was visible, hardened slightly by the cool air of the room, their prominence unmistakable.

They strained against the shirt, daring anyone who looked to notice, daring him to stare longer than he should. And stare he did.

For a moment, it felt as though the world itself had slowed, as though every detail of her body demanded his attention in turn.

The sway of her breasts, the faint shift of her skirt as she moved her weight, the glow of her thighs beneath the lamplight—it all etched itself into his vision, into his mind.

Her eyes widened as she finally noticed him standing there.

Surprise flickered across her face, quickly followed by something sharper, more personal. Her gaze dipped instinctively toward the bag in his hand.

The sight of it seemed to strike her like lightning, for her lips parted and her expression faltered in shock.

Her mind flashed back immediately to the words he had spoken before leaving, to the confident tone in which he had assured her he would bring something back.

She had not truly believed it at the time; doubt had lingered in her, the disbelief that he could actually accomplish such a thing.

And yet here he was, standing before her with the very proof in his grasp. Her jaw slackened, falling open as realization hit her like a wave.

Her finger lifted shakily, pointing directly at the bag. Her voice trembled with disbelief, the words spilling out in fragments as though her mind itself struggled to put them together.

"I-is… that what I think it is?"

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