The Day I Became a Hunter

Angelick, a noble warrior who had always stood beside the brave fighters of Westeros, had a dream: to become a hunter.

She had always watched the great hunters of the alliance , experienced warriors who set out with the confidence of those who seemed born already knowing the way back. She observed how they studied the terrain, chose their targets, and returned loaded with glory and resources. There was something about that ritual that mesmerized her. It wasn’t just strength. It was the courage to go. To simply go.

Angelick knew very well what others thought. She was strong, yes , she had built her army with dedication, trained her soldiers, learned formations. But hunting? Hunting was something else. It meant crossing borders, entering unknown kingdoms, exposing oneself. What if she were caught off guard by a more powerful warrior defending his territory? What if the target were bait , a carefully crafted trap meant to lure someone exactly like her: ambitious, yet inexperienced?

These questions followed her like shadows. But that morning, something changed.

She found the name Westor while scouting the territories of Kingdom K127. It wasn’t by chance , she had spent entire days observing kingdoms, taking notes of coordinates. That’s what great hunters did before any attack: they spied. They studied. They breathed the rhythm of the enemy before disrupting it. And Angelick had learned this by watching, even if she had never put it into practice.

Westor was in a strong kingdom. A powerful lord, with an army made up of cavalry, spearmen, and archers. The scouting report revealed a large number of troops, heavily reinforced with royal archers in significant numbers. Any experienced hunter might have backed off. Archers were dangerous , they caused heavy losses before close combat even began. But Angelick stared at those numbers for a long moment, closed her eyes, and took a deep breath.

If I wait for the perfect moment, it will never come.

The decision was made in the silence of that instant. She summoned her warriors, each carefully chosen over months. Her infantry formation was ready: more than 1.1 million Royal Infantry and 102 thousand Elite soldiers, organized with the precision she had studied so intensely. It wasn’t the largest force in the kingdom. But it was hers. And she believed in them.

Her heart raced as she confirmed the first attack. The troops marched out, and the seconds that followed were the longest of her life. She kept her eyes fixed on the screen, watching every movement, every response from the enemy territory. She sped up her troops’ return and relocated, making sure no one would catch her off guard. What if he had nearby allies? What if someone arrived before she could retreat? The adrenaline was overwhelming , a mix of excitement and the fear of dying , not the paralyzing fear of those who give up, but the living fear of someone exactly where they chose to be.

Once she was hidden deep within enemy territory, she checked her report: VICTORY.

Westor had lost nearly 50 million combat power. Angelick felt the air leave her lungs all at once. Her hands trembled slightly as she read the numbers , countless enemy losses among spearmen and cavalry, resources captured, territory shaken. But she couldn’t stop. Now that she had won the first attack, she would go all the way. In hunting battles, hesitation between waves is what gives away your position. She regrouped, breathed, found another spot on the map, and attacked again. With adrenaline surging once more, she accelerated and quickly moved to another location so no one could find her.

The second wave was even more intense, and when she stopped to check the report, a rush of joy and pride hit her , she had eliminated another 75 million power.

It was incredibly exhilarating. Westor’s army was already weakened, but he still resisted. Some soldiers remained as a final line of defense. There was something tragic and honorable about that. She recognized the stubbornness of a warrior who does not retreat even in the face of the inevitable. But Angelick did not retreat either. The attack was launched, and when the result came , VICTORY again , the difference was brutal: he had lost more than 125 million power, while she walked away with minimal losses of 24 millon.

She looked at the numbers and, for the first time, understood what experienced hunters felt , it wasn’t empty euphoria. It was something deeper. The awareness that every number represented a decision, a risk, a real consequence.

Westor’s troops, once imposing, had been reduced in a matter of minutes. That day, a hunter warrior was born , one who set aside the fear of dying and losing everything, and chose to take the risk.

She had hunted before in groups that always protected her, but this time was different. She had planned, scouted, analyzed, resisted fear, and executed. Three waves. Three victories. Against a stronger opponent, in unknown territory, far from the protection of her alliance and her noble warrior allies.

As notifications of captured resources came in , stone, gold, wood, experience, and most importantly, merit , she realized she wasn’t smiling because of the wealth gained. She was smiling because, for the first time, she had heard that voice she had always admired in others and never recognized in herself.

The voice that said: I went.

And Westeros, vast and relentless as it had always been, answered with a single word:

Victory.