“I am sorry, Reynard… My past came back to haunt me, and now I have to go. I should be able to keep them off your back for some time, but you’ll have to do your part. Live, my dear… and I am sorry…”


    I stared at the baby in my arms. Leonard. Two months old. My son.


    He babbled, oblivious to the chaos surrounding us. Lucky him.


    I glanced at the ceiling, or what was left of it after my wife tore through it with her hunter powers. The place groaned like it was contemplating retirement after that.


    Then, I stared at one of the grunts lying on the floor, barely surviving her "goodbye" gift. He groaned too. I couldn’t tell if he was in pain or just offended.


    I exhaled. This wasn’t exactly how I imagined fatherhood.


    It had been ten years since I transmigrated to this world. At first, I thought it was a parallel universe to Earth—pretty normal. You know, a bit rustic, but manageable. Then, boom. Hunters, forbidden regions, aura powers, and secret organizations came out of nowhere like uninvited guests at a party.


    “I should’ve seen the signs…” I muttered to myself, feeling like the world''s biggest idiot.


    To think I’d transmigrated into my own novel, Hunterworks, and somehow fathered the protagonist. Great. Just great.


    Reynard. 27 years old. Single father.


    Current status: very screwed.


    I flipped the nearly dead grunt over with my foot, his body limp like a sack of bad decisions. His groan was cut short when I picked up his gun. With Leonard still cradled in my other arm, I carefully turned his tiny face away. I wasn’t about to let my two-month-old watch his dad do this.


    Then, I shot the grunt in the face. Clean. No hesitation.


    His chest was already torn apart, a gaping hole that looked like a crater after an aura strike. Classic hunter move. Aura really did work miracles in the most violent ways.


    But a bullet between the eyebrows? That should seal the deal. Just in case, you know?


    “Aura is such a miraculous thing after all…” I muttered, blowing the smoke from the barrel. “So… what’s next?”


    I practically ran to the garage, heart pounding in my chest. No time to waste. I walked straight to my car, threw the baby seat in the back, and sped out of there like I was trying to outrun a bad decision.


    Three years ago, I fell in love. Hard. The kind of love that makes you feel like you’ve won the lottery.


    I should’ve known there was a catch. If something looks too good to be true, there was usually a catch.


    My highest priority was survival—mine and my baby’s. Everything else could wait.


    Being part of the "mundane world," I was practically a sitting duck. No aura powers, no hunter connections, nothing that could shield me from the chaos of the "hunter world." I’d always known my wife was a bit of a klutz, but this? This took things to a whole new level.


    Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.


    I sighed, my thoughts drifting back to the novel. The story started with Leonard, an orphaned kid recruited into the Hunter''s Academy, the elite training ground for the next generation of hunters. Knowing that was supposed to happen about ten years from now, I realized just how truly screwed I was.


    My wife had it better, in a way. Her death in the novel? That had been fake, something I wrote as a cliché plot twist. I thought it was clever at the time. Now, I wasn’t so sure.


    I should have faked the dad’s death too. Would’ve made this whole thing a lot easier.


    I parked by the lake, the engine still ticking as I stepped out of the car. The cool air hit me, and I took a deep breath. Inhale. Exhale.


    Calm down, me. Panicking wouldn''t help anyone, least of all me.


    Leora said she’d buy me time. How much? I had no clue. A month, maybe? That seemed like a safe bet, but honestly, who knew?


    What was I supposed to do in a month? Hide out in the mountains?


    Hmmm… maybe that could actually work...


    I drove to the next city, trying to keep my mind on the plan and not on the fact that I had no idea what I was really doing. First stop: the bank. I withdrew all of my cash, every last bit of it. I even tried to liquidate my assets, even if it meant taking a loss. Survival wasn’t exactly a profitable business.


    After that, I drove around the city, searching for some sign of the black market. But as a "mundane," that was like trying to find a needle in a haystack—while blindfolded. It wasn’t like I had insider knowledge of how the hunter world operated.


    So, what did I do? I hired pickpockets. Yeah, I was that desperate. I paid them to steal some phones for me, burner phones that couldn’t be traced back to me. I needed to go off-grid, and fast.


    Using my own email, my credit cards, or anything remotely tied to my old life would be like leaving a trail of breadcrumbs for the hunters. And I wasn’t exactly in the mood to be hunted. But I still had to keep tabs on the world, somehow.


    While I planned to hide out in the mountains, I wasn’t ready to completely disappear. Not yet.


    Next up, I did some shopping. Lots of shopping. If I was going to hide in the mountains, I needed to be prepared.


    I bought solar panels—couldn’t exactly count on power lines out there. Then came the essentials: loads of canned goods, a compound bow (because I figured I should look cool while surviving), a machete, and a whetstone to keep it sharp.


    I tossed in a camp lighter, a tent, solar-powered lamps, and basically anything that screamed “off-the-grid survival.” My cart looked like I was preparing for the apocalypse.


    “This is the best I can do, I guess…” I muttered to myself, hoping it would be enough.


    I filled the car’s tank to the brim, then drove like a madman from one city to the next. When the tank hit halfway, I sold the car for cheap to some kid who thought he’d just hit the jackpot. Poor guy had no idea.


    Next, I started hitchhiking north. Every time I stopped in a city, I’d lay low, hiding in motels, always looking over my shoulder. Then, I’d hitchhike again, northbound, repeating the process like I was trying to lose a tail I couldn’t even see.


    Finally, after what felt like a lifetime (specifically four days), I arrived in the Mivih Mountains.


    My baby boy started crying, his little face scrunching up like he was about to sound the alarm on my terrible planning.


    “Ah, shit,” I muttered, rubbing my forehead. “I forgot to buy milk.”


    Of all the things I stocked up on—solar panels, canned food, weapons—I somehow missed the most basic, crucial supply for a baby. Milk. Great job, Dad. Just brilliant.


    The panic got the better of me, huh?


    Leonard—or Leon, as I called him—was kind of weird. Not in a bad way, just… different. For one, he rarely ate, which was why I’d forgotten the milk in the first place. My wife had always assured me it was natural. Hunter genes, I guessed. Still, I’d grabbed some milk between cities just to be safe… not that there were any leftovers. Shoplifting milk wasn’t exactly commendable. I’d hate to leave a paper trail after all everytime I’d be hiding in a city.


    As I stood there, trying to calm him down, I heard rustling nearby. I froze. Slowly turning my head, I spotted something moving through the trees.


    A tiger. A big one.


    Because of course there’s a tiger. Why wouldn’t there be?


    Out of nowhere, Leon waved his tiny hand, and a fireball appeared. A literal fireball. It shot straight toward the tiger, hitting it square in the side. The tiger yelped and bolted, leaving a trail of smoke behind.


    I stared at the baby, who was now happily babbling as if nothing had happened.


    “Yep, definitely hunter genes…” I muttered, still processing the fact that my two-month-old just roasted a tiger.


    I groaned. "Okay, I definitely need to backtrack and buy lots of milk."