Furbeasts were like Bizons, or buffalo's maybe? No, they're closer to Bizons in that they are large, thick headed creatures with a lot of fur— as per their namesake. — with the biggest difference being their size: whereas regular Bizons can grow as big as a small car, furbeasts can reach the size of elephants.

  The herd traveling in front of me is one of the three furbeast herds that exist in the world, it has a population that numbers in the hundreds of thousands and has a line of animals that goes on for several miles.

  Everywhere these things go, death follows, either because the furbeasts are hunted down— which yes, happens, there are giant dinosaur-like birds that swoop down and take their young as well as dedicated predators who follow the herd. — or because they eat anything they come across, be it plants, insects, snails, carrion, and even the occasional animal.

  Furbeast are also quite smart, not enough to make them use tools, but enough to allow them to navigate obstacles that would otherwise be difficult for normal animals.

  That being said, no one in their right mind would hunt a furbeast, at least not one this early. Some of them grow weak and get left behind, the closer you get to the migration's tail, the more you'll see dying furbeasts.

  The young stay at the center, of course, but the old? All of them in the back, hunted down. And the herd allows it. They even encourage it.

  Some people say that they once witnessed a bull actively ignore its brethren while being hunted, it's like the bull didn't care about it at all.

  These exact same people, the ones who often call themselves wise and experienced, are also hunting down a healthy furbeast, and from what I can see, there's a bull just ahead of them.

  What the hell are they thinking? Or are they so desperate that risking their lives is the only way?

  My curiosity wanted me to wait, as it always has, so that's what I did. I waited, content on simply stalking the group of hunters as they got closer to their death. My distance from them meant that I couldn't hear them anymore, but it also allows me to quickly run away if things get bad.

  Facing an entire herd of the stuff isn't fun, and you know what? I just realized that maybe I should have made traps beforehand, you know, prepare for what's about to come and have a backup plan in case things get messy.

  Hindsight is 20/20 I guess, eh, whatever, I don't mind, I'm strong enough to survive whatever these things throw at me.

  My eyes track the group as they get even closer, they're now being watched by some of the female furbeasts and yet they don't notice, the herd is making noise, the kind of sound that warns others that there is a predator nearby.

  Funny how these walking tanks somehow end up feeling threatened by a bunch of humans, who are probably as small as a rat to them. Well, I guess they aren't running away and are just content on watching the hunters do their thing so I guess what they're feeling is closer to wariness instead of outright fear.

  Moments after circling a male furbeast at the edge of the herd, the kind of juvenile who explores too much out of childish curiosity, the hunters soon begin their attack.

  The first one to go was beardy, who rushed the furbeast and struck it with a powerful blow to the leg, the strike rang true, the furbeast fell down, and now the animal is vulnerable.

  ... Or it would have been if it wasn't for the rest of the herd, which have quickly taken notice of their injured brethren and are now actively coming to its aid, the defense started slow, soon though, the pace of the gigantic herbivores picked up and they began circling the group of hunters.

  Stolen novel; please report.

  This did not slow down my fellow man, if anything it made them want to rush their quarry, an archer shot out an arrow that glowed bright enough to illuminate the snowy landscape for the single moment that it flew towards its target.

  Once it pierced through the skull, the light died down and the furbeast followed shortly after.

  With the death throes of their kin, the rest of the herd finally realized someone was hunting them and like any good pack animals, they banded together to take out the predator responsible.

  Now, on any other creature this wouldn't be a big deal, but on the house-sized furbeast? All of these giants banding together means you have a stampede that can flatten literal cities if left unchecked.

  And the ones currently being targeted by that are 5 measly humans, not even top tier adventurers, not ranked highly tag wise nor are their letterings all that good, just regular ass humans who decided that they are now desperate enough to try their luck against the most dangerous creatures that roam the winterlands.

  Vibrations ran up my leg as the stampede started to build, the giants are now coming together with the intent to crush the adventurers, who had just realized their mistake and are now running for their lives.

  But the massive strides of furbeasts can easily outrun the standard adventurer, you need at least a powerful boosting spell in order to escape them.

  The group that split off from the main herd to chase after the hunters was a small one, but for something whose population numbers close to half a million, even a small splinter number in the thousands.

  And that splinter group is now heading towards Flotol. I told Wardcruncha that I wouldn't increase my level starting from now, that I should focus on improving my skills and getting used to my new body instead of just hoarding power for no discernable reason.

  Do I kill the furbeasts? If I do it means that these things will remember what happened here and will attack the next time they come around.

  What if I put the fear of God into them before I let them go? Just strangle them and make them feel helpless so that they warn their herd not to go here instead of encouraging them to attack Flotol?

  I decided to wait it out for now, watching the group run for their lives is entertaining anyway, and I can use the distraction while I think up of a way to make the furbeast stop coming here in the future.

  As the thousands of animals shook the earth in their maddened haste to flatten the hunters, I followed along, my top speed was faster than all of these guys combined so it wasn't that difficult for me to not just keep up, but get ahead of the chase.

  With how fast they are though, it didn't take us long to reach Flotol and by this point, the villagers have already felt the shaking, why wouldn't they? The furbeasts weren't being subtle about it.

  Can they be subtle about it? Definitely not.

  Everyone is soon gathered at the edge of the village, watching helplessly as the group of giants come towards them. They know they are about to die, and at the thought of that, the villagers can only cry.

  You know, I should feel bad about this, causing this kind of despair feels way too much, but this wouldn't be enough, never be enough. They forced my family out of here and made them survive on scraps in the middle of nowhere! Crying because they think they're about to die is not even close to what my family felt back then!

  My hands clench into fists as I reconsider my mercy, these people needed to die don't they? They deserved that much don't they? They attacked my family first and now they're facing the consequences of it! This is just how life goes.

  But I don't do that, and instead I spread my consciousness to the ground, my senses expand beyond my body and explore the vast network of roots, mycelium, and plants hidden beneath the earth, hiding from the cold and sleeping through winter.

  My ears extend and I pick up the conversations happening within the group of villagers, "we're all going to die! I told you this was not a good idea! And yet you all listened to the priest!"

  This was just one of the many sentences uttered by the panicking populace, there are no words of acceptance here, nor are there words asking for forgiveness, all they talk about are blame.

  Towards each other, towards Folsan, towards anything and anyone they can pin a blame to, just never themselves.

  And this would have been their last words, their legacy in this god forsaken world: they died as they lived, being stupid, spiteful, and petty.

  Maybe I should have allowed it to happen, to let them die as these pathetic shells of themselves who can do nothing but blame others for their situation.

  Roots sprung from the ground, they are twice as thick as the torso of an average man and five times as strong, they erupt as a tidal wave of green that quickly enveloped the stampede, tying them up and halting their advance.