Chapter 534 |
In the kingdom’s fallen region, within a stretch of mountain forest near the western coast.
Gurgle… gurgle…
A pale-blue slime crawled out of a bare dirt hole.
Its gelatinous body rippled back and forth. Inside its semi-transparent form, bits of partially digested mycelium and mushrooms could still be seen.
Slimes are magical creatures condensed from free-floating mana in the environment, mixed with basic elements such as water and earth. To them, mana is not only the foundation of survival, but also the sole nourishment for growth.
As such, the vast majority of their behavior revolves around devouring more mana.
That is why, when slime packs attack adventuring teams, they instinctively prioritize lunging at the mages.
And that is also why the activation of powerful magical items can easily draw slimes together.
For the same reason, compared to ordinary plants, trees, or even other common monsters, these greedy slimes will preferentially consume mana-rich fungal carpets, as well as the puji born from them.
The slime seemed unsatisfied, preparing to casually scoop up some withered grass and rotting leaves as filler, when it suddenly sensed an enticing source of mana nearby.
Flattening itself against the ground, it silently flowed toward that direction.
Close in. Lock on. Charge and leap!
Its jelly-like body arced through the air, pouncing straight toward the perceived mana source.
A curved blade flashed past at astonishing speed, slicing into its body. The blade not only cut through the outer membrane, but pierced straight through the core within.
With a wet “plop,” the slime crashed to the ground like a punctured water skin, collapsing into a puddle of viscous fluid.
Veyra flicked her wrist, shaking off the small amount of slime clinging to the scimitar, then quickly took out a soft cloth soaked in special oil. With practiced, meticulous movements, she wiped down the blade.
Most adventurers disliked slimes. These monsters rarely produced valuable materials, yet their highly acidic bodily fluids were extremely corrosive to metal, making weapon maintenance a headache.
If a novice adventurer failed to strike the core accurately, after killing only a few slimes, they would be left staring in pain at a blade riddled with pits.
“How many is this already?” Fein frowned as she looked at the puddle beside her feet. “Feels like there are more slimes here than in a dungeon.”
Phylline lightly leapt down from a higher tree branch, landing without a sound.
She bent down, used the tip of her dagger to pick a fingernail-sized slime core out of the goo, and slipped it into the small leather pouch at her waist.
“No helping it. Looks like there aren’t many monsters around here that prey on them. No natural enemies, and the ambient mana density isn’t low. Of course they’d spread out of control.”
After finishing her weapon maintenance and sheathing the blade, Veyra turned back to the sisters.
“Any signs nearby?”
“No.” Phylline shook her head. Her expression dimmed, her voice dropping. “If Syrian were here, that’d be great… He could always ‘ask’ the plants things we couldn’t notice.”
The name caused the air to freeze for a brief moment.
When the mist incident ended, the three of them hadn’t personally witnessed Syrian’s dissipation.
After the fog receded, they chose not to follow the Golden Valley City group’s retreat. Instead, they searched the surrounding area repeatedly for a long time, finding nothing, and could only leave in silence.
When human adventurers began operating in this fallen region again, they were among the first to return.
Veyra and the others knew it clearly in their hearts.
In the final mist illusion, Phylline and Fein hid in a cellar, while Veyra lured away the pursuers. Even though they gave it everything they had, their actions alone were nowhere near enough to disperse that fog.
The only one who could have truly pulled them out of that desperate situation was Syrian.
And yet, he had vanished.
Even knowing that Syrian was likely already dead, they still hoped to at least find his remains and send his body back to the Elven Forest.
Unfortunately, they had found no clues so far. Instead, they had gotten dragged into other matters along the way.
At the moment, they were circling the outer edge of this forest to search for traces of a missing adventuring party.
That party’s leader was named Anton. When Veyra’s group had been pursued by a demon squad, he had collapsed part of a hillside, successfully blocking the pursuers and helping them immensely.
However, not long ago, after Anton’s party accepted a scouting mission to this region, they never returned.
They were already the second party to go missing here recently.
For a time, this forest near the western coast was regarded by adventurers as an extremely high-risk area, with no one willing to approach it.
Only Veyra’s trio, indebted to Anton, came searching.
Even so, they did not rashly venture deep inside, instead cautiously starting from the outskirts, trying to find any possible clues or traces.
So far, however, their gains were minimal.
“Let’s go a little deeper. If—” Before Veyra could finish speaking, Phylline suddenly reached out and covered his mouth.
With her other hand, Phylline pressed a finger to her lips, then pointed at her ear—she had heard something unusual.
Veyra immediately fell silent. Fein, working in perfect coordination, took out a small pouch of pale pink powder from her belt. With a flick of her wrist, she sprinkled the fine powder over the three of them, briefly scrambling their mana signatures. It was a simple countermeasure against detection.
Holding their breath, the three followed Phylline’s lead, using trees and rocks as cover as they crept toward the source of the sound.
Carefully parting a dense cluster of plants, they spotted a demon. More precisely, a succubus.
She had her back to them, her distinctive heart-shaped tail gently swaying behind her.
She was fully focused on pulling thorns out of a vine, muttering incomprehensible demon language under her breath.
The three exchanged a glance. Phylline unshouldered her shortbow and drew an arrow from her quiver…
…
“Go save you… don’t save you… go save you… don’t save you…”
Mengya muttered to herself as she used her slender nails to pry wooden thorns from the vine.
“Not saving you!” After pulling out the last thorn, she seemed to let out a breath, as if finding an excuse, muttering softly, “Stinky Fish, you can’t blame me for being heartless. It was the vine… uh, it was fate giving instructions.”
As if to convince herself, she added, “Besides, even if I wanted to save you, what could I do? I’m just a little succubus. If we really fought, you might not even be weaker than me. The lunatics who grabbed you—each one of them has a mind like a rock. Super hard to charm. What could I possibly do?”
She dusted off her hands, as though brushing away the faint guilt in her heart.
“Rest in peace, good partner. They say dying in their hands isn’t painful anyway… You lived a pretty long life. Among goblins, that’s already a decent ending.”
She stretched her body, which had grown numb from squatting for so long, and looked toward the morning light appearing on the horizon. Taking a deep breath, she prepared to let go of the past and embrace a brand-new future.
With a sharp whoosh, an arrow pierced straight through her side.
Agonizing pain exploded instantly!
Enemy!
Human adventurers? Or those lunatics who took Stinky Fish?
Damn it—if that guy were still here, he’d have noticed someone approaching long ago!
Clenching her teeth against the tearing pain in her abdomen, Mengya reached back to draw the dagger at her waist, trying to turn and face her attacker.
But Veyra was faster.
The curved blade was already pressed against her slender neck, the edge tight against her skin, sending waves of cold through her.
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