Chapter 109
Here’s the text with the asterisks removed:
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That’s a common event in any new game.
In sequels or long-running series, you might expect certain monsters to show up—that one or this one—but even then, new foes are always prepared.
The standard countermeasures for such enemies are, first, leveling up, and second, equipping yourself to handle whatever the opponent throws at you. It’s a basic, cliché strategy for any gamer.
"This is everything I know."
Just as important as those is gathering intel.
In games, when you visit villages or towns, NPCs like villagers might give you flavor-text-level hints—"Beware of the monsters in the eastern caves!"—and you can collect that kind of info.
The man named Satos, the second son of the Knowridge family, didn’t provide much information. At best, it was about as much as you’d get from those NPCs.
Still, it’s better than going in blind. And besides, do you have any idea how much of my life I’ve spent on FBO?
"Let me summarize what we know. The steam covers the entire town and spreads over a wide area. The enemy isn’t inside the town itself—it attacks anyone trying to leave or enter the steam-covered zone. If the people are exposed to the heat for too long, dehydration will wipe them out sooner or later."
From here on out, it’s time for my specialty: strategizing.
In a game, you’d gather intel from NPCs to get pre-battle info or boss strategies, but the town is in no state for that right now.
On top of that, we’re on a time attack with the lives of the townsfolk at stake.
We don’t even have time to properly gear up.
"The enemy is invisible, its attacks are invisible, and it can precisely track our movements within the steam."
Lotus counts off the information provided by Satos, the nobleman, as she speaks.
"Additionally, it can attack multiple targets simultaneously and focus all its assaults on a single person from all directions. We need to respond to this emergency immediately, but reinforcements will take time to arrive."
The more I hear, the more impossible it sounds.
The Pendulum of Transfer has a maximum capacity of six people per jump.
Recast time: one hour.
Meaning, a round trip takes two hours, and each trip can only bring five people besides me.
If we could get five reinforcements every two hours, that’d be fine—but this isn’t a fight where numbers alone will win.
"That’s all the information we have. Libertà, what do you think?""The situation’s bad. That said, thanks to Satos, we at least have a rough idea of the enemy monster’s identity.""What?!"
Even with minimal information, you can narrow down the enemy’s identity if you try.
Based on the conditions, the monster I’m thinking of fits, and even with some margin for error, it makes sense.
But if my guess is right, throwing numbers at it would be a terrible move.
This enemy is an ambush specialist—a monster that thrives on home-field advantage.
It’s also the type that excels at handling large groups.
Satos looks at me in shock when I, a child, suddenly suggest I’ve figured out the enemy’s identity.
That’s the normal reaction, right?
Nell and Amina wear expressions of resigned understanding, while Claudia looks impressed.
Ingrid’s face remains unchanged, and Lotus...
"Please, enlighten us."
...is practically glowing with hope.
Normally, nobody could figure it out from that little info, so Satos and the others’ surprise is the normal response.
Nell and the others’ reactions are probably just the result of my past actions.
"The enemy is a Treant."
But now’s not the time to dwell on that.
Without any theatrics, I state the monster’s name as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world.
"A Treant?! You’re saying that withered-tree monster is behind all this?!"
The steam-generation condition alone wouldn’t have led me to this conclusion.
But if you replace steam with mist, it fits the situation perfectly—and Satos’s account of the attacks makes sense too.
"Yes, that withered-tree monster."
Treants are mimic-type monsters.
The closest comparison from my original world would be carnivorous plants.
They blend in among forest trees, lie in wait for prey, then extend their root-based hunting appendages to capture and slaughter their targets—classic trap monsters.
"But this isn’t an ordinary Treant. I think it’s a very old, ancient tree."
Identifying a Treant is simple: look for withered trees.
In a lush forest, a single dried-up tree that stands out from the rest is usually a Treant.
Higher-tier variants have better camouflage and are harder to spot.
Elder Treants, for example, become massive, gnarled husks—easy to see but rare.
Specialized mimic-Treants, though? Nearly impossible to find.
"Satos, one question—you said the attacks came from nowhere, but were most of them from below?""...Now that you mention it, yes. But some came from above too. Not many, but I definitely felt something whiz past my head.""Probably the Treant’s roots, coiled around trees, launching earth-magic attacks. Treants detect prey through vibrations in the ground via their roots. Something like a galloping horse would be easy to sense.""But many others tried to flee the town too! Are you saying it detected all of them? Were there that many Treants surrounding us?!""Probably just one. Treants don’t form packs. They despise others of their kind invading their hunting grounds. The underground is their territory—they’d never tolerate foreign roots disrupting their movement.""Then it makes even less sense! There are no monster spawns near the town, let alone Treants! And the sheer volume of attacks I endured couldn’t come from a single Treant. My subordinate Kashim would never lose to one, no matter how poor visibility was!"
Treants are monsters with a wide range of variants.
The Elder Treant is just one evolutionary result.
And Treants have another name.
"There are exceptions—Treants that wander from their spawn points in search of territory. And unlike other monsters, they possess a uniquely dangerous trait: under the right conditions, they can even defeat dragonkin."
That name is Careless Mistake.
A beginner’s error, you could say.
Satos scowls as I cut him off, but I press on with a serious expression, emphasizing that Treants are not to be underestimated.
"Superior to dragons?! Nonsense! Dragons surpass them in both magic and physical strength!"
A Treant, stronger than a dragon?
To this world’s people, such a claim is absurd.
Dragons that have lived for ages are literally the strongest.
They’re calamities incarnate.
The idea that a single withered tree could rival them is laughable.
"How could they possibly be stronger?!""Endurance."
But dragons are fierce, prideful in their strength—and lacking in patience.
Treants, on the other hand, possess endurance (or stubbornness) unmatched by any other monster.
"Endurance?! What’s so terrifying about that?""They’re monsters that thrive on being forgotten. Their true horror lies in surviving in the blind spots of memory. ‘There was a Treant there. But it’s weak, a hassle, not worth the reward, just one—no big deal.’ They weaponize that complacency, ensuring they’re left alone."
Unlike other monsters, they can absorb nutrients from the soil or gain experience by hunting prey like monsters or humans.
If they focus solely on driving away rivals, they can slowly, steadily grow stronger over time.
"The scary part is how they expand their territory unseen. They mimic young trees, avoid hunting near their own roots, and plant themselves where loggers won’t easily cut them down. Then, deep underground, they spread their roots, claiming more and more land."
Impatient monsters can’t play the long game.
Goblins gather in packs because they’re weak alone.
Dragons rampage openly because they’re strong.
"But we’re not talking a year or two. Treants can live for decades, centuries—even millennia."
Treants don’t fight like that.
They don’t just wait three years on a rock—they spend hundreds of months in place, silently expanding their domain.
They can move, but it’s not their forte.
"And they do it so quietly, so uneventfully, that people forget they were ever there."
No wonder their mimicry is so advanced.
I can see the blood draining from Satos’s face as I explain.
The horror of patience.
"You mean to tell me it’s been rooted near our town all this time?!""Given the steam—or rather, mist—this one’s ability to obscure vision suggests it’s a highly evolved individual."
Even players make this mistake—forgetting about a Treant, only to be hunted down by one that’s leveled up in their absence.
I’ve been there too. Once, I wandered into the territory of a Treant that had grown to Class 7 through perfect mimicry and paid the price.
Hence the name: Careless Mistake.
A painful lesson born from oversight.
Players who’ve experienced it learn this mantra:
‘If you see a Treant, hunt it down. No exceptions.’
You must exterminate them so thoroughly that second thoughts never arise.
"B-but there’s never been a single report of a Treant near our town! Not in my father’s time, nor my grandfather’s!"
Realizing the gravity of his family’s oversight, Satos begins making excuses, desperate to deny it—as if pleading for this to be a nightmare, begging to wake up.
His face pale, he practically begs me to tell him he’s wrong.
"Lord Satos, have you forgotten Libertà’s words? Treants spend years, decades, rooting themselves in a place. Your family has protected these lands for generations, but surely some reports were overlooked—like a soldier’s warning about a Treant sighting."
Treants aren’t inherently strong monsters.
A fresh Treant is barely Class 2, early-tier.
A properly equipped post-beginner player can take one down easily.
But as Claudia reiterates, a Treant that’s had time to grow is dangerous.
This thing scales with time.
It’s the idle-game monster that gets stronger while you’re not looking.
It doesn’t spike in power overnight, but time is always on its side.
"L-Libertà! You said some Treants live over a century—how strong would one need to be to produce steam covering an entire town?!"
The ability to blanket a town in steam might stem from this being one of the continent’s premier hot-spring regions—or perhaps a unique evolutionary path.
I’m curious how it developed the ability to draw boiling water from underground springs and disperse steam alongside heat.
Some Treant variants learn Mist, a skill that creates thick fog to obscure vision—an evolution for disorienting prey.
Other monsters can use mist too, which is why I couldn’t be certain earlier.
"Class-wise... at least 6, I’d say?""SIX?!"
But this kind of trap setup is classic Treant behavior.
And only a Treant evolved to around Class 6—on par with a Wind Dragon—could pull off this hunting method.
If a century of growth gets it there, that’s almost efficient—but to Satos, it means his family’s century of negligence doomed the town granted by the king.
A murmur spreads through the group.
The soldiers, the maids—even Satos himself.
"It’s over... Our town... The Knowridge name..."
His despair poisons the air, but—
"Nah, we can kill it."
The fact it’s hiding suggests it didn’t evolve into a head-on combat variant.
If we find the main body, it’ll be a hassle, but doable.
So I brush off the gloom with a casual remark.
"What?! What did you just say?""I said a Treant this strong is still within our current gear’s limits."
I’m aware of the danger.
But I’m not afraid of losing.
My mind is already charting the safest, most efficient way to kill it.
"This is my first time dealing with one, but if we gather intel and test things, we can probably pinpoint its location. Once we do, we can take it down."
Calling it a Treant might be premature, but I’m 99% sure.
The remaining 1%? A quick step into the steam to confirm.
"W-we’ll manage."
So I can afford to smile as I gaze into the mist.