Chapter 110
We’re currently sprinting at full speed through the scorching steam, cutting a path forward.
"We really can move around comfortably like this.""One support-type maid per party. Thanks to Ingrid, we can search for the Treant this smoothly.""If I can be of use, then nothing could make me happier."
The three of us running are me, Claudia, and Ingrid.
Amina and Nell are operating separately.
The reason we can push through the steam and heat is thanks to Ingrid’s skills.
Air Clean and Thermo Control activate centered around the skill user.
So, with Ingrid in the middle and Claudia and me flanking her, we can benefit from the effects.
"Yeah, you’re a huge help. That’s why—whoa!"
Having clear vision is the norm.
But when you’re hit with bad conditions like steam obscuring your sight, you can’t process the visual information you should, and your reaction speed falters.
Even if you know the attacks come from the ground, dodging them is nearly impossible with visibility this poor.
"But we can dodge."
Right before stepping forward—hello there—a root tip juts out from the ground.
Sharp as a bamboo spear, it thrusts upward, but I sidestep it effortlessly. It curves, trying to chase and stab me in the back as I run past, but—
"Hup! Hmm, the attack density’s thinning out here. This isn’t the right direction. Let’s head east instead.""Understood."
Attacks like these are trivial to handle.
They’re nothing like Claudia’s absurd combos—just a wave of sharp roots with gaps so wide I want to tell them to go back to bullet hell games and try again.
And with Magic Edge active, I can slash through them like weeds.
You’d think roots from a Class 6 monster would be tougher, but compared to dragonkin, Treants are still vulnerable to damage.
Stat-wise, they’re not specced into attack or defense—more like one step short of maxing out vitality.
Basically, they’re enemies with overwhelming HP, insane regeneration, and the kind of endurance that makes whittling them down a mental battle.
Think of them as foes you can’t beat without either one-shotting them or crippling their healing.
And on top of that, this one’s a master of hide-and-seek.
Even with Ingrid’s help, our visibility only extends about five meters in radius.
Her Air Clean and Thermo Control skills are leveling up in real time, gradually improving range and efficiency, but it’s still far from ideal.
"It’s probably up near the ridge, but I really hope it’s not on the opposite cliff."
Beyond the next step isn’t darkness—just more steam.
Thanks to Ingrid’s Thermo Control, the temperature stays comfortable.
But the lingering heat on the trees we brush past reminds us how scorching it was just moments ago.
As for how to find a Treant hiding in a place like this—
"The attack density just increased slightly.""Should we adjust our path a bit further east?"
—our only option is deducing its position from the attack patterns.
I’ve memorized the map Satos provided earlier.
Using it as reference, we move around, judging distance based on the frequency of attacks.
"Libertà-sama, the path ahead leads into the mountains, but—""It’s probably riddled with traps. But with visibility like this, going off-road would be worse."
Increased attack density means we’re getting closer.
The highest concentration marks the heart of the Treant’s rooted territory.
Back in my gaming days, I’d run around for ages to chop down overgrown Treants too.
If you stop moving, you’re instantly bombarded with roots, so you can’t stop running.
I visualize the map in my head, planning our next move.
"Alright, ignore the mountain path. We’re taking the game trail.""Understood.""The footing will be worse. How do you plan to handle that?"
The main path is likely laced with roots to deter intruders.
That means side routes should be less guarded.
"Less guarded" being relative, of course—but gamers like us will force our way through any gap.
"Like this!!"
As if to prove Magic Edge has more uses, I slash through the overgrown grass ahead with a sickle-shaped blade.
A larger blade lets us carve a path where none exists.
"Ah, a shortcut.""The arm strain’s worse than I expected, though!!"
With each swing, I clear more grass—and like a delayed reaction, roots burst from the main path, homing in on us.
"Regular healing should suffice, no?""Y-yeah, probably!!"
I’m definitely getting muscle pain tomorrow, I think, channeling my inner old man as we push toward the summit.
People in this world don’t climb mountains unless they need materials, have surveying work, or are complete idiots.
They don’t venture into monster-infested wilderness just because the mountain is there.
So, given Treant behavior, it’s entirely plausible the main body is at the peak—the least accessible spot, safe from loggers.
Less mountain climbing, more parkour, really.
A boy leading the way, swinging a spear; a woman in a martial arts gi deflecting roots with her limbs; and a maid gripping a broom.
An absurd sight for a mountainside, but we press on without hesitation.
"You’re incredible, Libertà. Even in these conditions, you never lose your sense of direction.""Am I? It feels pretty easy.""Only because you make it look that way. Most people would get disoriented running around like this. Yet you’re heading straight for the summit without hesitation."
Her question makes me pause.
"It’s just... practice.""Practice?"
The answer’s simple—I drilled it into my body through repetition.
I know how much my body tilts at any given angle.
Right now, I can feel I’ve moved 32 degrees to the right.
...Wait, now that I think about it, isn’t this kind of abnormal?
"That’s all I can say.""So it’s the result of rigorous training? Truly, the divine choose their gifted wisely."
In gaming, being able to adjust by fractions of a millimeter is what separates the elite.
Think FPS aim—the slightest hand tremor reduces hit accuracy.
Most players feel how to land shots rather than explain it. You can give basic advice like aim for the chest or headshot here, but in the end, it’s all instinct.
Even something as simple as counting on your fingers varies from person to person.
Pulling a trigger alone involves countless nuances.
There are endless ways to ingrain muscle memory, and my directional sense wasn’t something I consciously quantified—it’s just repetition, this feels about right, etched into me.
Without this, you’d get hopelessly lost in late-game dungeons.
Directional awareness is essential for exploration.
As someone who mains scout-type characters, this borderline extra skill is just something I picked up out of necessity.
Thanks to it, even maze-like dungeons can’t disorient me.
From a Treant’s perspective, scout-types like me are natural predators.
And from my perspective, Treants are prime hunting targets.
Easy to handle as enemies, and their drops are delicious—practically free loot.
"This way. Attack density’s rising, and the speed’s increasing.""So it seems.""Ingrid, top up your mana with a potion now. We’ll probably engage within thirty minutes.""Understood."
Pushing through untrodden paths, shifting directions, the Treant’s location gradually becomes clear.
The stay away hostility.
The oppressive pressure, not even bothering to hide anymore.
Experience tells me—we’re on the right track.
I leap over a rock, and behind me, roots impale the stone I’d just been standing on before vanishing into the steam.
"Hmm, this Treant’s got a bit of a nasty personality.""How so?""It’s probably not at the summit. The angle’s off—it’s making us think it’s up there, but it’s actually hiding further down the slope."
Judging by the attack frequency, recalculating puts it slightly off-peak.
If we charged straight for the summit, we’d trigger a deadly trap.
I’ve seen this trick before.
"Are you certain?""Call it a strong hunch—90% sure."
Monsters have personalities, and behavior patterns vary.
Some Treants form straightforward defensive perimeters.
Others, like this one, stay in withered-tree form and focus on stat growth.
Mimic-type Treants blend into forests—their combat ability isn’t high, but they excel at traps and concealment.
This is the latter. And this type tends to be... twisted.
"Oh, and it’s probably got decoys too. A normal-looking tree nearby, so when exhausted intruders finally think they’ve found it—surprise—it stabs them in the back."
From experience, Treants are mean.
Their long-term lurking breeds cunning—they refine underhanded tactics.
"What a hassle.""But the drops are worth it. High-quality lumber, plus rare herbs if we’re lucky.""You seem to be enjoying yourself, Libertà-sama.""Ingrid, with enemies like this, you need to focus on the rewards to stay motivated. Cutting corners is unacceptable, but calling it just a hassle kills morale."
The poor visibility is part of the Treant’s survival strategy.
For us, it’s an annoying time sink—but that’s the point.
Play into its game, and we’re dead.
Staying motivated is how we avoid that.
"Dreaming of the loot—within reason—keeps you sharp."
I expound this philosophy while slicing through roots, but Ingrid just tilts her head, not quite getting it.
"Chatter’s over for now. Libertà, look—""That faint outline of a giant tree... the Treant’s decoy."
No further explanation is needed, but just as I want to elaborate, we arrive.
Through the steam—the shadow of a massive tree.
An obviously suspicious figure along the path to the summit. At a glance, it looks like the real deal.
The kind of thing that’d bait frustrated, impatient hunters into rushing straight at it.
"Which means... the real one’s probably here."
But for a mimic-specialized Treant, that tree is too conspicuous.
So I circle right, scanning the trees within Ingrid’s Air Clean radius—
"That’s it."
—and spot the one that screams wrong.
A tree lurking among the others.
At first glance, it’s unremarkable.
Same trunk, same branches, same leaves—nothing out of place.
Except—
"Way too many roots."
Unlike the others, its base is swarming with roots.
The moment we turn toward it—
■■■■■■■■!!!
The monster sheds its disguise.