Chapter 114
The mist and heat that had engulfed the town vanished with the defeat of the human-faced tree, and Norridge returned to normal.
The town had only been shrouded in steam—no major destruction—so its peaceful streets were restored just as before.
Satos, who never truly believed the incident could be resolved, was stunned when we returned, then showered us with gratitude.
And as a noble, he couldn’t possibly leave it at that—so, setting aside our commoner status, he secured the finest hot spring inn in town for us as its saviors.
The investigation results and damage reports could wait until we’d rested. The inn staff had been worried, but in the end, aside from residents who’d fallen victim to the tree’s traps while trying to escape and a few of House Norridge’s retainers, no one had died. Some had fallen ill, but with the efforts of the Norridge mages, they were expected to recover with rest.
As for the deceased, House Norridge assured us they would handle everything.
With the safe and sound staff welcoming us in full force, we now soaked in the inn’s hot springs, washing away the fatigue of battle.
Given the flow of things, this should’ve been the perfect setup for a *service scene*.
"Ahhh, nothing beats a hot spring after a fight." "Indeed, Liberta-sama." "Lotus-san, you worked hard too. The rescue efforts for the townsfolk must’ve been exhausting."
But alas—the bathing scene ended up being just me and Lotus-san, a boy and an old man.
Unfortunately, the average age of our female members was still a bit too young for *that kind* of scene. Maybe later.
The warmth of the hot spring seeped into my tired body.
Even with stat boosts enhancing my physical abilities, exhaustion was still very much real.
"Not at all. I merely gave orders to my subordinates and reported to His Excellency. The true heroes deserving of rest are you and your party, Liberta-sama." "I just did what I could. Knowing Claudia-san was there made me confident we’d pull through—so really, it was all thanks to her." "Understanding your allies’ strengths, creating an environment to draw them out, and defeating the enemy—that strategic insight and decisive judgment alone are formidable powers. Undervaluing yourself diminishes the others’ achievements as well. Best to keep it balanced."
We sat about a meter apart in the open-air bath.
For now, both the men’s and women’s baths were reserved for our private use.
"You think so?" "I do." "Then I’ll enjoy this hot spring without holding back." "That would be ideal. Lord Norridge mentioned he would come to greet you later, Liberta-sama." "Wait, not Satos-san?" "The head of the house himself. A proper noble would naturally come in person to thank the one who saved his town." "That phrasing makes it sound like some nobles *aren’t* proper."
Stripped bare, submerged in the milky, slightly slippery water, I relaxed and couldn’t help but question his wording.
"Right now, there’s only a naked old man here. Just as there’s no *Emperor’s New Clothes*, there’s no *Butler’s New Words*. Even if someone overheard, it’d be washed away with the hot spring’s flow." "Is that so?" "Yes, precisely."
Despite the age gap large enough to be grandfather and grandson, he spoke to me like a friend, laughing as he assured me it was fine.
Somehow, that put me at ease as I sank deeper into the water.
"Still, to defeat a Class 6 enemy… With your skills, you might even take down a wind dragon without much trouble." "Don’t compare a wind dragon to a human-faced tree. This treant-type specialized in mimicry and debuff skills—its direct combat ability was low, even for Class 6. Practically the bottom of the barrel."
Praise was nice, but honestly, I’d only taken the job because I knew this enemy wasn’t *that* strong in a straight fight.
Mimicry-type treants could be neutered by locating their main body and countering their fog and heat-based debuffs. Do that, and you’ve already crippled 60% of their threat.
"Wind dragons are among the upper echelons of Class 6. The gap is massive." "Oh? How so?" "If a wind dragon fought a human-faced tree, the dragon would win even against a hundred of them." "*What*?! That big of a stat difference?!" "Stats are part of it, but it’s mostly compatibility. The tree’s earth attribute versus the dragon’s wind means double damage right off the bat. Add the tree’s lack of anti-air attacks versus the dragon’s abundance of ground assaults, and it’s a complete mismatch."
The human-faced tree’s real terror lay in its ability to strike unexpectedly from anywhere within its territory.
Its root attacks were among the weakest in Class 6, but numbers compensated.
And while limited to the ground, their vast range was another weapon.
In short, this tree’s strength came from stacking conditional advantages—steam obscuring vision, terrain masking its main body, and one-sided attacks.
Its other weaknesses, however, were glaring.
"Plus, a wind dragon can fly freely, while the tree can’t move. If it were a competent stationary turret, that’d be one thing—but as a trap-laying specialist, it’d just get bombarded from above until it died."
First, immobility meant no evasion.
Treants relied on sheer durability and regeneration to endure, but if the opponent’s firepower outpaced recovery, they’d get whittled down.
And with no way to dodge heavy attacks, they were sitting ducks in combat.
"I see. So this enemy was simply easy to counter?" "Exactly."
Restore visibility, track the attacks to avoid being overwhelmed, and spam long-range magic—that’s all it took.
Our party lacked a mage, so we went melee, but the simplest method would’ve been wind-attribute arrows to clear the roots, then pick it off safely.
The only hassle was the initial legwork to locate the main body.
Most losses against treants happened during that phase—getting worn down before pinning it down.
"By the way, since we’re on the topic—was this treant *planted* by someone?" "You suspect another orchestrated incident, like the stampede?" "Wishful thinking, but yeah." "Hard to say. We’re investigating just in case, but for now, Baron Norridge’s negligence seems the likely culprit."
Despite its weaknesses, letting one evolve this far felt *intentional*.
Between the stampede and the influx of troublemaking adventurers from the west lately, someone was clearly stirring the pot.
"I see." "Something worrying you?" "……"
I could think of a few *individuals* who’d pull this kind of stunt—pleasure-seekers, zealots, whimsical menaces—the kind I’d go out of my way to avoid in FBO.
And if this world mirrored the game, they’d absolutely be active right now.
My frown deepened.
"You *do* have someone in mind."
Lotus-san could tell.
"It’s… less a suspicion, more a delusional hope. That they *aren’t* here. That they *don’t* exist in this world."
At the very least, three faces came to mind—people I *never* wanted to meet at my current level.
If this world was FBO’s basis, they *should* exist—but I prayed they didn’t.
"For you to say that… they must be exceptionally dangerous?" "Just their combat prowess alone is terrifying." "How so?" "Even Claudia-san would only have a fifty-fifty chance against them head-on." "*Lady Claudia*?!"
Hardly a topic for a relaxing soak, but with all the recent trouble, I couldn’t shake the possibility—that one, two, or *all three* might be active.
Named characters weren’t just allies.
Villains had their share too.
Recalling their game stats and skills, their power set them leagues above ordinary named foes—*Villainous Named*.
"A sadomasochistic jester, a battle-crazed terrorist with a screw loose, and a *why-would-god-give-talent-to-this-idiot* kind of moron. Which one do you want to hear about?"
I hesitated to even mention this to the Duke, but staying silent felt worse.
Yet, saying their *names* felt like tempting fate—so I described them instead.
"‘Satsuma’—is that a place?" "Yeah, an old name from my homeland. It bred a warrior race—strong, ruthless, *obsessed* with battle."
People who reveled in taking heads, hounded foes like hunting dogs, carving through friend and foe alike if ordered.
A character *that* unhinged existed.
Using a nonexistent地名 (place name) wasn’t ideal, but no other description fit.
"That’s…"
Lotus-san tilted his head, understandably lost.
How could he imagine a group that shrieked *"Leave your head behind!"* before charging with wild cries?
"Think of them as… a hyper-specialized, ultra-violent faction obsessed with battlefield glory." "Aren’t those just warmongers?" "Think *upgraded* warmongers."
Even we FBO players had been creeped out upon first meeting them.
A headhunter who’d scream *"Enemy of heaven!"* and attack on sight—top-tier even among random encounter killers.
Expecting him to *understand* was unfair.
And if they sensed they couldn’t win? They’d flee at absurd speeds and switch to guerrilla tactics.
The forums’ advice was clear: *If you meet them, kill them on sight.*
I’d lost *hours* of gathered materials to ambushes myself.
For gamers, losing hard-earned loot was a *rage trigger*.
The rarer the items, the stronger the urge to murder.
Some players even built *anti-them* meta-characters just for revenge.
Even if the ones here weren’t the same, I’d never forget—*those stolen rare drops*.
"I see they’re dangerous… and there are *two more* like that?"
Lost in bitter memories, I almost grinned darkly before Lotus-san’s words snapped me back.
"Ah, yes. A twisted brat who ‘flirts’ by tormenting their crush, stalking with supernatural persistence, spreading disaster wherever they go. And a walking natural disaster—a *why-did-god-give-this-idiot-instincts* brawler who makes you question divine fairness." "*Sigh*… At least it’s clear you dislike them. You must know their names—why not say them?" "Saying them feels like *inviting* them."
Did I have grudges against the other two? *Absolutely.*
The first had latched onto me after an accidental event flag, harassing me nonstop.
The second had ambushed me *mid-step*—repeatedly.
"…Perhaps we should continue this later." "Right. We came to relax, not stress."
I’d dredged up old rage; Lotus-san was mentally drained.
We dropped the subject and sank deeper into the soothing waters.