Scroll 17: Terror-Wing II
The rumble of the detonation still reverberated in Deinderatrix's eardrums, transformed into a sharp, persistent ringing that seemed to drill into her skull.
— Nine hundred and fifty... — she coughed, a streak of thick, dark blood staining her lips and dripping onto the grayish earth. — Nine hundred and fifty mana points... in a single hit.
The mage fell to her knees, injured by her own runaway mana.
She was cornered in a small labyrinth of limestone rock formations that jutted out of the meadow like broken teeth. Around her, the air stank of ozone and scorched flesh. She tried to look up, but a lacerating pain forced her to hunch over.
As she looked at her right side, panic gripped her tighter than the physical pain itself: her arm, from her fingers to her shoulder, looked like a charred log.
Her skin, once soft and immaculately pale, had turned black, cracked, and smoking. The seams of her magic silk robe had fused directly into her flesh. Hot, desperate tears began to stream from her eyes, cutting through the dirt on her cheeks.
It wasn't just the physical pain; it was the terror of losing a limb—the very instrument she used to cast her spells.
— I thought... I thought it would land a critical hit, — she sobbed, clenching her teeth to keep from screaming.
At her feet, the ground spat sparks. Her wand, made of a mithril alloy and treant wood, was completely useless. The wood was splintered from end to end, and the metal melted and glowed cherry-red, as if in the middle of a forge.
She had exceeded the item's limit for mana accumulation and flow; the catalyst had simply destroyed itself to allow such a massive amount of mana to escape.
A hoarse, broken roar snapped her back to reality.
Through the gap in the rocks, Deinderatrix saw the Alpha Wyvern. The beast had not fallen dead. It left a thick trail of black smoke in the sky, and though its trajectory was erratic and chaotic, the massive reptile beat its right wing with fury to correct its course.
It was falling. Its yellow, bloodshot eyes scanned for the source of the heat that had destroyed its left flank as it descended amidst clouds of black smoke.
«It's coming... it's coming right toward me!» she thought, her heart taking a terrifying plunge.
The monster's colossal silhouette began to descend toward the rocks, gliding heavily, dragging its hind claws through the tops of the tallest trees in the eastern sector.
— At least... at least I have a chance if it doesn't see me, — she told herself, swallowing her tears with the pure stubbornness of a survivor.
Knowing she had no energy left for a second spell and that her weapon was ash, Deinderatrix crawled using her left arm, leaving the smoking wand behind. With difficulty, she slid toward a patch of dense, thorny bushes growing under the shelter of the larger rocks.
Her figure, usually sensual, haughty, and elegantly postured, crawled like that of a wounded animal, disappearing into the deep green of the leaves. There, hidden in the plant-shaded gloom, she curled up as tightly as she could, holding her breath between short, trembling gasps.
The sky darkened with the approach of the winged hunter.
About a few hundred yards away, on the wooded northern slope, Alaster had not taken his eyes off the horizon. He had witnessed the entire sequence with a mixture of incredulity and awe.
First, he saw the Alpha Wyvern strike with blind violence against the southern tree canopy, snapping entire trunks in an obvious attempt to reach Arya and Jinneth. But just as the creature took flight again, pushing off with its powerful hind legs, the eastern sector lit up.
From the rocks, an atrocity of concentrated fire shot forth.
It wasn't a simple magic sphere; it was a massive, dense projectile, its center glowing with an electric blue due to the extremely high temperature. A miniature meteor ripping through the air with a deafening hiss. The impact against the creature's left flank was direct and brutal.
The subsequent explosion unleashed a shockwave so massive that Alaster felt the vibration in the soles of his feet.
The treetops below the Wyvern swayed violently, bending like blades of grass under a storm. The youngest bushes and pines at the epicenter were completely flattened against the sandy ground.
The monster emitted a heartbreaking shriek, a blood-curdling roar of pain and rage, as its trajectory veered sharply to the east—the exact place where the attack had come from.
— That... that was an advanced fireball, — said Liena, who was next to the elf, her voice muffled by astonishment. — It must have been Deinderatrix...
The halfling scout stared at the black smoke, but in her mind, the pieces of the puzzle didn't fit.
«Why didn't she run?» Liena thought, feeling a tightness in her chest. «Detrix was the only one in a section of the forest big and dense enough to have escaped on foot toward the meadow without being seen from the air... Her path was clear.»
A ridiculous, almost absurd suspicion crossed her mind as she remembered the persistent looks the mage had thrown at the elf back in the wagon, even from the driver's seat.
«Don't tell me... do you really like this elf so much that you'd risk your life for him, Detrix? What a stupid way to die... How did such a foolish romantic manage to climb all the way to level 80?»
Liena let out a dry, humorless chuckle as she wiped the sweat from her forehead.
— My foolish friend... turned out to be much braver than me, — the halfling scout murmured, lowering her head with a mixture of guilt and admiration.
Alaster, oblivious to his companion's inner thoughts, continued to evaluate the monster's trajectory with the analytical precision of his logical mind.
— The monster is heading east, — the elf observed, pointing to the trail of ash drifting in the air. — But look at its left wing. It's not beating properly. It's dropping while gliding. It can't maintain altitude.
— It's our chance! — Liena intervened immediately, grabbing his arm urgently. — Alaster, we have to run now while it's distracted.
The elf turned to look at her, his brow furrowed.
— That fireball... Who did you say cast it?
— It was Deinderatrix, I'm sure of it, — Liena interrupted him, speaking quickly. — But it didn't kill the monster. An A-Rank Alpha has too much health... However, now that it can't fly well, with a burned wing and that open wound on its left side, its hunting pattern will change. Alaster, please, we have to use this moment to run in the opposite direction. We have to flee!
Alaster was silent for a second.
In his mind, the image of the mage appeared. She was capricious, proud, undeniably problematic, and possessed a personality that often tested his patience. But he couldn't just leave her behind. Knowing she had provoked the monster to indirectly give the rest of the group a breather changed things.
If they left her alone in those conditions, facing a wounded and infuriated Wyvern, it would be her end. There would be no second chance for her.
Without saying another word, Alaster took a step forward, stepping out of the wooded slope. Then he took another, quickening his pace.
— What the hell are you doing?! — Liena yelled at him, her eyes widening as she saw him expose himself. — That's the wrong direction! The city of Sibar is to the southwest!
— I know, — Alaster answered over his shoulder, without stopping. — But I'm going to help Deinderatrix.
Before the halfling scout could grab him, the elf broke into a run, entering the grove that led to the eastern sector.
— That's suicide! — Liena screamed from behind, her voice cracking with frustration, though her legs, driven by loyalty, reluctantly began to follow him.
«What on earth am I doing?» Joseph thought. His mind brought to the surface the name of his past life on Earth as his boots hit the moss-covered ground. «I am no hero. I don't have the savior complex of the protagonists in the books I used to read. This is absolute madness...»
Despite his own internal reproaches, the High Elf's body responded with astonishing agility.
The cool morning wind hit him full in the face, bringing with it the sweet scent of wild flowers that dotted the clearings of the grove. The field around him was beautiful, a vibrant green patch flooded with golden light that made the whole scenery seem unreal.
His trotting footsteps felt light, almost effortless. It was as if he were simply taking a morning walk through the municipal park of his old city.
The only damn difference was that, at the end of the path where that thick column of black smoke ascended, there was a lethal level 100 creature waiting to tear apart what was left of the group.
As he crossed a wooded clearing, Alaster spotted movement to his right.
About fifty yards away, moving between the trunks with a synchronization born of desperation, Arya and Jinneth appeared. Both were moving at full speed, weapons ready and faces pale, heading toward the exact same spot in the eastern sector.
They, too, had seen the Wyvern fall and knew who was there.
Alaster clenched his teeth, increasing his stride as a bitter smile formed on his face.
«Well...» he concluded internally, fixing his gaze on the silhouettes of the elven archer and the young baker. «I guess I'm not the only crazy one in this place.»
The terrain transitioned abruptly. The idyllic blanket of wildflowers and fresh grass was left behind, devoured by the hostile geography of the eastern sector. Here, the earth broke into a limestone rocky outcrop; colossal blocks of gray stone and sharp ridges emerged from the ground like the skeletal remains of a buried titan.
Alaster slowed his pace, shifting from a trot to a silent, feline glide. His violet eyes scanned the landscape for usable cover. Just at the northern edge of this boulder area, a dense strip of thorny thickets and giant ferns offered a clean but protected line of sight.
The elf crouched down, sinking into the low northern vegetation. The damp foliage concealed his silhouette, but allowed him to analyze the panorama with the mathematical coldness he retained from his past life.
Evaluating the massive proportions of the reptile and the density of its plating, a wave of realism hit his chest.
«We can't face that thing,» Alaster thought, clenching his teeth as his mind calculated the zero probability of success in a direct clash. «It's suicide to attempt close combat with our current level. The best thing is... to find Detrix before the creature does and escape, taking advantage of the fact that it can't fly.»
If they managed to get her out of there cleanly, the Wyvern's lack of aerial mobility would give them enough of an advantage to gain ground in the meadow.
About sixty yards to the south, the landscape changed again into a grove of old, robust pines. The trunks were so thick it took two men to hug them, and their massive canopies cast dense shadows over the ground covered in dry needles. Arya was already there, camouflaged against the bark of one of the most imposing pines, her bow half-drawn and her ears turned down, holding her breath.
Halfway between Alaster's position and Arya's pines extended a secondary labyrinth of smaller boulders and fallen rocks. Jinneth, driven by a reckless mixture of loyalty and panic, was crouching among these dividing stones.
From her cover, the young baker strained her eyes forward. The monster partially had its back to her, moving its massive neck from left to right.
«Good... that thing is distracted looking in another direction,» Jinneth thought, feeling cold sweat run down her neck. She peeked slightly over the edge of the stone and evaluated the angle. She looked at the creature, which kept its attention fixed facing west, scanning the remains of the smoke. «Yes, I can do it... The terrain is in my favor. I just have to be silent and reach the bushes.»
With that resolution fixed in her mind, Jinneth began to slide out of her hiding place, advancing a yard toward the main rocky outcrop located in the heart of the clearing, where dense wild bushes of dark green leaves hid Deinderatrix's wounded figure. The mage remained there, kneeling on the dusty earth, weak and out of mana, but biologically stable for the moment.
Alaster, who was watching the entire scene from the northern thickets, felt the world stop when he saw the silhouette of the young baker advance into the open field between the stones. His heart jumped into his throat in a violent jolt.
«What on earth is she doing!» he panicked internally, holding back a scream that threatened to escape his throat. «It's going to see her! At that range, it will detect her by the slightest crackle!»
The girl's recklessness was about to ruin any chance of a stealthy rescue.
From the pine grove, Arya caught the human's intention at the same time. Her face contorted with terror.
— Noooo! Don't go, girl...! — Arya hissed in an urgent, desperate whisper, stretching her free hand into the void, imploring with her gaze for the baker to pull back. — Stay down!
But the movement had already begun. The Alpha Wyvern, gifted with the heightened senses of an A-Rank predator, perceived the subtle vibration of the ground. Its long reptilian neck whipped around. However, the monster's colossal mind dismissed the presence of the low-level warrior almost instantly. That human did not possess the residual mana trail that had nearly destroyed it.
But the beast's change of position completely reoriented its axis of vision.
The Alpha Wyvern stretched its neck, raising its snout above the central rock formations. Its nostrils dilated, exhaling a hot vapor that withered the nearest leaves. Its vertical pupils contracted, and it fixed its yellow eyes directly on the heart of the larger rocky outcrop.
Through the lattice of branches and the deep green of the wild bushes, the creature spotted a familiar silhouette. There, amidst the shadows of the leaves, the torn magic silk robe and Deinderatrix's hair stood out subtly in the gloom.
The monster identified her from afar among the thickets. There was no doubt in its gaze. The beast's eyes became bloodshot as it fixed its attention exclusively on the wounded mage, recognizing her as the one and true threat in the entire place. The Wyvern opened its jaws, revealing rows of teeth like swords, ready to crush the hiding place with all its weight.