Eldrin Forest (1): Bait for the Ifrit
A familiar sensation of floating, lasting about an hour. What greeted me was the fragrant scent of fresh grass and chattering voices.
"You're here! You're here!"
A whispering voice brimming with mischief, like a girl excitedly unwrapping a birthday gift bundle.
Again?
"This girl! At three digits in age, she should have some sense!"
Three digits? I opened my eyes, and right in front of me stood what looked like two young women in their twenties.
Three digits... Ah.
Short golden hair tinged with a greenish hue, elegant attire in antique white and green reminiscent of leaves. But what caught my eye more were the two pairs of long, pointed ears. That visual cue explained all the incongruities.
So that's how it was.
"Hello, mercenary."
"Hi hi!"
"Quiet down! Selin! Ahem! I'm Selendia Arbel, guardian of Eldrin Forest. Pleased to meet you."
As the name suggested, Eldrin Forest really was an elves' domain.
The woman extending her hand introduced herself as Selendia. I took her hand... a handshake, right? Anyway.
"Well, no need for introductions here, I suppose."
"Berga! Right?!"
After a smooth handshake, the response came from the side. She had shorter hair than Selendia, a more youthful face, and looked far more like a cheeky rascal. Her voice belonged to the one who'd grumbled about sense earlier. Selin, was it?
An elves' forest. A familiar battlefield. From screens, of course.
The ideal troop composition and formation flashed through my mind in an instant.
But more importantly.
"Wave intel."
Business first.
"The wave... Ah! Yes, most of the enemy forces consist of various normal monsters, but the key issue is..."
Her trailing voice. Wandering eyes. I got it without her saying.
"There's an elite monster."
"Yes, that's right. But its name is..."
"What're you talking about?"
"Ifrit. The Mad Fire Spirit Ifrit will appear with the horde."
Ah. So that's the situation.
Among elite mobs, Ifrit was—barely—one you could handle. Extreme elemental weakness made it manageable. In a mage-heavy field, blast it with water magic. Even without mages, clear all the fuel and you'd find a way somehow.
Ifrit was a growth-type monster that devoured everything in its path to swell its size.
Exploit its element or its traits—one or the other.
Eldrin Forest. Lush greenery everywhere, a massive tree at the center of the wooden stockade camp.
Worst case. It'd reach max size before covering half the field.
"You summoned me to protect the forest from the fire demon?"
"...Yes! That's correct. Unfortunately, your role will be..."
Selendia trailed off again.
A picturesque elven settlement. Summoning a physically agile assassin here.
"Bait duty."
I finished her unspoken words.
"It's...! Not exactly bait, per se..."
She stammered excuses in surprise. But.
"I get it."
"What... do you mean?"
I knew all too well. The first Fortress of End field I'd grinded was this elf one, after all.
No normal-grade units in elf-heavy fields. Rare-grade minimum.
Good? No. No normals meant no melee. And rares from the start made unit production a nightmare.
Probably some excuse like "limited breeding" or whatever. Elves in fantasy were always depicted that way—long-lived, aloof, etc.
Usually, leverage their high stats for mage routes and summons... Whatever. I'm a merc now.
Back to reality. Mad Fire Spirit versus tree-huggers who'd live and die by the woods.
They'd want a merc flawless in every role to minimize sacrifices from their already sparse troops while defending the forest.
TL;DR: Primary goal—protect the central World Tree. Secondary—preserve units. Outside merc takes frontline aggro. Inevitable.
"Just keep Ifrit's attention off the trees, right?"
"Ah...! Yes. Thank you."
"Wouldn't summoning water mages be better?"
"Ah... Water magic harms the forest..."
Ah, circumstances. Bummer, though. A merc would just say "Got it" and move on. But my field-reading eyes were too sharp for that.
Of all fields, the elf one where I'd nitpicked endlessly. Not like Cron grows on trees.
Hiring me just for bait? Waste of manpower...
"By the way. Any mages?"
"No. We're all archers..."
Damn. As expected, terrible field development.
Elf fields need rock summons for frontline tanking, then win with firepower projection. Rely on range, shoot arrows, summon merc if it goes south? How'd they plan to kill remaining waves—Ifrit especially? Physical damage immunity.
"...Not too late. Train mages."
"Pardon? What do you... Ah! For Ifrit, that's fine. We have a way to damage it!"
Not the point. Whatever.
"Tell me the scope of my battlefield autonomy."
Selendia's face brightened. Probably thought bait duty wasn't a welcome merc request.
"Ah! Thank you for understanding. Most mercs get angry or go rogue..."
Spot on, huh.
"Not that. Selendia."
"Yes?"
I'm not the issue. You are, you blockhead.
"Can I devise the strategy?"
"You mean...?"
My rogue style's a bit different.
"Don't you think 2,000 Cron for bait is a waste?"
At this rate, you'd all burn.
"Is this method... really right?"
We—well, most of Eldrin's forces, the prepared sisters Selendia and Selin, and me—gazed down at the blue portal from the branches of a massive tree.
Convincing them hadn't taken long. Urgency demanded a slightly forceful approach. Not threats—just facts to the face.
"Revise the entire strategy. This won't work."
"You seem unfamiliar with Eldrin..."
"Archers dispersed wide in the forest for shots. Eldrin's playbook?"
"Yep yep! How'd you know?"
Selin answered instead of Selendia. What was with that speech?
Three digits old, right...?
"Selin! Don't butt in! Anyway, yes. Eldrin's archers are world-class..."
"Sure. Say I lure Ifrit. Your elite archers handle normal waves. What about Ifrit meanwhile?"
"Isn't that Berga's job?"
"Selin! Cut it out! Ahem... My sister's blunt, but not wrong. You know what we paid?"
Earn your keep. Knew it'd come.
If you're gonna say that, summon properly.
"Don't misunderstand. I'm an assassin. Choosing the right merc is the commander's skill. I can't hug and hold Ifrit forever. Know its biology?"
"Pardon...?"
"Ifrit needs constant fuel. It spreads flames to everything nearby, devours it to grow. If I can't pin it, it'll consume the grass, your shot corpses—everything."
"Then..."
"Try downing it with those sharp Eldrin arrows. Arrows become fuel too."
Tag, you're it—doomed to fail.
"Sis! You're red!"
"Enough! Selin!"
The over-100-year-old lady deluding herself as a girl kept barging in boldly. Decent assist, though. Selendia seemed to realize her mistake.
Back atop the great tree.
"Berga! This'll work, right?"
Despite her cheery tone, Selin's bowstring trembled without an arrow nocked.
"Of course. Best way to save the forest."
"What if it fails?!"
Anxious face. A battlefield expression I'd grown used to.
"If the World Tree's hurt, I'll take responsibility. And no sacrifices today—I promise."
No reply. Just firmer eyes.
"Imposing elven tradition on an outsider feels off, but... Elves never break promises. Please keep yours."
Selendia couldn't hide her unease. Her complaint sounded like a plea.
Fair. Sudden human merc forces wave-time formation overhaul for an Ifrit gen-cut plan.
But beyond faith or duty, for a physical-damage elf field, this was the optimal play. Felt different from Nakan, but closest match: few units, elite individuals, overwhelming mobility. Perfect for forward bases.
"Your requested sap. Meant for arrowheads, but..."
A soldier dashed up from afar, handing over a large glass bottle sloshing with pale white liquid. Final puzzle piece arrived.
The poison for the dagger piercing Ifrit's heart. Way to let physical dealers hurt it.
World Tree Sap negates physical immunity. Like some rainbow reflection counter.
Thought it'd just be enchanted or something.
"But we're guarding the tree. Sap okay to use?"
"...What do you mean?"
Selendia's eyes narrowed.
"...Joke to ease tension. Forget it."
Taboo question here too, huh. Anyway.
Physical immunity breaker. Portal below. Incoming elite mob. Elite mob slayer.
Prep complete.
Come on out, Ifrit.
The portal began to ripple.