Eldrin Forest (2): Fury of the Ifrit

The wave in Eldrin Forest. A literal tidal surge of monsters, their foaming vanguard poking heads through the blue portal into the woods.

Selendia Arbel's eyes sharpened. Was it because this was merely the 41st wave? There had been grumblings about misdirected battlefields here and there, but Eldrin had endured at least forty assaults in their own unique way. With nothing but bows and arrows.

Selendia raised her left hand. No words were needed for the signal to engage. She simply clenched her raised fist lightly.

Phewww! The sharp sound of something slicing through the air. It echoed as if matching the number of Eldrin's soldiers.

The whooshes turned to wet thuds. A downpour of arrows shredded the monster horde the instant they appeared.

"…So not all archers are created equal."

It was insane.

Eldrin's archers are among the world's finest… Those weren't empty words.

The arrows flew at speeds barely trackable by the eye, striking targets in an instant. Sometimes curving left or right like they had minds of their own. A marksmanship that utterly defied the one-shot-one-kill axiom—a pinnacle of lethal artistry.

"Great cost-performance. At least three per arrow."

"Elves do not lie."

Couldn't just stand here admiring the show. I sliced a long gash into my left arm with my dagger. The red line traced by the blade quickly swelled into a flowing sheet of blood.

The streaming gore obeyed my will, surging toward the monsters in unison. Blood bullets tracing perfectly straight paths, piercing them clean through in one hit.

Slower than arrows, sure. But I was firing dozens at once, solo. Plus, each droplet spun with rifling applied purely by manipulation—no barrel required. The blood didn't just penetrate heads; it exploded them.

The only downside? The towering ancient trees scattered too much blood on the ground, out of reach.

"…You're no assassin?"

"Just a trick. My true worth hasn't even shown yet."

Eldrin's soldiers, perched across the treetops, effortlessly cleared the wave's vanguard. Smooth sailing so far. For now.

"Hoo."

Selendia reloaded her quiver after the volley. Selin did the same. Yet the wave's momentum didn't slacken.

By the time the second quivers were half-empty—and I was carving my third gash—the monsters' relentless advance outpaced the soldiers' reloads.

"Second Squad! Fall back!"

Selendia's curt order. Half the soldiers vaulted over branches to shadow the wave. Fluid, disciplined—a far cry from Nakan's warriors. The pinnacle of mobile elite forces.

Second Squad became a roving curtain of fire, hammering the wave anew.

"Haha! At this rate, it'll be a breeze!"

Hope and thrill burned on Selin's face, that edge of ecstasy flickering.

Then.

A blazing calamity shouldered through the blue dimensional gate.

***

"Damn it."

Selendia's face hardened in an instant; Selin's paled as if the joy had never been.

It was an Ifrit, stepping from the portal. Giant enough to match eye level with us atop the colossal trees, that was the kicker.

Why was this bastard in final form from the jump? Just targeting me? Usually they spawned smaller, growing by devouring fuel… Whatever. Pointless thoughts wasted time. Focus on the now.

The enormous Ifrit, wreathed head to toe in flame mane, planted its feet in the glade and scanned with glowing eyes. ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠Hunting more prey? Why else…

Boom!

It swung an arm, incinerating a massive tree to the left. Soldiers atop it leaped clear. The burning trunk was swallowed whole by the Ifrit before it even fell.

Its flames rippled fiercely. That thing was grinning. Face lost in fire, but it grinned, no doubt.

"Selendia!"

"Here!"

"I'll take it. Second Squad mops up stragglers; First Squad handles damage control—keep the fire from spreading. Got it?"

"…Yes!"

"How do you plan to—?!"

"I've got ways."

Yeah, fuck it.

"Jihun. Lost the data? Old saying: Kyoto's three burrows. Cunning rabbits dig three holes. Why'd you only dig one, Jihun? Not cunning enough? Then at least be diligent?"

That damned Kyoto three burrows. Like my first-semester prof said, I wasn't cunning or a rabbit. But I never repeated a mistake twice. Disciplined like that.

"Selendia. Catch. Plan B."

I tossed her a Health Potion and Elixir from my Belt Pocket. Couldn't let it burn up.

"If I can't even move, force the red one down my throat. No improvement? Then the light purple. Got it?"

"…Yes!"

Selendia gripped them tight, nodding. I coated my dagger in World Tree Sap, gulped the Status Ailment Recovery Potion, and hurled myself at the fiery apocalypse.

Strange. My body burned hot. Inhales scorched my lungs; I held my breath. Felt like approaching the sun, yet no flames clung to my skin.

Of course. If it cured mental illness, it had to handle burns. If my body couldn't burn, it couldn't burn! But the pain persisted. Death loomed just as real.

The potion cut the DoT damage, but I was pottery in a kiln right now. If I had an HP bar overhead, it'd be a shattered hourglass, draining in fits and starts.

Still, the Status Ailment Recovery Potion proved its worth. At least it'd keep my body's shell intact until life fully ebbed.

Nakan called me Black Lightning. Dark thunder claiming a red sun. Slashing its nape.

***

"Hoo…."

It went more or less as planned. My current state was bizarre. Like taking a flesh golem's direct hit—body intact, yet teetering on death's edge without worsening.

Like a game character for real. HP critically low, but no realistic wounds dragging me down gradually. Like porting out at 50 HP.

Just hold out a bit; I'd move soon. Lord's Blood flowing through me would regenerate slowly.

A little grateful, maybe?

Really?

Status must be bad. Hallucinations now.

Selendia and Selin had descended from the trees.

"Are you alright?!"

No. Outside looked pristine; inside was wreckage.

"No… not okay… guard… just guard… I'll recover soon…"

They snapped into protective stances at my words. Felt like a wuxia protag. Except circulating bat blood instead of qi, guarded by elves. Minor demerit.

Bat blood?!

Anyway. Lord's Blood worked better than expected; I could move in moments.

"Battlefield clearing?"

"Yes…! Thank you so much!"

"Wasted good stuff… or not?"

"Ah… sorry…"

Sudden dissonance in my head. Why ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠no alert window? Every crisis-sense in me screamed alarms.

Before I could speak, faint heat tickled my nose.

A massive fireball. The fallen Ifrit gathered its body—what remained—into a final spiteful hurl our way.

Direct hit on Selendia and Selin. At this rate.

Damn it all. Thoughts flashed.

Why throw myself for strangers? Body already ragdoll. Was I that benevolent?

Good enough already.

"Jihun."

"Yeah, sunbae?"

"Do me this favor. You're the only one. For real."

"Sunbae, but… this… me too."

"I'm dead otherwise. You know Prof. Kim Seokjeong's temper… Please, just once. I'll buy you something tasty, yeah?"

"Sure… gotta help and live, right."

Why couldn't I say no then? Just drifting in others' currents. Unaware my body was being eaten away.

Maybe I was pissed. At the waves, Ifrit, management, whatever. At anything trampling the world, life, me on ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠whims.

At least ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠wanted to choose helping someone myself.

So I thrust my blade at the fireball. Out of rage.

"Get up!"

My whole body felt cold and soaked. Drenched for some reason. I'd leaped into a fireball, though.

What'd they splash me with? Not potions—I said drink them. The volume ruled that out. No Avenger alert, so not dead?

Selendia must've administered the Health Potion right. What a messed-up body.

Instinctively swung the dagger in indignation. Residual World Tree Sap on the blade pulled through again?

Eyes… couldn't open. Eyelids melted and fused, probably. Why no pain? Recovery had that potion hum. This felt chilly. Woodsy scent too.

Ah. Something else splashed on me. Cold. What the hell were they pouring?

Eh?