Chapter 10
Chapter 10
-----------------------------------------------------------------
Translator: penny
Chapter: 2
Chapter Title: Entrance to the Screaming Forest (1)
-----------------------------------------------------------------
The wind brushing past was filled with screams. Something foul was definitely happening in the southern forest, where I'd come at the monastery's request.
As I walked deeper inside, the screams grew even louder.
The Screaming Forest wailed and trembled as if welcoming me. Now, around me, only chilling winds and those hair-raising wails lingered.
But what caught my attention even more was the red hue starting to dominate the forest.
Among the trees, grass, and flowers, there were an unusual number of things tinged red.
It felt utterly alien. In any forest from my common sense, green would abound, but here, darkness and red alternated like strokes of paint.
"Hngghk— Kee-gig—"
And beyond that, several unique enemies appeared right in front of me, as if greeting me personally. Unlike other regions, the Screaming Forest was prowled by bizarre entities with their own distinct forms.
Each enemy had one special feature. It was a part of their body mutated like a plant, and my first impression was that it resembled a [flower].
All of them wandered around bearing a single flower each.
On one, an arm split open like a flower. But looking closely, it wasn't a real flower—it was just a facsimile made by splitting skin and flesh.
I couldn't fathom how such a structure was even possible. The petals formed from red innards and skin splitting open to the surface, while the stamens and pistils were meticulously carved bone fragments.
"Kkhuk, kkhueuk…"
It didn't look like voluntary modification. The flower-bearing enemies clutched their mutated body parts, trembling as if writhing in agony…
"Kiaaaak!"
The moment their eyes met mine, they charged in a frenzy.
As if venting their rage.
Their eyes brimmed only with hatred, murderous intent, and injustice. But intense emotions didn't boost their combat prowess.
I swung Veronine's greatsword. Its wide attack range suited me perfectly. For clearing trash mobs, such bold weapons were ideal.
-Kwuduk!
I'd already killed dozens. Swinging the greatsword with full force to bisect the glowing, charging foes made the forest feel a bit quieter each time.
Now, another tombstone loomed before me. I'd come quite far inside.
The wide main path had narrowed to a small forest trail, and dirt and grass now pressed against my boot soles instead of embedded stones.
"Hoo."
I wiped sweat from my brow, placed a hand on the tombstone, and stretched briefly. Rest when you can, as much as you can.
Fortunately, enemies rarely approached near tombstones.
Whether it was game mechanics, Deathcall's unique ethics, or some mystical power in the stones—I had no idea.
But I could lean against it for a short rest. A refreshing sensation washed away my fatigue.
Of course, only briefly. I couldn't linger long, nor did I want to.
From a short distance away, I sensed an ominous presence. The hairs on my body stood on end.
Thud—
The moment I reached the tombstone, two enemies slowly emerged from behind a large boulder into a wide grassy field.
Unlike the trash mobs, they were highly rational and composed. They wore spotless white robes stained red, exuding an air somewhere between priest and surgeon.
Each gripped a weapon.
One held a hammer and chisel, the other large, sharp scissors.
Fresh, runny blood coated the recently used tools.
They were probably gatekeepers blocking the path to the forest's heart.
"Hoo-oo."
I caught my breath shortly and stood ready again. 1v2 fights were always annoying and troublesome; losing focus meant disaster.
So I steeled myself, preparing for the boss fight.
As I advanced, their gazes locked on. It felt slimy, like they were appraising my body.
They gestured welcomingly, like merchants greeting a customer, then assumed ready stances as I approached, aiming chisel and scissors.
Now, a special message flickered before my eyes.
The phrase signaling the boss fight's start.
...What a brutal name.
Were these bastards the ones tearing flesh to make it look like flowers?
The three of us plunged straight into combat.
In 1vMultiple fights, the key was luring them into a 1v1 if possible. If not, at least fight facing a direction where all enemies stayed in your sightline.
That way, you could roll-dodge any incoming attack. Attacks from blind spots were impossible to evade with human reflexes.
I had to split their aggro somehow. Hitting both at once would be ideal, but bosses rarely allowed it.
Pabat!
To gauge the Human Sculptors' patterns, I invested about a minute, holding back attacks as much as possible.
The hammer-and-chisel one closed distance wildly, swinging both haphazardly, while the scissors one circled, aiming to sever a limb at any opening.
This made roll timing crucial. Dodging was one thing, but fighting while mindful of both patterns meant eating hits otherwise.
And endless dodging didn't win fights.
One precise timing.
Aim for that and swing the greatsword.
Shiiik! Shk!
Hammer and chisel grazed my scarf with deadly whooshes. Even rolling back to create distance, the Human Sculptor pressed relentlessly.
But that aggression created openings.
The distance between the two bosses widened.
Thanks to the blessing from slaying Veronine invested in endurance, I could roll more, so I pushed further back, forcing…
A 1v1.
Now my turn to attack.
Everything in the world has rhythm and turns. Nothing moves identically forever; even raging typhoons eventually calm.
The frenzied Human Sculptor showed a brief opening before me.
A momentary breath.
That sufficed.
I gripped the greatsword two-handed. Tensed my forearms, readied hips and legs to harness upper-body torque.
Masked face hid expressions, but I could sense it without seeing.
They'd realize too late.
Too far for their ally to help, too reckless to roll away.
My turn now.
Uuduk—
The gripped hilt quivered. The greatsword seemed to anticipate my next strike, more eager than its new master.
The Human Sculptor hastily backpedaled. But the greatsword's reach dwarfed a longsword's; such feeble moves couldn't evade.
Buwoong!
The blade cleaved air. The heavy, destructive edge buried into the boss's forearm, filling the forest with mangled flesh and dying gasps instead of screams.
Kkuduk—
The hammer arm flew. The body couldn't withstand the savage swing.
Stronger than trash mobs, but not unreasonably like Veronine. Mid-boss at best.
Thwoong!
The body launched from right before me. Stunned by one blow, the boss tumbled along the greatsword's arc, but I had no intent to stop there.
I rolled swiftly, repositioned, and closed on the flung boss. Before the scissors one could aid, I kicked off the ground, leaped, and slammed the greatsword's weight down—
Kugwoong!
Into the prone Human Sculptor's back.
"Kkiiuk."
Half its blood sprayed. I spun immediately to face the charging scissors wielder.
In 1v1, no worry of being overwhelmed. Reading the scissors' trajectory, I dove inside instead, counterattacking.
Scissors were trickier than hammer-and-chisel. It had to reposition on me, bend with both arms to cut…
No chance I'd let it.
Low stance, upward greatsword swing into the exposed flank—
"Kkeuheok!"
Both staggered into grogginess.
Victory sealed.
"Kkhuk, kkut…"
The bosses groaned in pain, struggling to rise, but before recovery, I readied the finishing blow with greatsword in hand.
I dragged the blade across the ground approaching them. Only then did they freeze.
"…"
Even groans and thrashing ceased.
They'd sensed death.
Over their heads, the greatsword descended. Veronine's blade swung down like judgment from above.
Their final sight.
A nameless Mortal wielding a massive greatsword.
-Kwaduk!
The victory message marked the boss fight's end.
But aside from a decent chunk of blessing, nothing noteworthy dropped.
I gathered their hammer, chisel, and scissors, but unlike the excellent greatsword or balanced longsword, they were messy, awkward weapons.
Instead, executing the bosses brought a new connection.
"H-hel-help m-meee…"
The moment the two Human Sculptors died, a voice cried out from afar.
Heading toward it, I found a long, wide wooden bed-like platform behind the boulder where the bosses patrolled.
Not just that.
The ground was soaked in blood. Crimson grass fed by it created a revolting scene, surrounded by filthy surgical—no, torture—tools reeking of stench.
"Don' wanna hurt, ah, no pain…"
And there lay a man.
Not a Mortal. An NPC born in the Blessed Land.
"Nooo…"
His pale body shuddered as he pleaded with me.
"H-hate flowers..."