Awakening (4)
“Shh shh shh. Shh shh. Shhh.”
Listening to Yutra's hissing cries, Zeke felt a deep, nostalgic rush for the first time in ages.
Back in the days when Dark Fantasy was just a game.
Back when he was an ordinary guy grinding ten hours a day.
How many of these bastards had he slain, exactly?
At first, it showed up like a boss, all puffed up and menacing, but by mid-game, it was just cannon fodder.
And after being summoned into Dark Fantasy itself...
How many Yutra corpses had he trampled over?
In the game, they had fixed patterns—mindless cycles of attacks you could predict.
After a few kills, he could dispatch them like trash mobs, earning the awkward nickname "Newbie Gatekeeper" in the process.
He could even teabag them by lying flat to dodge patterns, and it never took more than a minute.
But when the game became reality, and Zeke turned into a Dark Fantasy hero...
Facing a real, flesh-and-blood Yutra moving on its own will—not polygons...
He'd been totally thrown off.
Because their attack patterns weren't fixed anymore.
That's why I nearly died a few times back then, charging in blind on 'patterns.' Shit.
- Zeke! Living monsters don't have patterns! Fuck! Please!
- Hold on. Just one more try, seriously, one more!
- You fucking idiot! Why the hell are you lying down there?! Stay right fucking there. I'll dig the pit. Just get in and die!!!
The Saintess barged into his flashback for a second. Get lost, bitch.
Anyway, no attack patterns—but Zeke eventually figured it out after brushing death a few times.
Not the attacks themselves, but the preliminary signals before them.
In other words, the preparatory movements right before an attack were the same in game and reality.
Spot those, and you could predict any follow-up attack like prophecy, dodging flawlessly.
As a game vet, Zeke knew them cold—but switching from third-person to raw first-person immersion meant he blanked at first.
Once he clocked them one by one...
He could farm them easily again, dragging fights out to bridge the gap between game knowledge and real-world perspective.
Mapping similarities until he nailed a one-turn kill strat.
Of course, by year three, when Zeke had bulked up, they died to lazy swings anyway, making all that effort moot.
Yutra glared at him with its single red eye smack in the middle of its face.
It flicked out a thin, forked tongue with a hiss.
Eugh, so fucking gross-looking it kills my appetite. Do I just know its taste too well? If I didn't, maybe I'd think snakes taste like chicken...
Yutra's serpentine tail swayed lazily, then paused at a 60-degree angle.
Zeke's eyes sharpened.
Right-side second arm. Standard swing.
He moved before the attack launched.
Reaction time gap was too wide—watching and dodging would've been too slow.
Whoosh!
Bam!
The ground shattered with vibration.
The club gripped in its right arm slammed exactly where Zeke had stood.
He ducked immediately.
Three neck twitches. Hair pattern four.
Yutra's wormy, writhing hair whipped horizontally.
Pssht!
A massive sword slash whooshed overhead, like it'd cleaved the air.
A few strands of Zeke's black hair fluttered down, severed.
Crash!
A tree behind him snapped at the trunk and toppled.
Zeke ignored it, diving straight into the beast's guard.
One solid hit open.
Stab!
He jabbed the baguette's tip into its weak point—the junction of upper and lower body.
“Shh shiiik!!”
Not much damage; the thing was armored tough.
But its eye widened—definitely stung.
The tail lashed late to snag him, but Zeke was already gone.
Pull back, charge in. Stab, retreat. Double stab this time.
Like a rhythm game, Zeke synced attacks and dodges to the telltale pre-signals.
Poke poke, mechanical as factory work.
Damage ticked up steadily on Yutra's body.
Soon, a single bruise bloomed purple on its pristine white hide.
“Shiiiiiik!!!”
“Huff. Huff. Pissed off, huh?”
Zeke panted, each thrust full-force.
Sweat soaked him head to toe.
"I could do this all day."
Good thing his body had stamina to match.
Then.
Yutra, refusing to accept being toyed with by such a puny prey...
Exploded with mana, leaking from its form.
Red pupils swirled black.
Poisonous aura around its hair thickened to deep green.
Upper body muscles doubled in bulk.
“Phase two already? Quick one.”
Even phase shifts were unpredictable, unlike the game.
Game: half HP trigger.
Reality: depended on the bastard's mood—total crapshoot.
But what Yutra didn't know...
“Your phase two's a joke.”
It'd just dug its own grave.
All four arms lashed savagely at Zeke.
Movements at least twice as fast.
Power on another level.
But Zeke slithered through the gaps like an eel.
Attack and speed doubled. Defense halved.
Weak point exposed again, but Zeke held off.
Waited a beat, then twisted sideways.
Stab!
Tail from behind impaled its own body.
Zeke's baguette followed, triple-stabbing the spot.
Stab! Stab! Stab!
“Shh shiiik!!!!!!!”
“Self-destruct pattern? Can't lose with that.”
Double speed, double power—straight to the vitals.
“Shiiik...! Shh! Shh...”
It clutched its waist with arms, heaving ragged breaths.
Glared murderously at Zeke.
Body swelled huge, like a last-ditch frenzy.
But Zeke knew its habits.
Scaredy-cat. Gonna spray poison and bail.
One or two more hits would've ended it.
But Zeke hesitated mid-leap.
Yutra can't survive in mana-scarce spots like this...
From what he'd scouted...
This romance-fantasy world only had cute, starter-village monsters from Dark Fantasy.
One here meant...
Habitat's mana-rich. And close by.
Mana filter—no, Mana Purification Method: 20 mana stones.
Mana-Saturated Space: 10 more.
He had 27 so far.
Hunting hard for the last three.
But if this kill dropped a stone and a ready-made mana pool?
Use 20 for the tattoo, still seven left—plus this one's core.
Might pull off something better.
He'd planned just the tattoo this time, but... he licked his lips.
Whoosh!
Verdant poison mist erupted wide from its trembling head.
Paralysis at worst—not lethal, but no need to risk it.
Whirl!
Zeke spun the baguette like a fan, keeping mist at bay.
While he fanned, Yutra slithered off.
"Shh shiiik!!"
Zeke kept swinging till the fog settled, then tracked silently.
Sticky slime trail from its tail marked the path.
* * *
Trailing at a distance led to a cave deep in the woods.
No ants or bugs around—territorial marks everywhere.
“Shiiik... Shiiik... Shiiiik...”
Faint, weary whistles confirmed it.
Mana oozing from the entrance was thick, potent stuff.
Zeke advanced inside.
There: Yutra, slumped exhausted in a mana lake.
Mana pooled like a lake.
Still oblivious to him.
Eyes shut, it pawed its wound.
Green glow rippled; injury mending slowly.
You little shit! Who said you could use my lake to heal?
Zeke's eyes blazed at the intruder hogging his resource.
Without permission!
Thwack!
He charged, gripped the baguette two-handed, and stabbed the weak point.
Stab! Stab! Stab! Stab! Stab!
Squelch!!
Caught relaxed, it snapped eyes wide, glaring.
Baguette pierced softened muscle, fully skewering the junction.
Blood bloomed cloudy in the lake.
Veins bulged on Zeke's forehead.
“Don't dirty my lake. And if you're using it, clean up after yourself.”
He channeled mana for strength, hoisted the beast, and hurled it out.
Boom!!!!
Massive body cratered the ground, dust billowing.
"Shiiiik..."
Final breath wheezed out.
Light faded from its dark-red eye.
Just a huge, pale orb left.
Thus, a monstrous threat to the romance world met an absurd end.
Mana stone first.
Zeke dug into its chest, extracting a gleaming blue stone.
Mid-grade quality and size.
Matched the ten from Prince Adam combined.
“Knew I could count on you, Yutra. Forgiving the little blood you spilled.”
He decided: use small stones for the tattoo first.
Pulled twenty from his pouch, gauged the pile.
"This'll do."
Dumped them into the lake.
Stripped naked, sank in, crossed legs, eyes shut.