The Frog War
The Frog War. On the eastern great bridge of Grindel. There, in the center where a middle-aged adventurer was continuing the battle, he suddenly felt one side of his face brighten and unconsciously turned his head. Then, he saw it. “Huh...?”
The southern great bridge engulfed in a massive blaze. Flames rising without end and black smoke. The smell of ash wafting to the tip of his nose. The chorus of screams that sounded as clear as if they were right next to him, despite the considerable distance. Overwhelmed by that majestic and terrifying spectacle, the adventurer committed a basic mistake—losing focus during combat.
“Gwoak.”
“Ah.”
The excited cry of a frogman sounded from extremely close range, and simultaneously, the adventurer instinctively realized from his long experience in exploration. Even if he turned his head to react now, it was too late. He would become the subject of the old maxim that letting one’s guard down leads to death.
“Redhead! Watch ouuuut!!!”
As he was thinking that, the voice of an adventurer he had met by chance at a crowded restaurant the previous evening—with whom he had shared stories and drinks—echoed dully in his ears. How long had it been since they met for him to be wailing like that with all his might? He had been so happy to meet someone he got along with after a long time and to make a new friend.
Life really is this futile.
The hand gripping the sword hilt trembled slightly. The sword felt heavier than usual. He finally understood his sword master’s words that the sword of one who has given up is as heavy as cotton soaked in water.
Is that it? Have I given up on life right now?
He had no parents to support. No rabbit-like wife or children. For a talentless man who had wandered the Green Zone for over forty years, all that remained was the dallants he had gathered to open a small shop.
Therefore, there was no hesitation in accepting death. Because he had nothing to own, nothing to protect, and nothing he had achieved, he thought the weight of life was light. Because he regarded his own life as something as insignificant as fallen leaves on the street.
Was I—Hans—trying to give up on life so easily? Was I trying to turn all my past efforts and relationships to nothing and escape into death...!
In a flash, his eyes—tightly shut upon sensing death—opened. The dark brown pupils carried the weight of years. What they held was a crude spear thrust forward, wrapped in a long tongue, and fiercely burning flames.
Even if I die today, I’ll go all the way.
There might be failure for this Hans. But there would never, ever be giving up.
Thump. The flame that had been faintly flickering at the end of the wick began to burn once more, fueled by renewed will. The sword gripped firmly.
“Uwaaaaaaaaah!!!”
The pressure burst forth fiercely as if to shake off the fear. Even as he felt the spear tip aiming for his heart, the ‘adventurer’ Hans did not turn his eyes from the bizarre creature before him, nor from his own ‘life.’
Saaaaah! Shweeeeek! The edged weapons crossed, reaching out toward each other’s lives to announce the final act.
It was then that a scorching heat was felt above his head.
Enchant: Fire
—Hwarururuk!!!
“Gwaaaaaaaaak!!!”
The beautiful flames descending from the sky severed the long tongue holding the spear and burned it at the same time. The single clean sword strike that sliced through those flames followed.
—Seogeuk.
It neatly blew away the broad head of the frogman writhing in pain. It was a slash as if from a painting. But more than the achievement of slaying a peer monster in a single blow or the fact that he had survived, his gaze was drawn to the flames that had fallen before his eyes.
“Ah.”
The middle-aged adventurer Hans looked with trembling eyes at the red-haired boy or girl who had fallen from the sky. A shabby sword engulfed in fire and a worn brown short robe. And hair that shone dazzlingly, as if it were burning.
“Ouch... it hurts....”
To the boy or girl who was repeatedly tapping their legs—perhaps numb from the impact of the fall—while still scanning the surroundings, Hans couldn’t hold it in and spoke.
“Excuse me...?”
“Ah, yes? Were you calling for me?”
Slash! The boy or girl who turned their head at his call but without dropping their guard sliced through a frogman that had ambushed from behind in one clean cut. With trembling eyes, he looked at the red hair and asked.
“Your name—could you tell me your name?”
The boy or girl averted their gaze with an awkward smile, then faced him and spoke. The confident voice held not a trace of embarrassment.
“Ah, my name. My name is....”
Hans.
“Hans...?”
“Yes, just Hans. I don’t have anything fancy like a last name.”
Adventurer Hans. Hans—of all names, one he never imagined hearing from that child’s mouth.
“...Hans. It’s Hans....”
Muttering the familiar and intimate name ‘Hans,’ the middle-aged Hans straightened his sword and gave a small smile. Then he shouted toward the back of the young Hans, who was hurriedly walking away to help other adventurers.
“For saving me....”
And for not giving up until the very end.
“Thank you...! Hans! If I make it out alive, I’ll buy you a beer!!!”
As if the words of gratitude were awkward, the young Hans scratched the back of his head while chopping off a frogman’s wrist. Seeing that, the middle-aged Hans let out a battle cry once more and charged into the battlefield. As the senior Hans, he couldn’t afford to be outdone by the younger one.
The bridge scattered with blood and flesh. Above that horrific battlefield, two flames raced side by side as if in competition.
Around the time the two Hanses met by chance on the middle section of the eastern great bridge, at the forefront of that same bridge one figure was rampaging freely, sweeping away the frogmen.
—Slash.
—Slash.
—Slash.
—Slash.
—Slash.
“Nyan nyan nyang! Why did that crazy crow send support just to set the bridge on fire nyang! I really can’t show my face to the mayor nyang!”
With a cute cat-like sound, as her grayish-white hair fluttered once, the heads of dozens of frogmen around her floated up into the sky. With one light hand gesture as if directing the battlefield, the monsters’ limbs were severed, and soon their heads fell to the ground and rolled around pathetically.
“Gwaaaaaak!!!”
“Kieeeeek!!!”
The frogmen, enraged by their comrades’ deaths, gripped spears in their hands and tongues and tried to pursue her with their quick mobility. But it was not easy to chase her as she nimbly slipped through narrow gaps between long legs or empty flanks.
Evasion
Moreover, it was as if she had eyes in the back of her head, as she dodged all attacks flying from unseen places.
“Were you trying to stab this body with that nyang? You froggy? Goodness, how ridiculous nyang.”
Without allowing a single effective hit, and every time she avoided an attack, her eyes would flash as if to memorize the face, leaking a sly smile. The sight was enough to send shivers down one’s spine.
Once the unbelievable evasion show was over, what followed was invariably the revenge of the cat, known as the most tenacious in the world.
—Slash.
—Slash.
—Slash.
—Slash.
—Slash.
Bodies were dismembered without sound or warning.
“Gwo, gwoak!?”
The fear of the unknown engraved in the frogmen’s eyeballs. The murderous harmony created by the skill that could control thin threads—Wire—and the skill that increased the cutting force of the target—Severing.
Invisible Death
Wire + Severing
What people called ‘the invisible death.’ The adventurers who witnessed it firsthand shuddered as they looked at the mountain of corpses piling at her feet.
“That’s the Strangler Sion...!”
“Is that really the movement of a mere 5T?”
“...The guy who said that Sherpa Sion is only specialized for one-on-one fights—does he have knotholes for eyes? From now on, if anyone looks down on Sherpa Sion, this Mongo Berry won’t forgive them!”
But even the seemingly invincible Sion had a weakness. It was ‘water.’
—Pshwaaaaak!
“Gwak!!!”
“Unnyaaaang!!! Don’t splash water on me nyang! Damn froggy!!!!”
A frogman that suddenly sprang from the water to ambush Sion! Of course, its head was sent flying with a single gesture from Sion before it could do anything, but the frogman’s sacrifice was not in vain.
“Nyang, nyanyang! It’s awful nyang! Unyanyanya nyang! It’s sticky! Too sticky nyang! Ah, someone please cast some fire magic on this body nyang!!!”
“Sherpa Sion, it’s only water. Please calm yourself!”
“Do I look like I can calm down nyang!? Shut up and just shoot the fire magic nyang!”
Yes! When wet, Sion became about five times more distracted than usual! Since ancient times, cats and water were polar opposites. Of course, very rarely the fantasy species known as water cats were sighted, but most cats loathed water. This was also true for Sion, the cat beastman.
Sion’s movements became noticeably scattered and unstable when wet. And unfortunately, that was captured by the eyes of a frog shaman preparing a spell from the rear.
“Guruk.”
The frog shaman sitting atop a large black salamander raised both arms toward the sky as if performing a ritual for rain.
“Gwaaaaaak—”
An ominous resonance sounded from the fully inflated throat sac. As that spine-chilling vibration grew, the dark clouds in the sky thickened.
“Wait, the sky?”
“Damn it! The shaman is trying to call down lightning! Everyone prepare for the electric attack!”
“Hey, quickly pull out the adventurers who fell in the water over there!”
Sudden cries burst from the appraisers in the rear who were observing the special entities through telescopes. As that desperate sound reached the battlefield—
“What...?”
“Calling lightning?”
A moment of silence passed, and the adventurers’ gazes converged on one spot. At the end of the monster procession that seemed to have no end, a wrinkly frog with its broad snout split wide open, wearing an ominous smile.
“Gururuk....”
As if saying it was too late, it shook its head slightly at the water-soaked adventurers and drew the two hands that had been raised to the sky toward the center. If those two hands met, those abominable creatures would taste the wrath of the gods. Of course some of its own kind might be sacrificed, but lost soldiers could be replaced by birthing more, and kin furious over their kin’s death could be controlled with power.
In the past he had been nothing but an old shaman flowing toward death without direction according to nature’s laws, but the moment his proud son became the Road, he gained the power and authority to do so. His brilliant frog life was only just beginning.
No, it was supposed to be the beginning.
Shweeeeeeeeeek!!!
“Die.”
“Kyu!” (It really is strangely shaped!)
“Gu...waak?”
Frog Shaman's Head Crushed
That is, until his head was crushed like potato salad by the sledgehammer that fell from the sky—Yuri’s sledgehammer.
The death of the frog shaman. It was captured neatly in the gaze of one existence.
“Gu...gururuk...?” (Ah... Father...?)
The frog lord, son of the shaman, who had been looking with pride at his father’s back—which felt larger than anything else despite being small—from the very rear of the front line. His mouth gaped wide in horror. And soon—
Frog Lord’s Vengeance Awakened
“Gwaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaak!!! Gwaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaak!!! Gwaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaak!!!” (Faaaaaaaather!!! Uwaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaak!!! I’ll kill you, you baaaaastard!!!)
The desperate wail filled with rage and a thirst for revenge spread across all of Grindel.