105. The Hot-Tempered Elite Dwarf Marksman
He's an elite marksman dwarf with a short fuse. Isn't it too prejudiced to think all snakes are evil monsters? Hell, I might have even healed him. He panicked on his own, moved too suddenly, and his wound burst open—he just up and died. I got a pretty hefty chunk of experience from it. Poor dwarf, now his demonic essence lives on eternally with me.
Burn him up. That's what I asked the adventurers. They looked reluctant but nodded anyway. Leaving a corpse here would just attract starving monsters with the stench of rot. That explained the burn marks on the other bodies—the dwarves hadn't done it for nothing.
Whoosh— No need for my help; the adventurers quickly got the cremation underway. The nameless dwarf burned down to mere bone fragments.
Watching the smoke rise into the sky, Jerico muttered, "Someone's bound to see it."
The Blade Pillar Zone's canyons might be narrow, but black smoke billowing into the sky was sure to catch eyes. Everyone nearby would spot it.
"No telling what'll come of this."
The dwarves might see it, or the other adventurers who'd gone ahead first. If it was the latter, it'd help us link up with them. The former... well.
The dead dwarf had shown inexplicable hostility toward humans.
"Did the guys who went ahead first do something to piss off the dwarves?"
"Nah, why would quest-takers fight the dwarves?"
"No reason to fight."
Maybe humans had done something unforgivable to the dwarves. So the dwarves had all chased them into the mountains, met up, and clashed? It kinda fit, but I couldn't imagine why.
Then someone piped up. "We should pull back."
It was one of the B-rank adventurers.
"This wasn't in the quest briefing. Looks like the whole dwarf village is out in force—how are a few adventurers supposed to stand against that?"
"Hey, if we bail now, that advance payment doubles as penalty fee. I'd rather pay up quick and be done."
Another adventurer snapped back. "In a situation like this, we can retreat without penalty."
"That's just your opinion. The guild won't see it that way. If this quest was a cakewalk, they wouldn't have fronted so much gold."
How much was the quest payout anyway? I'm in on this too—shouldn't I get a cut? Gotta have a serious talk with Jerico or Panman later.
These adventurers seemed less brave than I'd thought. They argued fiercely over retreating or not. If they left, I'd have to push through alone. Can't have that.
As I thought that, Isil rustled its leaves above me, like it was reminding me it was here too.
Funny thing: the humans saw me and Isil as one entity. With Isil stuck to me all day, they probably figured I was just a weird snake with ivy vines draped over it.
Then Jerico said heavily, "No retreat. We at least need to check what happened to the adventurers who went ahead."
True to form as the group's unspoken leader. A few looked unhappy at his decision, but no one openly rebelled.
"Bailing now won't end with just a penalty fee. And wyverns were already mentioned as a possibility."
There was an odd weight to Jerico's words. Seemed like he and Panman knew more than they let on. The other adventurers caught on too—their faces turned ashen.
"Damn, we stepped in it."
"This is why you don't touch blue quest scrolls."
Looks like the quest they took was something special.
"Still, with Hanson injured, we should send at least one back with him."
At those words, the adventurers' expressions shifted. But Hanson himself didn't look thrilled.
"Y-you're ditching me?"
"What the hell? That's why we're sending someone with you!"
"Still, just the two of us going back..."
"Think rationally. Is it safer dragging your busted leg along, or bailing now even if it means forfeiting completion pay?"
"......"
Sticking together didn't guarantee safety. If push came to shove, they'd use the injured-leg Hanson as bait. Knowing that, even he nodded eventually. Retreating as just two was risky too, but there was a volunteer.
"I ain't dying in a dump like this..."
Why do these guys have to make such a fuss? The mood soured completely.
Alright, let's get moving. Me and Isil had to play mood makers. I climbed onto Jerico's shoulder and patted his back; he nodded.
"Moving out."
We'd rested enough. The adventurers started forward cautiously.
"Hoping to reach that white peak before sunset..." Jerico muttered.
Hmm, smell of tension.
Snakes have great noses. I do too. Turns out, nervous folks give off a tense sweat smell. Not a great one.
Right now, the adventurers feared the nightfall. Makes sense—without darkvision, the pitch black must terrify them.
A suspicious path appeared. Jerico repeated his trick: tossed a caged chicken into the passage.
Crash! Flutter-flutter! With a racket, hidden white ants burst from the ground.
But there were a lot. Us: five humans, one snake, one vine plant. White ants: over ten.
We yelled, but they could count too.
"Queeeeeek!"
The white ants chose fight. The adventurers grimaced, but I was thrilled. Combat time.
Panman bashed a white ant's face with his buckler in his left hand. Clang! Then I fired a sunset ray, slicing its head clean off.
Hell Helmet White Ant lv34 defeated.
Now, hunt—
Uh.
Something changed. The white ants halted en masse. They looked skyward.
Clear sky. Nothing but clouds.
Tap, tap, tap-tap-tap.
The white ants clacked their jaws in unison, making eerie sounds.
"Wh-what?!"
Jerico paled. The white ants scrambled back into their burrow. Not fleeing us, though.
"It's the wyvern!"
A black dot amid the clouds. Finally meeting a wyvern? Unlike me, the adventurers panicked.
Even steady Panman suddenly yelled, "Grab the white ants! Need two more!"
He drew his longsword and chased a fleeing one, decapitating it in a flash. Faster than expected. Hiding his skill?
He reached out to me. I slithered up his arm to his shoulder.
Why hunt ants with a wyvern incoming? Answer came quick.
Panman boldly leaped into the ant burrow, using one's severed head like a lid to seal above. Borrowing their camouflage.
Smart. Wyvern countermeasure.
"Huff, huff."
Panman breathed raggedly. Tense like the others. Luckily, all hid.
A slight gap in the ant-shell lid let light trickle in.
Hope we don't get spotted, Panman's face seemed to pray.
Made me even more curious about wyverns. I peeked through the gap.
No approach sounds. Maybe it missed us from the start? Panman thought so too.
But no one emerged. Silence dragged; I nearly dozed.
Thud!
Sudden arrival. Sturdy reptilian foot—not bird. Black talons sharp as eagle's.
Whoa, flies dead silent.
-Not many wyverns have silent flight. Fierce prey competition.
Whoa! Pellelian startled me with sudden chatter.
Wyvern hadn't noticed us. First, gauge its strength.
Cunning, Silent, Mated
Status window visible—good. With wyverns all over these mountains, a lv97 this early would've spooked me. Name feels akin to my old White Mist Snake days, but power levels worlds apart. Skill list flashy too.
Silent Flight lv10, Bite & Tear lv17, Wing Beat lv9, Sweep lv4, Roar lv10, Scorched Earth lv5, Crash lv10, Acceleration lv5, Slash Resistance lv10, Heat Resistance lv5, Poison Resistance lv10...
Not just offense—solid resistances too. No wonder adventurers feared them. Plus, unlisted issue: sheer size.
Thud, thump.
Silent in flight, but heavy on landing. Ground shakes with each step. Eyesight not eagle-sharp, but it wouldn't leave.
Tap-tap-tap, clack, clack.
Odd noises as it prowls. Frog croaks? Insect chirps? Panman flinched at each.
Then it dropped something. A human's upper torso.
The adventurer who'd retreated with the leg injury. Face frozen in terror even in death.
"Hngh."
Panman stifled a gasp. Pretty spooked.
Calm down, no worries, Panman.
I stroked his head; Isil extended a leaf to pat too.
Wyvern started devouring the torso. Brutal sight. Others must be terrified.
Me? Weighing odds.
Poison resistance decent... but lightning weakness.
Rip those wing membranes... nah, work on ground?
My strength vs. its. Strong, but beatable. Bird-snake matchup aside, not insurmountable. Me, Ouroboros—fresh from hell, took down fire lizards. Big game hunter.
Planned stealth ambush, but changed mind. Not now. Better...
Wyvern finished eating, took flight. Faint wingbeats audible, fading away.
We waited ages. But Panman stayed put. Others too.
Time to go.
Told Panman, but no nod. So I slithered out the gap.
"Eek, wait!"
Panman grabbed my tail—missed. Sunset outside; night soon.
No wyvern. Just meal remnants, bloodstains, and a massive wyvern dump.
Saaah!
I bellowed loud. Scared adventurers finally crawled out, sighing in relief.
"Fuck, nearly shit myself from fear."
"I pissed..."
These cowards. Absurd, but they had excuses.
"That's wyvern fear, huh."
Wyvern fear? Dragon fear's cousin? Those weird cries must terrify humans.
"Night's falling. Head there, camp under those black-ground pillars blocking the sky."
Jerico, pale-faced, pointed nearby. Adventurers staggered that way.
"Jerico-sunbae."
One adventurer whispered in Jerico's ear.
"Let's head back. This is insane."
"......"
Jerico stayed silent.
"Wyverns shouldn't be out here. Never heard of a Gray Mist Wyvern at the Blade Pillar Zone entrance."
They'd just discussed no retreat. But Jerico listened quietly now.
"Something's gone down in the mountains already. Our intel's worthless..."
"Mm."
"If empty-handed, how about grabbing that snake instead?"
Jerico's brow twitched.
"Client might like it? Looks unique—unique species vibe..."
True, their original party aimed for some "precious thing."
"Tough monster. Small and kitten-cute antics aside."
The adventurer patted his lightning net gun slung on his back. That'd snag a snake easy.
Jerico wavered. As he pondered...
"Wh-what, what're you doing?!"
An adventurer panicked, yelling. Making a racket—Jerico scowled, turning.
"H-heek!"
"Put it down, put it down! It's dangerous!"
The snake held the net gun. Not in hands—magic, like wielding a sword.
"Calm down! What's happening?!"
Idiot panicking. Jerico gritted teeth. Snake couldn't fire it anyway. Had safeties.
Just curiosity. But this fluster...
Then the snake smoothly chambered a round.
Click!
Disengaged safety, aimed at Jerico.
Jerico's world went black.
Magazine lock! Bolt forward! Selector single-shot! No selector, but whatever. Close enough. I've fired guns before.
No time for chit-chat. Ready marksman, commence fire.
Bang!
Not gunpowder—sound muffled. Projectile sliced air, past Jerico's crown, nailed the wyvern lurking atop a pillar.
Thwump!
Net unfurled midair, ensnaring it.
Crackle-crackle-crackle!
Sparks flew wildly. Wyvern roared in agony.