The Serpent's Path
Our side's wyvern leader was Celreta. And their wyvern leader was Chugota. Three against one, huh?
But it was confusing as hell. Chugota's body was definitely one piece. Yet it had three necks and three heads. So was it one monster or three? Checking the status window suggested three. But it still felt like just one.
Not a twin-headed, but a triple-headed beast.
"Is it rare?"
"Rare? It's extremely rare." Yeah, that made sense. I couldn't even remember seeing a twin-headed monster before. But a triple-headed one? This world was still full of secrets.
"A triple-headed beast occurring naturally? It's a miracle."
"It looks even more insane than a chimera."
Monsters with two heads were always special. Twin-head ogres were traditionally seen as magical geniuses, right? I'd heard stories like those of the great archmages Cho and Gal. A triple-head? That thing probably had the makings of a god of magic, not just an archmage.
Pellelian, who'd been scrutinizing the enemy, offered a hypothesis.
"It was probably originally a single-headed beast. But it evolved, and the head split."
I got what he meant from its appearance. All three heads had nostrils and mouths. Meaning they could breathe and eat independently. They probably even had relatively small brains each. But eyes? Two of the heads had two eyes each, while the third had none.
"It split. The original head fractured into three pieces. It must've had four eyes on the sides originally."
A wyvern splitting like a banana? Was that even possible? Chugota's jaws and necks formed a triangle. Put together, they'd fit perfectly. In conclusion: hideously ugly.
The heads rubbed against each other like they were bonding, then each opened wide to charge destruction beams.
Three level-20 destruction beams. Kiiiiing—
Fired together as one, it became something overwhelming a normal destruction beam in power.
Celreta, carrying us mid-flight, pulled off an insane evasion maneuver. She flew fast, then flung her wings forward wide. Massive air resistance hit. Her wing membranes ballooned like they might tear, spinning her body once in midair. Without the vine seatbelts, the little trio would've plummeted for sure.
Reckless driving, that. But it dodged the triple destruction beam.
Kwaaang!
The beam swept the ground, shattering multiple stone pillars in one go. My heart dropped.
Pellelian, seeing it, spat out in awe.
"Magnificent...!"
"Magnificent my ass."
"Truly."
Huh, I'd mixed up my 'thought' and actual thought.
"Evolution is this incredible. I wondered why it evolved so inefficiently, but this wyvern split its own head into three to rival a dragon's breath. Impressive."
It was. A real dragon's breath probably looked like that. Even Steal Crown might not snag that power.
"Why not split your head into three?"
"Ur, O, Ros like that?"
"Exactly."
No way in hell. Unless you go Pel, Le, Rian first.
The destruction beam that nearly killed us and our kids—and the Chugota that fired it. Celreta glared, growling.
They gonna fight?
But no. Celreta let out a long cry and veered away. The black-scaled wyverns followed her lead. She'd chosen retreat for the whole flock.
"As a leader beast, that's proper. The battle's already lost."
She picked fleeing over dying here.
"Isn't that bad? We need to get to Delphram."
We'd gotten close by luck—now heading away again?
But Pellelian glanced between sky and sun, then plopped on my tail and said,
"It's fine. Seems like we're heading to Delphram after all."
The routed flock was flying toward Pellelian's dungeon. Perfect, then. But why head for a fairy archmage's dungeon of all places?
There's this story. Even if Earth heats up and civilization collapses, it's not the planet dying—just civilization. Life's a tragedy up close, a comedy from afar. Similar vibes, maybe.
The monster wave from the Great Forest wrecked huge damage on humans. Countless dead. Territories razed. It even crossed the kingdom's border, wiping out a continental infantry division.
But from beyond the human view—from the continent's perspective? Maybe no big deal.
Picture the Great Forest as the continent's philtrum. The monster wave? A big pimple popping on it. Some blood, that's it. Not endangering the continent—or even the forest.
The fairies inside were fine too. They traditionally clustered near the World Tree. No matter how feral the monsters got, the wave wouldn't sweep the World Tree.
So despite the wave, the fairies took minimal hits.
Hairit Langrei, near the wave's start, naturally fled to the fairies. She returned dazed. And now, munching fairy snacks leisurely, three months had passed.
Her running form once deer-like, fairy-esque. Now? Puffed cheeks, wrists, ankles—like a cookie-house kid.
"Rembus!"
Cookie crumbs on her lips, she muttered holding a triangular bread slice.
"One bite fills you up..."
No one paid her mind.
"One bite fills you up, you said. You've had four already—why aren't you full?"
Iris Selena glanced her way.
"Your belly looks plenty full."
"Insolent whelp."
Hairit swung the bread, lowering her voice. This was the elder's abode. Whatever she said, Iris and the elder ignored her. That irked Hairit more.
"...Why not kick me out?"
Hero or not, she was human. Even with elf ties, outsiders were outsiders. Crashing in shamelessly? Being booted was normal.
Langrei said she'd stay briefly and stuck around. Iris and the elder were baffled.
"You said 'briefly,' so don't kick me out."
"Problem letting her stay?"
The elder pointed out.
"No, I lied. 'Briefly' was the fib."
"Lied? So you plan to stay longer than brief?"
The more they talked, the more Langrei felt her seams burst.
"'Briefly' passed ages ago."
"Langrei, mind your tone."
Iris called out her speech.
"Tone my ass!"
Hairit shot up from the sofa.
"Three months of this—why no word?"
Iris and the elder exchanged puzzled looks.
"...Only three months."
"So much gripe? Hate it? Leave."
That was the issue. Fairies and Langrei's time sense clashed hard.
"That's the problem."
Hairit seethed in fury.
"That laid-back attitude's the fairies' downfall."
"Says the one lounging, scarfing snacks."
Their bickering was daily routine. Hairit's sour face doubled her chin. Iris clocked it.
"Can't manage your body? Combat power must've tanked."
True, for a nimble mover like Hairit.
"Sorry."
But Hairit countered coldly.
"I'm human. Run to the kingdom, and my six-pack pops back."
World Tree to kingdom? Vast distance—but doable for her.
"Problem's you and the fairies. You eat the same snacks, no fat."
Hairit pinched Iris's nape. Smooth skin, nothing else.
"Run the same distance, no wear."
Truth was, Hairit didn't care about fat.
"Spit it out straight. No circling."
Iris stayed stone-faced.
"Your race's stagnation's the issue."
Hairit perched on the tea table before the elder, smooshing her face next to his, eyeing Iris.
"Can't you tell?"
"Your face is bigger."
"Ugh, shit."
She pulled a pendant with a round locket from her bosom. Popped it open. Inside: a fine portrait of the elder holding a young girl.
"Elder and me. Now I look older than this geezer."
"Our long lifespans—what to do?"
The elder noted, but Hairit shook her head firm.
"Dwarves live half as long as elves, but they age. Elves? No change. Looks, minds. No wonder folks say you're more plant than animal."
Not baseless griping.
"Humans are fire. Burn surroundings, thrive. Torch trees, till soil. Clear land, tame beasts. Elves?"
"We're water, huh? Pulling out racial elemental tales?"
"Don't care. That trait dooms fairies to decline, extinction—whatever."
Langrei slammed the tea table.
"I get why you're still played by Pellelian."
Iris's face froze icy.
"...What do you mean?"
"Pellelian's the least fairy-like fairy. Fiery archmage."
True. Proudest of fairy heritage, yet least fairy-like temperament. Progressive nicely; vulgar, wicked harshly.
"Analyzing him your stuffy fairy way? Doomed to fail."
"..."
Hairit Langrei, staying here, had watched Iris and the elder. Tracing Pellelian's traces, training, tea. She knew why they'd failed.
"Were you even trying?"
"Why ask obvious? Think we're joking?"
Iris had sworn revenge. But their method? Like solo-searching every hotel bed for bedbugs.
"How long you planning to search?"
"What?"
"How long to uncover Pellelian's trail?"
That way? Endless toil.
"...At least within fifty years."
"Fairies' problem right there."
Iris as hotel manager? Bankruptcy.
"Hunt bedbugs? Narrow guest rooms first."
"Sudden bedbugs?"
"Find guests who might've brought 'em. Or grill housekeepers for full sweep. Boss scurrying solo? Catch nothing."
Hairit Langrei's stream-of-consciousness rants were familiar. Luckily, the clouds cleared.
"Factor Pellelian's personality. That old coot's one-of-a-kind."
"One-of-a-kind...?"
"Yeah. Craves showboating, but subtly. Loves folks recognizing him, whispering, 'Ain't that Reverse Heaven?'"
Sharp critique. Never crossed their minds.
"Why miss it? He wore a crystal mask once."
"He did."
"Why the mask?"
No quick answer. The elder cut in.
"Hide identity?"
"Lord Light."
Hairit slapped her forehead. Elves exceeded expectations.
"Who hides with a crystal mask? Hood or cowl suffices."
"The mask was to..."
"Spark tales: 'Mysterious crystal-masked mage appears!' He quit suddenly—heard it myself. Archmage Kaspians teased: 'Ugly mug doesn't suit it—ditch it.'"
"So no more after?"
"Yeah. Mage tower guy said. Commit to the concept or quit like a punk."
Innocent elves couldn't grasp Pellelian's mindset. Craving worship, yet organically, not forced.
"Anyway, that's his dungeon map style."
Wall map of the continent. Administrative zones? Last updated centuries ago. Fairy-like.
"You tree-dwellers don't know, but capital's got opera."
"Opera why."
"Pellelian saw tons. Favorite: Cabala's Blue Night."
Hairit grabbed red chalk, drawing lines on the map.
"Cabala's Blue Night—I saw it. Life Tree symbol in stage art repeatedly. Not mage or shaman, but... this right?"
"No way..."
Dungeon lines formed a unique shape. Hard to spot regularity. Needed Cabala knowledge to trace.
Subtle clue, not natural find.
"Right? Dead on. Hoped someone spots it—but not easy."
The elder stood abruptly. If Life Tree layout, trace the flow.
"Follow the Path of the Serpent, Wisdom Serpent's route."
Snake head? North.
"Search wide here—might find a dungeon."
If dungeons follow Serpent's Path, yes. Last one at head? Significant.
"Meaningful dungeon. Especially important."
"Thanks, Hairit Langrei."
Iris, ever prickly, bowed politely. Armed up.
The elder asked,
"Leaving?"
"Yes."
"When?"
"Now."
As Iris leaped from the tree again,
"Ugh, again with the bullshit."
Langrei grabbed her hood. Iris dangled.
"Three more months?"
"Then...?"
"Come with me. Few days' run to warp gate—quick."
"...Thanks."
"No prob."