With This Flash, I'm a Proper Mage Now
I figured that with this display, I could confidently call myself a full-fledged mage.
Beginner Elemental Magic: Water lv2
Beginner Elemental Magic: Fire lv3
Beginner Elemental Magic: Earth lv4
Beginner Elemental Magic: Wind lv2
I unleashed all four spells at my disposal. Fire spewed from my mouth, water sprayed wildly in the air, the ground writhed and shook, and gusts whipped around. None of them were all that impressive on their own. But casting all four at once? Now that was a spectacle.
Of course, I couldn't keep it up for long.
3. 2. 1. Cut!
Mana Exhausted
My mana pool wasn't huge to begin with. Blasting all four spells at max output drained me dry in no time. When your mana runs out, it's brutally exhausting—like you're about to pass out. My body was already screaming from sprinting back at full speed the moment I spotted the Crock tribe warriors. I felt like I could collapse right then and there.
But I forced myself to stand tall. If I were still Little White Snake, maybe I'd flop over. But as Ululululu? No way.
It was worth the effort. Silence fell over the gathering.
Even the goblins who'd been chanting my name—Ululululu!—clamped their mouths shut. They all bowed their heads. Those who believed me to be the legendary serpent pressed their hands together in prayer. Only one kept her head raised.
Nanaruk. She beamed at me.
Thank goodness Nanaruk showed up. Explaining this to the other goblins would've been a nightmare.
"Ululululu, you've returned."
She'd never called me that before, but there it was—laced with mischief. I was dead serious, though. Snakes don't have vocal cords. So I had to convey the situation using magic, my tail, and a few props.
Over that distant hill, more than a hundred Crock tribe warriors are waiting. They'll attack tonight. Everyone, prepare!
Explaining all that without words was no easy feat. First, I pulled out a Crock tribe necklace from my subspace—a trophy from before. I scratched "100" in goblin numerals on the ground, pointed to the hill, and mimed spearing with my tail.
Coming this way, then that way—Ururururu, Ululululu!
A hundred goblins' cries filling the valley, Skullcrushers surging like a tidal wave.
Huff... huff... It felt like I'd soloed the Battle of Red Cliffs in full pansori style. I glanced around, and the other goblins stared at me like idiots. Maybe conveying profound intent to the dim-witted was asking too much.
Then Nanaruk shouted in shock.
"Crock tribe goblin warriors are coming?!"
"What?!"
"It's true!"
One true friend who gets it is enough, they say. I was grateful for Nanaruk, who nailed it on the first try. Make that eerily well.
From there, I just had to nod. Gasps and sighs erupted everywhere.
"Ululululu, is it true?!"
The tattooed grandma—head shaman—shoved her face in mine. I nodded firmly. Yes, yes. Shocking, but real.
Good call borrowing Ululululu's authority.
No new epithet unlocked. I'd hoped, but no dice. Given how many goblins already called me Ululululu, maybe I needed deeds worthy of the name.
Great epithets are hard-won by nature.
Pellelian chimed in. Fair enough.
Nanaruk's face hardened.
"Zadiram, ride a terror bird and scout now. Take the flag."
She knew how to separate duty from personal matters. A hobgoblin named Zadiram mounted up and galloped off.
"Warriors, arm up. Thirty hobgoblins means Crock elites."
Goblins scattered to prepare at her command.
"Was Crock's chieftain there? Skull necklace, head twice my size."
I shook my head no. Their leader was Skullcrusher Ayutar.
"At least that's a relief."
Nanaruk sighed. Was that chieftain really that tough? I'd love to see him.
The goblins took my word without question. Was it faith in Ululululu, or just their naive nature? Hard to say.
Runga tribe geared up for battle amid the bustle. Then a pot-bellied goblin stormed in, bellowing.
"What the hell are you doing?!"
The chieftain himself.
"That's Ululululu? It's just a mud-caked black snake!"
Gah, like mother, like daughter? Nanaruk was skeptical too, but the chieftain flat-out rejected it.
"What nonsense is this, Chieftain?!"
Head shaman grandma snapped.
He ignored her.
"Crock's chieftain wouldn't send warriors out of nowhere. Negotiations are going fine!"
"Father, Crock is ruthless!"
"You dare defy your chieftain?!"
Like I'd sensed yesterday, her father painted me as the villain. Made me want to chomp his ankle.
"Halt! Obey your chieftain, not some warlord!"
A chieftain's word still carried weight. Warriors hesitated, arms half-ready.
Nanaruk ordered again.
"Arm up! Ready the terror birds."
"Defy me, and—stop everything!"
The standoff was clear. Nanaruk bit her lip, fists clenched white. Yeah, deck the chieftain. Or let me handle it.
"Over there!"
A young goblin pointed. Everyone turned. Zadiram raced back on his terror bird from the hilltop—a tiny dot waving a flag. Red flag. Enemy spotted.
Sighs everywhere. Eyes on Nanaruk and the chieftain. He'd snap out of it now, right?
"They're not invading... probably envoys."
Sometimes people deny bad news till the cliff's edge. I'd been like that once, so I got it. But...
Let that slide?
'No.'
I decided to bite the chieftain. As I slithered quietly, Nanaruk strode past and swung.
Crack!
He tumbled, jaw shattered.
"Guh... re... rebellion..."
Nanaruk silenced him, wrenching his arm back, binding his wrists with cord from her belt, then gagging him. Everyone froze at the sudden coup.
"...The chieftain's lost his mind."
She commanded coldly.
"Escort him home. Warriors, prepare to march. We advance together."
Hobgoblin warriors reacted first, dragging the wriggling chieftain away. Then head shaman stepped up.
"Warlord Nanaruk."
She halted the escort, snatched the chieftain's jade necklace, and draped it on Nanaruk.
"You won a witnessed duel."
Duel, huh. Fiery grandma.
"From now on, you lead Runga."
Nanaruk grinned. Her warriors beamed. No more teary girl hiding bruises from her father—just a warlord.
Under her lead, warriors assembled. Excluding minimal guards, about eighty total—twenty hobgoblins. Thirty red crow terror birds tamed for riding. Few against Crock elites, but...
"We sally forth and crush them."
Her call. No letting foes near the village—no walls, too many non-combatants. Runga warriors sortied.
"Ululululu."
Nanaruk extended her hand. I climbed to her shoulder, smearing black mud on her clothes.
"Ugh, mud."
Deal with it, new chieftain.
"You've gotten heavier."
She thanked me.
"Thanks for coming back. For warning us."
I needed you guys too.
Nanaruk was bold. No mere defense—she aimed to smash their elites, then raid empty Crock territory. Meanwhile, I'd slip into the dungeon entrance.
"Sortie!"
She bellowed.
Night fell. City nights can't compare to the Great Forest's. Stars packed the sky, but a curtain of darkness cloaked the ground. Towering trees hid torchlight from afar. To reach Runga, you cross the hill ahead—meaning Crock warriors lurked in the lowlands. Their raid crept silently.
"Boss, the boys are pumped."
A one-eyed goblin warrior approached Ayutar.
"Let us loot."
Ayutar eyed him, cruel smile curling.
"Do it."
No reason not to. This force could crush Runga.
"Loot and smash to your heart's content."
"Thanks! Heh heh heh!"
Muffled laughs spread. Unlike Runga's terror birds, Crock rode wolves—fiercer, harder to tame, but stronger. Wolf riders soothed their mounts, advancing quietly.
Then trees thinned into open ground. Cross it, crest the hill, and Runga's village appeared.
Ayutar halted the warriors abruptly.
"What's up?"
He stared at the hill, silent.
"...Send wolf riders to scout."
No scouts till now—why suddenly? But questioning Ayutar was taboo. He dispatched two.
They rode beyond the hill. Soon returned—torchless, shadowy figures stumbling.
"Why the wobble?"
Veteran riders, yet unstable. Dripping something.
They reached torchlight. Truth dawned.
"N-neck...!"
One headless, collapsing with a thud. Excited wolf tore into the corpse. The other clung to his neck.
Ayutar stormed over, furious.
"What the fuck, you idiot!"
Why come back decapitated? He roared—
"Guhk... kek..."
—but the rider couldn't speak. Face purple, gasping.
"Sh-shadows... kek...!"
Boldly clinging to Ayutar. Poisoned, obviously. Ayutar shoved him off instinctively. He flopped dead.
Two hobgoblin elite wolf riders—gone in seconds.
Ayutar growled low.
"Douse all torches."
Darkness swallowed them. He whistled sharp. Crock warriors crept forward into the open, forests yawning dark on both flanks. Watch the sides. Orders rippled back.
Ayutar froze at the front. Hilltop: hobgoblins on terror birds.
"...They spotted us somehow."
"Runga chieftain, Nanaruk."
The young hobgoblin woman stepped forward.
"Skullcrusher Ayutar. Nanaruk? Warrior girl, right?"
"Chieftain now."
"Dumbass old chieftain finally croaked."
She skipped details.
"Knew we were coming and brought just you lot? A few hobgoblins against a hundred?"
Crocks jeered at the folly.
"As if."
Carts rolled from beyond the hill. Five loaded with rocks, spears lashed on.
"Tough climb, huh?"
"You—fucking—!"
Ayutar grasped her plan instantly.
Goblins shoving the carts released. Slow at first—then accelerating down the slope, heavy with mass. Rumble rumble rumble— Weight alone was lethal. Spears were bonus; it'd crush flat.
Ayutar gritted teeth. Dodge that, and...
"Spread to the flanks—!"
His roar echoed. Warriors moved to obey—or tried.
Arrows whistled from flanking forests—who'd guess?
Whizz whizz—
Runga's ambushers, torchless in dark, pierced Crock warriors easily.
"Forward! Dodge carts, push!"
Ayutar shifted: nimble hobgoblins spearhead the breakthrough. Runga warriors chased the carts down.
War!
Me, Snake Zhuge Liang, and virtuous general Nanaruk Liu Bei—united!
Flank archers were her idea; rolling carts mine. Splat! Brutal crunches turned Crocks to pulp. Brilliant terrain trap.
Heart-stopping when the scouts returned, but handled. So where was I now?
By Nanaruk. Precisely, atop her terror bird's wing.
No more Snake Zhuge. Just fangs lurking in dark. A serpent among goblins.
Nanaruk swung her axe at the Skullcrusher.
Clang!
Club met axe, sparks flew. Ayutar's pupils dilated. In that flash, he glimpsed me lunging.
The heart-eating serpent had returned.