Quest (9): The Grape-Crazed Tentacle Monster
The ground rumbled. The earth shook violently. I stepped back, thrusting the lantern forward. The vineyard heaved and bucked as something massive burst out from beneath it. The creature was a huge quadrupedal monster that resembled a turtle. But it wasn’t a real turtle. What grew from its shell was far too alien for that label.
Eight tentacles thrashed about wildly, each moving as though it possessed an independent will. The grotesque sight wrenched a shout from my throat.
“It’s a grape-obsessed turtle tentacle monster!”
The eight tentacles slammed into the ground. In the same instant, eight crimson lines lanced out and intercepted them. A piercing shriek split the air. I had not misspoken. Mouths had actually formed along the tentacles, and the screams erupted from those very maws. So the main body was the tentacles themselves. I filed the new information away and prepared another spell.
A mouth lined with sharp, sturdy teeth manifested within the lantern’s flame. The fire roared violently. Taking that as my cue, I swung the lantern in a wide arc. The flame that leapt free swelled at once, growing to the size of a human head. It opened its jaws wide and sank its teeth into a tentacle.
Predation devours everything. Tentacles were no exception. The monster lost one in the blink of an eye and began flailing the rest in a frenzied seizure. I widened the distance and swung the lantern again.
Crunch.
Another tentacle vanished, consumed by flame. Yet instead of rampaging, the monster simply stared at me in silence. Then one of its tentacles stabbed into a grapevine and dragged something out. Unripe grapes, grapes hidden by leaves, grapes tucked into unreachable spots; the creature gathered them all, spread its tentacle-mouth wide, and swallowed everything in a single gulp.
The tentacle that had been burned away wriggled, regenerating at blinding speed. I narrowed my eyes and scanned the surroundings. An enormous vineyard filled my vision. How many unharvested grapes remained here? The math refused to add up neatly. I clicked my tongue.
Fighting a monster that healed its wounds by eating grapes was an exceptionally poor choice of battlefield. I considered several ways to lure it elsewhere, but every plan had glaring flaws. If the creature understood its own advantage, it would never follow a lure. Should I flee and call for reinforcements? But if it burrowed into the earth, locating it again would be nearly impossible. My mind churned with overlapping thoughts.
“Lady Ruina!”
A clumsy, earnest voice suddenly rang out from behind me. I readied my magic and spoke without turning.
“Just block the tentacles that come toward me.”
“Understood.”
Leon drew his sword and stepped in front of me. Annoyed that its opponents had multiplied, the monster roared and lashed out with its tentacles. Leon watched them calmly, then moved his blade.
Slice.
A tentacle dropped to the ground. I inwardly marveled at the swordsmanship that had intercepted all eight at speeds too fast for the eye to follow. Leon had described himself as “rather skilled with a sword,” but that was a completely inaccurate statement. Where exactly was that merely “rather skilled”? The man was a sword genius, plain and simple.
While the monster regenerated its eight tentacles and rummaged through the vines for more grapes, I prepared my spell at a leisurely pace.
Never give a mage time and distance. A golden rule among mercenaries. There was also the saying, “Do not fight or antagonize a mage; if you must become enemies, run,” but that wasn’t relevant right now, so I set it aside.
The heart of the matter was this: to a mage, time itself is a resource. The more one concentrates and the longer one prepares, the greater the magic’s power becomes. Of course, not every mage could do this. There were clear limits. A first-circle mage could concentrate for a lifetime and still never cast a grand spell. However, I was not bound by such ordinary rules.
Uniform mana meticulously stacked the spell’s structure. A stable, sturdy framework took shape. Repeated rules filled the interior of that foundation.
Activating the magic inside the lantern increases efficiency. Stability was reinforced. And the restriction placed the final period.
Absolutely activate the magic inside the lantern.
That single constraint had sublimated everything I had accumulated into one unified spell. Condensed flames flickered inside the lantern, threatening to explode at any moment. I gently extended the lantern forward and released them.
Flash.
A crimson beam erupted from the lantern, illuminating the dark night. The slightly chilly early-autumn air grew warm. I lifted my head, feeling a lukewarm breeze against my face. The monster, half its body melted, staggered and braced itself against the ground. At the sight of something that looked one breath away from death, Leon’s shoulders relaxed slightly.
Then a voice came from behind me.
“We got it!”
The voice had thickened from eating strengthening herbs. I clicked my tongue. That spell was not something one should use recklessly, yet non-mages never seemed to understand. Sure enough, the staggering monster opened its maw and roared with renewed fury.
Guoooooooh—!
The melted flesh writhed and swelled. In an instant the monster had fully regenerated. It ripped up nearby grapevines by the roots and swallowed them whole. So it could eat more than just grapes. Another lesson learned.
“Lady Ruina!”
“We’re retreating.”
I had struck it with my greatest firepower, yet it still lived. The two of us alone had no path to victory.
“Understood.”
Leon turned, sword still drawn. The added remark, “Miss Chris, you must escape,” was a nice touch. I glanced once more at the monster as it tore down and devoured another vine, then quickly withdrew from the area.
I still didn’t fully understand what effect swallowing grapes and vines produced, but as long as grapevines remained nearby, killing the creature would be…
……
I stopped mid-thought.
“Lady Ruina?”
Leon’s voice drifted from a distance. It was only natural for him to be confused; the person who had ordered a retreat had frozen in place. Instead of answering him, I turned my gaze back to the monster.
It was devouring the grapevine as though it were tender meat. The creature’s still-incomplete body wriggled and healed. I watched it finish with the vines and begin plucking grapes again, then quietly looked down at the lantern.
Flames flickered inside it. This fire burned everything. No; it devoured everything. Trees, stones, animals, herbs, people, emotions, memories; it consumed them all without distinction, violently and indiscriminately.
Then where did everything it ate go? Did it simply disappear? If so, the trait I had perceived would have been “annihilation,” not “predation.”
What is eaten becomes nutrients. It becomes part of the body. It becomes mine. Just like the monster that restored itself by eating grapes.
That was what predation truly meant.
The fully restored monster glared at me. Its tentacles swelled, thickening until each was nearly the girth of a young tree, then descended to crush me.
“Lady Ruina!”
Leon’s desperate sword strike sliced the enormous tentacle in two. With a heavy thud, the severed limb hit the ground. From the stump still attached to the body, dozens more tentacles sprouted. Twenty-two of them now targeted me. In that truly dangerous moment, as Leon cried my name with all his strength, I shook the lantern.
Whoosh.
A mouth and teeth formed within the flame. I swung the lantern, and the fire flew toward the monster.
Crunch.
It bit down and devoured the tentacle. The same sequence as before; the monster regenerated the lost limb without concern and swung again, intending to finish both Leon and me. Even for Leon, twenty-two tentacles were a heavy burden, and I had already played every card in my hand. The creature’s decision was perfectly logical. At this rate, the odds of blocking the next barrage were slim.
That is, they would have been if I had truly exhausted every card.
The flame that had bitten and swallowed the tentacle did not vanish. Instead it grew larger. This was the second principle of the predation flame I had only just realized: “digestion,” the ability to convert whatever it devoured into its own power.
The monster panicked as the flame continued to expand without limit. It tried to retreat and regenerate, but it was already too late. If you can regenerate endlessly, then I shall burn everything with a flame that swallows and blazes without end.
The fire that eventually engulfed the monster’s entire body devoured it whole. Inside the roaring blaze, only the creature’s fading death throes leaked out.
I stood before the dying monster and placed a pipe between my lips.
“Lady Ruina, are you all right?!”
“I’ve been thinking this for a while, but considering how much you contributed, Sir Leon, your dialogue is strangely extra-like. Thank you.”
“What on earth are you talking about?”
“Sis! Are you okay?!”
“Chris, I truly am sorry, but if you insist on calling me that, please refrain from eating the voice-altering herb. Thank you.”
I exhaled a long stream of smoke toward the flames.
With this, the subjugation of the sea beast that had been stealing the village’s grapes was complete. Yet one problem remained. I met Chris’s eyes. She tilted her head at my stare.
“Lady Ruina? What’s the matter?”
“Where did that bizarre half-polite speech pattern even come from? Anyway, Chris.”
“Yeah?”
“It seems all the grapes for wine ended up inside that monster’s stomach. What do you plan to do? Do you have any assets left at all?”
“Ah.”
Chris let out a short, sharp death cry. It was almost on the same level as the monster’s final scream as it was consumed by flame. That was answer enough.
“What the hell happened here?!”
At the noisy commotion approaching from afar, I closed the lantern and turned away.
Today’s conclusion: the jeweler—no, Chris—had just lost one hundred gold coins.