When Mom's Old Constellation Sponsored Me with <em>Throw Eye</em>

I couldn't make heads or tails of the skill description when I first read the info on Throw Eye, which Mom's former constellation War Incarnate had sponsored me.

The moment I confirmed the scene in my view, I finally understood the true nature of Throw Eye.

"In the world... such useful TMI..."

The skill description was a mess, but the effect was perfect. And easy to understand, too.

'Effect: View the information of a recognized opponent!'

So that's what "grasp the essence of the opponent" in the description meant.

Huh, wait a sec.

'But why didn't the skill activate against the other monsters earlier?'

That question popped into my head, but I figured it out quickly. Just my guess, though.

'Before the skill activated, there was a message: "strongly recognize the existence of the target in your sight."'

Strongly is the key.

I hadn't taken the bugs I'd encountered seriously. They were just EXP sacks that died with one staff swing.

But this Emperor Centipede? I recognized it as a formidable foe.

'Looks like Throw Eye only triggers when I seriously recognize an opponent's existence.'

Then Mom messaged that question.

Oh? Didn't she know?

'Right.'

I'd told her before about what happened in the Reverse Dungeon, but I'd deliberately skipped mentioning Throw Eye.

Why? "This came from your old constellation, Mom..."

I knew she'd react like that, so I kept quiet. Don't be jealous of your own son, Mom...

"Enough chit-chat."

I steadfastly ignored the barrage of messages and double-checked the info Throw Eye had shown: background, skills, emotions, etc. Tons of details I wouldn't have expected.

But what caught my eye: 'Core in the 17th back plate breathing hole?'

The last item: Core Location.

Most deaths against new monsters happen because you can't find the core.

'Without knowing the core's spot, you can't devise a proper strategy.'

But I could see it clearly. The "answer key" with the solution!

Just... '17th back plate breathing hole...?'

Sometimes you see the answer key and still feel stuck. Like right now.

This colossal centipede was covered head to toe in iron plates matching its massive size. Countless ones, too hard to number...

'Counting them one by one under those conditions... Huh?'

As I stared blankly at the Emperor Centipede, I spotted a clearly glowing red dot on its back.

It hadn't been visible before Throw Eye activated.

'No way?'

Not "no way." Among all those back plates, the 17th would be relatively near the head. And a red dot glowing right there? No coincidence!

'That's the core!'

Like an X-ray projecting inside the body, the red dot shone clearly through the back plate.

Legendary player wisdom, Mom. Spot on.

'Even knowing the core's location is useless if I can't reach it.'

This thing was so huge, even rearing its head to the limit, I doubted I'd see the head. Fighting a moving building—gotta be cautious.

While racking my brain, a decent plan hit me.

"Hide my presence with Stealth and sneak up to the core?"

Hmm... True.

Stealth seems handy but isn't omnipotent. I vaguely recalled the description: effect diminishes against much stronger foes.

'Stealth won't work either. What now?'

Tsk. While clicking my tongue and reviewing the Throw Eye info again...

"Huh?"

One line grabbed me: It shows obsessive attachment to the pollen of 'Snow-White Saffron' occasionally found in the field.

'This is it!'

An idea flashed the moment I read it.

"Hey, wizard. You okay...? You've looked off since earlier... You're not crazy, are you?"

"I'm a hero."

"Huh? O-Oh, yeah!"

Calling me a hero lit him up. I gazed warmly at the scrub and said,

"Do you know what 'Snow-White Saffron' is?"

"Snow-White Saffron? What's that? Some spell?"

He doesn't. Perfect.

"Follow me."

I'll let you hero properly.

Truth is, I don't know what 'Snow-White Saffron' is either. No clue on effects or looks... Hmm, probably white saffron, like the name?

No info at all, but...

"Found it."

Easy to spot. In a bug-infested cave, there's only one "flower."

A white bloom stubbornly pushing through trash piles.

'Weird if it didn't stand out.'

Backtracking, ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠I found 'Snow-White Saffron' everywhere, flaunting their presence.

Observing closely: faint green pollen inside the petals on thin stamens.

I shook the powder onto my palm.

"Whatcha doing, wizard?"

The scrub squatted and asked while I worked.

Looking back, I'd ignored him too much. Overinflated ego, trash personality, hero delusion patient—but from now on, full sincerity.

"From a magical perspective, you, a 'hero,' are strong."

"Huh?"

"Truly hero material. Infinite potential that even scares me..."

"...?"

"When I first saw you, cold sweat dripped, seriously."

Ugh, hard to spout BS.

Quiet a sec, Mom? I'm dying here?

But calculated dialogue at his level. And it worked.

"What? I thought you were cocky, but you have an eye for talent?"

"..."

"Praise me more if you want!"

The hyped scrub snorted and strutted. Easy rabbit to handle.

But praise time over.

"I meant your future potential is strong."

"Huh?"

"You're weak now."

"W-What?!"

In a manga, lightning would crackle behind him. With enough pollen gathered, I patted his shoulder.

"I'll draw out that potential now."

"D-Draw it out? How could you..."

"Cover yourself in this pollen. You'll get strong."

"R-Really?!"

"Totally. I'm a wizard, right? Trust me?"

"Of course! You seem like a great wizard to me! ...Wait, why me suddenly?"

"Get strong with this, then kill the Emperor Centipede for me."

"What? Me?! N-No! Scary!"

Didn't you say killing the Emperor Centipede was the hero's trial? The oracle's the real villain. Appointing this guy hero? Total scam.

But expected reaction. I pulled my prepared line.

"Don't worry. The Emperor Centipede hates this pollen. It'll flee the second it sees you covered."

"R-Really?"

"Totally. Nothing to fear. Perfect chance to complete your trial! Be brave, hero!"

"..."

The scrub pondered solemnly. Probably burning with noble duty inside now.

Soon, he clenched his fist and shouted.

"Wizard! I'll... muster my courage!"

"Yeah, good."

The desired reply out, I sprinkled pollen on his head. Like salting meat.

'Pfftchoo!' He sneezed, wiped his nose.

"Hmm... No change?"

"It doesn't show much. Hmm... But as a wizard, I feel it. Your presence changed from before."

"R-Really?"

"You never know your own state best."

"Yeah? Hearing that, I feel more energized than usual!"

Ever hear of placebo? Nothing actually changed, but if he believes it, fine.

I headed back to the Emperor Centipede's lair with the self-deluded hero patient.

Before the warp gate, one forgotten question.

"You fast at running?"

"Running? Obviously! Didn't you see me flee the spiders? With my hero-exclusive 'Wind Shoes,' I'm the fastest on the continent!"

"Impressive..."

Brag or self-sabotage? I nodded anyway.

Then he eyed me suspiciously.

"Why ask?"

"...Fleeing Emperor Centipede's fast. If you're slow, we're screwed."

"Aha! No worries! Trust this hero!"

Sure, you're the key.

I fist-bumped the fired-up scrub and stepped on the warp gate.

"I'll kill you! Wizard! You, I'll definitely kill with my own hands!!"

Curse me all you want—I'll forgive, except parents.

His boast about running wasn't empty. The Emperor Centipede charged obsessively at the pollen-covered scrub—like a tank at full throttle.

But?

"Kyaaaaah-!"

The scrub sprinting for survival was faster. Wow, real hero. Or no hero runs that fast.

You said abandon him earlier—what now, lady?

'I'm not even on the Emperor Centipede's radar.'

Thanks to the great hero tanking aggro, I spectated safely.

But can't just watch.

BOOM-!

I gathered mana at my feet and kicked off. Sand exploded back with a roar that surprised even me.

'Focus on the red dot!'

My gaze locked on the glowing red dot on the upper back plate.

Reaching the fleeing centipede's tail...

Thud-!

I kicked the ground, leaping high onto its back.

But the target red dot was far. And balancing on its thrashing was tough.

"Ngh!"

Legendary advice. Noted.

I funneled all circulating mana to my lower body. Balance felt natural, like my soles fused to the plates.

'Now...!'

Riding the momentum, I dashed to the glowing red dot.

And found it: a small breathing hole between armored joints.

The hexagonal gem filling that hole: its core.

Staff vanished; Pandora's Box handed a new weapon.

"Yeah, only this fits now."

A spiked mace ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠in my hand—perfect blunt weapon to smash alloy-hard plates.

I raised it high and slammed full force at the protecting plate.

Crunch-!

Steel crumpling sound; my wrist throbbed.

'Ligaments okay?'

All-out strike, worry-worthy.

But...

"...!"

Despair: full-power mace didn't shatter the plate completely. It cracked, but no core damage.

Worse: the hit agitated it. Aggro shifted from scrub to me.

Pain or rage? It went berserk, shaking wildly!

"...!"

I launched vertically. Worse: flung off, dropped the mace accidentally.

"Gasp...?!"

Drop weapon in crisis? Am I an idiot?

The real madness started now.

Crackle-.

"For real..."

The 17th plate I'd smashed regenerated like rewind!

Back to perfect before I could react. No mace now.

"..."

High in air, I plummeted. Wind battered against gravity.

Staring at approaching plates, I skipped calculations.

Tidal immense power surged, boosting me to unknown realms. Spiraling mana tore air, gathering at my fist.

Falling toward plates, I swung early—fist not even in range.

Instinct said distance enough.

Straight punch unleashed storm strike.

And...

KABOOOM-!!

Earth-shaking explosion rocked the desert.

Core crushed, most of the massive body pulverized.