Killing the Thirsty One (3)
"Uh, um, really...?"
Clemence's lips trembled even more violently.
"Probably. But don't worry too much. I'll handle it."
Still, no one looked reassured in the slightest.
"Everyone, step back. It's about to start."
Before the words were even out of my mouth, they all scattered like centipedes, putting as much distance between us as possible with a rustle of feet.
Only Guild Master Leana stayed by my side, helping me unpack the supplies from my bag.
Tempestlight and Blastguard powder, plus Drakevine oil. A lambskin pouch filled with Serenity Tear, the purest water in the world. Special oil for the blade, and one bottle of potion for this job.
That was everything.
"You too, get back."
"Got it. Be careful."
I knelt beside the spread-out materials.
In this world, Chaotic Empire, you could combine ingredients to craft items yourself. I planned to make exactly what I needed for this request using a recipe I knew.
I couldn't buy anything that would produce the effect I wanted otherwise.
This recipe was simple. Pour Drakevine oil into Tempestlight and Blastguard powder, knead it into sticky balls about the size of a fist. Using up all the materials gave me six in total.
Six would be plenty. Shape them round, wrap in thin paper, and done.
These were called Water's Wrath—explosives.
Once the Water's Wrath were finished, I filled the lambskin pouch to the brim with Serenity Tear.
After a moment, droplets of Serenity Tear began beading on the pouch's surface like sweat.
I grabbed the neck and hurled it into the reservoir with all my strength.
It arced high in a grand parabola before splashing down with a plunk, then bobbed back up and floated slowly.
Now, the Serenity Tear would leak out bit by bit, mixing with the reservoir water.
It was such a tiny amount it barely qualified as "mixing," but that was enough.
I knelt in the center of the embankment and drew my sword.
The blade of Nightrend, my Demon Hunter-exclusive sword, greeted me with a faint shimmer of starlight.
I coated the blade with special oil—something I'd named Freshwater Hot Pot Oil. A slightly fishy scent rose up.
Now it was ready. All that was left was waiting.
Riding the cool breeze from the valley, I caught whispers from the border guards.
Is he really a Demon Hunter? He shows up and starts playing with clay? And so on.
Leana snapping back in indignation, Clemence pleading for them not to fight. It was all too familiar.
I'd cleared the main story and resolved countless requests, only to get sneers of contempt instead of thanks every time.
In this world, ruled by baseless rumors that Demon Hunters got tainted by demonic energy and unwittingly turned into demons themselves, we were pointed at and whispered about while silently hunting demons.
Dark fantasy setup was total garbage, really.
I stayed kneeling, glaring at the bobbing lambskin pouch.
Soon, strange ripples began forming around it on the water's surface.
It's here...!
I snatched the first Water's Wrath and leaped to my feet.
The moment I did, the water surface bulged roundly, then tore open at its peak as an enormous fish breached violently.
"Kyaaah!!"
"Gahh!"
The people behind screamed in terror at the sudden monster surging up.
And who could blame them? That thing wasn't a fish.
Not even with a knife to its throat would I call it one—not with that grotesque form.
It evoked a giant catfish, but I swear to god, it wasn't. No catfish in the world had two long arms flailing awkwardly from its sides.
Those bizarre arms, a mix of slimy skin and sharp fins, thrashed wildly in all directions.
Its mouth gaped wide, drooling some unidentifiable mottled liquid between rows of razor teeth.
Its huge eyes were dark as storm clouds, filled with an essence no human intellect could comprehend.
Ghaar'kraath! Zra'vul gorn, kla'van zhaath!
(Fuck! I'm dying of thirst!)
It growled in demonic tongue, sounding like it crawled out of a mud pit—harsh and menacing.
This was a Water Demon.
Water Demons guzzled water in insane quantities. Gulped it down. Really fucking guzzled it.
They'd burrow into the bottom of huge reservoirs like this, sit there, and drink until everything dried up.
If left alone, this place would've been toast in a few weeks.
According to the game lore, Water Demons were crafted specifically to wreck the human realm. They'd drain the fundamental source of human life—water—funneling it through dimensional gates in their guts to who-knows-where. Made that way on purpose, with thirst cranked to max and no amount ever satisfying it.
In a way, the poor bastards. Drink all you want, thirst never quenched.
That's why I used Serenity Tear as bait. When you're parched out of your mind, how could you resist the scent of the world's purest water wafting from your hole?
It wasn't some genius deduction that pegged this guy as the culprit. Every time it drank, that massive maw funneled water through its gate, producing a unique sound and vibration that Blind Vision picked up.
I'd heard that sound ad nauseam playing the game, so I prepped and came right back.
The beast, at the peak of its breach, began plummeting back into the reservoir.
I hurled the Water's Wrath in my hand at the perfect moment.
Just before it hit the surface, the explosive plunged in first and detonated, shooting up a water pillar.
Not many knew that Tempestlight and Blastguard powder exploded on contact with water. It was Demon Hunter knowledge, akin to alchemy.
Of course, I'd mastered pretty much every recipe by the end of my first playthrough.
Struck dead-on by the geyser, the Water Demon couldn't dive deep and resurfaced.
I lobbed the rest in rapid succession.
The Water's Wrath didn't explode immediately underwater; they sank a bit first, then blew up from below, the shockwaves keeping the demon buoyant.
The paper wrapping delayed the blast until fully soaked.
Khar'zul agha! Ghra'keth hul! Zra'vul gorn, khe'zar kha'zaruth!?
(My head hurts! Stop it! Is being thirsty a crime!?)
Kept popping up from the blasts, it lost its shit and bellowed, thrashing madly in rage.
The people, drenched again, screamed once more.
The plan wasn't to kill the Water Demon with Water's Wrath. Those little pops couldn't do it in anyway.
But keeping it in sight with constant underwater blasts served another purpose.
Hunting Dog's Mark
A blood-red inverted triangle mark branded itself above the flailing Water Demon on the surface.
This was how Demon Hunters properly targeted demons for the hunt.
Once marked, you could track it over distance, and crucially, you got combat buffs.
Simply put, the difference between hesitantly fighting some unknown monster and battling a confirmed demon.
Even with Hunting Dog's Mark, though, Rezobuar Reservoir was too damn big. From the embankment to the demon was at least ten meters, by my estimate.
I'd hoped to shove it to the edge, but no choice now.
I pulled a potion from my belt, bit off the cap, and chugged it in one go.
"Grrraaah!!"
Burning pain scorched down my throat, spreading through my whole body.
It raced along my limbs to my fingertips and toes, peaking there in knife-tearing agony. Thick black veins bulged on the back of my hands.
Potions never got easier, no matter how many you downed.
I kicked off the ground and dashed across the reservoir in a single breath, landing right on the demon.
Before the effect wore off—hurry!
I raised Nightrend overhead; starlight rippled rapidly along the blade.
Ghar'zuth vrel'ki ghar'jun, khar'nath hul, zra'gorn khe'zar!
(A mere human blade can't harm my body!)
"Krel'nath zoth'kha, zra'nagho!"
I mounted its slimy, acid-mucus-covered back and slammed Nightrend down on its neck with everything I had.
A normal blade would've melted on contact with that slime, but I'd coated Nightrend with Water Demon-specific Freshwater Hot Pot Oil.
Sparks flew savagely, like a grinder shredding steel pipe, as Nightrend sliced through the demon's neck like market fish.
Cheers erupted from the embankment.