First Encounter (1)

'Why…?' Esme observed the fight, lost in thought. 'Why does it feel like the longer this battle goes on, the more we are at a disadvantage? We have Jerimoth, and there have been no casualties on our side. It shouldn't be like this. It should be our victory; there are dozens of us, and it's only one mere human. For her, it should be…' She couldn't see through the Sensory Deception, but whether it was a sixth sense or instinct she had developed over the years, she could feel that something was wrong. No matter how much she looked around, nothing seemed out of place.

Jerimoth continued to lead, spear in hand, applying pressure with his efficient thrusts, pushing back their opponent. Meanwhile, Esme, Nestor, Levia, and the rest of their comrades waited underground. Any small opening, and they would emerge aboveground, aiming their weapons and spells before retreating and repeating the process.

They were using the same battle tactic they had used since they first met, a tactic they had honed throughout the years, refining it. As effective and flawless as it was, there were things that could not be erased. A defect emerged because they had all reached their threshold and hit a wall. Their formation was ineffective against those who outranked them. The gap was too wide to reach.

Their opponent wasn't C-Rank or higher; she was D-Rank and at a lower level than them. She hadn't even reached mid-D rank yet.

'She should be easy to deal with; we don't need this many.'

It was a thought that briefly entertained her mind before she dismissed it. Her instincts told her to run, but she ignored them; Jerimoth was alive. Her companions were alive. There's no reason to run. It's only a matter of time before she falls; it has been the case for every enemy they have faced. Their numbers were superior.

The confidence and pride she felt in their battle tactic—her comrades, no, her close friends—outweighed the ominous feelings. Her unwavering determination fueled this foolish confidence.

The confidence and pride she held in their battle tactic—her comrades, no, her close friends—outweighed the ominous feelings. Her determined senses fueled this foolish confidence.

And when the ideal world she saw was shattered, a sharp blade cleaved through her unguarded neck, filling her mind with despair. 'Is this why I felt that way? Our enemy was something we couldn't defeat. Monster… she's a true mons…ter.' Her head was severed from her body. In a matter of minutes, her vision dimmed and turned black.

[Esme, Half Demon (Lv. 15)—Defeated!]

[+75 exp]

[1430/1400 EXP]

[Lvl. 14 -> 15]

[30/1500 EXP]

Lilith stood alone at the center of the Fiend's scattered corpses. Wiping the blood splashed onto her cheek, she observed her surroundings. Not a single foe, whether mage or assassin, remained alive.

'I should move quickly. There are bound to be other Fiends attracted to this battle. What about the corpses?'

[Don't bother. The fiends are more similar to demons than to humans. Devouring them won't yield much eldritch energy, and you won't acquire any unique skills from them.] Ayin said. [It's best to leave them here and have someone else take them.]

'That's settled, then.' After agreeing to Ayin's suggestion, Lilith swiftly left Durham's Gang's territory, carrying her bloodied daggers.

****

Boom~

Damon kicked off the ground, propelled by a burst of air beneath his feet. In the blink of an eye, roots controlled by a nearby fiend struck the place where he stood. It seemed like the land around the Fiend was trying to attack Damon.

'Damn it. So annoying.' Damon scowled as he saw that instead of closing in on his adversary, he was constantly being pushed back. 'The wind element alone isn't sufficient.'

As he had mastered his wind element to the best of his ability, reaching its peak strength for his rank, he had expected it to be powerful enough to defeat opponents at his level. However, that was not the case in this situation. His sword couldn't slice through all the roots. Even with his wind sword, the sharpest wind skill in his arsenal, he could only slice through a few roots at a time.

If he had been given more time to adjust to being a C-ranker, the outcome might have been different. His physical abilities would have been greater than before, and his skills would have been further honed to the level of a C-ranker. Before he could react, hunters from the leading guilds arrived, followed shortly by the Fiends. He couldn't master his wind manipulation to the level he had hoped for, but he also possessed the element of fire.

'I haven't integrated it into my wind yet.'

Even though the contrast between merging his two elements and keeping them separate was significant, with one dominating the other in every aspect, it still worked out in Damon's favor. He didn't have the time to merge them, but he did have the time to adapt to using both elements simultaneously to some extent.

"Can't you see how this battle will end? I've repeatedly pushed you away, and you still don't seem to understand. Let me kill you, so I can move on." The Fiend arrogantly mocked.

With a faint chuckle at the Fiend's remark, Damon raised the sword in his hands, a violent firestorm surrounding his blade. Before the roots could strike him, he swung his sword.

Thud~!

The ground shook. The firestorm crashed into its surroundings, destroying everything in its path. Fiery winds surged ahead, incinerating the roots that obstructed Damon's path.

"Argh!"

Bearing the full force of the firestorm, the Fiend roared in pain as the flames and intense wind tore his arm from his body. He couldn't feel anything in his right shoulder. The firestorm struck from above, slicing his arm and cauterizing the remaining stump. If it hadn't been for the roots moving his body out of the way in time, he would have been annihilated.

"You son of a bitch." As he roared, he summoned more of his eldritch energy. Roots, the color of charcoal, wrapped around his entire body.

The fiend's offense was formidable, as each individual root was capable of launching its own unpredictable attack. However, as he possessed the wood element, its true strength did not lie in offense; instead, it lay in its strong defense and versatility. This particular skill he cast utilized the defense of his element to protect him, enveloping his body in a dense layer of roots. Its versatility also enabled him to assail his opponent with the roots, leveraging control of the terrain to make his attacks more unpredictable.

'What a tricky opponent.' Damon thought as he sidestepped and slashed his sword, still coated in flames.

The roots surrounding the Fiend were sliced apart. But unlike the previous firestorm, his attack was too superficial. The roots had been cut, but they were not deep. The roots need to be regenerated, and the damage will be repaired.

'It's different.' Damon's suspicions were confirmed.

Crack~

From the ground below, roots surged upward, taking the form of a large jaw filled with teeth, and attempted to swallow Damon. As he pondered a strategy to penetrate the Fiend's defense, a smile appeared on Damon's face. Was he able to dodge the attack?

'Do I even need to?'

When the teeth were about to swallow him, he sprang into action.

'Blast.' Damon chanted silently as his eyes remained fixed on the Fiend in front of him. His skill blasted away the roots, attacking him with a gust of air while also obscuring the Fiend's vision.

'Fire burst.' He then used his next skill.

The burst of fire he had focused beneath his feet propelled Damon off the ground, and his figure flickered, only to reappear directly behind the Fiend. He thrust his sword forward as the flames covering his sword surged with even greater intensity than before.

Damon didn't need slashing or cutting power to reach the Fiend; he needed piercing power, which could bypass its defense. Instead of the flames covering the entire blade, he decided it would be best to concentrate on a single point: the tip of the blade.

"Argh!"

The scorching sword pierced through the layer of roots, striking the heart of the Fiend. His eyes slowly lost their spark as blood trickled down from his lips. The roots that had wrapped around him dissipated as the caster was no longer able to channel eldritch energy into them, having died.

"For a piece of shit, you lasted long." Damon spat in anger as he glared at the Fiend's corpse. Then he raised his sword slightly, deflecting a projectile aimed at his head.

"Who might you be?" Damon turned his head toward a young woman wearing a black robe that obscured her face. The woman was Lilith.