“ROAR!!!”
A furious beastly roar, saturated with warning, suddenly erupted. The high, loud volume nearly formed visible sound waves in the air, causing the surrounding shrubs and leaves to rustle violently.
A massive body nearly three meters tall rose onto its hind legs; the distorted shadow it cast upon the ground was enough to envelop an adult human. It was like a mountain draped in fur—thick, brownish-tan pelt stained with solidified resin and dried leaf debris, stretched tight over the firm muscles and heavy fat beneath. Beneath the pungent, stinging body odor was a wild scent of earth, beast, and pure power.
The muscles of its shoulders bulged high, and one could clearly see the undulating expansion beneath, accumulating a majestic force capable of snapping steel—like a set of pauldrons made of flesh and fur. Its snout protruded forward, the nose wide and moist, black as leather, while yellowed canines reflected a lethal, dim light amidst the roar surging from deep within its throat.
This was an adult woodland brown bear!
After billions of years of natural evolution, every aspect of its carnivorous anatomy served the purpose of survival, making it the apex predator among the ordinary creatures of the forest.
In an ordinary world devoid of supernatural powers, it could be said that such a creature had no natural enemies. As long as it reached adulthood, the only things that could cause its death—aside from old age—would be rare natural disasters like forest fires or floods, or accidents such as disease or falls.
Every other creature was on its "menu."
Even on the continent of Aphala, this large creature, grown under the catalysis of magical particles in the air, possessed a Challenge Rating as high as "1."
In a state of rage, even a Bugbear without a proper weapon would be no match for it.
Under normal circumstances, unless it was related to a quest objective, ordinary adventurers rarely provoked such a troublesome creature.
But right now, its opponent was clearly not an "ordinary" adventurer party in the conventional sense.
“Roar!”
Warm currents of air, carrying thick and foul-smelling saliva, sprayed from between its sharp teeth. A thick, leathery forelimb, knotted with muscle, slammed down violently!
Scythe-like black claws flickered in and out of sight within the rough, thick paw pads, radiating a dangerous aura. The air let out a shrill wail under the pressure of the powerful force.
There was no doubt that even a glancing blow from this paw would be enough to crush an adult human's head or leave a deep indentation in a thick iron plate.
*Bang—*
It was the dull thud of flesh and blood colliding with metal.
The brown bear had put almost its entire body weight into this all-out strike, and the blow landed squarely.
However, there was none of the expected sound of breaking bones or shredding flesh.
A metal round shield, engraved with special sigils on its surface, remained motionless, firmly weathering a blow that could have toppled a great tree.
All the force seemed to vanish like a stone sinking into the ocean. One could only faintly see the shaking braids adorned with obsidian hanging in front of the shield, and the short, thick legs sunk deep into the mud like boulders.
An unprecedented feeling of powerlessness caused the brown bear, which had grown up hunting in the dense forest relying on its own strength, to freeze for a split second.
And it was precisely in this moment of hesitation that the dangerous creature was caught.
*Buzz—*
A sharp short dagger, wrapped in a pale black shadow energy, darted out from the shadows of the bear's blind spot, stabbing lightly into the vital area of the bear's neck like a bee's sting.
A touch, and then a separation.
In the next second, a bloody hole appeared in the bear's neck, amidst the layers of fat and flesh.
“Roar!”
The intense pain and the scent of death at its nostrils drove the unlucky bear nearly mad. Its two deep-set, agate-like dark brown eyes were filled with a bloodthirsty crimson.
The massive paw resting on the iron shield stomped down violently, pushing the dwarf beneath it a few inches deeper into the ground, while its massive, plump body displayed an exaggerated explosive power.
Its waist twisted, and its foul-smelling maw opened wide, snapping toward the direction the dagger had come from.
Right at that moment, the magical particles in the air suddenly stirred at the sound of an incantation coming from deep within the nearby shrubs!
They arranged and combined in a rapid and complex manner at a microscopic level.
Suddenly, a streak of dark green, atomized cold emerged from the previously invisible and colorless air.
Entwining, condensing.
It constructed a translucent, ghostly skeletal hand made of pure mist.
Perhaps due to the caster's lack of skill, or because the quality and capacity of their mental strength were relatively average.
This ghostly green skeletal hand was extremely unstable; it was barely brushed by the bear's massive body as it lunged, and it immediately collapsed, turning into a dim stream of energy that rapidly dissolved into the air.
But that contact of less than half a second was enough to activate the effect of the necromantic cantrip known as [Chilling Touch].
The brown bear, which had been attacking its assailants in a frenzied rage, suddenly showed a human-like expression of pain on its ferocious, furry face, and its entire body froze for an instant.
It was this blink-of-an-eye stiffness that allowed the tall, lean figure who had left the terrifying wound in its neck to retreat back into the safe depths of the shadows once more.
The agile figure, who had been circling the bear since the start of the fight waiting for an opening, finally found the chance for a lethal blow.
*Thump!*
It was the dull sound of leather boots stomping the ground, sending mud flying.
Dark gold braids swung violently behind the head, and a spirited, wheat-colored face was filled with decisiveness and killing intent.
A sharp blade flashing with cold light pierced the air. Under the effect of the combat skill called "Direct Thrust," all the body's strength was concentrated into a single point, erupting suddenly with a forward step.
*Squelch.*
Without the slightest resistance, the tip of the sword crossed the gap of space and instantly pierced the flank of the upright brown bear.
With astonishing precision, it keenly captured the location of the vital heart buried deep within the muscles and diaphragm.
Pierce.
Withdraw.
Retreat.
The brown bear, whose life had entered a countdown, roared wildly, waving its paws in vain, hoping to take an enemy with it in its final moments.
Yet every strike was firmly blocked by the metal round shield.
The force grew weaker; the roars grew faint.
Finally, with a whimper that was almost nonexistent, it crashed to the ground.
Revealing the only person who had remained standing beside the bear until the very end, having taken an unknown number of paw-slaps and covered in leaf fragments and enemy blood: a rugged dwarf.
“Pah!”
He spat on the messy ground.
Sordin reached out to wipe the mixture of blood and sweat from his cheek, struggling slightly to pull his calves—which had been hammered deep into the mud after tanking dozens of the bear's hits—out of the soil.
Panting heavily, he grumbled
“This beast had no brains, but it sure had strength. An ordinary adventurer might not have been able to hold it off.”
“Isn't that exactly why we recruited you into the party? And you're complaining?” A sarcastic voice drifted by his ear, as usual.
The tall, lean rogue, Shajin, emerged ghost-like from the shadows of the forest, holding the sharp short dagger still stained with blood.
The cold seriousness of combat had long vanished from his face, replaced by a smirk as he looked at the particularly bedraggled dwarf.
Hearing this, even though he knew the other was intentionally provoking him and that he usually lost any verbal argument, Sordin still felt a surge of indignation in his heart.
He unconsciously raised his voice
“What happened? You couldn't seize such a good opportunity?”
“I held that beast down for you, and you couldn't kill it with one sword? You needed the Captain to help finish it off?”
Seeing this, a look of triumph flashed in Shajin's eyes. He wasn't truly angry; he simply elongated his tone
“I wanted to wrap this up quickly too.”
“It's just that some people, for some reason, learn combat skills but refuse to use them, thinking they can attract all the enemy's attention on their own, without worrying at all that the beast might suddenly turn around and bite someone else.”
Sure enough, as soon as the words fell, the dwarf's face, which had been flushed with indignation, instantly twisted and stiffened. He tried to explain, but his voice grew lower and lower
“I just wanted to save some stamina... combat skills consume so much... and we still have many days of travel to the destination, I have to save some strength...”
Although he could have argued stubbornly, Sordin had indeed made a mistake during the fight. In his attempt to save stamina, he hadn't used the special combat skill that could draw enemy aggro, causing the brown bear to abandon him and lunge at his teammate after being attacked.
This made the straightforward dwarven man feel apologetic, and the anger from the mockery vanished without a trace.
Unexpectedly, facing this perfect opportunity where the dwarf would not talk back no matter how much he was scolded or mocked, the rogue Shajin suddenly changed the subject. He stopped discussing the dwarf's mistake and instead complained that the party's mage's casting animation was too slow, nearly getting himself bitten by the bear.
Having cooperated for years and survived countless life-and-death crises together, the two were intimately familiar with each other.
Shajin knew exactly where the dwarf's pain points and boundaries were; a few words could get him riled up, but Shajin would never truly cross that line. He knew when to "press the advantage" and when to shut up.
Sordin also knew that those annoying words were just a result of the other's personality. They might be irritating or embarrassing, but there wasn't much malice behind them; Shajin simply enjoyed the pleasure of winning a verbal skirmish. During missions, he still maintained the professionalism expected of a class professional.
*Tap, tap.*
Captain Margaret walked out from the nearby bushes, wiping her longsword.
Following closely behind her was the party's only caster, Joshua.
At the moment, this novice mage, who had only recently joined the party and possessed an exceptionally youthful face, was noticeably more nervous than he had been in Rivervalley Town.
While gripping his staff tightly with both hands, his pale, bloodless face shifted uneasily from side to side, as if worried that another monster would pop out from somewhere.
Seeing this, and noticing that the other's stress was at its limit, Shajin stopped his complaining. He subconsciously frowned and looked toward the Captain in front of the mage.
Understanding his meaning, and with Joshua standing right behind her, Margaret didn't say much. She simply gave the rogue a barely perceptible nod, signaling him not to worry.
She then clapped her hands and looked at the bear's carcass, calling out to the group
“Don't waste time. Quickly strip the useful materials that are easy to carry and can be sold for money.”
“We are approaching the core area of the forest. The scent of blood here will likely attract trouble soon.”
“Ten minutes.”
“When time is up, regardless of how much is left, we must evacuate immediately.”
Margaret, Shajin, and Sordin were all experienced adventurers with a certain professional level. Having spent years in Rivervalley Town, doing missions in the Mist Forest was like going home to them.
Moreover, having worked together for years, their coordination was seamless; they knew each other's personalities and ways of handling things. Their relationship had long surpassed that of ordinary friends.
In contrast, the mage Joshua was a true newcomer who had only joined the party a short while ago.
And his professional level was far below the party's average.
Joshua was a Level 1 mage who had just ceased being an apprentice.
Under normal circumstances, for a late-game class like a mage, at such a low level—unless they were "wild" casters who had accidentally obtained meditation methods and possessed the aptitude but lacked resources—they would likely want to stay huddled in a laboratory twenty-four hours a day until Level 5, and would never rashly venture out on an adventure.
Given the nervous manner Joshua displayed in the forest, he certainly wasn't one of those wild mages who were more dangerous and desperate than professional casters of the same level.
As for why he was at this level and had left home to take missions and earn gold as an adventurer...
Actually, one only needs to know two points to fill in the blanks.
1. He hails from Neum. 2. His family are fallen nobles whose title was stripped.
It was a very cliché yet realistic story—a classic tale that anyone who had heard a few melodramatic plots from bards could guess.
Yes, exactly what you're thinking.
And it was precisely because of this that "Oath-Bound Blackwood," an obscure and ordinary adventurer party, had managed to acquire a rare and precious caster teammate through a chance encounter in Neum City a while back.
His professional level was a bit low, but he was still a legitimate Level 1 mage who mastered several cantrips and first-circle auxiliary spells.
He could be extremely useful during a mission.
Looking solely at the fight with the brown bear, although Shajin complained that Joshua's casting wind-up was too sluggish and nearly got him hurt, it was precisely that barely-released [Chilling Touch] that caused the woodland brown bear to enter a brief state of stiffness, creating the opportunity for Margaret, who was attacking from the side, to kill it in one blow.
Alone, he might die faster than an ordinary low-level adventurer; but with the protection of professional-level teammates, the role he could play was staggering.
Now, having just returned to town from Neum, he hadn't even spent many nights in the tavern, nor had he used the opportunity of boasting and chatting to inquire about the latest news circulating in town.
The veterans of the party thought they would find some investigation missions with low combat requirements to help them blend in and find their rhythm during the journey.
“You sit there and rest for a bit.” Seeing how nervous he was, Margaret patted Joshua on the shoulder and pointed to a nearby open area with a decent view.
“Okay, Ms. Margaret.”
Nodding obediently, the mage, pale-faced and stumbling, stepped forward and sat on a fallen tree trunk.
Watching his two teammates efficiently stripping materials from the bear's carcass (while Shajin kept watch), he felt he wasn't helping much and felt a faint sense of guilt.
He took the map from his chest and carefully studied the route that had been planned before their departure.
Their goal was the nest of a deceased petrified lizard, located at the boundary between the outer rim and the core area of the Mist Forest.
If they were ordinary adventurers from town, they would naturally take the long way around, avoiding getting too close to the inner forest.
But as a professional-level party, they had been to the core area of the Mist Forest countless times and didn't care about such things.
They would cut straight through, merely avoiding a few dangerous monster territories along the way; they didn't need to worry about "outer rims" or "core areas."
As if seeing something, his gaze suddenly froze.
Joshua looked at the map's route, at a piece of special terrain shaped like an irregular oval that their group was about to pass through.
Rarely, as it was a necessary transit node, it had been marked with a name
—“Rotroot Mire.”
(End of Chapter)