Strange Grief Wants to Retire ~ The Weakest Hunter Dreams of a Hero ~ - Volume 2 - Chapter 4.3

Sven Anger snapped his head up at the faint sound coming from the woods.

“A whistle!”

As a master sniper, Sven possessed senses more reliable than most hunters. But even he wouldn’t have heard the alarm had he not been on guard out of apprehension for the current situation.

“Really?” asked Henrik in disbelief.

With his bow in hand, Sven rose to his feet. His movements drew the attention of the other resting parties.

“Everyone on guard!” he called out loudly. “Recall everyone in the vault. Now! One whistle! One!” One short whistle signified an emergency.

The hunters immediately leaped into action, taking their cue from Sven.

From his experience surviving countless life-or-death predicaments, Sven knew a split-second decision could make the difference between life and death in situations like this.

Talia held on tight to the slime-killer, bracing herself for what was to come.

“Hey, is Gein back yet?!” asked Sven.

“N-Not yet!” answered one of his party mates, pale in the face. Gein was the only one unaccounted for at the moment.

Sven bit his lips. I shouldn’t have let him go alone. What has happened to him?

Then he heard a peculiar howl reminiscent of—yet unmistakably distinct from—a wolf knight’s. No one but Sven had heard the whistle, but the howl was close enough for all hunters to hear.

Finally, thought Sven.

Now that the search through the treasure vault was mostly complete, many hunters were ready at the base. With their number, they should be able to handle whatever was in the woods.

Soon the earth rumbled, and they could hear trees falling in the woods.

“We’re sending a scouting party,” said Sven. “We’re rescuing Gein!” Their personal conflicts aside, Gein was still an ally on the same job.

At Sven’s call, the scouts of each party approached him. But just as Sven was about to give directions, Gein emerged from the woods. Dread had drained the color from his face, his eyes wide and red. Blood flowed freely from the right hand he clutched in his left.

The Thief from Gein’s party ran towards him.

Sven wondered what could’ve happened in the quarter hour or so since Gein had gone into the woods.

“It’s an abomination!” shouted Gein hoarsely. “A slime! The Thousand Tricks was right!”

Just as he’d spoken, the trees imploded behind him. And with it, the ground shook again. From the opening, a creature nothing short of an abomination emerged.

“What...is that?” muttered Marietta, dumbfounded. “Is that...a slime?”

Even the members of Obsidian Cross had never encountered an enemy like this. The abomination was a blob of flesh, spotted in black and white. It stood taller than Sven; its exoskeleton was melted in sludge. While its outline still resembled something with four limbs, it was clumsily dragging its feet along the ground to move. Its crimson eyes, brightly shining through the goo, were the only sign of its sentience. In any case, the thing was pursuing Gein like a tidal wave of oozing flesh with no regard for the trees and underbrush in its path. It wasn’t difficult for the hunters to imagine their fate should the thing catch them.

That’s a slime?! Sven couldn’t help but take another deliberate look at the blob.

If he were to describe it, the description might have resembled that of a slime, but then the approaching blob was far too heinous-looking to be called one. The phrase “counterfeit life-form” came to Sven’s mind immediately for whatever reason. He could hardly believe that the Thousand Tricks had described this abomination as a “slime.”

“It’s...melting?” said Talia, taking a step back in horror.

Its unexpected foulness halted Gein’s party mates in their tracks on the way to rescue him and froze the Magi in place, who had their staffs poised to attack.

Sven drew his bow and called out to his allies, “Don’t stop! It moves slowly! Magi, get ready to blast it!”

Immediately, he aimed his bow at the thing. He’d practiced this very motion tens of thousands of times. Calculating distances to enemies and their rate of movement had become almost second nature for him by now, and there was no reason for him to miss a shot a mere thirty meters or so away.

Sven loosed his pitch-black arrow, and it tore through the air. The arrow shot past the Thief running up to Gein, past the faltering Gein himself, and crashed into the “slime’s” foot. As if being shot from a cannon, the impact blew its feet up, causing the vile creature to topple over.

Falling over, the oozing blob hit a nearby tree, and the trunk broke as if a giant pair of hands had torn it apart by force. Sven observed the mysterious effect—neither a physical nor magical strike—with astonishment.

Bubbles rose to the top of the blob of flesh and blood, and the faux slime rose again like nothing had happened.

Then the Magi unleashed their spells upon it in unison. At once, the faux slime was bombarded with high-speed bullets of water, unseen blades of wind, arrows of compressed light, and great balls of fire. The resulting cacophony of massive dust clouds filled the air after the impact.

Sven turned his attention to Gein, who was now being led towards him with the assistance of the Thief from his party. Gein’s expression was devoid of color and twisted in horror; his dirt-soiled armor plate rose up and down to his heavy breathing. What drew Sven’s attention, however, was Gein’s right arm, torn around the elbow.

“Henrik! Healing! Now!” he shouted.

“Right!” answered Henrik.

Gein’s arm hadn’t been cut. It looked like it had been twisted off with brute force. It wasn’t a fatal wound, but the blood loss would be unless they stemmed it soon. Swiftly, Henrik approached Gein and began casting a healing spell on the wound.

“What happened?!” demanded Sven.

Gein was panting. “Magi... They injected...the wolf knight... Slime... The Thousand Tricks...was right!”

A pale-green light emanated from Henrik’s palm, and it seeped into the gruesome wound. With that, the bleeding stopped, and Gein’s wound closed itself. Some life returned to his expression, indicating that his pain must have subsided considerably.

Henrik bit his lip and said, “Sven...! I can’t grow back his arm—”

“Do what you can! We’ll find his arm and put it back later!” said Sven.

No one else from Obsidian Cross attempted to regrow Gein’s limb. Henrik was their best Cleric; if even he’d failed, there’d be no point for the other members to try anyway. Though it wasn’t hopeless—the best Clerics of the treasure-hunting world could regrow limbs. But now wasn’t the time to seek one out. In any case, Gein was out of commission—how could a Swordsman carry on without his dominant arm?

“Fall back!” shouted Sven, and Gein leaped back, holding his upper right arm.

Sven had plenty of questions on his mind, but they’d have to make it out of here alive first before he could ask any of them.

As the dust cloud settled, an ear-piercing howl shook the woods.

One of the Magi who had been blasting the creature stood with his mouth agape. “It can’t be...! All that magic, and it didn’t leave even a scratch?”

In fact, the faux slime had not so much as budged. The bombardment of spells hadn’t left a single mark, leaving the surface of the blob as reflective as it ever was.

None of the hunters dared to move. They were an army of frogs caught in a serpent’s stare.

The Thousand Tricks originally planned to send the best hunter in the clan to deal with this thing. The thought popped up in Sven’s mind, but he quickly shook it out of his head.

Pulling his bow tight, Sven shouted, “It has to be scathed somehow! Stay strong! Keep your distance and nail it from afar! And, Krai, how in the world is this thing a slime?!”

On his command, a rainbow of magic spells assaulted the faux slime. Adaptability was a key quality of hunters, and they were quickly adapting to the situation on hand: double the number of spells fired in the first round struck the blob from head to toe. An assault like this would’ve annihilated any other phantom in the vault, including the white wolf knight. Yet without showing so much as an inkling of dodging, the faux slime instead just shrieked where it stood. Slimes were supposed to be weak to all attacks, especially magic, and this onslaught should’ve obliterated any slime, faux or otherwise.

Another dust cloud rose and concealed the massive creature. And without waiting to confirm the outcome, another volley of magic was fired into the cloud. An explosion of light singed the air and sent a shock wave that Sven, ten meters away, had to brace against. After what seemed like an overkill of magic assault, silence returned to the area.

“Hey, Gein,” called Sven, “did you say ‘wolf knight’ earlier?”

On the ground, Gein answered shakily, “Th-That’s right! That thing was a wolf knight! Those weirdos shot up the thing, and it started to...melt... Dammit!”

From the fading dust cloud emerged a towering and lopsided silhouette. The faux slime was still unharmed after taking the full force of the Magi, who’d been so sure of their victory. Now, their faces twisted in disbelief.

Marietta was no exception. And she said in disbelief, “No way... That should’ve eliminated any...wolf knight easy...”

What is that thing...? Sven shuddered.

Through his years in First Steps, Sven had gone through more Thousand Trials than he cared to remember, but still, he’d never seen anything as abhorrent as this. While the First Steps members had at least some experience with unexpected “Trials” like this, hunters from other clans, who were less experienced so, fell back in trepidation.

It has a high tolerance for magic...somehow? speculated Sven. This is bad. We’re already losing the battle before the thing has done anything.

Trembling, Gein extended his half arm towards the faux slime. “Look out! Don’t touch that thing! It’s...too strong! I’ve no idea what happened! I cut him! I did! Then my arm—the thing didn’t even touch me!”

There was an inhale. Then there was a gust of wind. Sven had fired an arrow, faster than anyone else could even follow with their eyes. Like a laser beam, the black arrow found the head of the faux slime. It was a shot only a true master of archery could’ve pulled off.

Henrik, who’d receded a few steps, was now sure of their victory. He’d seen Sven pierce dragon scale with his arrows. That squishy-looking slime—or whatever it was—didn’t stand a chance.

But just as the arrow was about to pierce the blob’s head—it ricocheted. Maintaining its momentum, the arrow reduced a tree a few meters away into a heap of kindling.

While the rest of the hunters stared in disbelief at the impossible outcome, Sven swiftly nocked his next arrow.

There’s no such thing as impossible, he reminded himself.

Sven had used to have absolute confidence in his arrows, but he’d learned from experience that unimaginable forces existed in this world. At the very least, there existed a Thief who could catch—with her bare hands—a hundred arrows flying at her simultaneously. Also there was a Paladin who didn’t bat an eye after taking hits from a hundred arrows. Compared to those, his arrow bouncing off a slime seemed perfectly ordinary.

His arm muscles tightened. One black arrow after another, he fired a total of ten shots, each capable of annihilating an ordinary phantom on its own. And just like his moniker, Stormstrike, the tempest of arrows broke upon the faux slime. The hunters watched as he loosed the arrows, but they soon fell speechless—every single arrow was deflected right before it struck the faux slime, ricocheting all around the creature and tearing up grass and trees in its path. Had any human been along their trajectory, they would’ve also been torn apart.

Still, the faux slime remained undamaged.

As the hunters surrounded it, the blob held out its melting arms as if to inspect them.

“This isn’t happening,” grumbled Sven. “Physical negation? But magic didn’t work either. Did it put up some sort of barrier? No, those arrows didn’t look like they hit a barrier.” Rather than being blocked, it was more like the arrows had been forcibly parried.

Yet when it came to punching through defenses, Sven’s arrows were by far the most powerful option in the hunters’ arsenal. If neither his arrows nor the Magi’s spells could affect the thing, they were running out of options.

The faux slime bounced off the ground and propelled itself towards a section of the hunters encircling it. Screaming, those hunters in its path leaped out of its way. And as soon as they did, the faux slime struck the ground with both arms, erupting the earth on impact. Its strike was powerful enough to wound even the hunters here, who had all been already strengthened by their exposure to mana material.

The situation was looking worse and worse for the treasure hunters. Outnumbering the faux slime meant nothing if not even the monikered Level 6 hunter among them could leave a dent in the phantom.

“What do we do, Sven?!” asked Lyle.

“We’re not gonna run until we absolutely have to,” he answered without a second thought. “Gein told me someone was responsible for making this thing. Can’t just leave it like this.” It was a matter of hunter’s pride.

Lyle scratched his head and said, “Dammit, Krai. We might encounter ‘something like a slime’? I’ve had enough of his half-truths! I’m definitely giving him a piece of my mind when we get back.”

Sven curled his lips at the complaint. They were definitely not getting paid enough for this.

Another bounce. The faux slime had set its sights on another group of hunters. Yet for now, all they could do was buy time.

“Don’t let it come anywhere near you! It doesn’t move that fast,” commanded Sven. “If it comes for you, focus on getting out of range. Everyone else, slow it down! Every creature has a weakness, and we’re gonna find this one’s!”

Now he was grateful that Eva had vigilantly assembled this battalion. Sven could hardly imagine how much worse their predicament would’ve been if their numbers were halved as Krai had suggested.

Sven put his focus on impeding the creature’s movements. While all attacks so far had been deflected, the faux slime walked on its legs, and attacking them slowed down the thing for split seconds. Apparently, it couldn’t move very precisely nor react sharply to attacks. As invincible as it seemed, the faux slime didn’t seem to have much of a brain.

Sven turned to the others and encouraged them. “Its attack pattern is simple! It attacks those nearest to it. And it only tackles and swipes. This thing’s so slow that it’ll make you yawn. Stay in the game!”

With that, the hunters turned to the offense again. Countless spells were fired to slow the phantom, and the barrage of attack rammed into its mysterious barrier.

The faux slime might’ve posed a greater threat if it had enough brains to focus on attacking a single target rather than just whoever happened to be nearby. But even so, the hunters’ situation wasn’t improving: Magi couldn’t fire spells forever, and they couldn’t keep dodging forever either. If a hunter ran out of mana or stamina, they were out of the game. But phantoms were simply built differently from mere humans, so the longer the battle went, the worse off the hunters were.

As before, all of their attacks were deflected off the blob’s surface. But the hunters still had an ace up their sleeve—Talia’s slime-killer. Sven cast a glance at Talia at the outermost edge of the battalion; she seemed on the verge of fainting.

Sweat trickled down Sven’s face. One shot. That’s all we get, thought Sven. If the creature deflected the slime-killing potion, they were doomed. We have to be careful about this.

Meanwhile, he could see weariness creeping into his allies’ expressions. While they were still dodging the faux slime’s attacks at the moment, people could start getting hurt if the battle dragged out any longer.

Sven had made his decision. He’d worked out the faux slime’s attack pattern. His plan was risky but doable.

Krai had initially requested Ark Rodin for this job. Sven knew he wasn’t as skilled as the Argent Thunderstorm; nevertheless, he took pride in his work and his moniker.

Physically, he wasn’t exhausted yet. Besides, his allies were risking their lives every time the faux slime attacked.

“Give me the potion, Talia,” he said. “I’ll do it.”

“O-Okay!”

Talia faltered over to Sven and handed him the vial containing the dark-colored liquid. It was so frail that one impact would easily break the vial.

“If you can pour the solution onto it, the slime should self-destruct starting from the point of contact...it should,” explained Talia.

“Everyone, listen up! Get that piece of turd over here!”

Sven bolted. He’d seen the faux slime move enough times to know how and how fast it moved.

As he rapidly closed in, the creature switched its target from a hunter it’d been chasing to Sven.

For an instant, their eyes met. Engraved into the noseless, mouthless, melting face was a pair of eyes that still shone.

As if stooping, the massive blob compressed itself towards the ground.

Sven smirked.

Insanely freakish as the faux slime was, the thing didn’t recognize the hunters as foes but only as preys—it had no sense of danger. Sven would exploit its monotonous and unintelligent movement pattern to his advantage.

Once the faux slime could shrink no longer, it leaped into the air like an unleashed spring. But this time it sprang much faster than it had the entire time. While the other hunters watched with bated breath, Sven scoffed at the slime flying at him, rapidly eclipsing his vision of the sky.

Sven had expected as much; he knew it wouldn’t be as simple as throwing and hitting the slime to begin with. The thing had deflected arrows, spells, and even a rock he’d gently thrown at it. The same would naturally happen to a glass vial thrown its way. So Sven had a simple solution.

“You think we can’t handle this, Thousand Tricks?” he snarled.

The faux slime moved faster, but only faster than how slow it had been moving. Compared to the phantoms Obsidian Cross usually faced, the faux slime still moved at a snail’s pace.

As the faux slime came falling from the sky above, Sven crouched and moved as if he was gliding along the ground. The melted limbs failed to capture Sven, and it landed on the ground—right on top of the slime-killer he’d left behind as he dodged the faux slime.

Crack.

Indeed its barrier was powerful, but it wasn’t infallible either; it couldn’t protect its user from everything. Even Safety Rings, which were famous for their powerful barriers, could be circumvented by a skillful opponent. Having crushed the vial of slime-killer underneath it, the faux slime froze on the spot for a moment.

“Drop dead!” said Sven.

Every hunter there watched the blob with bated breath as it extended its arm towards Sven, who dodged it with plenty of time to spare. Then, the creature began moving again as if nothing had happened at all. Despite still molten, it was clearly moving more smoothly than it had been when it first appeared.

With quivering lips, Talia crumbled to the ground in despair.

Sven stomped the ground and shouted into the night air, “Dammit! Dammit! Dammit! I knew it wasn’t a slime!”

He had almost expected this after his years of experience in dealing with Krai. Obviously, this creature looked distinct from a slime, and Gein’s testimony backed that up as well.

Lyle, who’d sought Krai’s advice before they departed, recalled with horror, “N-Now that I think about it...Krai said it would be something like a slime—”

“I have enough of that bastard!” cried Sven. “Doesn’t he know the importance of giving accurate information?! We’re not Grievers who can plow through every threat with brute force! How many times does he have to almost kill us?!”

Lighter on its feet than before, the faux slime launched itself at Sven, who managed to move out of the way at the last second. He heard a wet impact on the ground behind him. The tension had made him break out in cold sweat.

“What the hell are we supposed to do with this?! This is on you, Krai! Fuck you!” continued Sven.

“K-Krai said we could handle it with half the hunters we have now...” added Lyle.

Deftly avoiding the faux slime, Sven continued shouting, “I’ve had enough of his crap! I’m gonna kill him! He can get down here and take care of it himself!”

The Magi hurriedly resumed attacking, halting the creature for a moment with the blast of their spells so Sven could keep his distance from it. Some of those spells were advanced enough to vaporize several phantoms in one shot, yet they still had no effect on the faux slime. In fact, while the hunters were growing weary, the thing even seemed like it was moving faster and faster.

Sven couldn’t see a way out. His quiver was nearly empty too.

Then one of the First Steps hunters called out to him, “Sven, we can’t hold anymore! We have to retreat!”

What’s the correct call? contemplated Sven. They could easily run from the faux slime, but that would mean they would fail their quest. And if we leave this abomination here, won’t it wreak havoc? Sven frantically weighed his options as the faux slime sped up further.

Then, a jarringly calm voice rang through the area. “That’s a mana barrier,” said the voice as if giving an academic lecture.

Immediately, the hunters settled down from their frantic disorder at the sound of the voice. Contrary to Sven’s call to battle, this voice brought about tranquility to the group. Part of the battalion parted to reveal the speaker as she leisurely strolled down the battlefield.

She wore a yellow-green robe, a large potion pouch on her waist, and a large backpack. Her vibrant pink hair blew in the wind. Time stood still. All hunters—and even the faux slime—froze where they stood as they beheld the intruder.

Once her glimmering pink eyes found Sven, she gave him a smile.

“Sitri...? What are you doing here?!” asked Sven.

It was Sitri Smart, the Level 2 Alchemist of Grieving Souls.

Innocently, Sitri put a finger on her lip in contemplation, displaying incredible fortitude without even batting an eye at the abomination that stood a short distance away.

Talia, a fellow Alchemist, stared at the girl in disbelief. Sitri wasn’t supposed to be in the capital at the moment.

“Krai decided it was about time I took over the operation from him. I didn’t want to intrude, but I couldn’t very well just stand by and watch... I’m the best fit for this job. I believe I know what we’re dealing with here.”

Her easy tone sent a shiver down Sven’s spine.

Geniuses were often on a different plane than the rest of the world. But it was rare even among the eccentric population of treasure hunters to encounter someone as fatally deviant as Sitri was.

Sitri’s supposed to be away from the capital, thought Sven. Was he waiting for her return?

The other First Steps members looked just as confused as Sven at her sudden appearance.

“Mana barrier...?!” asked Sven.

“Yes. I’m sure you know what it is: a barrier used by extremely powerful Magi and mythical beasts. It’s often considered a sign of extraordinary strength,” answered Sitri.

Sven was aware of it. Mana barriers were utilized by creatures with exorbitant mana within them. By expelling mana from their entire body, users deflected any attacks against them—simple yet powerful. On the other hand, it was a show of brute magical force rather than a skill, as expending mana without channeling it into spells was extremely inefficient. Even the best of Magi could only maintain a mana barrier for a very short time.

Hearing that, Marietta let out a quiet exclamation of astonishment.

Observing the wobbling faux slime, Sitri continued matter-of-factly, “An excessive pool of mana circulates around this creature, creating a sort of vortex that deflects your arrows and any spell cast against it. You won’t find a phantom with this much mana even in a Level 8 treasure vault. Very curious, indeed. It’s no wonder none of you realized what it was.”

Suddenly, the faux slime charged at Sitri as if it’d snapped out of a trance. This time, it was homing in on Sitri, ignoring nearby hunters.

“A phantom with this much mana couldn’t have materialized in this vault,” noted Sitri. “And it’s...dissolving? Mana material, which composes phantoms, is said to be the source of mana. It’s an outlandish theory, but this can be explained if the phantom’s mana material is being forcibly converted into mana.”

No other hunter here would’ve arrived at that conclusion; it was said an Alchemist’s weapon was their knowledge.

Sven recalled hearing how Sitri handled all the analysis of the treasure vaults that Grieving Souls ventured into. But regardless, there was no point in understanding the mechanism if they couldn’t overcome it. Mana barriers were notoriously difficult to overcome because of their simplicity.

Sitri took a few steps to avoid the faux slime at the last second. Despite being charged by a creature much larger than her, she maintained her calm expression and analysis. Observing the creature’s melting frame, Sitri walked in a circle around the thing as it followed her with its eyes.

“Most of its organs have dissolved. What’s left is its instinct... Is it trying to recover its dissolved structure by taking in mana material? Are you coming after me because I have the most mana material out of everyone here? Poor thing... Even if you absorb me, you won’t heal. This is a failed experiment.”

“Get back, Sitri! You’re not safe there!” called Sven. The Alchemist was physically the weakest class of them all.

“We need an attack, physical or magical, powerful enough to break through the mana barrier, or to simply wait until so much of its structure is converted to mana that it can’t sustain its shape...” Sitri turned her head. “Thank you for your concern, Sven. Oh, I know! Why don’t we use this?”

With that, Sitri produced a gray metal rod about a foot in length. The faux slime twisted in its track to charge at Sitri again. And without batting an eye, she threw the rod at it.

“That’s anti-mana metal,” she explained as the rod spun and then sank into the faux slime with incredible ease. The creature halted as if in surprise as Sitri moved out of the way to allow the others to strike. “Take it away, Sven.”

Sitri had calculated where to pin the faux slime down. Sven could see the thing clearly with the anti-mana metal rod sticking out of its head. With the exhaustion already melted from his body, he fired an arrow in a single breath.

The black arrow flew true to the rod—an all too easy target for Sven—and shattered it on impact, obliterating the faux slime’s head with it. And with that, the faux slime vanished into thin air as if it had always been an illusion.

Considering all the trouble the hunters had gone through, this almost seemed too easy; everyone watched in silence.

For the first time since her arrival, Sitri showed emotion. She sighed in relief. “You’re all right... I’m glad I made it in time.”

“What...just happened?” muttered one of the hunters in disbelief.

Sitri had independently identified the enemy’s weakness from the limited information and even solved the problem. While she hadn’t technically delivered the finishing blow, Sitri’s movements had been perfectly precise throughout.

Then, a carriage emerged from the woods. It was a carriage just as ornate as the ones used by First Steps. From within it, a figure climbed out.

“Is it finished, Sitri?”

Sven’s eyes widened. “Branch Manager Gark?! Why are you here? Dressed like that no less?”

“He gave me a ride,” said Sitri. “I’m not as good a runner as my sister.”

His appearance stirred up the hunters. Gark had forgone his usual Association uniform for a set of polished deep-red armor. In one arm, he carried a horned helmet matching the rest of his armor, and in another, his halberd. Given Gark’s physique, his supposed retirement from the front lines didn’t sound quite convincing.

Following behind him, two scrawny men adorned with Vault Investigation Bureau uniforms timidly came out of the carriage.

“I’ve already explained this to Gark,” said Sitri, turning to Sven, “but I shall go over it with you again. I’m confident in my grasp of the situation here and can identify the people responsible for this.”

***

Having watched the entire exchange from his distant hideout through his surveillance system, Noctus was shaken.

“Who...is that?! She has the ability to destroy a transmogrified phantom with such ease? She must be the enemy Sophia has spoken of!”

The transmogrification serum was created by accident during an experiment. An accident it may be, a solution that forcibly converted mana material had incredible potential to produce results startlingly close to Noctus’s main objective. While he hadn’t thoroughly tested the serum, Noctus had observed that phantoms injected with the serum would turn into self-decaying monstrosities that frantically search for more mana material. Consequently, the mana produced by the continuous conversion of mana material formed a natural barrier around the creature that protected it from all attacks. And this defensive power alone was enough to make these abominations a viable pawn in Noctus’s scheme.

But Sitri had dealt with it so easily that Noctus couldn’t help but recognize her extraordinary talent.

Anti-mana metal was a unique material that negated most effects of raw mana. The relatively flimsy material was unfit for weaponry. And as it didn’t negate mana that was converted into magic spells, it was also often useless as armor. But as it happened, it was the perfect material when it came to breaking mana barriers—it was the silver bullet against transmogrified phantoms.

Noctus still had a plentiful supply of the serum, so losing the phantom wasn’t an issue intrinsically. However, he’d expected the phantom to at least deal a significant blow to the hunter battalion or even outright wipe them out, and that was what had convinced Noctus to authorize the use of the untested serum. As it turned out, however, all that monster had destroyed was just a right arm of one of the hunters. And to add insult to injury, his two apprentices in charge of the operation had been beaten.

“How could this be...? Such precision in dealing with the thing... I have underestimated the hunters.”

Noctus’s forces could easily afford to lose a phantom, but the emotional blow to the researchers was palpable.

“May I be of assistance, Professor Noctus?” asked an apprentice Noctus had stationed nearby.

“Where is Sophia?” asked Noctus.

Bitterness crept into the apprentice’s expression. “Sophia said that she was going to gather intel and test the defense system... She has yet to return.”

“She surely walks at her own pace...”

“She did leave us with her strategy,” noted the apprentice. “We shall wipe out those hunters.”

Meanwhile, the rest of Noctus’s apprentices congregated in the war room.

“Continuous deployment?! What is she thinking?!” exclaimed Flick, holding the strategy memo in his quivering hand.

They’d always been below Sophia in rank, but now they were forced by their master to follow her orders.

“She doesn’t have a strategic bone in her, clearly. The hunters have already shown they can take out a transmogrified phantom with ease! Sending them in one at a time will just ensure they’re all eliminated. We don’t have too much of the potion left either. Doesn’t she get it?! We need to...launch an all-out attack.”

“What will this accomplish...?” concurred another apprentice. “She’s just an ivory-tower researcher after all.”

Sophia was an excellent researcher, and even Flick had to admit she outperformed him in that regard. This order she’d left behind, however, was atrocious. Flick was a Magus trained in combat too; strategizing wasn’t his best talent either, but he didn’t have to be a master strategist to understand that her order was nonsensical. Meanwhile, even though Sophia had always been a thorn in Flick’s side, he had no intention of going against his master by defying her command...until he saw how clueless she was.

“Have you reached her?” asked Flick.

“No luck... We even tried her Sounding Stone, but nothing worked.”

“Dammit! Doesn’t she understand how dire our situation is?! She’s marching us straight into the pit of defeat!”

They were facing off against the Thousand Tricks and a Griever in the field.

How can we win if our useless commander isn’t even here to assess our situation? thought Flick. Even the best of fighters were useless under inept command.

“Flick, the order was given before the first phantom was defeated. What’s wrong with adapting to the situation? We just have to win. Even if the phantoms can’t wipe out the hunters, we still have more weapons in our arsenal to do the job.”

Flick frowned at the suggestion. He weighed his options, considering his master’s order, their current situation, and Sophia’s absurd command. And after a few seconds, he reached a conclusion.

“You’re right. If we continue to follow her amateur commands and lose the battle, I won’t be able to face Master out of shame. Grab all the potions we have and gather up the phantoms we’ve captured. We’re going to annihilate those hunters once and for all!”