54 The Hunt II (1/2)

Sylvie crouched atop a branch, a swarm of leaves concealing her figure. She was the image of stillness, her breath halted, her muscles frozen. Her light weight ever so slightly bent the branch beneath her feet.

Beneath her, Azhar stood, back pressed against the trunk of the tree, his hands hovering above his head, towards his bow.

Sylvie and Azhar were positioned a good ten paces behind the clearing. In front of them, behind the trees that stood at the very edge, were Jeanne, Vahid, and Launcelot – the main vanguard. Right behind the vanguard were Amelie and Launcelot's trio of damage dealers.

Sylvie and Azhar stayed far back because this was where they operated best, at a distance where they could carefully note the tides of battle and scope out chances for critical strikes on vital locations. To Sylvie, this had become almost an artform, having sliced open countless monster throats.

It had come to the point where she had managed a breakthrough in power, manifesting her second specialty as a Kaishaku, an advancement of the ninja specialty that focused her abilities on seamlessly executing enemies at their weakest and most vulnerable states.

She reached under her cloak and grasped at shuriken held in a black belt pouch. It was a pain to get these specialty forged, always needing to show the blacksmith blueprints from her eastern scrolls, but without them, many of her skills didn't properly manifest. But even with her equipment fully stocked, she still hoped she had enough power to get through this hunt.

Azhar exhaled deeply, his stomach sinking as he closed his eyes. His wild, shoulder-length hair started to tremble as magical energy surged through his body, concentrating on the tattoos etched into his skin. Silhouettes of galloping horses on his left and right arms started to glow a deep ruby red as he prepared to call a spirit steed.

The magic of the hinterlanders – spiritual shamanism.

Sylvie took this as a sign to get ready. She withdrew her shuriken, each one of the metal stars wedged between her fingers. She couldn't see outside the foliage surrounding her, so she relied on Azhar to give her cues, and it was evident that he had seen that the front vanguard had given their signal to start getting ready.

A great rumble droned through the air as the Venom Wyrm yawned. The sound of claws massive and sharp cracking into stone became louder and louder, until finally, there as a heavy thud as the wyrm draped its body across the clearing to bask in the sunlight.

Sylvie shivered as she felt the foliage around her rustle. The flapping of wings – birds were taking flight, terrified of the wyrm that did not belong here. She had wondered why it had traveled so far. Its home – the mire bogs – were far, far west. Even further west than the already remote hinterlands, wedged between the hinterland plains and the furnacelands where demons spawned and prowled.

Regardless, this creature was unwelcome here. An invasive species and a danger to all. It could rot the entire ecosystem with a tantrum or, as Launcelot had noted, wreak devastating misery and suffering to countless villagers and farmers. She tightened her grip on the shuriken. She was nervous. She always was, no matter how many times she did this, but this was still her duty as an adventurer.

She only hoped she wouldn't hold back Jeanne.

A whistle pierced through the forest.

The front vanguard was mobilizing. Everything started to happen in quick order, as if precisely choreographed. The vanguard would be engaging the wyrm at any moment now. Sylvie glanced below as Azhar unslung his bow and leaped in the air as particles of red scattered underneath him, condensing into a horse the shade of ruby. It glimmered like the jewel too, the individual particles sparkling and hazy, spiritual at their core.

\”On me!\” said Sylvie as she pushed off the tree branch, silently gliding into the next tree, and then the next, until she was at the very last ring of trees before the clearing, where she had a clear line of sight towards the battle. She could hear the clopping of Azhar's spirit steed following close behind her, giving her support.

Sylvie peered from through a few stray leaves at the ongoing fight.

Vahid roared as he barreled forwards, the tattoo of a bull at his back glowing with cerulean might.

The wyrm, still sluggish, tried to stand on its four legs while shaking its serpentine head to throw off its sleepiness.

Vahid slammed his greatsword into one of the wyrm's front legs, cutting a nasty gash into it. A swing like that would have cleaved a man in two, but the wyrm's hardened scales and tough sinews made for a powerful armor that prevented major damage.

Still, Sylvie could see as the wyrm roared, the pain was now starting to jolt its system back into full function. She and the others had to make quick use of the wyrm's momentary lethargy to inflict as much damage as possible.

She saw as the wyrm used its undamaged front leg to swipe at Vahid. The clawed foot was almost as large as the giant hinterlander himself, no doubt able to inflict serious damage with its blade-like claws, but Vahid saw this coming and immediately ran back.

Launcelot came forwards, bearing his greatshield and slamming it on the ground. The wyrm's leg crushed into the shield with an echoing impact, driving Launcelot several feet back, but he kept his shield firmly up.

Sylvie's eyes honed in on the wound that Vahid had inflicted. Though not deep, it could certainly be made deeper, but for that, she needed a bigger opening.

\”Shoot!\” said Launcelot as he gritted his teeth and held his shield against the raging torrent of wyrm muscle and claws.

The wyrm raised its leg again while surging forwards, aiming to stomp Launcelot under its great weight where his shield would be far less effective.

But a barrage of projectiles halted it. Amelie had fired a stream of lightning while Launcelot's trio rained down explosive arrows, blades of cutting wind, and jet streams of concentrated fire.

The wyrm growled as it stumbled back from the force of the combined attack. It wasn't enough to deal serious damage through its chest, where its scales were thickest, but that was also where the center of its balance was, making it the best spot to strike to force it back.

The real damage would come from Triple Threat.

Sylvie spied the instant the wyrm struggled back, distracted by the lightshow blasting at its chest, and thrust out her hand, shooting out a salvo of five shuriken that curved into the air, their spinning bodies wreathed in shadows as they embedded into the open wound at the wyrm's leg.

She calculated that five cursed shuriken would inflict enough of a weakening status to let Azhar do his work.

\”Thanks, Sylv!\” said Azhar from directly below as he took aim from atop his steed, his arm pulling back the bowstring, the fingers tightly gripped around a nocked arrow. His muscles tensed for a second, empowered from the red eagle wing tattoos gracing his shoulder blades.

Then he loosed. The arrow blasted forwards, spirals of wind surging at its tip. Sylvie hoped that the arrow, empowered with [Snipe], would do enough damage to cripple the wyrm. After all, this was the fruit of Azhar's own training.

Before, he had been a ranger with a specialty as a beastmaster, but after growing strong alongside Sylvie, he had also developed a secondary specialty – that of a sniper meant to deal devastating damage from a distance.

The wyrm screamed as the missile-like arrow crashed into its leg, shearing apart swathes of flesh until it embedded into bone. It hobbled for a bit before it crashed into the ground, unable to support its weight anymore.

\”Reposition!\” said Sylvie as she leaped to another tree, Azhar following below, making sure that the wyrm never managed to single them out with a concentrated shot of its breath.

Like this, they were a deadly duo. Sylvie specialized in putting targets down but weakening them from a healthy condition was a different matter. For that, Azhar was perfect, his immense firepower only needing the slightest bit of guidance to truly shine. The fact that with his spirit steeds, he could keep up with Sylvie's mobility made them perfect partners for picking enemies apart without any chance for retaliation.

\”Stand ready for venom!\” said Launcelot as he waved everyone except Jeanne back.

Sylvie nodded. The wyrm was now very much awake, and now that it knew it was in danger, it would not hesitate to use the venom stored up in its throat. For that, Jeanne stood ready. She hadn't been part of the action yet, as when it came down to it, she was the only one capable of casting a barrier powerful enough to deflect something intangible like venom clouds.

Amelie, though an experienced mage, focused on destruction, specializing as an elementalist. The only barrier she could erect would be for herself. Launcelot's supports, too, had no shielding capabilities, purely relying on his immense durability to get by, but his shield could not block something like a toxic cloud.

Yet as Sylvie waited in the treetop, her eyes narrowed as she focused on the wyrm, she wondered why the wyrm did not unleash its signature venom breath.

But as smoke and dust settled around it, the wyrm opened its mouth.

\”Here it come!\” said Launcelot as he hunkered down behind his shield. All the ranged casters and even Vahid were behind him now.