--
Earlier that day, not long after Yor had fallen to Azakkin…
The raid party was fighting hard. Vines whipped through the air, crashing into shields and sweeping warriors off their feet. The ground trembled with every powerful strike, shaking the battlefield with relentless force.
Ludwig ducked under a whipping vine, slashing upward as he turned to Rywes.
"I've known him for four years!" he shouted, voice hoarse with effort. "Trust me — he's onto something!"
Rywes grunted, shooting her arrow through a tendril that had just impaled one of their tanks.
"I can't let you have half the forces," she snapped. "We've only killed one flower and slashed a few tendrils!"
Another vine shot toward them. Ludwig blocked it with a clang, boots skidding on the ground.
"The boss got weaker," Rywes continued, "but it's not harmless. You think I can spare fifty while this thing's still pulling people into the floor?"
"I swear—"
"And stop talking now and let me focus, would you?" Rywes snapped, blades flashing as she cut through another vine. "We already lost too many earlier. We just need to hold the line until they get back." She turned to Ludwig—
—and froze.
Her eyes widened.
Ludwig stood motionless in the chaos, arms open, head lifted, facing the towering vine that Azakkin reared above him. He wasn't dodging. He wasn't fighting. He was waiting.
"No!" Rywes cried out, breaking into a sprint. Her boots thudded against the ground as she weaved through lashing tendrils, eyes locked on Ludwig.
She reached out, ready to shove him aside—but the vine struck before she could even touch him.
Azakkin's massive limb came crashing down with a bone-shaking thud, slamming Ludwig into the ground and crushing him beneath its weight.
Shockwave blasted outward from the impact. Rywes barely twisted away in time, the force still knocking her off balance. She tumbled, skidded across the ground, and landed on her knees—both hands braced against the dirt, head lowered, breath shuddering. Dust and debris swirled in the aftermath.
"Idiot!" she grunted, then slammed her fist into the ground.
She slowly let herself fall backward, lying flat against the ground, eyes staring up at the hazy sky above. Her chest rose and fell with shallow breaths, the sounds of battle dull around her, distant—as if the world had pulled away for a moment and left her in silence.
Then her eyes caught something.
A thin thread of light shimmered high above Azakkin—faint, almost too easy to miss, but unmistakable once her eyes found it.
Her breath caught.
---
Meanwhile, the other half of the raid party—fifty strong and led by the orange-haired warrior—stood face to face with the nine towering guardians. Weapons were drawn, staves crackled with energy, and glowing magic circles appeared around the casters. The air felt thick and heavy. Muscles tensed. Eyes locked.
"Attack!" Ludwig shouted as loud as he could, pushing his sword forward like a bright signal. All the players ran ahead together—boots hitting the ground, swords swinging, and magic flying from their staffs as they rushed to fight the Flora Enchanter Guardians.
The air was full of shouting, metal clashing, and the hiss of fireballs flying through the air. The Flora Enchanter Guardians—huge, dark green lizardmen standing seven feet tall—charged with deep growls, bone spears gripped tight in their claws. Their heavy steps shook the ground as they rushed in, stabbing and swinging with wild strength.
Yor met one head-on, blocking a strong spear thrust with his sword. "Hold the line!" he shouted. Around him, players dodged and struck back, their blades flashing in the fight.
Ludwig dashed between two players, ducking under a swinging spear. With quick hands, he pulled a dagger from his belt, took aim, and threw it. The blade spun through the air and struck a lizardman clean in the eye. The creature roared in pain, stumbling backward as blood spilled down its face.
Behind them, players with staves raised their arms and cast fireballs. The burning spheres shot forward, slamming into the lizardmen with bursts of heat. One fireball hit a Guardian in the face, making it stumble back with a loud snarl, its scales burned and smoking.
It was an easy win—the fight ended in just 10 minutes. The nine towering guardians now lay in a massive pile, their bodies stacked one over the other. At the very top stood the orange-haired warrior, his weapon resting on his shoulder, wind blowing through his hair. He looked down at the fallen enemies, calm and proud.
"Okay, pack it up. We still have one more enemy to kill. That guy over there," Ludwig said, raising his sword toward the center of the clearing.
There, the Flora Enchanter stood with his back half-turned to them. He didn't react. Slowly, steadily, he waved his staff through the air in looping, focused patterns. A thin, thread of mana stretched from the staff's tip, reaching high above the trees—connecting to Azakkin, still battling in the distance.
"So that's what Rywes was talking about," said the orange-haired guy with freckles, stepping forward and narrowing his eyes. "She told us about a thin, faint thread above Azakkin, that the boss was being controlled remotely—like with a mana string or something."
"We also used it to follow you guys." He added.
Ludwig gave a short laugh and stepped up beside Yor, draping an arm across his shoulder without warning. "Yor thought of that first. That's why we're here."
Yor flinched slightly under the weight of the gesture, he quickly turned to Ludwig, brows drawn together.
"Ludwig... it's not a competition..." he murmured, his voice quiet.
"You've got sharp eyes. I couldn't even spot the thread when we were fighting Azakkin," said the orange-haired guy, as he stretched with a tired sigh and rested a hand on his hip. He glanced back at the trail they came from, then at Yor. "That's why I wasn't sure about jumping in as backup. If it wasn't for you, this quest would've been a hell of a lot harder."
"Not really," Yor replied quickly, stepping out from under Ludwig's arm and moving backward a few steps, clearly hoping the conversation about him would end there.
A voice called out from behind them.
"Look at it."
Several heads turned.
"He has a tattoo on his palm—the one wielding a staff," the same voice added, pointing. Leaves crunched as the others shifted closer.
"That could be an insignia," someone said. "Like a guild mark or something. Maybe it's even a cultural thing in this world—to have a tattoo like that."
Yor stayed quiet, hovering just outside the circle of conversation. The others talked on, their voices layered with half-formed theories and confident guesses—about something he already knew.
He didn't interrupt. He was trying not to.
But as one of them spoke, confidently wrong, Yor's expression shifted—barely. His eyes flicked downward, then to the side, as if trying to hide the subtle furrow forming between his brows. His lips pressed into a thin line. Not enough to look like a scowl. Just enough to look... off.
"No," another cut in. "Look at him. That aura—he's definitely strange. Those black robes, that damaged hair like it's been burned or cursed. He looks like someone who belongs in a cult."
"But isn't it weird?" another asked, stepping out from behind a twisted tree trunk. "We're fighting lizard men. But he's human. Why would a human fight for the opposing race?"
"I'm a hundred percent sure he's a traitor," came the last voice—sharp, accusatory.
"No, I think a lizard man adopted him."
Yor shifted on his feet, his eyes fixed on the forest floor as the others kept talking—getting it wrong again.
He clenched his jaw, hesitated... then leaned just slightly toward Ludwig, his voice barely above a whisper. Not in his ear, not meant to be secret—just quiet. Faint.
"It's a binding pact."
Ludwig blinked, then turned to the group, straightening.
"Hold on," he said, his voice cutting through the rising chatter—steady and firm. "You guys are completely wrong. That tattoo... it's It's a binding pact."
"Makes sense. In his current state, he seems vulnerable, and the connection with Azakkin might require all his senses—though I'm not really sure." The orange-haired man nodded once.
"Then breaking that flow might tip the fight in Rywes's favor," someone else from the group said quietly.
"To put it simply, we have to interrupt it."
"Well, that's easy to say—but there's a barrier protecting him. When I tried throwing a dagger at him, the barrier knocked it off course," Ludwig said.
Yor eyes furrowed.
So that was the reason.
They all fell silent for a moment; the soft rustle of leaves was the only sound around them.
Suddenly, a thud drew their attention.
They spun around and saw three of their comrades collapsed to the ground, unconscious.
Then they turned their eyes toward the Flora Enchanter—still standing inside a glowing magic circle. His body moved strangely; the left side was awake and alert, while the right side waved a staff, his eyes sunken back.
"Buckle up," Yor said with a firm tone.
They immediately sprang into their fighting stances.
The Flora Enchanter raised one hand sharply, instantly, several glowing green orbs materialized out of thin air above him, spinning and humming with raw energy. He thrust his arm forward with a grunt, and the orbs launched like missiles toward the horde of players.
"Prioritize dodging!"
The orbs tore through the air, zipping between the gaps of trees at a swift, thunderous pace. Their glowing green light flickered across the dim forest, briefly illuminating trunks, branches. Like streaks of lightning, they cut through the shadows in bursts of emerald light.
Then came the impact.
The orbs smashed through trees with explosive force. Branches shattered, trunks splintered, and a booming blast shook the forest. Birds exploded from the canopy in a frantic storm of feathers.
Some players managed to roll aside just in time, dirt and leaves kicking up beneath their feet. But others weren't so lucky—those caught in the direct path took the blast to the face. Their heads disintegrated into ash mid-scream before their bodies crumpled to the ground, lifeless.
Before the dust even settled, the Flora Enchanter bent his knees slightly and swept his hand upward in a scooping motion, as if lifting the very earth. The ground trembled in response. Roots and vines writhed beneath the soil, then burst forth, ripping free like awakened serpents. At his silent command, they surged forward—lashing at the players, wrapping around legs, throats, and weapons with ruthless precision.
Yor wove through the chaos, fast and focused while the boss was busy controlling the vines.
He sidestepped an orb as it zipped past his shoulder, then dropped into a knee slide beneath a sweeping vine. Without breaking stride, he leapt onto a tree trunk, using it to launch himself forward—eyes fixed on the Flora Enchanter.
He raised his weapon and brought it down on the Flora Enchanter's hand—the one guiding the staff through the air. The blade grazed across the skin, leaving a shallow slash.
Then the air barrier activated again, forming a circular shield around the Enchanter. A sudden blast surged outward, slamming into Yor and sending him flying.
He crashed hard into the ground, tumbling to a stop beside Ludwig, who had also been thrown away by the air barrier, losing 100 out of his 300 HP.
Ludwig pushed himself forward on his hands and knees, breath heavy but eyes sharp. Dirt clung to his arms as he forced himself upright with a low grunt. "This is how I like it," he said with a grin.
Ludwig rolled his shoulders and looked toward the Flora Enchanter in the distance. "Bro, we definitely have to do something about that air barrier. Arrows bend off course, and fireballs get swept away."
Yor planted his sword in the dirt, leaning on it for support as he caught his breath. "You're right," he said between labored breaths, "but don't worry. This is what we intend to do—interrupt it. So just prioritize dodging and don't let it fully control Azakkin."
All of a sudden, the glowing magic circle beneath the Flora Enchanter vanished. The other half of his body, once dormant, twitched and came to life. His eyes sank back into focus, and he stopped waving his staff through the air.
It was clear—Rywes and the rest of the raid party had defeated Azakkin, after Yor's strike broke its connection.
The Flora Enchanter dropped to one knee and slammed his fist into the ground, a deep thud echoing through the clearing. His hair fell over his face, but beneath it, his piercing blue eyes flickered to life—cold, sharp, and furious. His teeth clenched tight, jaw trembling with rage.
"Goddess of the Forest and Keeper of the Wild, Juraia... grant me the strength to vanquish the enemies before me."
He raised his staff toward the enemy. A glowing emerald magic circle spun to life before him, pulsing with energy. His hair swayed as the spell gathered power.
"Howl of the Forest!"