Chương 118: Coordination

The battle immediately shifted in our favor. Turns out, monsters were significantly less dangerous when they stopped behaving like clever ambush predators and started volunteering for target practice. Who knew? One of the remaining Skulkers tried to retreat from Dimitri. A terrible decision. An absolutely catastrophic decision. Because Fiona was already there. The massive crimson bear lunged forward. Sand exploded beneath her paws.

The creature barely had time to react before several hundred pounds of angry wildlife crashed into it. The Skulker screeched. Fiona did not care. Her enormous jaws clamped down. Claws raked across pale chitin. The creature disappeared beneath a whirlwind of fur, teeth, and violence. I winced.

"... Well." I tilted my head.

"That thing had a family." The mauling continued.

"Had." A moment later, Fiona lifted her head. The Skulker no longer resembled a functioning lifeform. Honestly, calling it defeated felt generous. The poor thing looked like it had been audited by a bear. Meanwhile, Aiko had found two more targets. The shy Berserker tightened her grip on her massive greatsword. The monsters darted around her. Fast. Agile. Trying to exploit openings. Unfortunately for them, Aiko's solution to most combat problems involved applying overwhelming amounts of sword.

A crimson glow suddenly erupted around her blade. The energy wrapped around the massive weapon like jagged red lightning. Aiko stepped forward. Then swung. The greatsword carved through the air in a devastating horizontal arc. The force behind the attack was ridiculous. The desert floor cracked beneath her feet. A shockwave tore through the surrounding sand. An entire wave of golden grains exploded upward. The attack cut through both Skulkers simultaneously. For one brief moment, everything seemed to freeze.

Then the monsters came apart. Pieces of chitin. Fragments of limbs. Clouds of sand. Everything launched into the air together. The two creatures were ripped apart so completely that even the desert looked surprised. I stared. Then slowly nodded.

"Right." I raised a finger.

"Reminder." I pointed toward Aiko.

"Never volunteer to be on the receiving end of that." The red aura faded. Aiko lowered her sword. Then immediately returned to looking like the kind of person who apologized when borrowing pencils. The contrast remained terrifying. That left only one. The final Skulker. Unfortunately for it, things were not improving. The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation. The creature sprang upward from the sand. Its claws extended. Its crystal-covered head lunged directly toward Dimitri's face.

A desperate attack. A last attempt. A final gamble. Then a small fireball struck it. FWUMP. The projectile slammed into its side. Orange flames burst across its chitin. The creature shrieked. Its body twisted violently in midair. I followed the trajectory of the attack. June stood atop the stone platform. One hand raised. Her elegant scepter gleamed beneath the desert sun. Of course. The aristocrat looked completely composed. Like she wasn't participating in a life-or-death battle.

More like she was correcting mistakes during a classroom presentation. The fireball itself hadn't been particularly large. No dramatic explosion. No meteor from the heavens. Just a compact burst of elemental fire. Simple. Precise. Efficient. And judging by the monster's reaction... Painfully effective. The Skulker dropped from the air. Its body smoking. Its movements slowed. The creature tumbled helplessly toward the sand below. June lowered her scepter. I could practically hear her thinking, "You're welcome."

Unfortunately for the monster, gravity wasn't the only thing waiting for it. I raised Thunderclap. The revolver settled naturally into position. The damaged creature fell. I tracked its movement. Squeezed the trigger. A blue mana round burst from the barrel. The shot crossed the battlefield in an instant. The bullet struck the Skulker directly in the head. The impact snapped its skull backward. The body hit the sand. And this time... It stayed there. Motionless. Dead. Very dead.

The sort of dead that required absolutely no follow-up questions. I lowered Thunderclap and exhaled. Then glanced around at the battlefield.

"... Well." I shrugged.

"That went considerably better than the part where they were trying to eat us." I lowered Thunderclap and glanced toward June. The Elementalist remained standing atop the white stone platform. Completely composed. Completely clean. Completely unaffected by the fact that we'd just participated in a village defense against subterranean nightmare creatures. Honestly, it was impressive.

The rest of us had spent the last several minutes running around, getting attacked, dodging claws, and introducing monsters to various forms of violence. June looked like she'd merely attended a meeting. I pointed my index finger toward her.

"You know, I'm gonna be honest." I tilted my head.

"I completely forgot your Basic Attack lets you throw elemental attacks." June blinked. Then casually flicked her hair behind her shoulder. The movement was smooth. Elegant. Suspiciously satisfied. Her posture straightened slightly. Her chest puffed out. Just a little. I narrowed my eyes. Hold on. Did she think I'd complimented her? I replayed my sentence in my head. No. I'm pretty sure that wasn't praise. That was an observation. A neutral statement. A factual remark. The equivalent of saying the sky was blue.

June somehow accepted it as a trophy anyway. Her lips curved upward ever so slightly.

"I suppose it's understandable," she said. Her tone carried the confidence of someone accepting recognition she believed was long overdue.

"My abilities are considerably more refined than simple weapon attacks." I stared at her.

"There it is."

"There what is?"

"The reason people want to throw rocks at you." June looked completely unbothered. Naturally. Meanwhile, Dimitri lowered his massive shield. The enormous wall of metal settled into the sand with a heavy thud. The Guardian rolled one shoulder. Then the other. His expression looked relaxed. Satisfied. Like a craftsman admiring a completed project. Except the project had involved monsters. And shields. And moderate property damage. Nearby, Aiko slowly looked around. Her greatsword rested against the ground.

The massive weapon looked absurdly oversized next to her. As always. The contrast remained powerful enough to cause emotional whiplash.

"A-Aiko thinks..." She glanced toward the surrounding dunes. Then toward the village. Then toward the nearby monster corpses.

"Aiko thinks that's all of them." Her voice became quieter.

"Aiko really hopes that's all of them." I followed her gaze. The battlefield had changed. Completely. Moments ago it had been chaos. Panic. Screaming. Now... Silence. Well. Mostly silence. The kind that came after danger passed. Broken monster bodies littered the sand. Pieces of pale chitin glimmered beneath the desert sun. Scattered weapons lay where villagers had dropped them. The smell of dust and burnt flesh lingered faintly in the air. But the most noticeable difference wasn't the battlefield.

It was the people. The villagers. Earlier, fear had dominated every face. Desperation. Terror. The look of people wondering whether they would survive the day. Now? Relief. Pure relief. Some sat down where they stood. Others laughed shakily. A few embraced family members. One elderly man looked seconds away from crying. Everyone seemed to be rediscovering the concept of breathing. I slowly turned in a circle. Scanning the area. No new monsters. No suspicious ripples in the sand. No fresh attacks.

Just dead Skulkers and grateful villagers.

"... Okay." I rubbed my chin. Then looked toward the group.

"Is it just me..." I pointed at the battlefield.

"... or did that go way smoother than it had any right to?" I frowned thoughtfully.

"Because I showed up fully prepared for suffering." I spread my arms.

"Mentally."

"Emotionally."

"Spiritually."

"I even had backup complaints ready." I pointed toward the dead monsters.

"But then everything just kind of... worked." I glanced toward Dimitri.

"What's the verdict here?" I tilted my head.

"Have these monsters become predictable?" I pointed at myself.

"Or are we actually improving?" Dimitri smiled. The giant Russian planted the edge of his sword into the sand. His expression carried certainty. Not arrogance. Just confidence earned through experience.

"We have become stronger." His answer came immediately. Without hesitation. Without doubt.

"And the difference is visible." He looked toward one of the fallen Skulkers. The creature's body remained sprawled across the sand.

"Those monsters were dangerous." His smile faded into a more serious expression.

"Far more dangerous than many creatures we encountered on the Second Floor." He gestured toward the battlefield.

"They were faster."

"They struck with greater force."

"And their tactics were far more troublesome." I nodded slowly. Yeah. That sounded accurate. One of them had attempted to remove my face from existence approximately ten seconds after I first met it. Not exactly beginner behavior. Dimitri continued.

"The monsters did not become weaker." He tapped his chest.

"We improved." Then he pointed toward the group. Toward Fiona. Toward Aiko. Toward June. Then finally toward me.

"We survived the Second Floor."

"We gained experience."

"We acquired stronger equipment."

"We learned how to support one another." His smile returned. Warm. Proud.

"And now the results are becoming evident." I blinked. Then looked around at everyone. Fiona, who could transform into a giant red bear and maul things into historical footnotes. Aiko, who could split monsters apart with a sword larger than common sense. June, whose Basic Attack casually involved launching elemental projectiles. Dimitri, who had somehow convinced five monsters to abandon strategy and repeatedly attack a wall. And me.

A man whose primary combat strategy involved firearms and inappropriate amounts of sarcasm.

"... Huh." I scratched the back of my neck. When Dimitri listed it all out like that... Maybe he wasn't wrong. Maybe we really had changed. Maybe we really had gotten stronger. Which was honestly a little weird to think about.