Chương 76: Start of Another Battle

The terrifying, deep-throated roar of the approaching Fungal Shamblers suddenly echoed through the trees, a sound like grinding tectonic plates and splintering wood that signaled the official start of our next unwanted group activity. I did not waste a single millisecond up on my wooden perch. With a swift mental command, I instantly summoned my Standard Issue Matchlock right into my palms, the plain infantry rifle materializing with a faint digital shimmer.

The grooved wooden stock settled neatly against my shoulder, activating my Steady Grip perk as I crouched low on the branch to brace myself against the rough bark. I squinted down the straight metal barrel, aligning my iron sights directly toward the shaking brush where the incoming wave of wood-beasts was about to burst through.

"Incoming!" I screamed at the absolute top of my lungs, my voice cutting right through the heavy atmosphere to make sure my heavily armed teammates down below were fully awake. Dimitri did not even blink. Our burly savior instantly hoisted his Notched Iron Slab high into the air while squaring his massive shoulders behind that glorious Rotting Barrel Lid strapped to his forearm.

"Let them come, my brave companions, for a storm only makes the deep roots of our friendship anchor tighter into the earth!" Dimitri's thick, booming Russian accent rumbled through the clearing, vibrating with a spectacular wave of pure kindness as if he were trying to comfort the very monsters charging toward his shield.

Right on cue, June stepped forward to claim her share of the spotlight, her pristine features twisting into an expression of sheer, unadulterated superiority as she summoned her Scuffed Juniper Branch directly into her grip. The tiny, unremarkable stone known as her Polished Pebble immediately began to drift around her torso, shedding its usual lazy wobble to execute a series of swift, responsive orbital loops that indicated her majestic arcane focus was officially active.

"Let these mindless wooden simpletons advance and bear witness to the absolute pinnacle of my royal dominance," June commanded into the air, her thick, hyper-aristocratic British accent swelling with a ridiculous peak of narcissistic majesty as she pointed her scepter toward the danger zone. The heavy brush at the edge of the trail violently ruptured as the five Fungal Shamblers finally burst into the open.

The pack of bulky, lumbering quadrupeds let out a synchronized, deep-throated roar from their drooling, slime-laden maws, their trunk-like legs immediately churning the mud as they began a heavy-velocity charge straight toward my four teammates down below. The entire view ahead was heavily obscured by a thick blanket of toxic purple smoke, making it almost impossible for a normal person to see an inch in front of their face.

Fortunately, my high intelligence statistics were working overtime in the background, allowing my mental observation capabilities to pierce right through the hazy corruption and track the targets. I carefully aligned the straight metal barrel of my Standard Issue Matchlock, squinting down the cold iron sights to lock my aim onto the absolute furthest Fungal Shambler trailing at the back of the charging pack. The author's narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

"Musket Style: Tier one... Arcane Discharge," I muttered under my breath, delivering the command with a healthy dose of dramatic flair. The exact millisecond the words left my mouth, I felt a single point of my mana pool drain away, channeling straight through my palm wraps to overload the weapon's chamber. A vibrant blue glow began to hum along the grooved stock as the barrel overcharged with a surge of pure magical energy.

"Long-Trace Bolt," I called out, activating my specific firearm bonus effect. I squeezed the trigger mechanism, and the gun barked with a sharp crack as a high-velocity projectile of blue mana violently rushed through the air toward the target. Thanks to the long-trace configuration, the magical bullet sliced across the clearing with insane flight speed, tracking a perfectly straight line through the thick purple smoke before slamming directly into the leading edge of the furthest Shambler's hardened wood skull.

The physical impact was loud and messy, punching clean through its face and erupting right out of the back of its flank in a shower of crackling blue sparks. The hit Shambler staggered on its heavy trunks, throwing its heavy head back to let out a confused, pain-filled roar into the air while its gaping maw whipped from side to side.

Because the dense purple haze and my elevated tree position kept me completely out of its line of sight, the mindless monster had absolutely no idea where the phantom sniper shot had come from. Realizing it was under attack but unable to locate its tiny human tormentor, the beast abruptly halted its forward momentum and triggered its Fungal Regrowth ability.

The creature stopped moving entirely to channel its internal nature energy, causing its open head wound to visibly knit back together as fresh patches of neon-green moss and thick shelf-fungi rapidly sprouted over the damaged wood armor to repair its massive vitality pool. With one of those overgrown logs officially out of commission and preoccupied with a heavy dose of medical self-care, my mental calculator immediately delivered some highly comforting news.

That meant we were now dealing with only four active Shamblers rushing down the main lane. Down on the messy ground, Dimitri decided it was the perfect moment to execute his signature frontline hospitality. Our favorite burly vanguard drew a massive breath into his lungs and let out a loud, provocative roar that shook the surrounding bark.

"Let your anger burn against my shield alone, my troubled friends, for a true heart welcomes every blow with open arms! Iron Vow!" Dimitri screamed into the heavy air, his thick, booming Russian accent vibrating with an incredible tide of pure kindness as he triggered his Iron Vow. The mental provocation worked like an absolute charm.

The four remaining Shamblers instantly froze their forward momentum, their blind, wood-plated heads whipping around in perfect synchronization to lock their collective hostility onto Dimitri's massive frame. Before our savior could even adjust his grip on his Rotting Barrel Lid, the first pair of monsters unhinged their dark maws to launch a coordinated counter-offensive.

They simultaneously unleashed their Mycelial Tether ability, spewing a thick, sticky stream of disgusting fungal roots straight through the purple smoke, aiming to pin his heavy boots directly to the dirt. At the exact same microsecond, the other two wood-beasts reared back on their hind legs, preparing to slam their heavy front trunks down into the soil to trigger a massive, five-meter wave of choking Spore-Cloud Slam chaos.

Just as the clearing was about to turn into a total toxic disaster zone, Aiko suddenly burst through the purple haze like a miniature hurricane. Our hyper-anxious berserker did not say a single word as she rushed into the center of the danger zone, instantly manifesting her massive Spine-Breaker's Reaver directly into her hands. With a low, haunting whistle cutting through the air, she began to furiously wave around her giant, light-absorbing black-iron sword in a wide, sweeping arc.

The sheer physical momentum of her jagged step-blade was a beautiful sight to behold, creating a wall of flying steel that aggressively intercepted the two casting monsters, successfully disrupting their heavy stance before they could violently crash their limbs into the earth.