Chương 122: Predators of the Vortex

The monsters put up a good fight, but in the end, only one of them remained. Covered head to toe in blood, sword in one hand and a small wooden shield in the other, it stood swaying slightly in the middle of a clearing littered with bodies and blue puddles, breathing hard and slowly backing away, as though trying to buy itself even a little more time before the inevitable.

Smoke from the recent bursts of magic still drifted low over the flattened grass, mixing with the metallic smell of blue blood soaking the ground for a good ten meters in every direction. Facing it, equally soaked in blood — though not his own, but that same blue liquid — stood the Swordsman. He fixed the creature with a fierce stare, straight into its eyes, and leveled his blade at it, making it perfectly clear he was ready to finish this right here, right now, without wasting another second.

His short red hair was matted with sweat and flecks of blue, and his face carried unmistakable, eager anticipation of the final blow. The fight, however, never happened. Behind the Swordsman, a sharp whistling sound suddenly rang out, and a massive, blazing fireball shot into the air, briefly bathing the clearing in an ominous orange-red glow, casting long, flickering shadows across the ground.

It flew straight at the creature, spinning and crackling, scattering tiny sparks in every direction — the monster, in turn, hastily raised its small wooden shield in front of itself, as though that could somehow help against such power. But what could a flimsy little shield do against a fireball like that?

It shattered into splinters with a deafening crack, scattering burning debris everywhere, and the creature itself went flying off to the side, tumbling through the air, the edges of its tattered garments smoking and charred, crashing hard to the ground well beyond the clearing, crushing several thin bushes under its weight. Suddenly a girl dropped down from the trees, landing lightly on the ground — short, neatly cut black hair, sleek as ink.

She wore a tight-fitting outfit paired with light, almost weightless pieces of armor, and around her waist hung a whole collection of silver daggers, dully glinting and clinking softly against each other with every movement she made. But what caught the eye most was her long black scarf, fluttering in the wind as if alive, giving her the look of some swift, elusive ghost that had just slipped silently between the tree trunks.

She darted lightly, almost weightlessly, toward the charred body of the monster, crouched down on one knee beside it, and studied it with a cold, assessing gaze, as though she hadn't just leapt down from a considerable height without a sound. Then, quietly, almost matter-of-factly, she spoke, touching two fingers to the creature's neck. — Dead.

The red-haired Swordsman clicked his tongue and spun around with an irritated, indignant shout toward the one who'd just stolen his kill, nearly tripping over the body lying nearby. This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it. — Hey, Scarlet, that one was mine!

The red-haired woman, holding a long staff and wearing a light green cloak that swayed faintly in the breeze, simply spread her hands with a completely unbothered expression, a few last sparks still crackling faintly at the tip of her staff. — No idea what you're talking about. First come, first served. The red-haired Swordsman glared at her for a few more seconds, clearly working up some retort, but failing to find the right words, he just let out a heavy breath through his nose.

Then, finally, he turned away and focused his attention on Lloyd, still sitting on the ground amid the flattened, bloodied grass, stunned by the sudden slaughter, arms wrapped around his knees. A bright, good-natured smile immediately spread across the Swordsman's face, as though the irritation from a second ago had never existed, already forgotten. — How you holding up? He held out a hand to help Lloyd up.

Lloyd looked away for a moment, feeling his own body still trembling faintly from the tension of what he'd just been through, his knees threatening to buckle, as if refusing to bear his usual weight. — Fine. Lloyd took the offered hand and pulled himself to his feet, brushing off the leaves, dust, and small twigs clinging to his outfit, along with a few already-dried drops of blue blood that had stiffened the fabric into unpleasant, sticky little clumps.

The red-haired man, meanwhile, started looking around, surveying the monsters' bodies — or rather, what little remained of them after that short but ferocious fight — occasionally letting out a low whistle at the sight of an especially clean hit. Suddenly the mage girl walked up to Lloyd, apparently never having bothered to claim the trophy she'd stolen from the Swordsman, leaving the smoking corpse to burn out on its own off to the side.

Noticing Lloyd's confused, bewildered stare fixed on the dead Whirlrunner lying a few steps away, she pointed briefly at the monster's body with a slender finger, and her soft, pleasant voice rang out. — Those are Whirlrunners, or Vortex Vultures, as some call them. They can fly using gusts of wind. They circle the whole Vortex, and the moment they spot a weak target, they ambush it right there on the island.

She glanced upward, to where the endless, roaring Vortex still churned, vanishing somewhere into the leaden heights, and pressed a finger to her lips, as if considering what else was worth adding. The wind carried over to Lloyd a faint, barely noticeable smell of smoke from the still-smoldering remains of the burned shield. — Even though they're the lowest possible rank — Shade — these things are smart enough, and they always hunt in packs. One of the worst enemies you can run into in this region of Oblivion.

Her tone suddenly turned much more serious, and her gaze dropped back down to the motionless, charred body of the Whirlrunner lying at their feet, still smoking faintly at the edges — a thin trail of gray smoke rising from its tattered garments, dissolving somewhere into the clearing's still air. — I'd love to tell you there's nothing to worry about, that they only hunt in the upper zones of the Vortex. But they came all the way down here. Honestly, as far as I remember, that's never happened before.

She turned her gaze back to Lloyd, tilting her head slightly to one side, making her short dark hair sway a little, and a bright, warm smile immediately bloomed across her face, dotted with a scattering of freckles across her nose and cheeks, all traces of her recent seriousness vanishing in an instant. — Guess today just isn't your day.