Chương 7: Luck

"Grey!" Marcus shouted, panic flashing across his face. Faster... I need to finish faster! Zelier's heart pounded. A Fireball only took five seconds to cast. Under normal circumstances. But on a battlefield where every heartbeat could decide life or death, five seconds was an eternity. From the Mistwraith's first appearance to battering back both Marcus and Grey, barely three or four seconds had passed. Worse, the creature wasn't some mindless beast.

The moment it realized Zelier was gathering mana, it immediately abandoned its assault and melted back into the fog. The mist churned and swallowed its massive silhouette. Only then had Zelier's Fireball barely taken shape.

"Zelier!" Vaelis spun toward him, fury blazing in his eyes.

"Where the hell is your spell?!"

"There wasn't enough time!" Zelier snapped, his thoughts in complete chaos.

"Then start charging before it attacks!"

"I can't!" Spell Preparation was an advanced casting technique. A mage could complete a Spell Matrix in advance, keep it suspended indefinitely, and release it instantly whenever needed. Zelier was nowhere near capable of that.

"Tch..." Vaelis clicked his tongue in frustration. Marcus bent over, one hand on his knee as he struggled to catch his breath. Looking at the shredded face of his round shield, lingering fear still clouded his expression.

"What did we learn from that exchange?" he asked quietly.

"We got lucky." Vaelis glanced toward the battered Grey.

"It's probably a juvenile Mistwraith. The flesh grafted onto it comes from ordinary beasts, and it hasn't fully developed its physical strength yet."

"If it were an adult... your shield wouldn't have stopped it."

"And Grey would've been dead." A juvenile Mistwraith. Its threat level dropped considerably—probably no longer deserving a [Challenge] rating, only a particularly troublesome [Difficult]. Even so, its protective barrier still made it an absolute nightmare to fight.

"This thing is a juvenile?" Grey groaned as he forced himself upright, wiping blood from the corner of his mouth.

"It felt like getting hit by a battering ram." Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit. The monster's guttural growls continued to echo through the mist. Sometimes close. Sometimes distant. Always carrying enough murderous intent to send chills crawling down their spines.

"It isn't letting us leave," Marcus said grimly.

"The next time it attacks, no matter how hard it hits, we keep it here."

"If it slips away again and drags this fight out..." His grip tightened around his sword.

"... we're dead."

"I'll get my spell out faster," Zelier said. Marcus and Grey exchanged a glance before nodding heavily. One assault had already crippled Grey. Against a monster with that much raw power, the longer the battle dragged on, the greater the odds someone would die. They had to end it quickly. Just then, another progress bar appeared beneath Spell Evolution. Mistveil Embrace — Analysis Progress: 1% Zelier blinked. Mistveil Embrace... Is that the defensive spell covering its body? The analysis speed was painfully slow.

Completely useless for this fight. His thoughts raced. If I can't prepare a spell in advance... Then I need to sense the Mistwraith before it attacks and begin constructing the Spell Matrix early. The timing had to be perfect. If he finished charging too soon and the monster didn't appear... The Fireball would dissipate after only a short time, leaving him temporarily unable to cast another. Zelier calmed his breathing. His Perception sat at only 30 —perfectly average.

Inside this supernatural fog, detecting the creature should have been nearly impossible. Where are you... Where...? Then— Something stirred. An indescribable sensation brushed against his consciousness. By sheer luck, he caught an impossibly faint thread hidden inside the mist. It was... The magical signature of Mistveil Embrace. Because both spells belonged to the same magical framework, he could vaguely sense the state of the Mistwraith itself. Bloodlust. Excitement. The exhilaration of the hunt. It's moving!

Zelier didn't hesitate for even a fraction of a second. Mana surged from his Soul Space as he began tracing the Spell Matrix. Exactly two seconds later— The coppery stench of blood swept toward them once more. This time... The Mistwraith chose Grey. The mage is too well protected. Can't kill him immediately. Then kill the wounded human first. Disappear before the mage finishes casting. Once one of them dies, panic will spread. The hunt is over. Already injured, Grey had no hope of matching the monster head-on.

Pain lanced through his chest, slowing every movement.

"Grey!" Marcus roared. Death descended. The Mistwraith crossed the distance in the blink of an eye. Grey whipped his head around. His pupils contracted violently. There was nowhere to dodge. Driven by pure survival instinct, he barely managed to raise his longsword across his chest. The grotesque bone claw crashed down. CRACK! The blade exploded into fragments. Shards of steel sprayed in every direction, several punching straight into Grey's body. A spray of crimson burst into the air.

But at that exact moment— Zelier's Fireball finished charging. The Mistwraith had never anticipated this. It had appeared for less than three seconds. During the first exchange, the young mage hadn't been capable of casting anywhere near this quickly. Blazing heat ripped through the fog. The brilliant sphere of fire streaked across the battlefield and slammed directly into the Mistwraith. BOOM! Zelier's eyes widened. The weakness described in The Adventurer's Association Universal Bestiary... It was real.

Mana collided with the shimmering barrier covering the monster's body. Sizzle—! The watery veil visibly dimmed. It hadn't shattered... But it had weakened. It worked!

"GET AWAY FROM HIM!" Marcus arrived at that exact instant. His eyes burned crimson as he bellowed, driving forward with every ounce of strength behind his shield. With the barrier weakened, it could no longer completely nullify physical force. Even the towering Mistwraith staggered backward from the impact.

"You're not escaping this time!" Vaelis's eyes flashed. He had been waiting for this exact opening. The bowstring he'd held taut finally snapped forward. His elven blood answered the wind. Every arrow he loosed rode an invisible current. Relying entirely on years of instinct and muscle memory, Vaelis released four arrows in rapid succession. Thwip! Thwip! Thwip! Thwip! Four shafts screamed through the air. Two punched clean through the Mistwraith's kneecaps. Exactly what Vaelis had been aiming for.

No matter what... He wasn't letting this monster disappear back into the fog.