Chapter 19: Elite – Spring-Leg Jack (1)

Just as the horse shed was collapsing, and I looked at the spring-limbed monstrosity, a new surge of information flashed across my mind, just like it had with the human centipede.

This function must be a ‘gift’ granted by the god who kidnapped us. A privilege that allows us to grasp a monster’s backstory, though only the backstory.

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Spring-Leg Jack

An alchemical creature engineered by Ian, created from a highly adaptable, physically strong human male. Through gradual transformation, its body weight was drastically reduced to enhance agility. All four limbs were replaced with high-tensile metal springs powered by magic crystal cores. The legs are fitted with shock absorbers, allowing for high-speed movement through spring-propelled jumps and interaction with vertical surfaces.

Ian’s most bloodthirsty creation. Has an affinity for children.

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Spring-Leg Jack—so that’s its official name? And Ian again. The same name that appeared in the description of the human centipede. Is he their creator?

Could Ian be the boss of this entire fog-ruled zone?

There’s no way to be certain. Not yet.

I needed to focus on the matter at hand.

Before me, Felice looked like she wanted to speak but couldn’t find the words.

I knew. I understood. Of course I did. I knew exactly what she wanted to hear from me.

Abandoning a burden at a critical moment is the rational choice, whether that burden is an object or a person. Doing so improves the odds for everyone else. I get that.

But…

I looked over at Mizan, his face pale as paper.

His legs had been severed. Blood loss was massive. His lips were blue. But he was still alive. If we could get him back to the village, the chieftain might be able to help. I didn’t want him to die. I didn’t want to leave him behind. We hadn’t known each other long, but he had fought beside me, helped me in battle.

I’m sorry, Felice. Truly. Call me soft. Say I’m an idealistic fool. But I can’t abandon Mizan. I just can’t.

And yet, Jack—let’s just call him Jack from now on—was still prowling outside.

If we wanted to escape with Mizan, we had to defeat him here.

And I owed it to Vaclav to settle that score.

Jack was a massive threat. Terrifying, yes, but if we ever wanted to push deeper into this fog, he was a trial we couldn’t bypass.

We couldn’t keep running forever.

Besides, I knew. I was the only one who knew how little time we had left.

Someone had to step forward. Someone had to face him head-on.

So—

“If we want to get Mizan out alive, then we have to defeat that monster. Right here.”

“…E-Eh?”

She probably thought I was insane.

But this wasn’t reckless bravado. It was a calculated decision made in a moment of clarity.

Time to analyze. Fast and simple.

The first time we encountered Jack, he jumped onto a rooftop and killed the youngest among us. That lined up with the description: has an affinity for children. In the worst way.

He bounced off with Vaclav’s corpse, but came back soon after, furious. Throughout the whole event, he only moved on rooftops.

The second time, he ambushed Felice and Mizan from the rooftop again. The rooftops. He always fought from the rooftops.

Why?

Simple. Spring-legs. The name says it all. He moves via high-tension spring-like limbs. Unlike modern mechanical engines, springs require compression before they can release. Every time Jack jumps, there must be a brief compress—release sequence. Which means a tiny window of preparation time.

And, once fully extended, those spring limbs need enough room to retract before they can be used again. That makes narrow spaces a major disadvantage for him. He needs open ground or flat rooftops to maneuver. Which explains why he prefers roofs and avoids tight alleyways.

What about his attacks? 

Straight-line thrusts or wide-area sweeps. Point and arc. He’s fast, but can’t switch freely between them. And every strike needs prep time—spring compression again.

Which brings me to three key points.

Point 1: Draw the fight into narrow alleyways.

Point 2: His limbs’ stretch-and-retract motion is both a strength and a weakness.

Point 3: Time dodges during the gaps between his attacks.

But that alone won’t cut it.

The gap in power between us is obvious.

“Use the terrain…”

Muttering under my breath, I looked outside at the waterwheel and the tower it connected to.

***

“Aaaaahhh Fuck! FFFFFuckDickAsshole!”

Booker tore down the narrow streets of the ruined town like a headless chicken, Rena unconscious on his back. Behind him—

“Sssssssss!”

“Chichi! Chichichichi!”

“Gagagaga! Ga! Ga! Ga!!!!”

Lizardmen, venom-spitting lizardmen, and human centipedes—three kinds of monsters in hot pursuit. 

The lizardmen were clumsy, so as long as he kept running, they wouldn’t catch him. But the centipede was faster than any human. Booker had to push himself to the limit just to stay ahead.

He ran and ran. Cold mist coiled around his skin. His worn boots slipped on the uneven ground, rocks and broken beams nearly tripping him more than once. It was a miracle he hadn’t already fallen. He’d never been so thankful for those sprints he used to run back in high school and college.

Even so, he was panicking. He’d been separated from everyone. He had no clue where he was—and truth be told, he had a terrible sense of direction. He was just running blind.

“Chichichi! Sssssss!”

“Ah!?”

As he rounded a corner, a venom-spitting lizardman leapt out. Booker skidded to a stop and swerved just in time to avoid a collision. But the monster’s chest was already swelling. Its mouth contracted, ready to spit.

‘Oh fuckfuckfuckfuck this is it. I can’t dodge this!’

Its range was over ten meters. They were only five apart. And carrying someone made it impossible to react.

“Spirit Ward!”

A sharp cry rang out behind him. A pale golden shield of light shimmered into being just in time. The venom splattered against it with a hiss. The glow dimmed slightly but held strong.

“That—wait, Rena!? You’re awake!?”

“Just… barely… owww, my head.”

“This shield?”

“Something Grandpa Chief taught me. But… I feel awful… I can’t hold it for long.”

“Got it, Got it, Let’s go!”

With the Spirit Ward protecting them, adrenaline surged through Booker again, though it was probably just a trick of the brain. He roared and bolted toward the sparsest direction. But even with the shield, more and more monsters kept appearing behind them. His legs were burning. The pain was reaching beyond what even adrenaline could mask.

‘Just keep running! Run until this is over!’

He dashed past a collapsed hedge, around a half-demolished house. He barely noticed the changes in architecture. He was too focused on staying alive. The layout felt wrong. He should have reached the edge of the town by now. 

Wasn’t the town supposed to be smaller than this? And now—

Wait. Why did it suddenly feel quiet?

“Uncle Booker… the monsters… they’re gone?”

Rena’s voice snapped him out of it. He looked back and saw nothing. The monsters that had been right on their tail were simply gone.

They’d stopped chasing.

Why?

And where exactly was this?

The mist here was denser than before. Not blinding, but heavier. He narrowed his eyes at the unfamiliar surroundings. Still ruined houses and narrow paths, but some of the buildings had white-gray stonework embedded in the wooden ruins.

Stone?

Marble?

It looked like someone had taken wooden houses and stone structures, smashed them up, and glued the pieces together randomly.

He looked down. Stone tiles. Old and broken, but clearly once a paved walkway. The stone didn’t extend further into the town.

Had he left the boundaries of the ruined town?

Wait. Wait.

A terrible suspicion crept into his mind.

After getting separated, he’d run blind for a long time. But overall, he had been moving in one direction—away from the forest, toward the far end of the town.

Didn’t Yuhong and the chieftain say something about the fog not originating from the town center, but from the far side?

Wait.

Wait, wait, wait, wait—

He turned his head, trembling.

“So pretty…”

Rena, still on his back, peeked over his shoulder in awe.

A wide stone plaza stretched out ahead. Broken statues lined the edges, along with abandoned fountains and flowerbeds. Grand stone columns ringed the square. It must have been a glorious place once.

And across that plaza stood a towering, palace-like structure.

A gray-white stone building, cold and imposing. Though battered by time, it radiated authority. It reminded Booker of Buckingham Palace, but colder. Less lavish. More academic.

If you took Cambridge or Harvard and made the main building twice as large, that’s what it would look like.

And amid the rubble of what once might have been a grand archway, he saw a massive metal plaque.

Despite the strange characters etched into it, Booker could understand every word at a glance:

Royal Alessia Academy of Alchemy.

“Oh, oh no, don’t tell me…”

This wasn’t part of the ruined town. This was something else entirely—trash from another world, pulled through the dimensional fog along with the monsters.

Different architecture. 

A high-class name.

A massive, imposing school.

A wide, clear area with no monsters nearby.

It could only mean one thing.

“Fuck, don’t tell me this is the boss room?”