Chapter 36: Boss – The Toxicology Scholar Ian (1)

“Ssshraaaghhh!”

A lizardman let out a guttural shriek as its foot snagged a tripwire. The rope instantly snapped taut, yanking the creature upside-down into the air. Booker and Jelena lunged forward without wasting a second, finishing it off in just a few quick strikes. But there was no time to relax—once they confirmed the monster was dead, they immediately rushed to reinforce another part of the battlefield.

Though the sky was cloaked in gray fog, the dimming light still hinted that dusk was fast approaching.

“Screee—kekeke!”

“Hssshhh…”

“Graaahhh!”

The shrill howls of monsters echoed from all directions. The number of fog fiends gathering at the forest’s edge was steadily rising. Three deep, wide trenches lined the outermost perimeter of the forest, trapping a significant number of them. Those that slipped through were greeted by a web of traps the rotted-face people had laid—tripwires, nets, and snares. When a fog fiend was caught, they swarmed in to subdue it through sheer force. That’s when Booker and Jelena moved in, finishing the immobilized lizardmen with ruthless speed.

At first, everything ran smoothly and in sync. But as more fog fiends appeared, the cracks began to show. 

The chieftain hurried tirelessly between fighters, healing the wounded, casting invigorating miracles to restore the stamina of his weakened people, lightening Booker and Jelena’s gear. He was the oldest among them, and also the most exhausted.

“Booker! Jelena! Are you two holding up?” the chieftain called out in concern.

“What do you think?! Damn it, this one’s filthy as hell. Fuck!”

“Still… okay, I guess?”

The two of them were finishing off a fog fiend tangled in rope netting. Both were injured—minor cuts and gashes—but the chieftain was quick to patch them up. 

The sky remained cloaked in mist, the fading sunlight barely visible through the gray veil. Night was almost upon them. More torches had been lit in the forest; flames pierced the thin fog and pushed back the dark. Shadows of the rotted-face people and the fog fiends flickered and tangled in the gloom, like a legion of ghosts locked in a frenzied waltz.

As the minutes dragged on, tension mounted. The fog fiends showed no signs of retreating.

Everyone was thinking the same thing.

What are Zhou Yuhong and Felice doing?

Have they reached the Mist King’s lair?

Have they seen it yet?

Have they defeated it?

Or are they still locked in battle?

Or worse—were they killed before they ever reached it, taken out by some monster along the way?

The possibilities spiraled darker and darker.

But one possibility loomed above all, a thought so terrible no one dared speak it aloud.

Could they have abandoned us and run?

That possibility was too horrifying to entertain. And yet, once the thought crept in, it refused to leave. As time passed, it grew stronger, gnawing at the back of every mind.

“More fog fiends… coming in!”

Jols’ voice rang out from afar. A fresh group of rotted-face fighters rushed to intercept. But nets and traps were consumables, and even the trenches were beginning to fill with the bodies of fallen monsters. The situation was turning bleak. With fewer working traps, the rotted-face people resorted to whatever they had—ropes, poles, their own bodies—to isolate and restrain the enemy.

Booker and Jelena were flagging. The repeated pattern—coordinate with the others, strike the weak points, finish off the trapped monster, move to the next one—was eating away at their strength and morale. As the rotted-face people began to falter, the pressure on the two of them grew heavier. Their bodies were marked with claw wounds and blood from the relentless fighting.

“Aaargh!”

Finally, with a scream, the first casualty fell. A young rotted-face child—barely more than a boy, but brave enough to join the defense—was tackled by a centipede fog fiend that had broken free from its net. His thin limbs were torn apart in an instant. The surrounding villagers swarmed the monster, binding it with ropes, desperate and frenzied.

They had spent so long trapped in fear, sheltered beneath the purifying protection of translucent stone. Now, this do-or-die battle had awakened the blood they had long suppressed.

“Rrrh!”

“Aaahhh!”

“Everyone, watch out—nnngh!”

More deaths followed. Each agonizing scream from the rotted-face people stabbed into Booker and Jelena’s hearts. The chieftain wore a grim, unchanging expression as he darted from one battle to the next—conjuring barriers of light, healing wounds, restoring stamina. But his exhaustion was plain as day.

“Spirit Mend!”

A deep slash across Jelena’s back sealed up in seconds. The chieftain, panting from strain, followed up with another Weapon Lightening miracle. It was then that Booker and Jelena noticed something.

The chieftain was lingering closer and closer to them.

He was barely looking at the rest of his people now. Or rather, he was deliberately avoiding looking. Even as the number of fallen climbed—already approaching twenty—he never turned his eyes toward them.

“Hey! Old man! Quit hovering around us, will you?! Your people are—damn it! They’re dying out there!”

Booker finally couldn’t take it anymore.

The chieftain only shook his head, face dark and tight, saying nothing.

“You divine envoys are our highest priority! As long as you live, there’s still hope!”

“Tch! Don’t say something that damn tragic right now, fuck! Aaarghhh!”

Booker roared as he brought his sword crashing down into the head of a lunging lizardman. Jelena followed up by driving her spear clean through the skull of a downed venom-spitting lizard. Perhaps it was the escalating danger, or perhaps desperation had finally overcome fear and anxiety—whatever the case, both of them were now fighting with more ferocity than ever before.

Swishhh!

And then it happened.

At that moment—

That feeling.

That strange, unnatural feeling.

Like a sudden gust of frigid wind blowing through their bones. Booker and Jelena froze mid-motion.

Goosebumps rose on their skin.

Their spines went cold.

Their throats dried up.

Their hearts thundered.

The battle-high that had been heating their blood was instantly snuffed out.

It was instinct—raw and ancient—etched deep into the very genes of all living creatures. A visceral, primal response to overwhelming danger. Even the rotted-face people stopped moving. And the fog fiends, too.

They halted their advance, ceased their attacks, and stopped struggling altogether. One by one, they tilted their heads upward as if waiting for something.

As if awaiting something’s arrival.

The air had changed to a foul scent.

Like the stench of rotting flesh mixed with the cloying sweetness of nectar. A nauseating blend that prickled the nose and soured the gut.

At some point, the mist had begun to take on a faint violet hue.

“Everyone, be ca—gaaah!”

A desperate voice suddenly rang out from the outermost edge of the forest, but the warning was cut short mid-word.

The violet mist grew denser.

The stench seeped deeper with each breath, leaving limbs weak and minds heavy. Booker and Jelena had to concentrate just to remain standing, their focus narrowed to their legs alone.

“Crrrk crrrk crrrk…”

There was a sound.

“Crrrk crrrk crrrk…”

Faint, distant, drawing closer and farther like a whisper caught in the wind.

“Crrrk crrrk crrrk…”

It was like the guttural chuckle of a coarse-voiced man. Or maybe—just maybe—the raspy breathing of something.

Something was coming.

Something terrifying is coming!

Booker’s instincts screamed at him, and he shouted before he could think, “Jelena, watch out!!”

Crunch!!!

***

The ruined town was empty. Not a single fog fiend in sight. Through the thinning fog, we could see the sky—twilight’s final rays were just beginning to fade.

Felice and I were sprinting, full speed, no holding back. Our footsteps and heavy breathing echoed between the lonely alleyways. Now that we knew the ruins were clear of enemies, we could abandon stealth and make a break for it. The ruined town wasn’t that big. If we ran at full speed, we’d be through it in no time.

“Damn it… huff… damn it, damn it, damn it, Ian!!!”

Rage and frustration burned through my chest like acid, threatening to eat it hollow.

Ian!

That bastard! While Felice and I were sneaking into the deepest depths of the academy’s main building, he had already made his move and headed straight for the forest.

This was bad. So bad. The only ones guarding the forest were the rotted-face people, Booker, and Jelena. Mizan didn’t count, and as much as I hated to admit it, Booker and Jelena weren’t exactly elite either. If Ian charged in now, it would be like a lion pouncing into a pen of sheep.

“Yuhong… calm down.”

“I know! I’m trying!”

Felice ran beside me, trying to soothe me, but how could I calm down? I was losing my mind!

Had Ian reached the forest already? How many had he killed? What about Booker and Jelena? What about the chieftain? The rotted-face people? How many had already died!?

Damn it all!

“Yuhong… at least now… we finally have something that can stand up to him.”

She raised the weapon in her hand—no longer the original fine steel rapier. What she now wielded gleamed silver-bright under the misty sky, etched with the same intricate runes and markings as my runic dagger.

A new weapon—runic-forged and battle-ready.

==========

Runic Rapier

Type: Rapier

Weight: Light

Background: A weapon found in the underground workshop of Alessia Academy. It was forged by the alchemy master Ian before he lost his sanity, during his experiments with new alloys. Lighter than an ordinary rapier, it is exceptionally sharp and possesses remarkable toughness despite its light, slender appearance. The runes inscribed on its surface keep the blade clean, resist rust and corrosion, and reduce wear on the blade. By channeling mana into the runes, a semi-transparent mana blade can be formed along the edge, increasing its attack range.

How to Obtain: Village of Decay, deep within the town, underground workshop beneath the academy’s main building

Special Ability: Mana Blade (cannot be used in this world, where mana does not exist)

==========

We might’ve missed our main target, but the trip hadn’t been a total loss. We’d still come away with something valuable. Ian had shown not only his terrifying brilliance in biological modification but also impressive skill in weapon crafting. His underground lab even housed a dedicated forge for runic weapons. The rapier Felice found might’ve been unfinished, but it was more than good enough.

As for my own find, I’d packed it into my waist pouch, folded up and compact. I wasn’t sure if it would come in handy, but maybe it would. The divine blessing that let us read descriptions of monsters and special items wasn’t just there to fill in background lore. If we learned to analyze and exploit that information properly, it could absolutely be a real advantage in battle.

“Ah…”

Almost there.

We were almost at the edge of town. Just a patch of open ground ahead—cross the river, and we’d reach the forest.

“—!?”

My body stopped short. Felice, beside me, did the same.

“Yuhong? Do you smell that?”

“Yeah.”

There was something new in the air.

The ruined town always carried a faint stench of rot, but this was different. It might’ve just been lingering chemical gas, but there was a distinct new undertone.

It smelled like rotting corpses blended with a sickly-sweet floral perfume.

This scent… Could it be?

““Poison!?””