Chapter 38: Boss – The Toxicology Scholar Ian (3)

Corpses.

Corpses, corpses, corpses.

Most were fog fiends—lizardmen, venom-spitting lizardmen, human centipedes, and a few creatures I didn’t recognize. But they were all unmistakably dead. Some were still breathing, technically alive, but they stood frozen in place as though bound by some spell, facing inward toward the forest’s heart, as if standing guard over something sacred.

And then—

“Tch!”

The deeper we pushed, the more bodies of the rotted-face people we found. Heads crushed. Bodies torn apart. Entrails spilled. Some had been half-devoured.

What happened to the chieftain? What about Booker, Jelena, and Mizan? Are they dead too?

Was this my fault?

My misjudgment?

What if we’d stayed behind to defend the forest instead of pursuing this so-called decapitation strategy? What if we hadn’t gone after Ian at all?

“Yuhong! That smell!”

“Urgh, I know!”

Felice’s voice snapped me out of my spiral. Now was not the time for regret. For grief, for mourning, for guilt—there would be time for all of that after it was over. I had to focus on what was in front of me.

“Ngggh…”

I pulled my cloth mask tighter over my face. The coarse fabric scraped against my skin, leaving it raw, but it worked. It filtered out the poison well enough. The short cloak the chieftain had crafted for us before we departed was proving invaluable. He’d used translucent stone as a conduit to bless the fabric, so even if we tore a strip off for a makeshift mask, it could still resist the poisonous mist, at least for the rest of the day.

The deeper we went, the thicker the violet-black fog became. It stung the eyes and made it harder to breathe. The number of rotted-face people—dead or collapsed—grew with every step. Judging by the symptoms, this fog wasn’t just toxic—it was likely a neurotoxin, draining stamina with every breath.

Wait!

Up ahead…

Through the murky haze, we caught a glimpse of something huge moving.

I drew my runic dagger. Felice raised her runic rapier.

“Felice, flank him!”

“Got it!”

I pulled out the last runic throwing knife I had. This was it—my final throwable. No way was I wasting it on anything less than the final boss.

Throw!

The silver blade cut through the poison fog in a flash of light. Did it land? Was it blocked? I couldn’t see.

But—

“Roooaaar!”

A bone-shaking roar thundered through the woods, rattling me to the core. A massive silhouette burst skyward through the mist—larger even than Aldrich, yet it moved with the speed and precision of Jack.

I veered left. Felice darted right.

Good thing we did.

Because in the next instant, that monster landed right where we’d been standing just seconds before. The impact stirred the air, blowing away the poisonous fog in an instant, and then we saw it.

We saw him.

Ian.

Considering his identity as an alchemist, I had hoped—somehow—that there might still be something human left in him. But this?

This was a beast.

He looked like something between a lion and a grizzly—massive, muscular, exuding raw power. His torso was wrapped in dark gray bandages, each one covered in the same runes that were etched into my dagger. At a glance, he looked like a mummified predator.

But the truth was far more grotesque.

From the gaps in the bandages, tufts of dense black fur emerged—alongside clusters of eyeballs that no living thing should have. Too many eyes, arranged without symmetry, rolling and twitching constantly.

My mind raced.

Powerful body, sharp claws, incredible agility—his close-quarters combat strength was off the charts.

The poisonous fog pouring from his body never stopped. A drawn-out fight would be suicide.

With dozens of functioning eyeballs across his form, his vision likely covered every angle.

There would be no blind spot.

“Hhhrrrrraaaghhhhh!”

It let out a strange, low-pitched hum. Its head—that grotesque, beast-shaped skull that looked like a human skull forcibly stretched into an animal’s—tilted side to side. The massive central eye locked onto us, and its gaping maw flexed open like that of a gulper eel.

The hairs on my neck stood on end.

“Felice! Dodge!”

A spray of thick, murky liquid burst from its mouth as it whipped its head in a broad arc. The toxic fluid fanned out toward us in a deadly sweep. Felice reacted instantly, leaping back with one sharp step.

As for me—

“Tch!”

—I yanked my short cloak up and threw it in front of me as a makeshift shield. It was a gamble, but one I had to take. I needed to confirm something.

The venom struck the cloth with a vicious hiss. Smoke curled upward where it hit, but the fabric held. The acid didn’t burn through.

Meanwhile, where the venom splashed on the ground, it carved deep pits into the dirt and stone.

Three critical pieces of intel confirmed.

Ian can spit venom.

The venom is highly corrosive.

Blessed fabric can temporarily resist the acid.

It was a small edge—but an edge nonetheless.

“Hrhhh?”

Ian let out a rasping, puzzled sound and paused for a moment. My reaction must’ve caught it off guard—clearly not what it was expecting. If there was one lesson I’d learned through all these battles, it was this: surprise always works.

“Haaah!”

With a growl, I lunged forward and slashed with the runic dagger. At the same time, it swiped with one of its claws, and Felice darted in from the other side.

Its reaction speed was unreal. I had to slam my feet down and reverse my grip, switching to a defensive stance.

Its first left claw clashed with my dagger—the blade barely grazed it, but the sheer force almost knocked the weapon from my hand. And it didn’t cut through. Not even a scratch.

Back when I fought Aldrich, the runic blade sliced through tentacles like butter. But Ian’s claws were at least as durable as the dagger itself.

At the same time, Felice’s runic rapier thrust forward, straight and clean.

Ian’s upper right arm intercepted the blow, not with brute force, but by deflecting it. It batted the rapier aside with its claw, then followed up with a lightning-quick swing of its second right arm.

My heart caught in my throat.

“Hey!”

But Felice reacted just as fast. She snapped her blade back into a guard position and leapt backward at full force. Her parry took some of the impact, but the force of the blow still sent her flying a good ten meters through the air.

“Felice!”

I wanted to rush to her side, but Ian was already between us.

It spun sharply, twisting its hulking body, and without warning, lunged forward again. It was absurdly agile. That massive beast soared through the air, and both left arms came crashing down in a brutal double strike.

No time to gain distance.

Then I’d close it.

I charged diagonally forward and to the left—just in time. I could feel the wind of its claws whip past my side. Its huge form grazed mine as we passed. Pivot, slash—all by instinct, I swung the dagger at its exposed back.

But a blast of air struck me in return.

Thud!

Crack!

When I was a kid, I once lit a firecracker in my bare hand during Chinese New Year. I never forgot that searing blast—that flash of white-hot pain.

And now, in that instant, I felt it again.

The impact rattled through my palm and up into my bones. I could hear my skeleton creak. My vision shook violently, and I realized I’d been knocked back several meters.

A flash of silver flew past the edge of my sight—it was the runic dagger, torn from my hand.

My palm had split open, blood pouring freely.

“Grkkkhhhhhrrrrrrrhhh!”

That rasping growl again.

It snapped me back to clarity just in time. My body rolled to the side on instinct, narrowly dodging a crushing blow aimed at my upper torso. I tumbled across the dirt, grabbed the fallen dagger, and a shadow fell over me.

Ian was right above.

It was nearly on top of me.

Its two front limbs rose high, higher than its own head, then came slamming down toward me.

It really loved this kind of attack.

What was the appeal? Watching blood splatter?

Dodge? Impossible.

Block it? No chance.

If there was any way I could survive this.

Still half-risen from the ground, I twisted hard to the side, gripping the dagger with my blood-soaked right hand and bracing the back of the blade with my left.

In that instant of flashing instinct, I brought the dagger up just in time to catch Ian’s incoming blow.

Blade deflection!

The runic dagger barely nudged Ian’s descending fist off course. The impact still came down with terrifying force, but even a few centimeters’ deviation was enough. I slipped out from under its crushing blow, and on the way out, I managed to leave a gash on the upper left arm of its forearm. The rune-covered bandages tore open.

It was the first wound Ian had suffered in this battle.

Its roar shifted—no longer detached, but laced with anger.

But just then, from the canopy above, a silver streak fell.

Felice.

Her face was tense, veins bulging around her temple. She must’ve used the strongest healing potion the rotted-face people had prepared for us. Sure, it came with a heavy toll on the body—but it could rapidly restore even the worst injuries. She’d chosen action over recovery, launching a surprise attack rather than catching her breath.

But—

All the eyes on Ian’s back snapped upward at once.

Felice’s midair form was instantly locked in their overlapping gaze.

Its reaction defied all logic.

It shifted off me with unnatural grace, side-flashing like a spider. And with that motion, there was nothing left between Felice and me.

She was plunging downward—rapier-first—right toward my head.

“Wha—!?”

“Hey—!!”

At the very last second, she yanked her sword back, but she couldn’t stop the fall. She crashed into me, and the two of us tumbled into a heap.

She was light, yes, lithe and graceful—but still very much a young woman. All the air was crushed out of my lungs in an instant—ugh, damn!

“Get clear!”

“Eh!?”

Thud!

Before she could react, I shoved my foot into her stomach and pushed hard with both hands against her shoulders, launching her several meters off me.

And right where her head had just been—a glob of thick, violet-black venom splashed past.

Had I reacted even a second later, her skull would have melted on impact.

“S-sorry!”

“I’m okay… Urgh—cough, cough!”

I kip-upped to my feet, and Felice scrambled upright as well. We faced Ian once more.

Now, it crouched like a predator about to pounce, maw wide open.

Spit!

Another blast of venom shot straight toward me. This was no fog lizard venom—it was faster, thicker, deadlier. I dodged sideways just in time.

Spit!

A second spray followed, faster than I expected. I nearly tripped as I dropped into a crouch, the venom scorching a nearby tree with a sharp hiss. Pure corrosive acid. Even the blessed cloak could only take so many hits.

Spit, spit, spit, spit, spit!

A barrage.

Ian was rapid-firing like a machine gun. Felice and I could only scramble to dodge—vision on overdrive, reflexes at their peak—dodge, dodge, dodge!

A twist of the neck dodged a spray aimed at the face.

A pivot of the hips avoided one meant for the chest.

A leap cleared a splash meant for the feet.

A dip of the shoulder barely evaded one targeting my collarbone.

We must’ve looked like fools, two frenzied dancers in the woods, doing nothing but dodging, flailing, stumbling—completely at Ian’s mercy.

Thud!

“Ah!”

“Sorry!”

Felice’s elbow smashed into my side mid-dodge. We were too focused on the acid, no time to keep track of each other. Only now did I realize we were nearly shoulder to shoulder.

Ian had forced us together.

It had reduced our space, herding us closer with each toxic volley.

Wait.

Herding us together?

Why?

Why use poison if it’s so strong in melee? Just for fun? To watch us squirm?

Or—

I caught a flicker of something in its main eye.

Was that a glint of cunning?

My scalp tingled with dread. Alarm bells exploded in my brain. I dove toward Felice without hesitation.

And in that moment, Ian moved.

A sharp boom rang out where it had stood—the sound of the ground cracking under its launch. It blasted forward like a missile. I could feel the cloth of its bandages graze the soles of my shoes.

“Ugh—!!”

I tackled Felice hard, and we crashed to the ground.

At the same time, a series of thunderous impacts erupted nearby. I turned my head and saw towering ancient trees being knocked down one after another, as if they were nothing. The earth itself trembled with the force. Cold sweat broke out across my back. This was Ian’s plan all along: first, use venom to restrict our movement, then wait until the two of us were close—only to unleash a charging strike powerful enough to mow down a dozen trees in a straight line, turning us into pulp.

If I hadn’t pushed Felice out of the way in time, we would’ve—

“Yuhong…!”

Felice was still beneath me—and for the first time, I saw a genuine panic on her face. Damn. I mean, I know it was an emergency, but still—landing on top of a girl like this…

“It’s okay. I’m fine. You’re fine.”

I got up immediately and pulled her to her feet—but her expression didn’t ease. She looked at me, pointed, her mouth opening and closing without speaking.

Did I really scare her that badly? Facing someone like Ian, even the smallest mistake meant instant death, and—

“Y-Yuhong! Your… your arm!”

“Huh?”

The flood of adrenaline had numbed the pain, so I hadn’t noticed it right away.

I looked down at my arm.

Upper left arm.

The sleeve was shredded—not torn, but eaten away. The flesh beneath was visibly rotting—a patch of skin had been melted off. And around the wound’s edges, a strange violet-black hue had begun to spread.

That moment when I dove to protect her, the venom had grazed me.

The poison was now spreading outward from the corroded wound, creeping slowly through my entire body.