Chapter Thirteen: Confronting the Vicious Serpent

Unbeknownst to them, at some point, no fewer than forty or fifty ordinary lizards had quietly encircled the pair. Both drew sharp breaths, recalling the swarm of lizards they'd seen earlier crawling out from the myriad caves—now, without warning, the creatures had surrounded them from all sides.

Phoenix scoffed, wasted no words, and in a flash, loosed two arrows in rapid succession. Both arrows struck true, hitting two lizards squarely. With a guttural roar, the wounded lizards were hurled sideways, rolling heavily several meters before coming to rest.

The information read: Forest Lizard, Level 7, Common Beast.

Phoenix dispatched two forest lizards instantly, enraging the entire pack. They erupted in hoarse howls and, from every direction, lunged at the two.

Phoenix fired two more arrows, and again, two lizards fell mid-charge.

As I knocked away a forest lizard, suddenly, a commanding shout rang out from the left: “Let me help you!”

Leaves rustled as a figure burst forth—a swift silhouette wielding a gleaming white greatsword, charging straight into the midst of the lizards. With deft, ruthless strokes, he felled them one after another; every lizard that met his blade collapsed in a broken heap, shrieking in agony.

I watched in surprise as the newcomer, with sword raised and fallen, slew five or six forest lizards in quick succession. Not only him—a woman followed close behind, gripping a curved staff of grayish-yellow hue. She chanted, and above, translucent shards of ice materialized in the sky. With a whoosh, they rained down like bullets, striking the lizard horde and leaving them howling and writhing, bodies strewn across the ground.

The man and woman cooperated seamlessly. In less than a minute, more than half the forest lizards lay dead. The survivors, shrieking in fear, scattered and vanished in an instant.

Behind them, seven more people emerged from the left: men and women alike, their gear suggesting four warriors, two mages, and one archer among them. The lead warrior strode forward—a tall, handsome man of about twenty-five or twenty-six, exuding a sunny charm. He held a white greatsword, its craftsmanship hinting at rare equipment—likely blue gear, with the sword itself a prized red item. With the server still so new, most players were equipped in white or blue; few possessed red items, and only I had purple gear.

The man introduced himself: “Hello, I am Wind Sharp, a level 15 warrior. May I ask your names?”

Phoenix replied, “Phoenix, archer.”

I answered, “I’m Mighty Dragon, a summoner.”

The female mage who had unleashed the devastating ice magic stepped up as well. “I’m Sweet Donut, mage. Why don’t you two join us? There’s strength in numbers.”

Wind Sharp smiled, “Sweet and I are both level 15, with red weapons. The monsters here are hardly a threat to us now. It’s much safer if you come along.”

I noted that Sweet Donut, the mage, appeared to be about seventeen or eighteen—delicate yet pleasing to the eye, a quietly attractive sort.

Phoenix and I exchanged glances and agreed to join their nine-person party.

Wind Sharp was clearly delighted, laughing heartily. “Let’s go, everyone! I believe we’ll soon leave this cursed forest behind.”

Eleven of us set out together, a formidable group. With so many, courage surged within each of us; laughter and conversation filled the journey, and the dangers of the forest seemed trivial.

Wind Sharp constantly sought conversation with Phoenix, his gaze lingering on her beauty, clearly captivated and determined to win her over.

As we walked and chatted, suddenly, the sound of “hiss hiss” arose from all around. In a flash, a swarm of snakes, their bodies mottled with markings, slithered out.

“Form a circle!” Wind Sharp shouted.

Everyone hurriedly drew together, backs pressed close to form a ring. Mages and archers took the center, warriors stood at the perimeter. My little black dog, meanwhile, hid behind a tree, trembling. Wind Sharp remarked, “Brother, your summoned beast is really useless.”

I could only shrug helplessly. The snakes launched their assault. The information: Vicious Python, Level 11, Common Beast.

These pythons stretched two meters long, thick as a bowl. A warrior was quickly ensnared—he fought valiantly, managing to kill one, but was soon overwhelmed by others, crushed and killed in a bloody heap.

Once caught in their coils, the immense strength of these pythons could snap even small trees. Their speed was terrifying—at the slightest hiss, they lunged at us.

“Watch out!” Phoenix cried, as Sweet Donut swung her staff at a python rearing to strike. She chanted, summoning a barrage of ice spikes that smashed three or four pythons.

Another warrior gripped a twin-bladed greatsword, cleaving a python in two. But suddenly his leg was caught—another snake had wrapped itself tight. “Ah!” he screamed, dragged away, his sword torn from his grasp as he struggled to pry the python loose. Another snake bit deep into his neck.

Elsewhere, the warriors at the front were beset by danger. The pythons numbered in the dozens—too many to withstand. “Help!” some players cried, only to be crushed and killed as the pythons surged into our formation. The male archer let out a pained cry as a python locked around his neck, snapping the bones with a sickening crack.

Two pythons lunged at me.

My reactions were faster; I seized one and flung it aside. But another coiled around me, and I struggled to break free.

Meanwhile, the male archer had already died, his neck broken. Sweet Donut, after killing around ten pythons, was finally ensnared herself. Phoenix, too, after slaying who knows how many, was entangled by three pythons.

Players fell one by one. Wind Sharp, driven by desperation, managed to slay three pythons before being surrounded. He fought fiercely, but even a tiger cannot defeat a pack of wolves, and he was soon wrapped tight.

Fury surged within me. Tearing away the pythons on me, I was met by seven or eight more, charging in. I stomped one, crushing its skull beneath my boot. As more pythons wound around me, I reached out, grabbing a snake and, with savage force, slammed it against a tree again and again, splattering blood. One after another, I smashed the pythons to pieces.

I then freed Phoenix from her coils. Regaining her mobility, she fired arrow after arrow, dropping the pythons. Another player stood, using brute strength to tear away the snakes and wielding his greatsword wildly, almost madly. Soon, between the three of us, the remaining pythons were dispatched.

Phoenix, catching her breath, said, “Mighty Dragon, you saved me. I owe you a favor.”

I replied, “It’s nothing. Uncle, you’re really impressive!”

The warrior, roughly forty years old, replied, “I was just lucky. If my innate skill—Enrage—hadn’t triggered, I’d have been dead too.”

Looking around at the bodies, at the twisted, terrified faces, we remembered how moments before everyone had been laughing and joking, yet now they lay dead, their heads gruesomely misshapen, painfully sent back to the city.

The pythons dropped no coins, but yielded nine pieces of equipment, plus four more from the fallen players, totaling thirteen items. Most were white gear, so we began dividing the loot.

I claimed a belt, granting +5 defense.

Phoenix received shoulder guards, gloves, and greaves.

I noticed that Wind Sharp’s red greatsword had dropped—his luck was truly abysmal. He must have felt like committing seppuku. The sword went to the uncle, whose ID turned out to be Roc, a level 14 warrior with barely any gear. Most of the loot was given to him.

Once the division was done, the three of us pressed onward.