Walking back to the entrance of the cave, I glance back at all the corpses of the monsters I've slayed.
These will be useful later. Since I've figured out what my ring could do, I could put them to good use.
Blue light flashes rapidly multiple times as I store the corpses of all of the monsters into my ring.
As I continue doing this, a question arises in my mind.
If I could store deceased monsters in my ring, is it possible I could store them while they're still alive?
It could be possible.
After all, I just recently discovered this ability after coming to this world for quite a while.
As I sort my thoughts, I notice something peculiar outside the cave while finally making it to the entrance.
It's bright outside.
Why?
Velwood Forest is supposed to be pitch dark.
Armament.
I go to investigate, but the moment my foot touches the grass beyond the cave's mouth, an arrow slices through the air, aimed at my chest. My hand snaps up instinctively, catching it mid-flight. Without a word, I snap it in half between my fingers.
There must be a monster with a bow somewhere in the forest. After all, the skeletons in the dungeon were wielding swords.
I analyze the arrow.
There's mana imbued into this arrow. I could see faint strands of it.
A thought bubbles in my mind.
No.
It couldn't be...
Right?...
I study the tip of the arrow, sniffing and rubbing it with my fingers.
Poison.
So it is...
From the tangled brush ahead, a group of figures emerges, their silhouettes twisted by the shadows. Grins stretch unnaturally across their faces, wide and hungry, their eyes glinting with malice. They numbered about ten. Most of them clutch gnarled staffs, the wood blackened and veined with something that pulses faintly.
I recognized one of them.
Yes. The short man with a jagged scar down over his right eye, an axe on his back, bigger than his body.
This was the person I asked for guidance in the guild hall about where to find Velwood Forest.
I grit my teeth, drawing a little blood from the force.
"Oh? I'm surprised you caught that arrow," says one of the men, holding a staff with a scrawny stature and a very long mustache.
"Drel, you sure you were trying?"
"I must've drawn back too slowly," another sneers, his voice dripping with arrogance as he steps forward, raising a sleek black bow etched with bone-like carvings.
The short man with a scar takes a step forward, bringing his axe out from his back.
"I told you, kid… I tried to warn ya," he says, a wicked grin spreading across his scarred face, his voice laced with mock pity. "I almost feel sorry for your party—draggin' dead weight like you this far." His eyes glint with cruel amusement as the others around him chuckle, the air thick with malice.
A man dressed in a dark cloak steps forward.
I know this man too...
He was the one who sold me the Sylph.
With a twisted smirk curling on his lips, he narrows his eyes at me, the shadows from his hood casting his face in sinister angles. "Where's the rest of your party?" he asks, his voice low and mocking.
"He musta ran from the boss while it ate 'em," a wiry man snickers, his voice shrill and cruel, setting off a chorus of harsh, guttural laughter from the rest of the group.
Their mocking echoes through the clearing like a funeral dirge twisted into a joke, each chuckle laced with scorn as they look at me like carrion birds circling something already dead.
I grit my teeth even harder.
It hurts.
It hurts.
It hurts.
I open my mouth, blood dripping from it, "How'd you find me?"
"I tampered with the Sylph I sold you."
The cloaked man takes out a glass orb.
I see myself in it.
What is this?
Ah.
I get it now.
I was set up.
I sneer, voice rough and venomous, "You must be a group of those bastards—stalking adventurers as they crawl out of dungeons, waiting to butcher them and steal what little they've earned." Rage curls in my words, twisting my face into a mask of contempt. "Cowards. Pathetic, cowardly scum."
The short man starts to laugh. "Well then, this makes it easier," he points his axe at me, "hand over the loot ya got, and you can go."
I let out a little chuckle.
"Don't make me laugh. You're practically radiating bloodlust."
My eyes focused on the short man, red energy leaking out of his body, as his eyes turned into those of a predator.
"Remember y'all, make sure not to hurt the goods." He then began an incantation.
"Aegis fortis, bind with strength.
Let stone and iron guard my flesh.
Hold fast against all strikes.
Stand unbroken, shield unyielding.
Fortify."
His body swells grotesquely, limbs twisting and bulking, until the man towers over me like a nightmare made flesh. He easily grew around 3 times his size. The axe, once too large, now fits perfectly in his massive hands as he lets out a guttural roar and charges—an unstoppable force fueled by savage fury.
That must be a spell that raises his defense and size. Suitable for a tank.
But that doesn't look like a spell that utilizes the elements. There must've been spells that the book didn't mention.
The rest of the group then began to prepare their spells, reciting their incantations.
"Ignis surge, gather and roar.
Flame unbound, consume all before.
Burn bright and fierce, shatter the air.
Let destruction rise with fire's wrath.
Fireball."
"Spirare, rise and tear the sky.
Unseen force, push and rend.
Sweep the air with sudden wrath.
Let nothing stand before the gale.
Breezlet."
"Aqua, surge and drive ahead.
Flow with force, sharp and cold.
Sweep away all in your path.
Carry the tide's relentless push.
Streamlet."
All sorts of spells begin to spiral toward me.
I need to counter.
Beginning to envision a fighter as it analyzes their opponent, I ready my next spell and use one of the corpses in the ring as a catalyst.
Warden's Gaze.
I can see it.
The air crackles with dark energy as spells streak toward me, each one a whispered curse of destruction. I weave through the chaos with eerie precision, my movements fluid and calculating, never wasting a single motion.
Above me, the monstrous man's axe cleaves through the air in furious arcs, each strike a desperate roar of rage. Yet every blow shatters only empty space, my body slipping through his fury like a shadow escaping the light, untouched and untouchable amid the storm.
A thought begins to form.
Wait, how are they able to use these spells?
I don't see any catalysts on them, and it doesn't look like they're using their own bodies as one either.
I focus harder on each person and notice that they are all wearing the same gloves, the axed man included, each having crystals on them.
What is that?
Veltrix.
Another corpse in my ring disappears.
The man's axe swung in a deadly arc, aimed to split me apart, but my hand shot out with unnatural speed, seizing the cold steel just inches from my body. His eyes locked onto mine, wide with shock and dawning terror, a silent scream trapped in his throat.
With a savage, bone-crushing pull, I tore his arm off—tendons snapping, blood spurting in thick, dark jets that stained the cracked earth beneath us.
The heavy axe fell with a sickening thud, sliding across the ground in a crimson smear.
His massive frame shriveled back to his normal size, his roar of agony tearing through the air—a raw, guttural scream that echoed with pure, unfiltered pain as he writhed on the ground in pain.
The other mages stood frozen, their spells dying on their lips, hands still poised mid-cast. Their eyes were wide with disbelief, staring at the mangled, blood-soaked body of their comrade crumpled on the ground.
The scent of burnt ozone and iron lingered thick in the air, but none dared to move. Their arrogance drained in an instant, replaced by a chilling silence—an unspoken dread of the monster standing before them.
"H-h-how did he do that to Dalpril?..." One man asked, breaking the silence, his expression etched with fear.
But his question lingered like a curse in the thick, blood-stained air—unanswered, festering. No one dared to speak. Their eyes, once filled with cruel amusement, now trembled with raw fear, transfixed on me as if I were death incarnate.
The short man, still writhing in pain, yelled from the ground in anger, "WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU IDIOTS DOING?!? KILL THAT FUCKING BASTARD NOW!!!"
The men snap back to reality but are still encased in fear.
They ready their next spells, reciting their incantations.
Without even realizing it, a sigh comes out of my mouth.
Again.
Again, I have to do this.
Again.
Again, I have to kill people.
Again.
Again, the expectations I had of people disappointed me.
Once again.
The men finish their spells and release them towards me, each one weaker than the ones before.
Their water spells seemed like mere splashes in the ocean.
Fire looking like a flicker.
These mongrels never learn.
I slowly walk towards the group of men, dodging each spell with extreme grace and precision.
The spells start to seem even worse than before, and their teamwork starts to falter.
One of the men, a lanky mage with sunken eyes and trembling fingers, froze mid-chant, the arcane glow in his hands flickering out like a dying flame. His eyes widened, pupils dilating in sheer panic as he locked eyes with me—no longer seeing a man, but something far more monstrous. His entire frame quivered, legs wobbling beneath him as though the ground had turned to liquid.
"N-No… NO!!!" he shrieked, voice cracking like brittle glass underfoot. His staff slipped from his hands and clattered violently against the earth, the sound sharp and final, like a verdict. He turned on his heels in a frantic, graceless sprint, crashing through brush and mud in a blind, animalistic attempt to escape.
But before he could get far, the cloaked man beside him shot out a hand, seizing him by the collar and yanking him back with a vicious jerk. "You coward," he spat, his voice laced with disbelief and fury. "You dare run? What are you so afraid of?" His eyes, wild with a stubborn delusion of control, scanned the rest of the group. "We outnumber him!"
"D-do you not f-feel it?" The mage's eyes start to fill with horror, "Do you n-not feel h-his mana flow?"
He flails his arms at the cloaked man, trying to break free, "There's n-no way w-w-we could beat some-someone like that! You saw what he did to Dalpril!"
Mana flow?
What is he talking about?
Some of the mages, still casting their spells, begin to lose hope.
"FUCK! I'M OUT OF MANA!" One of them says.
He throws his staff on the ground and reveals a dagger on his belt, taking it out and gripping it with both of his hands as he charges towards me, dagger first.
Learn.
Mongrel.
Learn.
I stretch my arm out with deliberate calm, my fingers closing around the mage's trembling head like a vice. His scream dies in his throat as my grip tightens. With a sudden, sickening crunch, his skull gives way beneath the pressure—bones splintering, blood bursting forth in thick, dark streams.
The sound is grotesque—wet, final, echoing through the trees like a death knell.
His lifeless body slumps to the ground, the crushed remains of his head slipping from my palm. The echo of destruction hangs heavy in the silence that follows. The other mages stare, their eyes wide and full of unfiltered horror, frozen in place as the weight of what just happened crushes any remnants of courage they once held.
They had just witnessed death incarnate—and it wore a human face.
The men slowly start to gather their senses and begin to run with all of their might, scattering like mice, in different directions, dropping everything they carried.
Useless.
6 people.
In a flash, I appear before the nearest mage—his face twists in sheer terror, his mouth agape, too slow to even scream. Before he can move, my hand drives into his chest with a sickening squelch, ribs cracking beneath my fingers. I reach deep, wrapping my grip around the frantic thrum of his heart. One squeeze—and it ceases, cold and still. His body collapses like a puppet with its strings severed.
I turn to the others, now scrambling, stumbling over one another to escape.
But it's far too late.
I move like a phantom cloaked in death, catching one by the shoulder, tearing his arm clean from the socket—blood geysering in the air, the shock alone snuffing his life out. Another I sweep off his feet, fingers digging into his thigh as I wrench his leg away from his body. His scream cuts off midway as his eyes roll back.
One by one, I reduce them to broken bodies and scattered limbs, painting the forest floor in crimson.
All 6 who ran...
Dead.
2 seconds was all it took.
The cloaked man drops to the floor on his knees, releasing the mage who tried to run earlier from his grip.
The mage, now unhanded, used this opportunity to try to run.
Seriously?
After seeing what I did to your comrades, you should be finding ways to end your life instead of dying at my hands.
He continues to run faster and further.
How cute.
He actually thinks he can get away.
I pointed my finger in the direction he ran.
Zephyra.
A concentrated and powerful gust of wind releases from my finger and pierces the mage's chest, leaving his entire body to explode and painting the trees an even darker red.
I don't remember Zephyra being that strong.
I turn my attention back to the cloaked man.
He lowers his head to the floor as if worshipping me, grabbing coins out of his pocket.
"H-Here! Th-this is a-all of the m-money we g-got from doing th-this! Pl-please, sp-spare me!"
I count the coins.
It was 37 bronze coins.
That's quite a hefty amount.
I crouch down, gently remove them from his hands, and stand right back up.
The cloaked man looks up with a joyful look on his face, "Th-this m-means that you've sp-"
I take my foot and crush his skull, sullying my boots with blood.
"Shut the fuck up."
The short man writhes on the blood-soaked ground, his breaths ragged, clutching the mangled stump where his arm once was. His face twists, not with pain, but revelation. Through gritted teeth and bloodied lips, he spits out his words.
"You... didn't have a party..." His one good eye narrows, burning with a mix of rage and dawning horror. He raises his head to glare at me, voice trembling with hatred. "Did you?"
He lunges forward, snarling through the pain, snatching his axe with his remaining hand. With a wild cry, he charges—rage blinding his judgment—swinging the massive blade toward my torso with everything he has left.
Steel howls through the air.
But it never connects.
The moment he believes victory is his, his eyes widen in confusion—his axe cleaving through nothing but empty space. I stand silently behind him now, my presence still ominous.
A thick line of red forms across his midsection, and before he can turn or scream, his body splits cleanly in two—top half sliding from the bottom with a sickening squelch. My extended hand, posed in a sharp chopping motion, drips with fresh blood, painting the ground beneath in a widening pool of crimson silence.
I stare at the bodies scattered around.
The people I killed.
I kill my emotions.
It was necessary.
I move towards one of the corpses.
I wonder if I can store humans in my ring.
There's only one way to find out.
I first removed any valuable items I could find on it. Specifically, the glove. This was the reason why they were able to cast spells without carrying a big catalyst.
I need to figure out how it worked.
I replicated the same feeling as I did with the corpses of the monsters, and it worked. The same blue glow appeared and sucked the corpse right in.
I did the same with all of the bodies, removing their valuable items, of course.
I stare at the desolate space.
It's time to head back now.
Nyxseer.
The now dimly lit forest appeared bright...
As I made my way back to town...