Re: Level 100 Farmer

Sylvie dashed forwards, leaving Azhar to aim at the wyrm's neck. She kept behind Launcelot and Vahid as they made their roaring charge. She glanced upwards, her vision momentarily filling with a medley of white and red lights as branches of lightning and fireballs soared overhead.

The lightning struck true, piercing into the wyrm's soft and thin wing membranes. As each individual branch of crackling energy punched through the wings, they left behind scorched holes ringed with fire. Then the blades of wind struck, shearing great cuts in the wing like a scissor running through a curtain. The fireballs widened the cuts and charred them to brittle crisps of charcoal until finally, explosive arrows tore apart the battered wings wholesale, leaving but ragged strips of smoking flesh.

The wyrm loosed a high-pitched scream as it lost control over its flight, its wings flapping uselessly as it stumbled backwards. But before it could fall into the ravine, it thrust out its free hind leg to stabilize its balance. Like this, the wyrm stood on two legs, one foot braking its fall and the other trying to crush Jeanne, but it did not stand for long.

Vahid and Launcelot let loose battle cries that echoed throughout the woods as they neared the foot Jeanne was holding up.

"Strike true, Cleaver!" screamed Vahid as he slammed his oversized greatsword straight into the leg with all his might, each of his muscles coiled tight and bulging, as if straining to burst of out of his skin. The bull tattoo at his back surged with blue crackles of magical energy, and as his back muscles tensed, they warped the image of the tattoo from bull to something almost demonic.

The greatsword cracked through the wyrm's scales, sending showers of green sailing outwards, embedding even into Vahid's own flesh like bullets, but he grit his teeth and pressed his swing forwards, his knuckles turning white from exertion. The blade sliced through muscle as tough as steel, but eventually, the blade stopped, unable to cut deep enough to sever important tendons or bone.

Vahid drew back hands that trembled from the immense impact, leaving the greatsword embedded in the leg. "Launcelot! Show me your might!"

Launcelot answered with a roar just as loud as Vahid's he charged forwards, his shield borne in front of him.

"[Shield Bash!]" he shouted as he crashed the shield into Vahid's blade with all his strength and weight, essentially throwing himself onto the leg like a human missile. Launcelot flew backwards from the tackle, as if he had slammed into an iron wall, and he groaned as he lay flat on his back, but he had been successful.

The sudden burst of impact from the shield drove the blade in even further. Pops and snaps cracked through the air as the wyrm's tendons severed and its bone shattered.

The wyrm's head swayed from side to side as it surveyed the situation. It decided to run, using its one healthy back leg to try and drive itself off the ravine, where hopefully it could try to swim downstream so that the current could aid its escape.

Sylvie held her breath. If the wyrm managed to fall, it could use its adept swimming skills to outpace the adventurers until it reached one of the major lakes, at which point, it would be impossible to catch.

"No, you don't!" said Jeanne, her breaths heavy, her blonde locks specked with dirt. She cracked her knuckles as she almost flew forwards, her jump creating craters in the ground. She grabbed the end of the wyrm's tail right as it started to tip over the edge of the ravine.

"This is payback," said Jeanne under a labored breath as she drove her legs into the ground and then heaved, like she was pulling a chain attached to a heavy weight. Light, golden like the rays of the sun, started to gather around her body like a full-body halo, and slowly but surely, she made progress, pulling the wyrm up even as it used thrashed around, trying to pull free.

With a final battle cry of exertion, she heaved the full weight of the wyrm back up the ravine, slinging it right back on the clearing where it now struggled to even stand, exhausted and bleeding from two torn apart legs.

Sylvie held her wakizashi out, the edge of the blade's steel protruding from her cloak and glinting under the sun. She walked slowly up to the wyrm's head. Her red eyes intensified in color, almost to the shade of blood, as she analyzed the wyrm, waiting for that precious killing instant.

The wyrm lay prone on the ground, its great chest heaving up and down as it struggled for breath. Its yellow eyes focused on Sylvie as she approached its head, and it growled, baring its many rows of curved teeth. But the wyrm did not lash out as she expected, trying to bite at her one last time.

Instead, it closed its eyes and curled its lengthy neck up into coils of defensive scales to protect its vulnerable head and throat.

Sylvie felt her heart skip a beat. Like this, the wyrm could loose a cloud of venom without fearing retaliation from Azhar. But she did not loosen her focus. She could feel how close she was to the killing instant. Her senses were hyper-focused.

She could hear the wyrm's rapid heartbeat. She could hear the squelch of the severed arteries at its legs as they spurted blood. She could hear the breath that rattled in its throat hidden by coils of neck muscle and scales.

All she needed was one mistake to find a weak spot, something, to strike at. But the wyrm had turtled up perfectly, its head completely concealed, and she didn't have the firepower to cut through its entire neck, even if it was far thinner than its sturdy legs.

"Here you go, Sylv! This is the last of my strength, the rest is up to you!"

Sylvie blinked as she heard Jeanne's voice resonate from behind her. Before she could turn, she saw Launcelot's greatshield crash straight into the wyrm's neck like a massively oversized arrow. The shield's solid, thick edges and sturdy, heavy metal made the perfect bludgeoning boulder that shattered the thick layer of scales at the neck before bouncing off and clattering on the ground.

Jeanne had thrown the shield like a rock, and as Sylvie's eyes widened, she could see the killing instant.

Time slowed.

A cloud of jagged and cracked scales fell so slowly around the wyrm's neck that they were almost suspended in animation. Sunlight reflected off of them, and for a moment, Sylvie found the scene beautiful, the light twinkling on each little shard of scale like the many stars of night.

But even more beautiful was the sight of its bare neck now uncovered by scales. The flesh was deeply red and open to the world, the protective scales having been blasted apart by the shield throw.

Before the wyrm could move again, adjusting its neck to hide the exposed flesh, Sylvie mobilized.

[Shadowform] to wreathe her body in a black shimmer that granted her next attack a guaranteed critical strike.

[Hashihime Flow] to accelerate her body's movements beyond human limitations for just a moment.

And then –

Sylvie grasped her wakizashi in two hands, and in a flash of darkness, she was upon the vulnerable flesh. She could make out each and every fiber of the powerful wyrm muscles, and she could see how some of them had been damaged by the impact, how the perfect strike at the perfect angle would slice through everything in one motion.

"[Tenfold Execution]," she whispered, stabbing the sword deep into the neck until it reached the hilt. The blade plunged in without any resistance, but she could feel the point stop at the hardened vertebrae. She withdrew her blade and flicked it to the side, throwing off blood that had drenched on its enchanted steel.

The hunt was over.

She watched as ten shadowy black blades of energy manifested and whirled around the neck, all focusing on the bone and the flesh surrounding it. They removed the muscle and split the bone with surgical precision – as expected of a high tier C-rank spell that taxed her mana and body immensely.

Yet even as she saw the shadows finish their work, she still held her breath. Always confirm the kill, she said to herself in her head.

Finally, she sighed in relief when she saw the neck split slowly apart from the wyrm's body.

The wyrm's body shuddered one last time before it grew still, and then a torrent of blood squelched from its severed neck, spattering on Launcelot's shield below.

Sylvie's vision blurred and she fell back, her mana levels too low. Strong hands grabbed her, and she looked up at Jeanne's proud eyes shining bluer than any ocean at sunrise. "You did it, Sylv! Gods, I was so worried for you!"

Sylvie quickly pushed herself off Jeanne and mustered up the energy to stand. "You didn't need to worry."

She had finally proven herself. For months, she had looked at Jeanne as her medal turned from bronze to silver, from silver to gold, and yet, hers had stayed bronze. She finally knew now that she could hold her own, that she wasn't by Jeanne's side just because the shining hero wanted to respect their childhood bonds.

Now, Sylvie could finally admit to herself that she wasn't a burden, that she deserved to be here, and despite how weary her body was, she felt lighter than ever, a huge burden lifted from her back.

"We still have to get the head," said Sylvie, trying to think through a headache about what else they needed to do. She knelt by the wyrm's neck. "Kill confirmation. Then we need to-"

"Don't worry, Sylv," said Jeanne as she put her hand on Sylvie's shoulder. She gave Sylvie a bright and thankful smile. "We'll take care of it. Get some rest, your mana's much too low for this work."

Vahid stumbled up to the wyrm corpse, very obviously tired, and tapped the severed neck with his boot. There were still several coils of neck to unwound to get to the head at the very bottom. "My arms have taken a mighty beating. I'm afraid I alone cannot carry this weight. We'll need to sever the neck again closer to the head – make it easier to carry."

"You're right," said Sylvie. She looked back and saw that Launcelot, the other muscle in the party, was still on the ground, recovering. Instead, she called to everyone behind him, the mages and the bowmen. "Everyone, let's straighten these coils out."

"But you, missy," said Vahid, pointing a stubby finger at Sylvie. She looked at him questioningly as she knelt by the mound of coils. "Ought to rest. A mind at low mana is a mind at risk to collapse."

Sylvie shook her head. "I'm fine, I can do atleast this." She waved the backline forwards, and they came in due course, surrounding the coils.

"All of you, push on my count. Three, two…," Sylvie poured energy into her arms again despite the throbbing pain at her head. "One!"

Everyone pulled back, and it was almost like unspooling a massively oversized thread with the wyrm's head at the very end.

Sylvie breathed hard as the last of the coils unwound, revealing the wyrm's head on the ground. The eyes were still open and fierce, projecting forth a spiteful determination, and yet they had lost the glossy sheen they had when they were alive.

Vahid raised his greatsword overhead, ready to try the first of many blows needed to hack the head off. Sylvie swayed from side to side as her vision blurred. She wanted to help, but she had nothing left in the tank to help with. She watched as Jeanne held the head firm while Vahid loosed one strong blow into it, ploughing up some blood and scales.

"You aren't going to help?" said Sylvie as she felt Azhar's presence draw near to her.

"They don't need my help, but it's lookin' like you do."

"You've helped me more than enough. Without you, the plan wouldn't have worked."

"I ain't talkin' about that. It's your decisions, Sylv." Azhar squatted beside her and did not look at her, keeping his eyes forward and on Jeanne as she helped Vahid. "Sylv, how'd ya know the wyrm didn't have venom?"

Sylvie pursed her lips. "I…didn't know. I know what you think. That were I to be wrong, then my command to Jeanne would have meant grievous injury to many of us. But I was right, and in the end, that is all that matters, no?"

Azhar looked up at Sylvie, and she expected judgement to be on his face, perhaps accentuated with the curve of a frown, but he only stared at her with an understanding, neutral expression. "I ain't gonna' tell you that what you did was wrong, cause' I would've made the same call in your place. But Sylv, know that ya got nothin' to prove to us."

"I know," said Sylvie. "But when we banded together, it was under a promise to each other that we would change the world for the better. I wasn't trying to prove anything to you, I was trying to prove to myself that I had the power to make good on that promise, that I could earn my place on this team."

One person had already died under her plans, and ever since then, she had been plagued about her worth and whether she was even needed with someone as powerful as Jeanne in their midst. At least now she could tell herself she belonged.

Sylvie moved back to the wyrm's neck where Jeanne was helping Vahid.

"Let's flip it over," said Jeanne to Vahid. "It'll have softer scales at its underbelly."

Vahid grunted in approval and Jeanne twisted the head backwards. As she did so, the wyrm's mouth yawned open. Its bulging venom pouch started to flatten, and for a second, everyone froze, expecting venom, but instead, an egg squelched out from the pouch.

It was a massive egg, white but covered in streaks of green and almost as large as a man. When it slid out the wyrm's mouth, its venom pouch completely deflated.

Sylvie understood now. The wyrm didn't have any venom because it was carrying a child. But that didn't explain its odd intelligence. It was also surprisingly strong. Much physically stronger and tougher than the average wyrm, capable of tiring out a powerhouse like Jeanne, knocking out Launcelot, and weathering Vahid's brutal blows.

"This will sell for a hefty price!" said Vahid as he reached down to touch the egg. "For sure it will finance another night of celebration! Or perhaps we shall feast on it. Where I am from, wyrm meat is said to grant long and happy lives. Provided the lassies are not too squeamish about it."

Sylvie reached out to Vahid, her mouth open to tell him to fall back as she saw the wyrm's eyes move in their sockets.