Hell Mode: Volume 11, page 26
For the past millennium, his bed, his meals, and even his role had all been prepared for him. His only job had been to approve the decisions the elders made for the village. Needless to say, he had ordered those directly under his control to gather information or investigate matters, but never had he personally done the legwork or gone out of his way to look into issues himself. He had had people do that for him because he had always had someone who would handle the busywork. Not once had he tried to conduct negotiations of his own accord.
Conversely, during the week since he had left his village, his days had been filled with trial and error, along with a dash of nervousness. The conversations he had held with his allies during the journey, the daily chores that they had worked together to complete, and the strategies that had involved using everyone’s strong points to their fullest extent were all new experiences for him. Every day, he had learned something new. It was so stimulating and exciting compared to the past thousand years, when he had slowly waited for days to go by and repeated the same mundane tasks as though time did not pass for him. The view below him was one that he could have never seen back at his village, and was starting to enjoy all these fresh experiences.
Olbaas gazed at the mountain that was drawing nearer and thought of the path below him, where his friends were. He guessed that many, many years ago, the river in front of the grove had been massive and winding, leading the water of the mountains into the sea, but he shook himself free of those thoughts and gazed up when he finally made it to the foot of the mountain. Holes of all sizes dotted its side, and he could hear a faint whistling sound in the distance, beyond the mountain. The wind that had carried him here must have been blowing through to the other side, creating the eerie sound. It almost seemed like a warning meant to dissuade him from coming any closer. Nevertheless, he knelt down and placed his hand on the rock by his feet.
“Earth spirit, please show me the location of the mottled king snake,” he requested.
A dull, golden glow stretched across the ground and into the rock above, through a rather large opening in the mountain.
“Right here,” the earth spirit, which sounded like a young boy, said. “Heh heh, be careful. Looks like it’s awake.”
“Thank you,” Olbaas replied.
The dark elf floated upward again, borrowing the power of the wind spirit, and as soon as he came face-to-face with the hole where the snake apparently lurked, an odd shiver crawled up his spine. It was from neither fear nor excitement, but this peculiar feeling was not a welcome one.
Olbaas had been bestowed with a Talent that did not instill him with confidence that he could defeat a Rank A monster on his own. In fact, he almost never fought any monsters. The best he could do was try to survive. If doing so could make him of any use to his friends and help free the villagers from the threat, he was willing to give it his all. Just then, in the darkness of the hole that led to the snake’s lair, he thought he spotted his father, Rehzel, whom he had parted ways with a thousand years ago, and he gulped.
“Wait for me, father. I promise to catch up to you one day.”
Light as a leaf, he floated about thanks to the wind spirit when a sudden gust of wind almost drew him into the hole.
“Oh no! Run!” the wind spirit said as it unleashed its own gust of wind to push the dark elf away.
The moment Olbaas was back to where he had stood earlier, a monster’s enormous maw emerged to devour its victim whole.
“Shaaaaaah!” the monster screeched, moving quickly for its size. A full set of white fangs lining the back of its mouth—each was as long as Olbaas’s arm.
“Hmph?!” he grunted.
He immediately took a defensive stance, but he had misjudged the situation, realizing too late that it would have been far more effective if he had dodged the attack. The snake traveled upward toward Olbaas and opened its greedy mouth wide, then snapped it shut to swallow him whole. Olbaas, however, had already dodged the attack, a strong breeze pushing him toward the foot of the mountain, retracing the path he had taken. When he turned back, he saw the massive snake rear its head and flick its tongue at him.
“This is the mottled king snake, is it?” Olbaas muttered.
The snake could not have possibly heard him, but when it spotted him floating through the air, it twisted its ocher body, covered with dangerous-looking purple spots, and slithered down the mountain to chase after its prey. The wind managed to push Olbaas toward the valley despite him turning back, but the mottled king snake was faster. Right before the dark elf reached the valley, the snake raised and drew back its lithe head, its beady, scarlet eyes trained on him as it thrust its open jaws forward. A loud swoosh filled the air as two jets of venomous fluid shot out from its fangs.
Olbaas had learned from the villagers that when the snake drew its head back, it was preparing to shoot its venom, and so he took cover in a narrow path that led to the valley while still facing the monster. He rushed past the entrance to the valley and saw white smoke billowing upward, created by the acid in the venom. The snake emerged from that smoke and slithered down the valley that had once been a riverbed.
All the while, Olbaas kept a close eye on the monster so that he could dodge its attacks at a moment’s notice. If he ran too slow, it would catch up to him, but he could not run too quickly either. As bait, he had to lure the monster out by staying just barely out of its reach, meaning he had to gauge the perfect safe distance. He decided to leap backward, backpedaling as fast as he could, and he was only able to do so with remarkable speed thanks to the wind spirit’s aid. The snake, eager to consume Olbaas, followed after him while destroying the cliff around it, and the dark elf continued to dodge the attacks and venom it launched with impeccable timing. As the chase continued, he lost track of time, but then he suddenly heard the familiar voice of one of the people he had made friends with over the past week.
“Well done, Olbaas!” Makkaron shouted.
When the dark elf heard that compliment, he grew proud of himself and turned toward his friend, thereby showing his back to the snake. At that moment, he felt an overwhelming bloodlust assault his back, and in response, he could not help but increase his speed. Until now, he had been able to ignore his fear and dodge the snake’s attacks because he had been facing it, but now that the monster was out of sight, he was more conscious of the murderous intent pointed at him, and his legs began to carry him faster out of sheer terror.
Every second, every meter he could put between himself and the snake was one he would gladly take. He increased his speed and ran in a straight line, no longer able to see the tells before the snake fired its venom. When he flew into the clearing and spotted Makkaron’s panicked face, reality immediately set in for him. He had made a grave mistake.
“Hey! No! Dodge it!” Makkaron bellowed.
The harsh scolding prompted Olbaas to turn around. In doing so, he saw the snake rear its head back, its white fangs glimmering in the sunlight.
“Graaaaah!” Its voice echoed throughout the clearing as two streams of venom shot from its fangs.
Olbaas was in the air, petrified with fear. But the mottled king snake’s venom flew over the dark elf’s head and hit a cliff face. The monster had adjusted its aim, causing it to miss, due to Yoze. The Beast Prince had jumped out from his hiding spot at the entrance to the clearing and grabbed its tail with both hands, pinning it in place. By the time Olbaas realized what had happened, the monster had already begun roaring angrily and whipping its tail around, flinging Yoze’s burly body away.
“Ngah?!” the Beast Prince grunted as he slammed into the cliff. He had managed to protect himself and kicked off the cliff just in time, dodging the snake’s attempt to smack him with its tail. Gressa used the opportunity to activate a spell.
“Flame Lance!”
Dozens of fiery spears appeared and flew toward the snake. It ducked to dodge the attack, but Makkaron had already rushed below it, waiting for it to do exactly that. He put all his strength into his legs and gazed up at the lower jaw covered in white scales while timing his attack for the moment the snake lowered its head.
“Blast Uppercut!” he shouted as he jumped and swung his right fist upward.
Spiraling as he attacked, he landed a powerful blow on the snake’s throat—its vital area. The monster raised its head in an attempt to escape the pain, its body arching backward. Just then, a narrow, sizzling laser shot toward it.
“Localized Destructive Cannon, fire!” a voice cried out.
Nenebee’s mithril golem had used its left arm, transformed into a cannon thanks to a slate, to launch a fiery beam that pierced the snake’s head from the left.
“Shaaah?!” the monster shrieked. It writhed in pain and confusion, and in doing so used the beam to cut off its own head. With a BOOOOM!, its burned head fell onto the ground of the clearing, as did its body, convulsing in its death throes.
Olbaas could only watch in astonishment from afar. He knew that he had made a grave error and that his friends had saved his life, but the teamwork they had shown had been so smooth that the gigantic snake had not stood a chance. It had been killed so easily that the dark elf struggled to wrap his mind around it.
“Hey, you all right?” Makkaron asked, gazing down at the dark elf while offering a helping hand. Only then did Olbaas snap out of his shock and realize that he was sitting on the ground.
“Yeah. Thanks,” he replied as he reached out and grabbed his friend’s hand so that he could be pulled to his feet. He still could not fully shake himself from his surprise.
“That damned snake,” Yoze spat. “It almost killed me.”
“Would’ve been nice if you could’ve held your ground there,” Makkaron said. “If you could use Beast Mode, would things have been different?”
“Hmph. Idle nonsense. I ought to be strong enough to defeat a monster of that caliber without borrowing the power of Lord Garm. This time around...well, I suppose I let my guard down just a bit.”
“Hey, you admitted it. You really are a handful, Beast Prince. Istahl, you mind?”
Istahl approached Yoze, who was holding his side, and chanted a spell.
“Heal!”
“Hmph. Thank you, Istahl,” Yoze said. “And Olbaas, you mustn’t take your eyes off the enemy during a battle like that. You had best watch out next time.”
Olbaas nodded, recognizing that the beastkin who had given him advice and scolded him was a thousand years younger. When it came to fighting monsters, the dark elf was the greenhorn, and he felt oddly refreshed by the realization.
“This snake isn’t all that big,” Nenebee said. “Must be still a kid.”
When Olbaas looked up, he saw the dwarf, still piloting her mithril golem, sliding down the edge of the valley and into the clearing.
“What? You believe it was a mere child?” Yoze asked in disbelief.
“Yeah. If it were an adult, it would be three times as large,” Gressa quietly replied.
“So it’s on the cusp of being a Rank A monster,” Makkaron added.
Olbaas could only voice his amazement. “The world is a vast place... Far vaster than I thought.”
“Yup,” Makkaron replied. “All right then, let’s cut this bad boy up. Nenebee, do your thing!”
The dwarf steered her mithril golem, using its left arm, now back to normal, to hold the monster corpse down. She quickly chopped the snake up using the glowing sword her golem’s right arm had transformed into, then removed the blood from its meat. The skin, scales and all, was cut into equal, more manageable pieces, and the fangs were carefully separated from their venom glands. Once all the parts were neatly lined up, the rest of Majestic cut them up into smaller pieces and tossed them into their magic bags.
“Ooh! This must be the spleen the innkeeper was talking about!” Nenebee cried. Pinched between her golem’s fingers was a purple organ large enough to nestle within Olbaas’s hand. “This is perfect! Can I leave the rest to you guys? I’ve got a ton of kari fruits, so I wanna try doing this myself!”
“This was your plan all along, wasn’t it?” Makkaron asked. “Fine. Gressa, could you help her out?”
Gressa nodded, and Nenebee’s golem vanished, leaving the dwarf herself standing in the clearing. She took a large stockpot and other cooking utensils out of the bag on her back, then began assembling a magic tool that could produce fire.
“Will she be okay?” Olbaas asked.
“Your guess is as good as mine,” Makkaron replied. “Just pray that our adventure doesn’t end here.”
“Could you two please help out instead of just standing there?” Istahl asked. The skinned meat of the mottled king snake still needed to be cut into smaller pieces.
“Damn that Nenebee,” Makkaron said with a chuckle. “She left a lot of work for us to do. It’ll take us all day.”
Olbaas had an idea, so he called out to the wind spirit. “Wind spirit, could you lend me a wind blade?”
“Sure,” the voice of a young boy replied.
At once, Olbaas’s right arm was surrounded by a cold, white whirlwind. He raised his index and middle fingers, prompting a fine band of that wind to envelop their tips.
“Like this?” Olbaas asked. He swung his arm down, and the wind at his fingertips cracked like a whip, slicing through the snake meat with ease.
“I see,” Yoze said, crossing his arms and giving a nod. “You can do all sorts of things with the help of spirits.”
Makkaron grinned. “That’s right. Aren’t you glad I invited him to our party?”
“What are you on about? Olbaas joined of his own accord, didn’t he? Besides, this whole thing started because you trusted shady rumors from a peddler and wished to sneak into the village of the dark elves.”
“Nah, I’m just saying, like, aren’t we glad we’ve got him on our team?”
“All you did was screw up as you always do! It’s got nothing to do with why Olbaas is here with us!”
While the pair bickered, Olbaas cut up the meat, and Yoze and Makkaron stuffed them in their magic bags. Istahl purified any remaining toxins within the meat, so with just a bit of preparation, it would be edible. Around three hours later, once the massive snake had been safely stored in the bags, the sharp clanging sound of someone hitting a pot rang through the clearing.
“It’s done!” Nenebee shouted.
“Niiice! I’m starving! I love a meal after a hunt!” Makkaron replied. The party leader had been sitting on the ground taking a break, but he leaped to his feet and quickly headed for the cooking area with Olbaas and the others in tow. “All right, let’s try some of that fabled spleen cooking! Wait, huh? That’s all we’ve got?”
The pot, which hung over the fire-producing magic tool, was bubbling away while Gressa stirred its contents using a wooden ladle. When she scooped up a chunk of white meat, Makkaron rubbed his belly and smacked his lips.
“We have to stew the meat to remove the toxins, but when you do that, it shrinks,” Gressa explained. “But I don’t expect you to have known that since you don’t cook.”
“Gotcha... Sorry about that.” The party leader scratched his head apologetically. “We’ve only got like two servings, though.”
“Yeah, but it’s fine. You should eat it, Makkaron,” Nenebee said.
His face lit up happily for a moment, but he immediately turned solemn. “Nah, that’s okay.”
“Why? You’re our leader. If you weren’t around, we wouldn’t be here right now. It’s all thanks to you, you know.”
“Yeah? Then I guess I’d feel bad if I turned down your offer...”
Makkaron grinned and took the wooden bowl filled with spleen stew. The broth was cloudy from the fat, and floating in it was stewed white meat along with a variety of chopped herbs. He took a deep whiff to enjoy the aroma of the steaming soup, then smiled.
“Smells awesome,” he remarked. “Kari, was it? It smells really good. I guess I’ll have a bite, then.”
He used a wooden spoon to scoop up the meat, blew on it a bit too cool it down, and huffed loudly as he took his bite. He greedily swallowed the meat, juices and all, while Nenebee and Gressa watched.
“Holy crap, this is amazing!” he said with a sigh. “Yeah, you can’t get anything like this anywhere else! It’s a delicacy for sure!”
The two ladies looked visibly relieved.
“Thank goodness,” Gressa said. “It’s the spleen of a young snake, but we still made sure to remove all the toxins. I was worried that we also extracted all its umami too.”
“Nah, this is great!” Makkaron replied. “But I’ve never eaten anything like it before, so I can’t really compare it to anything.”
“Guess not,” Nenebee said. “All right, one portion left. Yoze, want a bite?”
“Sorry, but as a member of the royal family, I cannot eat such a dish. Olbaas, why not you?”
“Uh, monster meat is kind of...” The dark elf had not expected to hear his name. Nevertheless, he was handed a bowl of warm soup, and when he looked up, Gressa offered him a smile and a spoon.
“Aw, live a little, Olbaas!” Nenebee encouraged. “Have a bite!”
Olbaas hesitated for a moment. Dark elves did not have a custom of consuming monster meat, so he had never eaten any before. However, after recalling the immense effort his allies had put into making the dish, he could not refuse. He accepted the bowl and steeled his resolve, then took the spoon and made to take his first bite.
“Gah?! Agh! Ahhhhh!” Makkaron suddenly cried.
He fell to the ground, foaming at the mouth as he began to convulse. Everyone excluding Olbaas hastily rushed over to their party leader.
“Makkaron, are you okay?!” Istahl cried.
“Healing magic! Now!” Yoze shouted.
“Right! All Cure!”
Gentle light rained upon Makkaron, and his convulsions stopped as his breathing steadied. He slowly sat up, his entire body covered with sweat, but his tone was stable as he shouted angrily.
“Dammit, my mouth’s still numb... Nenebee! You didn’t remove all the toxins, did you?!”
