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“Say, is you a spook, ey?” the bandit leader asked, swiping with his long dagger again. When it missed, he spit a glob of phlegm toward Vander’s face, which he promptly dodged, and then threw a dagger—also dodged. “Pretty spooky, I say! Sit still an’ lemme gut ya!”

Without using a speck of mana, Vander let the training in his muscles drive his body. All of Tinardin’s attacks looked far too slow, untrained, and like the blundering of a buffoon. Yet, there was a subtle skill at play. Some kind of trickery or deceit, maybe even illusion. Vander, every so often, felt his eyes trail away from the man as if he weren’t there. Like his mind couldn’t process the bandit’s existence in front of him.

An odd skill. That was the extent of the threat it posed. Other than being kind of odd, the skill was nothing less than pitiful. An embarrassment. The fact Tinardin could be the leader of the bandits with such little combat prowess got Vander to think about what other things the leader might be capable of.

Toying with the bandit leader and wiping out the rest of his lackeys, two birds and one stone. The copied blades of sword dance eventually faded as the mana used to create them ran their course, but they’d done their job. They’d cost multiple times as much as any of the other skills did and wrecked havoc as such.

Only three bandits remained of the forces that faced him. WIth a roll away from Tinardin, Vander grabbed a handful of his daggers from the bundle and threw them. The first archer died with wide eyes and no attempt at evading, while the second dodged one dagger and ran straight into the second.

From three to one. Tinardis still hacked and slashed, spit and cackled. Talked in his strange dialect as his movements lost steam, slowed down, and then came to a halt completely. No matter how tired the bandit looked, his mouth kept moving at a mile a minute.

“Spook, looksy ‘ere, bubba. I’ll give ya two piggies fer meats, bacon’s good, a cow fer steak, and a cowgirl to hop yer bone. Jus’ gimme yer guts, why don’t ya?” huffed Tinardin through ragged breaths, holding his heaving chest and shoulders.

“Die.” For the first time, Vander activated two of the skills in tandem, piercing lunge and skypiercer. The result was even greater than he’d ever expected. Tinardis leapt away from the lunge, but the eruption of lightning caught him, turning him into a proper Tinardis kebab. Vander walked over and looked down at the gasping bandit leader that weakly stabbed at empty air and choked on his own blood, lungs collapsed. Vander crouched next to the bandit leader and spit. “For Madeline’s sake, enjoy your stay in hell.”

Blade severed charred neck and spinal cord. As he’d done with Madeline, Vander picked up the decapitated head and ran into the village. Dead and injured sprawled about in all sorts of manner. An explosive step carried him halfway to the beast, his sword vibrating.

In a fluid motion, Vander threw the bandit leader’s head towards the giant snake. It must have sensed the approach of the head. A black-violet magic expunged from its frame and augmented its speed, allowing it to halt its current attack to snap its jaws around the bandit leader’s head.

Rindrianth

Level 60 Giant Snake (Field Boss)

In spite of himself and the fallen, Vander smiled. A lust for battle filled him, excited the air between them, and redoubled the adrenaline coursing through his veins. The many months in the village without anything happening, the talks and training with the ancient duo, the talk with Amany, the portal with Madison and the Witch, and the talk with the goddess of servitude’s master.

This is what he’d been wanting for through it all. Nothing made him feel more alive than this feeling buzzing through his body, sparking him with life, and filling him with a feeling of power. And not just power, confidence too. With the blade in his hand, he felt free, mighty in the face of his obstacles, capable of overcoming them and achieving his goals.

In a flash, he appeared in front of Tobias and the other villagers and brought his sword down in a swift attack that cut into the scales of the snake. Even as fast as it might’ve been, the creature couldn’t do anything to react in time. The giant snake recoiled and hissed, but to Vander’s surprise, it didn’t flee.

Vander didn’t take his eyes off the beast as he called out to those behind him. “Get out of here! I thought I told you that already! I’ll handle this!” Vander commanded, and all it took was one look at the blade in his hands for the villagers to follow his instructions. “Chief, I’ll defeat everything here. Just make sure to get the villagers to safety. I’ll make sure not to allow any of the leftover invaders to escape.”

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The giant snake swayed back and forth, its head bobbing side to side as it stared daggers into him, a primal fury taking root in the monster. Vander wasted no time, quickly cutting down a small group of orcs and bandits fighting with the elder and blocking the escape route.

“You heard him,” Tobias’ voice boomed. “Start moving!”

The remaining villagers, most not even out of their adolescence but forced to fight, moved. Footsteps faded.

“Vander…” Tobias said, earning a glare from the object of his concern. The old man’s forlorn didn’t suit the jovial image Vander had of him. “From the looks of things, I know I have to worry or tell you to be careful. But please be careful.”

Vander nodded, and then he was alone. It’ll be easier this way. I can let loose a little.

And then Vander was alone, face to face with a snake as large as a young oak and three times as thick. Eyes like obsidian in the shape of a diamond bore into him, its forked tongue slipping in and out of its mouth. Intelligence, unbefitting of the mindless carnage and destruction the snake caused, shined back at him from those beady depths.

This isn’t a regular monster.

A wave of power passed through the area. Vander perceived such a small ripple, just barely. Then the snake darted forward and threw itself toward him. He deflected its attack with one of his own. His family’s sword cut through plated scale, sinew, and bone with ease and sent volts of lightning arcing through the monster’s body.

It hissed and writhed, angry that he’d hurt it, that its own attacks kept falling short of ripping him to shreds. After another haphazard lurch forward, Vander cleaved it in half, head to tail bisected. What should have been a death blow wasn’t.

“Something’s not right,” he muttered as an unfamiliar aura overtook the snake.

The ground began to shake, and the nearby orcs panicked and began running in the direction of where they had come from. The snake's two halves oozed black-violet across the ground and left a sick, land-tainting trail in its wake. Two halves squelched as they reattached.

Regenerative power the likes of which Vander hadn’t seen before finished sewing the monster together. He gripped his sword. I can't let it just heal after an attack. He rushed forward before the snake could gather its bearings after healing, but he was too slow. The wound sealed in its entirety, and the snake didn’t hesitate to lunge forward. Its fangs glowed with a sickly poisonous black-violet. Where it dripped to the ground, any semblance of life died, sizzled, and dried out.

Blight? Instead of meeting the snake’s strike, Vander threw himself to the side. Magic sense screamed in his mind and told him of a sudden but fatal change in the air around him.

A wave of black-violet energy arced from its fangs and decimated the space where he’d been. The attack sizzled out a few dozen feet behind him, leaving everything else in complete desolation. Pure eradication ensued, robbing the land of its healthy pallor.

Definitely Blighted. A giant snake with the ability to wield Miasma? He pushed the thought away and focused on slaying the beast. If what he’d observed meant what he thought, one mistake meant his life. Never thought I’d see a Blighted creature.

Vander scrambled onto his feet and gripped his sword in both hands. After dispatching the bandits and orcs, his mana capacity was in shambles. He’d played around, not realizing the severity of the situation. All he could do was stay alive without using his mana and attempt to stall for time until he could obliterate the thing in one go.

The giant snake curled up and watched his every move. It readied itself for an attack, but Vander couldn’t let it do as he pleased. Not if he wanted to live through the day. Gone were the thoughts of passing his class assessment with flying colors, all he focused on now was keeping his life and hoping he’d complete the class assessment at all.

Blight was the leftovers of Miasma, anti-magic energy wielded by demons and necromancers. The fact the giant snake exuded such power clued Vander into something much bigger going on, much more problematic, and likely the source of the entire second trial’s requirements.

Putting aside the thought, he dodged another set of Blight waves. Buildings collapsed, but he couldn't worry about what might become of the village’s infrastructure if he wanted to have a chance of living or winning. Though deadly, the arcs didn’t take much to dodge at his current range. The snake’s build up was obvious and avoidable, but were he to close that range, he worried they would be less so.

Two Blighted arcs trailed towards him. His impulse told him he could take it, his gut told him he could take it, and the power brimming in his veins agreed. The rational side of him made his body move out of the way, then use the power he would’ve otherwise wasted to throw himself forward.

Resonating strikes wreaked havoc on the innards of the snake, and Blighted blood seeped from its wounds until they sealed up. But the attacks slowed it enough that Vander could wail away with reckless abandon. He strapped in for what would be a long fight.