And that "something" I saw move in the distance? Apparently, it wasn’t some sneaky ambush predator, waiting for the right moment to pounce.
It came straight at us, right out in the open.
Slithering with a confidence that made my skin crawl.
The system window blinked into my vision.
Alignment: Aggressive
Drop: Viperscale, Venom Gland (★★)
My jaw tightened slightly.
The Stonecoil Viper wasn’t just bigger than the Ridge Serpents; it was different.
Its body was thicker, armored in overlapping plates of dark, mineral-like scales.
Every time it moved, it scraped the rocky ground with a grinding sound that made my teeth ache.
Behind me, I felt the entire group stiffen.
Weapons were drawn, stances tightened. Not a single word of panic was uttered—only grim determination filled the air.
A little surprising, honestly.
I had expected chaos, screaming, people throwing down their weapons and bolting like cowards.
Instead, they were pretty calm and collected.
’Huh. Maybe they’re not completely useless after all,’ I thought, mildly impressed.
Still, facts were facts.
There was a shitload of snakes up ahead.
A literal swarm of Ridge Serpents, easily numbering over fifty, slithering toward us in a grotesque carpet of hissing scales.
And now, a few Stonecoil Vipers mixed in, making the situation even worse.
I looked down at my own empty hands.
Unlike the others, I was weaponless.
No sword. No spear. Not even a sharp stick.
Just me, my fists, and a growing sense of disbelief.
’Just my life,’ I laughed inwardly, self-deprecatingly.
Seriously, how many times was I supposed to rawdog monsters without even a proper weapon?
I resigned myself to bare-handed brawling once again when suddenly—
A light tap on my shoulder.
I turned, and there she was—Freya.
She stood close, a short blade gripped firmly in her hand.
Without looking at me, her violet eyes locked onto the approaching horde of serpents.
"I don’t know your preference," she said flatly, her voice calm but urgent. "But use this... just in case."
She shoved the blade toward me.
I blinked, a little taken aback, but immediately accepted the weapon.
"Thanks," I said sincerely.
Freya gave a slight nod, then stepped back, retreating toward the group—either to regroup or deliver some kind of motivational speech.
Knowing her, probably both.
I glanced down at the short sword in my hand.
It was light, sharp, and honestly... not ideal for me.
I preferred longswords, two-handed blades where I could leverage weight and force.
It stirred up unpleasant memories—painful flashes of my past failures at trying to wield a katana during training.
Doubts crept in, whispering poisonous little words:
What if you screw up?
What if you’re too slow?
What if you can’t use this properly?
I shoved the doubts aside.
There was no time to wallow in self-pity.
The snakes were coming—slowly, but surely. The ground beneath us thrummed with their movements.
Hissing. Coiling. Closing in.
I gripped the short sword tighter, feeling the leather wrap bite into my palm.
Bending my knees slightly, I hunched forward into a ready stance.
No fancy war cries. No hesitations.
Just pure, focused movement.
Amethyst-colored mana erupted from my core, swirling around my body like a living lighting.
The short sword in my hand drank it greedily, the blade humming with newfound power.
The first Ridge Serpent lunged at me, jaws wide, fangs glistening with venom.
Without missing a beat, I pivoted to the side and drove the blade straight into its skull.
There was a sickening crunch as the tip of the sword punched through bone, and a wet squelch as the creature’s body spasmed and went limp.
Blood sprayed, staining the rocky ground and my weapon.
I yanked the blade free, and the serpent’s corpse collapsed at my feet.
The rest of the snakes lunged at me from every direction, their fangs bared wide, biting at the air as I zipped through them like a ghost.
Some of them weren’t content with just close-range attacks either—
they spat globs of acidic venom, sizzling and cracking the very ground where they landed.
The air grew thick with the stench of burning rock.
With a sharp huff, I kicked off my feet, launching myself into the air.
Mid-spin, the short sword in my hand became a whirlwind of death, slashing through four Ridge Serpents in a single motion.
Blood arced beautifully through the sky, spattering across my once pristine white uniform, dyeing it a deep crimson.
Almost immediately, more serpents hissed and lunged at me, their movements erratic and bloodthirsty.
The Ridge Serpents came at me head-on, trying to overwhelm me with numbers, while the Stonecoil Vipers hung back, acting like deadly snipers, shooting streams of venom with terrifying precision.
I condensed mana into my legs, feeling the rush of energy fortify my muscles, and pivoted sharply.
In the same breath, I grabbed a serpent mid-strike with my free hand and ripped it apart—raw strength tearing through its sinewy body like wet paper.
The coppery scent of blood filled my nostrils, making my stomach churn for a second.
But there was no time to dwell.
Another Viper aimed a venom shot at me from a distance.
Without hesitation, I surged forward, my figure blurring across the bloodstained ground.
In one clean motion, I drove the short sword right through its armored head.
The snake stiffened, twitched once, then collapsed lifelessly.
Before I could breathe, another serpent coiled itself around my legs, its scales rough and chilling against my skin.
It tried to constrict me, preparing for a fatal bite, but I reacted faster.
With a brutal jerk of my blade, I slashed clean through its body, severing it before it could land its mark.
I didn’t let myself stay rooted in one place for long.
Movement was survival.
My figure darted from one point to another, an unpredictable blur of steel and amethyst light.
And wherever I passed, death followed.
The ground became a graveyard of twitching, blood-slicked serpents.
Somewhere amidst the frenzy, a Ridge Serpent managed to sink its fangs into my calf.
Or rather, it tried to.
The instant it clamped down, its fangs snapped with an audible crack, unable to pierce my skin.
The serpent looked up at me, its dead, glassy eyes wide with confusion and terror.
I didn’t give it a chance to regret its life decisions.
With a savage motion, I drove the blade through its head, putting it out of its misery.
A growing unease tugged at the edge of my awareness.
I could feel it—something else lurking nearby.
Something far stronger than these pathetic Ridge Serpents and Stonecoil Vipers.
That’s why I was holding back, preserving my real abilities for the inevitable showdown.
No sense in wasting everything on the appetizers.
I took a deep breath, and summoned a crackling bolt of amethyst lightning into my palm.
The energy pulsed dangerously, eager to be unleashed.
With a savage roar, I slammed it into the ground.
The explosion of mana rocketed outward, arcs of lightning striking several serpents at once.
Their bodies convulsed, smoking and burning from the inside out.
The smell of charred flesh filled the mountain air, thick and nauseating.
Sweat dripped down my forehead, stinging my eyes.
Every second counted.
The points kept stacking.
And then, before I even realized it—
A dead, eerie silence.
The battlefield was still.
The black rocky terrain, once clean and lifeless, was now a macabre canvas painted red with the blood of countless serpents.
Limbs twitched spasmodically here and there, but otherwise... nothing moved.
I stood there, panting lightly, the short sword hanging loose in my hand, blood dripping steadily from its tip.
A voice broke through the quiet, filled with disbelief.
"Ayoooo!!!! What the fuck!!" someone from the group behind me screamed.
I turned my head slowly to look.
It was one of the guys—his face a perfect mix of awe and horror as he stumbled closer to the carnage.
His eyes darted wildly from corpse to corpse.
"He...he killed everyone!" he shouted, pointing at me with a trembling finger.
The others started crowding behind him, their mouths agape, some whispering, others just staring in open shock.
That’s when it really hit me.
I surveyed the battlefield properly for the first time.
Every. Single. Snake.
’Did I just... kill steal everyone’s kills?’ I thought, dumbfounded.
A bead of sweat rolled down the side of my face—not from exertion this time, but from sheer awkwardness.