Ch.116The Nightmare Writhing in the Crimson Swamp

‘Bang! Bang!’

“Aaaaargh-!!”

‘Thud’

As two flashing magical bullets pierce through the Night Stork’s body, its massive frame collapses onto the slimy swamp floor.

Around Phyllis, who had just taken down her fourth Night Stork, the shattered remains of over a dozen Swamp Mosquitoes were already scattered.

“Phew… not an easy task.”

Though there was no one around to hear her, she deliberately used an affected tone to steady her own nerves.

Despite having survived the attacks from swarms of Swamp Mosquitoes and Night Storks without injury, her face was filled with anxiety and unease.

It had been over 20 minutes since she left Atelier and arrived at the Red Swamp, but there was still no sign of the Bloody Mandrake she was searching for.

“Grrrr…”

“It’s alright. We can still do this.”

Phyllis gently stroked the neck of her Ancestor, who was showing concern for her, while scanning the surroundings for enemies.

Only after confirming multiple times that there were no threats did she open her canteen, splash water on her face, blink several times, and then vigorously shake her head to remove the moisture.

The area around her beautiful emerald eyes was bloodshot.

“Let’s go deeper into the swamp. Don’t worry, I’ll definitely find the Bloody Mandrake and return.”

Though Phyllis spoke these words to encourage herself, exploring the Red Swamp was proving to be no easy task.

The frequency of Swamp Mosquito appearances had increased dramatically as the ground color changed, and unavoidable battles with Night Storks that circled around to prey on them.

Most troublesome was the toxic gas rising from the swamp that irritated her eyes.

The outer swamp areas merely had an unpleasant acrid smell, with no real harm unless the swamp sewage or mud touched one’s skin.

But this Red Swamp seemed more toxic than the outer areas; just walking around made her eyes sting and the inside of her nose feel raw.

She was enduring by splashing water from her canteen on her face and rinsing around her eyes whenever it became unbearable, but only about a quarter of that water remained.

‘Grrrr…’

“That sound…!”

The deep, low groan with an eerie quality was the sound made by a golem-type monster, the Mud Man.

Phyllis holstered Will’s revolver and pulled out the Arcane Alter Rifle slung over her shoulder.

The rifle was more suitable than Will’s revolver for dealing with Mud Men, whose cores were wrapped in sticky mud.

‘Bang!’

A large-caliber magical bullet from her rifle pierces straight through the chest of a Mud Man rising up five paces away.

Unlike Stone Golems that protect their cores with solid materials, Mud Men’s bodies consist of sticky mud.

With sufficient penetrating power, they could be taken down using the same approach as with Black Slimes, making them favorable opponents for Phyllis.

‘Splat’

The Mud Man’s body, having lost its cohesion, flows down onto the swamp floor.

The Mud Man’s magic stone would still be in that red mud pile, but she had no intention of rummaging through toxic mud with her bare hands.

Thinking the core was likely damaged during destruction anyway, Phyllis abandoned the idea of retrieving the magic stone and turned away without hesitation.

After about 20 minutes of defeating attacking monsters, washing her stinging eyes with water from her canteen, and straining to examine every leaf in the swamp, Phyllis finally discovered a Bloody Mandrake habitat.

A flower with six petals, thin long stems extending downward, and narrow elongated leaves sprouting here and there—all blood-red in color.

This plant, so aptly described by the modifier “bloody,” was undoubtedly the Bloody Mandrake, an ingredient for high-grade regeneration potions.

“Ah… finally…!”

It had been an hour since she left Will at Atelier’s infirmary, and she felt like she might collapse under the pressure of worrying if she was too late.

Now she just needed to dig up one root and return to the city at full speed.

Despite the relief and sense of accomplishment that might have caused a moment of carelessness, Phyllis maintained her vigilance and attention until the end.

She hadn’t forgotten that Will was now fighting death and waiting for her because of her own carelessness.

Squish-

She could feel through her boots that the ground texture beneath her was slightly different.

Not all swamp mud feels the same when stepped on.

There are areas where mud clumps together, where stones are submerged, where plant roots cluster, and it wouldn’t be strange for some spots to feel squishier than others.

But Phyllis, who was focusing all her senses to prepare for ambushes, noticed that the squishy ground she had just stepped on had wriggled.

“Wuh!?”

Startled, she leaped backward, barely avoiding a bizarre object that shot up from the mud.

‘Bang!’

A dark red, gelatinous object that landed in the sticky swamp after passing through where she had just been standing.

Is it some kind of slime? Thinking this momentarily, Phyllis reflexively pulled the revolver’s trigger, and the white magical bullet that left the barrel hit the strange creature’s body squarely as it landed in the swamp.

Wriggle.

Wriggle wriggle.

Perhaps unable to scream because it had no mouth, the strange creature made no sound but showed movements as if writhing in pain.

It was clearly different from a slime, moving like a flat annelid.

“A worm… no, some kind of leech.”

About 30-40cm in length, and about a third of that in width.

It had an appearance that would disgust anyone with a normal aesthetic sense.

The thought of such a creature attaching to one’s body and sucking blood would make anyone’s skin crawl, but she couldn’t hesitate over a mere leech after coming this far.

‘Hoo~’

After taking a deep breath and lightly slapping both her cheeks, Phyllis’s face froze in horror as she tried to approach the Bloody Mandrake.

Never in her life had she resented the elven ability of Night Vision as much as at this moment.

Barely 20 meters to where the Bloody Mandrake was blooming.

The sight of the entire swamp area ahead slowly wriggling was enough to momentarily stop Phyllis’s thoughts.

Leeches.

Leeches, leeches.

Leeches, leeches, leeches, leeches.

Front, left, right. The entire red mud before her eyes was covered with leeches.

“Uwaaaaah!?”

Screaming at the physiologically unbearable sight, Phyllis backed away.

Perhaps triggered by her scream, the wriggling leeches began jumping one by one toward where she stood.

She wasn’t tracking them visually. She could only sense their general direction.

Some passed right by her, while others attempted to jump despite being too far away, failing to reach her and landing on their comrades.

Leeches jumping with only a vague sense of direction, not knowing exact position or distance.

Facing this horrifying visual like oil splattering in a frying pan, Phyllis fought back the urge to vomit as she backed away—

‘Bump’

“Grrrr…”

Only after lightly bumping into her Ancestor waiting right behind her did she come to her senses.

Leeches.

Hundreds. No, possibly thousands of terrifying leeches.

But they’re just leeches, after all. The combat power of each individual couldn’t be that great.

As proof, look. The one that took a magical bullet to its back earlier was already limp and motionless.

If she didn’t get distracted by the sheer numbers before her eyes and handled the situation calmly, she might find an opportunity to retrieve the Bloody Mandrake.

‘Jump’

“Ugh!”

‘Bang!’

Fortunately? Unfortunately? Phyllis shot down a leech that had accurately jumped toward her in mid-air, collected herself, and mounted her Ancestor.

If she could just break through these leeches and dig up the Bloody Mandrake, she could save Will.

This was the time to not let her guard down, not be intimidated by the sight before her, and calmly and coolly find a way.

Phyllis slowly retreated on her Ancestor while carefully observing the leeches’ movements.

‘Not the entire red swamp is a leech den. They probably have a habit of gathering around the Bloody Mandrake. Even if I use Fireball, I could only eliminate a small portion… how should I handle this?’

The accuracy of the leeches’ jumping attacks wasn’t that high.

If she charged straight to where the Bloody Mandrake was blooming on Ancestor, she might reach it with only a few leeches attaching to her, without major damage?

Such a thought crossed her mind for a moment, but the problem was what came next.

Dismounting from Ancestor – crouching in the leech-infested swamp – putting her hand into the mud to pull out the Bloody Mandrake.

How many leeches would attach to her body?

Would she even be allowed to safely obtain the Bloody Mandrake and remount Ancestor?

‘…No. No matter how I think about it, it’s hopeless.’

Charging into the middle of a swamp teeming with hundreds of leeches was already crazy enough.

But to stop there, dismount, and rummage through the mud? There wouldn’t be time for that.

She would meet her end as food for leeches alongside Ancestor before even fully extracting the Bloody Mandrake.

‘Using Fireball to temporarily blast away leeches near the Bloody Mandrake… would be meaningless.’

If she fired a Fireball so its blast radius just barely missed the Bloody Mandrake, she might blow away quite a few leeches in the area.

But while that might help her approach the Bloody Mandrake on Ancestor, it wouldn’t help with the subsequent process.

What she needed now was to secure safety during the process of digging up the Bloody Mandrake and escaping.

That would determine whether she could safely return to the city and save Will, or end her life as leech food.

‘…Wait, leech food?’

A flash of inspiration crossed Phyllis’s mind.

She slowly turned Ancestor around and narrowed the distance with the leeches.

After confirming that one of the jumping leeches had attached to Ancestor’s foreleg—

“Bayonet Phantasm {Phantom Blade}”

She pierced its disgusting body with a blade of light emerging from her Arcane Alter Rifle and lifted it to eye level.

The visual of it wriggling on the light blade, dripping unpleasant bodily fluids, was something she as a woman absolutely did not want to look at, but Phyllis carefully examined the leech and Ancestor’s foreleg to verify whether the idea that had occurred to her was valid.

To reach a more definitive conclusion, Phyllis brought her left arm to the mouth of the weakening leech.

The leech, as if struggling to survive, attached to the back of Phyllis’s hand with its suction-cup-like mouth and—

“Ouch…!”

It inserted its needle-like tongue hidden inside its mouth into Phyllis’s snow-white skin and began sucking her blood.

Not wanting to experience this sensation for long, Phyllis soon pulled her arm away and swung her rifle, sending the leech that had been impaled on the bayonet flying.

Looking at her arm where the pain still lingered, she could see blood seeping from the small wound where the needle had pierced.

Leeches.

So terrifyingly numerous that just looking at them could make one faint.

But thinking about it, they were just leeches. Not monsters, not mutants, not special entities.

They didn’t inject dark magic or poison into their victims, nor did they have teeth capable of tearing flesh.

Having confirmed this fact, Phyllis was convinced that the idea that had occurred to her earlier was the best solution to this situation.

“Ancestor.”

“Grrrr?”

“I’m sorry, but you’ll have to suffer a bit here.”

Leeches. Just like Swamp Mosquitoes, merely inferior annelids that suck animal blood.

What could such creatures possibly do to Ancestor?

To an ancient automaton with metal beneath its skin and not a drop of blood flowing through it?

After receiving specific instructions from Phyllis, Ancestor hesitated briefly before slowly beginning to move its massive frame.

Toward the medicinal herb that would save its master’s life, proudly blooming in the middle of the writhing mass of leeches.