One Hundred Twenty-Eight: Veyn's Generosity

Unlike those walking corpses I had encountered before, whose souls had been completely corrupted by toxins, Wagner retained his original intelligence even after transforming into a Rotfiend. The present reality proved that when a genius brimming with brilliant and eccentric thoughts suddenly acquired an indestructible and formidable physical body—and began trying to apply even a fraction of his cleverness to combat—he instantly became a powerful enemy that everyone would find deeply troublesome.

Seeing us charge at him with sharp weapons, Wagner discarded the large cloak he had been wearing, exposing his upper body, which was already corrupted and showed mottled patches of bone everywhere. He carried no weapons for self-defense; in fact, from head to toe, he was left with only one piece of equipment—assuming a pair of tattered trousers soaked with yellowish corpse-water could even be called "equipment."

Just as we all assumed he intended to fend off our attacks bare-handed, he did something completely unexpected: he reached his hands deep into his own chest cavity through his rotting wounds. The yellowish-white decaying flesh twitched gently as his arms trembled, and large handfuls of foul-smelling, putrid fluid sprayed from his wounds. A moment ago, it seemed as though he had grabbed hold of something, and then he pulled outward with all his might using both hands...

"I shall grant you eternity, you pitiful crawling insects obstructing the torrential current of history!"

Wagner shrieked loudly, his eye sockets overflowing with a mad, crimson glow. With a single, violent motion, he tore open his own chest and forcefully ripped two slender ribs straight out of his body. His chest was instantly split into two gaping, bloody holes. Through the hole on the left, I could faintly see his heart. It hung there precariously, supported by a few blood vessels, having turned completely stiff, bruised, and black. It bore no trace of a pulse, merely swinging back and forth with the movement of his body.

Perhaps altered by the toxins, his bones were snow-white and resilient, with one end mutated into a sharp point. The inward-curving edge had also become as sharp as a blade, faintly shrouded in a layer of chilling greenish vapor.

For an instant, this horrifying spectacle filled me with a trace of fear, a sensation that made me somewhat uneasy. To conceal the vulnerability sprouting in my heart, I hurriedly slashed out with my sword. The blade struck a glancing blow against Wagner's shoulder blade, producing a solid, clanging sound as if hitting stone. Such a flustered strike could obviously not yield good results; he lost only a hundred and twenty health points from it.

Wagner neither dodged nor evaded my attack. His gaze was rigid, yet a flash of red light from his eye sockets swept mockingly across my face. He let out a chilling, ghoulish chuckle, and the bone blade in his left hand thrust straight toward my chest. Like all other Rotfiends, though his movements were somewhat stiff—with the joints of his arms and wrists operating with an uncoordinated, sluggish feel—he was far more agile and swift than them, making him exceedingly difficult to parry.

I instinctively raised the shield in my left hand, barely blocking this counterattack. Yet the bone blade in his right hand immediately followed up with a vicious slash. The razor-sharp bone blade tore open my left arm, ruthlessly scraping away eighty-three health points. Not only that, but a cold, numbing sensation seeped from the wound into my body, rapidly spreading throughout my entire frame as the blood circulated. Instantly, a demon named "Weakness" pounced upon me, relentlessly draining the stamina from my body. I felt my strength rapidly ebbing away; the weapon in my hand grew increasingly heavy, and not only was my attack power noticeably impaired, but the defensive capability that had always been my pride was reduced to a shameful degree. Without needing any offensive skills, a single casual basic attack from Wagner was enough to consume nearly two hundred points of my health.

"Careful, his weapon is poisonous!" My weakened state clearly made me unfit for the task of drawing the enemy's attacks. I retreated out of the fray, quickly gulping down a large healing potion to restore my health while shouting a warning to my comrades.

"Uh... I already know!" The moment my voice faded, I saw the thoroughly green-poisoned Long Triangle, with his protruding belly, fleeing the battlefield in utter disgrace. This fat man, with only a third of his health remaining, displayed a tenacious will to survive and astonishing willpower at the moment of life and death: under such a severe "weakness" state, he was actually able to drag a heavy load of flab and run so fast that it truly commanded heartfelt admiration...

"Do you guys even still count as men? You actually leave a girl like me to hold the line alone? I'm only wearing light armor!" Grumbling with aggrieved discontent, Wild Goose Array—who had been forced to drop her exhausted ammunition and resort to a close-quarters battle with a heavy axe—complained loudly. Yet despite her words, what she was doing with her hands was an entirely different matter: this slender, delicate, long-haired female elf swung a massive battleaxe with all her might, its breadth exceeding her shoulders by more than half. She wielded it fiercely and heroically toward Wagner's body, each slash causing great gushes of blood to erupt. This had always been an unresolved puzzle for me: where on earth did so much blood come from inside this rotting corpse whose flesh was entirely spoiled? And why was it all fresh, bright red blood?

Fortunately, Wagner's attacks did not inflict the "Weakness" poisoning effect every single time, allowing Wild Goose Array to maintain a healthy physique, and her loss of vitality was not as rapid as that of Long Triangle and me. Behind her, the most reliable battlefield medic I had ever seen, Rabbit Wipe, was sparing no effort to treat its master—which was one of the primary reasons the elven beast tamer was able to stand her ground alone against Wagner's frenzied onslaught until now.

Many people say that soul magic is the most miraculous spell in this world, containing countless ancient mysteries that modern magical theories still cannot explain. Among them, the most baffling mystery is this: no matter how frail, young, or elderly the magician might be, and no matter how hard the ground, miraculous soul spellcasters can always effortlessly plunge totem poles firmly into the earth using only the strength of their hands—hitting the mark every single time without ever failing.

Just like now, a giant carrot carrying the power of the life totem stood planted diagonally in front of Rabbit Wipe, shimmering with a brilliant, vital radiance. Who could explain to me how this palm-sized little white rabbit managed to plunge a fresh, tender carrot into the permafrost of a snow mountain whose ice was harder than steel and had remained frozen for ten thousand years?

"You men are a disgrace!" As a pair of mutually admiring lovers, Xuan Ge Ya Yi blindly and unconditionally supported any viewpoint held by Wild Goose Array—or to be more precise, it should be called echoing. This shameless fellow pointed his finger righteously at us while standing at least twenty paces away, shooting arrows from afar at the mutated Wagner, seemingly completely oblivious to the fact that his own behavior could hardly be considered "the pride of us men"...

Regardless of the situation, the offensive power of the "Rotting Zealot" Wagner was by no means comparable to that of the clumsy Sasquatches on the snow mountain. Even with Rabbit Wipe's full support, Wild Goose Array's vitality was still diminishing at a rapid pace. Meanwhile, the toxic potion causing my "weakness" state showed no signs of subsiding anytime soon. The battle situation was highly unfavorable to us; we could hardly guarantee surviving our clash with Wagner unscathed, let alone defeating him within the allotted time.

Soon, Wild Goose Array was also poisoned by Wagner, falling into the "Weakness" state as well. Her vitality depleted even more drastically, and it was evident she could not hold out much longer. I felt a surge of anxious and desperate fury burning through my lungs, a strange anger clogging my chest like a potent poison that nearly shattered my reason.

Yes, I felt anger. This anger was not directed at Wagner, nor at his persistent, stubborn, and foolish methods of "blessing the world," but rather at myself. I could only watch all of this unfold scene by scene before my eyes, entirely powerless to stop or change it, dragged down by my own weak and crippled body while watching the most brutal terror in the world's history erupt completely before me. The all-knowing and all-powerful gods had bestowed upon me a great responsibility, yet I lacked the corresponding ability to match it. How could I not feel angry?

At this moment, I felt only anger, and could only feel anger—angry at my own incompetence, angry at my own weakness.

In that instant, I truly wanted to forsake all responsibility for saving the sentient beings, cast aside all those noble obligations to protect the reproduction and survival of the continent's billions of lives, and throw my own body right in front of those sharp, frenzied bone blades so they could swiftly end my life and deliver me from this crushing mental burden. I would rather die fighting in a fearless, fanatical slaughter, letting my life spark a final, heroic flash of light—in fact, I nearly did just that, until Finyin stopped me in time.

"Wild Goose Array, hang in there, hold out a little longer..." Finyin waved her hand, promptly casting a layer of "Ice Armor" onto the elven beast tamer to temporarily boost her defense, and then turned to shout anxiously at me, "...Kidd! Get over here! Quickly!"

When I reached her side, she had her head buried deep in her backpack, rummaging frantically while muttering incessantly under her breath: "Not here... not here either... Damn it all to hell, why is it that the more rushed I am, the less I can find it?"

"What on earth are you looking for?" Seeing Wild Goose Array gradually faltering under Wagner's attacks, and the weakened Long Triangle rushing in to land two blows on the enemy only to flee in sheer panic once more, I burned with anxiety, wishing I could immediately charge forward and stab Wagner fiercely a few times, yet Finyin was still wasting time foolishly. Unable to contain my inner agitation, I roared at the top of my lungs toward her head.

"Why are you roaring at me! Can't you see I'm busy?!" Our respectable guild leader raised her head indignantly, her willow-leaf eyebrows slanted and her apricot-shaped eyes wide open, roaring back with a voice as booming as a dragon's. Meeting her blade-like fierce gaze, a chill instantly swept down my spine. I wisely shrank my neck and stood quietly to the side without a peep.

Patience and silence are two precious virtues, especially when you are standing beside a busy woman—remember, sometimes they just might save your life.

"Aha, found it at last..." Just a few seconds later, Finyin raised her head with a joyful cry, cradling two large bundles of silver-gray potions in her hands, which she then shoved unceremoniously into my arms while chattering incessantly:

"...Good thing I brought enough potions; for this quest, I practically emptied out the entire potion shop. Who knows what we might run into anyway, so I bought plenty of everything, and it finally comes in handy..."

What she shoved into my hands were over thirty bottles of "Stamina Potion." Although drinking this healing potion could not restore lost health points, it could instantly dispel multiple negative status effects such as weakness, dizziness, and fainting all at once. As an advanced medical potion, each bottle was worth a gold coin and a half.

"Guild Leader..." Holding this pile of potions, I asked with some hesitation, "These items... how much..."

"What time is it and you're still asking about this..." Finyin looked at my puzzled expression, instantly turning exasperated and anxious, "...If we get wiped here, what the hell is the point of finishing the subsequent guild quests?! These potions are reimbursed by the guild..."

The image of the guild leader instantly became infinitely towering in my eyes: at a time when the world was plunged into a massive calamity, the light of the soul deep within her heart finally blossomed with a rare and brilliant splendor, illuminating the path ahead for the world with her generosity and heroism. Perhaps one day, when future generations recalled this urgent moment, they would praise this great woman with boundless admiration:

At the darkest hour of the world just before dawn, Finyin disregarded profits and sought no rewards, donating her precious fortune for the survival and propagation of the entire world, and her generosity would become a model for all humankind!

...Why did I feel like this was actually a bit ironic?

Regardless, Finyin's uncharacteristic and generous righteous act at this critical juncture deeply moved me. My eyes grew slightly moist, and my voice choked with emotion:

"Guild Leader... You..."

"Stop chattering, can't you see they're about to collapse..." Before I could finish, Lady Finyin impatiently and fiercely kicked me in the backside, "...Go hold him down for me, and if anything goes wrong, I won't spare you... Long Triangle, get your ass over here right now, I have something for you..."

With the potions in hand, my heart swelled with stirring heroism. I was not fighting alone; no matter the time, no matter what kind of opponent I faced, my friends were still standing with me, confronting the perils ahead shoulder to shoulder. Grasping the long sword in my hand tightly, I stepped forward bravely. The enemy's weapon flashed with a dangerous, chilling glint, yet I felt no fear!

"Oh, right, Kidd..." Finyin's voice came from behind me once more, her tone laden with worry and anticipation—I guessed she must have been worried about our safety.

"What is it?" A smile graced my face as I turned back gratefully and confidently to look at our benevolent and respectable guild leader, trying to project the courage and composure I felt to dispel the anxiety in her heart.

"Those stamina potions are very expensive, you know; you'd better use them sparingly..." Our guild leader looked utterly untrusting, "...Don't forget to return the rest to me; they can still be sold for money..."

I: "..."