Chapter 395: Chrysalis

"And this one is? Only showing up once it's all over — here to claim a share of the credit, are you?"

One of the little fans couldn't help but jeer.

His voice wasn't quiet, and it drew quite a few gazes.

His question landed at just the right moment.

Not far off, Tiefling Saehir, who had finished tidying the battlefield, stepped her way back over the dark elves' corpses — and spotted Rod at a glance.

Fighting to contain her excitement, she cried out:

"Mr. Rod! You've come!"

Rod?

Forester Rod?!

Quite a few faces changed; a quick probe revealed he was actually a seventh-tier bigshot, and one after another they grew solemn, not daring to underestimate him.

Then they took half a step back, putting distance between themselves and the jeering little fan frozen in place.

It wasn't their fault for not knowing him.

Rod only came into town two or three times a week, and each time he kept a very low profile.

Apart from acquaintances and anyone who'd served on duty in the Claw Valley Highlands, the adventurers only knew the Windwall Forest's forester was seriously impressive — they had no real idea what he looked like.

Rod, naturally, couldn't have cared less.

They were all brothers; defending Shi Ying Town was a shared credit.

He smiled at the questioning young fellow, then clapped him on the shoulder: "You all did well."

The young fellow shrank back, thinking Rod was about to hit him — his startle response kicked right in.

Saehir, meanwhile, had already trotted up to stand before him.

Suddenly feeling she'd come in a little too close, she stepped back a few paces.

She'd just been through a major battle, sweated plenty, and the sulfur smell on her was stronger than ever — she didn't want Rod to catch a whiff.

"Young Lady Selina and Number Thirteen were amazing!"

Beneath her faintly flushed skin still lay the soft texture of a human; the leaping excitement of the moment showed plainly in her brows and eyes.

She began recounting the ferocity and strength of the undead and the rat-women, vivid and lively.

She looked just like a daughter telling her old father what she'd seen and heard.

Those who knew her couldn't help exchanging glances.

Saehir was usually so steady and mature — why was she now stringing together adjectives like 'whoosh' and 'bong'?

It wasn't her fault, though.

This was also Saehir's first time seeing a seventh-tier level of combat.

And Selina's violent spells and Number Thirteen's close-quarters fighting had both activated the violent streak in her demonic bloodline, filling her with longing.

That was why she couldn't help wanting to share it all with someone she knew.

Rod smiled: "After this, go ask Lady Kali to lend you Number Thirteen for training."

Saehir's close-fitting leather armor was scored with plenty of blade and sword cuts; at her abdomen it had even been hacked open, revealing a blood-slicked knife wound across her slender waist, the firm lines of her abs carrying a healthy, wild charm.

At his words, the Tiefling girl hunched her shoulders.

Because of her own teacher Farshad's relationship with Lady Kali, she was terrified of that sour-faced elf in the forest.

"There's really no need for that—"

"Don't worry, I'll put in a word for you."

Saying so, Rod raised his hand and pressed it to the wound on her abdomen, activating the domain skill 【Necrotic Symbiosis】.

Saehir went rigid all over, her hands at a loss, not knowing where to put them.

She only felt Rod's palm broad and scorching, hotter even than her own already-high body temperature, and gradually it made her legs go weak and her waist go numb.

By the time the wound had healed.

Rod's large hand withdrew.

Saehir's mind drifted for a moment, and she actually felt a trace of reluctance.

"Oh, Mr. Rod, earlier on our side some of the beastfolk felt the pressure of 【Dragon Majesty】 — I don't know if—"

She suddenly remembered something and asked, her face worried.

【Dragon Majesty】 had an additional suppressive effect on beastfolk, so they were more sensitive to dragons as well.

The surrounding crowd, hearing this, all turned to look.

Their eyes were mostly full of worry and fear.

After all, dragons — news of such creatures razing towns was hardly rare.

Rod nodded.

"Just now, when I went to intercept one of the dark elf squads, they summoned a dragon before they died — but don't worry, it's already been driven off."

A female tiger-beastkin suddenly exclaimed in shock: "There's still the lingering pressure of dragon breath on you… Mr. Rod, you didn't actually take a blast of dragon breath head-on, did you?"

The faces of the gathered crowd changed again — the Windwall Forest forester could drive back a dragon, and face its breath without a scratch???

What kind of monster was this?

Don't the half-deer folk have a prophecy about a hero? Is someone like this not a 【Hero】?

Rod was very pleased with this tiger-beastkin.

Good question!

He put on a calm look and pointed in the direction where he'd encountered the dragon:

"Mm, a bit further north — it was a black dragon's acid breath. The acid fog there hasn't cleared yet, so be careful later. I've got things to do; people from Shi Ying Town will come help handle it after."

Rod said.

He generously pulled out a large pile of healing magic potions, asking Sashiel to distribute them to the injured.

This immediately made everyone feel much more favorably toward this ranger of the Windwall Forest.

Sashiel accepted in a fluster.

Then she watched him rise gracefully into the air and fly off, her waving arm in farewell lingering on long after the white trail had vanished.

"Still waving? He's gone."

Sashiel froze for a moment, then lowered her arm sheepishly, her face red.

Turning her head, she saw it was a friend among the adventurers—the tiger-man who had spoken earlier, Kessie.

She was looking at her with a teasing expression.

"Kessie."

This lion-woman, over forty years old, had been married twice and borne twelve children; aside from her work as an adventurer, her favorite pastime was matchmaking.

Having recently moved to Shi Ying Town, she was eager to prove her skills as a matchmaker.

Sashiel—fifteen years old, delicate and pretty—was naturally one of her targets.

As for the tiefling girl's race?

She regarded that as a challenge in her side job as a matchmaker.

"I finally understand why you refuse to get close to any other boys. If it's this Mr. Ranger, then no wonder you can't be bothered with anyone else."

"…I haven't."

"Don't try to hide it from me. Back in Mogote Town, I, Kessie, won the 'Best Matchmaker Award.' I can read every lovestruck, smitten expression on boys and girls at a glance. You—usually so mature and sharp—how do you become so dumb here? When he was treating you just now, you should have pretended your injuries were worse and just collapsed right into his arms!"

Sashiel said nothing, silently passing out the healing potions in her arms.

She hated the sulfur smell on her own body.

After exercise, the sulfur scent was even stronger.

If at that moment she had thrown herself into Mr. Rod's arms, if disgust had appeared in his eyes, if he had wrinkled his nose, if he had turned his head away, if he had hesitated to speak, if he—

Sashiel's heart turned bitter.

No matter which one it was, just imagining it made her scalp tingle and her heart swell with pain; she already half-wanted to find a big rock and dash her brains out on the spot.

The edge of the mining district.

Because of the night and the festival, even the workers and the guards had gone into town to carouse.

The entire mining district was empty, pitch-black.

Beyond the yellow sandstorm, not far off, the townspeople blazed with light, completely unaware of the dark-elf invasion, still celebrating as usual.

"Didn't I tell you to save her directly?"

Rod sighed.

The Tally before him was still in her little-brother persona—formal attire crisp and proud, the gleaming slicked-back hair smoothed again and again.

At her feet lay two dark-elves, their flesh and blood a mangled mess.

But she hadn't gotten off easy either—the sleeve of her left arm had been blasted to shreds, and the skin of her arm was scorched into a hideous mess of raw flesh.

She raised her injured arm.

She put on a teary, coquettish expression:

"Master, it hurts~ blow on it~~"

"How did you still get hurt? That shouldn't have happened."

These dark-elves were pretty weak.

Tally was irrigated every day, every day communing spiritually through 【Elbert's Treatise of Curious Loves】; sometimes when the mood struck, even when she was so full her eyes rolled back, Rod would still force it into her.

She was far stronger than an ordinary early-stage seventh-tier.

"These guys don't know any other spiritual spells—just a trick of stealth plus self-destruct. The first time they got close, I didn't react in time, so—"

Warlocks not blowing themselves up a few times really wouldn't fit their persona.

If even Tally fell for it, then the tooth-fairy Rosalia nearly being taken out silently was understandable.

Rod healed Tally while asking:

"So, where is Rosalia?"

Tally stiffened, scratched her head awkwardly:

"Um… before Master arrived, I turned into a lecherous big guy and snuck up to scare her for a bit… Of course I was only joking! No malice at all! It's just—it's just that she might have been seriously injured and her head was fuzzy; the moment she saw me, she immediately summoned a huge amount of silk, wrapped herself up tight, and turned into a big cocoon…"

Rod: "…"

(End of this chapter)