Tutorial II (6)–Lake monsters....
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[Odin’s Curse has activated!]
[All your status has been reduced by 10%]
The morning sun rose, casting a golden hue over the lake’s still surface.
The light danced like rippling gold across the gentle waves, a picture of peace.
A cool breeze whispered through the clearing, stirring blades of grass and fluttering cloaks.
For a moment, all was calm.
Then—
[‘Bison Rampage’ Quest has begun! Good luck!]
A translucent blue message appeared before every player, flickering for a heartbeat before vanishing.
I narrowed my eyes.
‘So it begins.’
Around me, the players—more than five hundred in number—murmured in anxious anticipation.
"Hey, what do you think will happen?"
"I don't know... are they really going to attack for three hours?"
"Can we even hold them off?"
"Let’s hope for the best!"
Nervous laughter scattered like brittle leaves, but most faces were tight with tension.
Palms clenched. Brows furrowed.
A few stood with forced confidence, puffing their chests like it would shield them.
"Don’t worry. There’s so many of us! We’ll overwhelm them easy."
"Yeah, with this many, how tough can lake monsters be?"
Na?ve fools.
Others were silent.
No bravado.
Just sharpened blades, white-knuckled grips, and cold eyes locked on the shimmering water.
Then—
Sssskkk...!
A strange, rising sound echoed from the lake, like the hiss of a great serpent coiling in the deep.
The water began to churn violently from the southern bank.
Waves rippled outward, frothing like boiling soup.
Beneath the surface, dark shapes writhed.
"They’re coming!!" someone shouted, voice cracking.
And then—
The tide broke.
From the lake surged a flood of monsters.
Muckducks stomped forward first, their bloated webbed feet slapping the mud with thunderous squelches.
"Quack!"
Their heavy quacking roars echoed like war horns.
From their cavernous beaks, they launched globs of thick, sludgy mud—black and brown ooze arcing through the air before splattering across players and terrain with wet SPLUTCH sounds.
The muck sizzled, acidic and bubbling on contact.
Bubbleback Turtles waddled in low, rumbling packs, their glowing shells frothing with shimmering orbs.
The bubbles drifted lazily in the air, each one popping with a soft pfffft! and releasing flashes of light, distracting and blinding.
Ripple Eels slithered like cursed ropes, launching out of the water with high-pitched screeches.
Their slick, slimy bodies glistened under the sun.
When they bit, arcs of blue lightning snapped across armor and weapons with sizzling ZZZRAK! sounds, making players convulse mid-motion.
Pondfluff Otters, agile and fast, raced in packs, their small eyes glowing blue.
They summoned dozens of luminous fish, which hovered mid-air and burst into shards when struck, protecting their masters like living shields.
Croaker Fangs leapt from behind them, their inflated throats glowing red as they let out concussive KRAAAK! blasts—sound waves so strong they shattered helmets and rattled bones.
Their needle-like teeth latched onto exposed skin, ripping and thrashing.
Leechling Swarms rose like clouds of blood-colored smoke, then condensed and rained from the banks.
They wriggled into armor gaps like living syringes, draining not blood—but stamina.
Their tiny mouths latched onto flesh and pulsed, siphoning away strength with a sickening slurp-slurp-slurp.
It was chaos.
Some players froze, mouths agape, unable to even lift their weapons.
"What the hell... there’s hundreds of them!"
Fools, I thought.
Without hesitation, I stepped forward, the hilt of my freshly purchased longsword warm in my hand.
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I moved off the rock like a king stepping down onto his personal battlefield.
Thud. Thud. Thud.
Each step echoed with finality.
A Croaker Fang launched at me, saliva dripping from its open jaws, its red throat bulging with a screech.
Schlick!
I caught it mid-air—its skin like wet sandpaper against my palm.
It thrashed.
Its claws slashed at my arm, drawing jagged lines of crimson.
Blood dripped down my wrist.
Ironblood Regeneration activated.
Crackle—
Veins glowed faintly as the gashes sealed with rapid pulses.
Bone and sinew snapped back into place under my skin like twisted rope tightening.
I squeezed.
Crack! Pssk!
Its bones shattered like brittle twigs in a vice.
Its eyes bulged, and I hurled its limp body aside, where it slammed into a tree with a wet crunch.
[You’ve slain a Croaker Fang!]
SPLAT! SPLAT!
Mud globs rained down on me, splattering across my shoulders and chest.
One burst near my face, leaving a trail of acidic slime that hissed against my armor.
Still—I moved forward.
My sword flashed, catching the light, then fell in a clean diagonal slash.
SCHRAAAK!
[You’ve slain a Croaker Fang!]
Another Croaker Fang’s head spiraled through the air, a crimson arc trailing behind it.
Its body twitched, mouth still moving when it hit the mud.
Then—
"Everyone, charge!" someone behind me yelled.
A ripple of courage, or perhaps desperation, surged through the players.
They roared and surged forward like a flood breaking free.
The battlefield ignited.
Archers loosed flaming arrows, the sky streaked with streaks of red and gold.
Where they landed, Leechlings ignited, their bodies squirming in flames, popping like bloated ticks with POP! POP!
Mages raised their staves, eyes glowing.
Lances of fire blasted through otter formations, sending charred fur flying.
Ice spikes erupted beneath Ripple Eels, impaling them mid-slither in a spray of blue blood.
Tanks formed shield walls, mud flying as Muckducks crashed into them.
Wood and steel groaned as the lines held—barely.
Swordsmen and axemen charged, weapons cleaving through shells.
Bones shattered.
Limbs flew.
Blood sprayed in vibrant arcs across the mud.
Spearmen struck from behind, their spears impaling turtles with sickening crunches, the blades twisting deep into organs before they yanked them free, dragging chunks of meat.
Dagger users blinked in and out of sight—some cleanly gutting otters, others caught mid-fade by snapping jaws or stunned by bubbles, their throats torn open.
Still—it wasn’t enough.
"Aghh!"
"No! Behind you—!"
"Get it off me!!"
The monsters fought with terrifying coordination.
When tanks blocked Muckducks, Bubblebacks rolled in, their exploding bubbles obscuring vision.
When spearmen advanced, Ripple Eels surged forward, their shocks frying nerves and locking joints.
Croaker Fangs used glowing fish as shields, then leapt over barricades, landing in the middle of groups and unleashing sonic blasts that ruptured eardrums and cracked ribs.
The Leechlings waited, coiling beneath fallen adventurers, then surged like a scarlet tide.
They poured into mouths, eyes, armor slits.
One tank fell, screaming, arms flailing before he went limp—his body convulsing, face drained pale.
"Healer! HEALER!"
"We’re losing the front!"
"They’re splitting us up!!"
It was a massacre.
But not for me.
[You’ve slain a Muckduck!]
[You’ve slain a Croaker Fang!]
[You’ve slain a Bubbleback Turtle!]
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[You’ve slain a Pondfluff Otter!]
I was the storm in the center of chaos.
My sword sang.
SHRAK!—a trio of eels bisected at the spine, their guts unspooling in blue ribbons.
[You’ve slain a Ripple Eel!]
[You’ve slain a Ripple Eel!]
[You’ve slain a Ripple Eel!]
FWUMP!—a spin cleaved through six turtles, their shells cracking open like broken pottery.
[You’ve slain a Bubbleback Turtle!]
[You’ve slain a Bubbleback Turtle!]
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[You’ve slain a Bubbleback Turtle!]
I leapt off a monster’s corpse, using it like a springboard, and drove my blade down mid-air into an otter’s chest.
SPLORCH!
The blade exited through its back, dragging out glowing fish as they burst mid-flight.
Mud slid off me like water.
Injuries I didn’t even register sealed shut, muscle knitting beneath torn skin in seconds.
A Beakfin Piranha latched onto my leg—its fangs sank deep.
CLINK!
I slammed it into the ground with a brutal kick, bones crunching under my boot.
I turned and brought my sword down like judgment itself—
KRRAAK!
[You’ve slain a Beakfin Piranha!]
A charging Muckduck split cleanly down the middle, its organs spilling out in steaming coils.
[You’ve slain a Muckduck!]
The ground hissed as acid blood splattered on it.
I stood in the carnage—blood dripping from my blade, my armor stained crimson.
Around me, monster corpses piled like fallen trees.
The screams of players and roars of beasts echoed like an unending thunderstorm.
Dozens were already down.
Mages were being overrun.
Healers screamed for cover.
The frontline buckled under pressure, bodies falling like dominos.
And this...
This was only the first wave.
I stood tall, my breath steady.
In the center of death and ruin, I stood surrounded by twisted, broken monsters. Their steaming blood pooled at my feet.
I didn’t speak.
I didn’t rest.
I just waited—for the next fool creature to step into my shadow.
Because this was just the beginning..
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The lake had become a pool of blood, steel, mud, and screams.
The once-clear bank near the southern lake had turned into a grotesque slaughterground, a nightmarish mire of shattered bodies and crimson pools.
"Hold the line!"
A tank line of fifteen players raised their heavy shields just as a second wave of Muckducks barreled through the shallows.
Their grotesque, bloated forms charged with unrelenting force, webbed feet slapping the muck with THUMP! THUMP! THUMP!, sending sprays of black sludge in all directions.
The air trembled with the weight of their stomps.
With guttural, throaty quacks that vibrated the very air, the ducks launched globs of bubbling brown mud from their maws—mud bombs packed with acidic bile.
BOOM!
SPLAT!
The impacts sent up fountains of sludge and chunks of torn earth.
"Aagh—my eyes!"
A tank screamed as one glob struck his face directly.
The mud hissed and sizzled upon contact, eating into his skin like boiling oil.
Steam rose from his face as he clawed at his eyes, his shield forgotten.
The line buckled.
Then came the Bubbleback Turtles, rolling in behind the Muckducks like living siege weapons.
Their rugged, algae-crusted shells reflected the sunlight in warped, oily colors as they spun toward the defenders.
Each shell released clusters of shimmering bubbles—delicate, beautiful, deadly.
Pop-pop-pop-pop!
The bubbles burst with piercing snaps.
Each one flashed with a blinding burst of light and a high-pitched chime that lanced into the ears of nearby players.
A swordsman charged to counter—
"HAAH!"
—but his timing was off.
From the side, a Ripple Eel lunged out of a murky trench.
Its wet, scale-coated body crackled with bright blue arcs of electricity.
CRACK—!
Its fangs sank into the man's thigh.
Instantly, volts of raw power surged through his armor, turning it into a cage of lightning.
His muscles locked, veins bulging as the smell of scorched flesh filled the air.
He screamed—
"GYAAAAAH!"
—and fell, convulsing violently.
He twitched on the ground, eyes rolling back, before a Leechling Swarm cascaded over him in a wave of writhing red bodies.
"Fall back! Fall ba—!"
Too late.
A Croaker Fang erupted from the mud with a violent leap, its wide mouth stretching unnaturally before letting loose a sound like thunder in a cave—
BOOM-RAAK!
The sonic wave shattered the air, blasting nearby players backward.
Two mages dropped their staves and clutched their ears, blood trailing from their nostrils.
Pondfluff Otters surged forward from the flanks, their beady eyes glinting with malice.
They pounced with shrill chirps, their claws raking across the mages' faces.
Wet tearing sounds followed.
All around, the players were being overwhelmed.
Their formations crumbled like sandcastles beneath a rising tide.
Their numbers? Meaningless.
For every monster slain, three more took its place.
Limbs floated in the water.
Guts coiled through the mud like pale serpents.
The smell of death clung to the wind.
Arrows whistled through the air—some struck true, others ricocheted off armor or harmless shells.
A squad of dagger users tried to flank from the left, disappearing into the underbrush.
Suddenly—
A tidal surge of leeches burst from the lake and clung to them mid-air like a living net.
"GET THEM OFF!"
Screams rang out as they tore at their own armor, slicing at their own flesh in desperation.
One player drove his blade into his own thigh to dislodge a mass of squirming parasites.
Blood fountained out.
Only two escaped, crawling, shaking, faces pale, slick with blood—most of it not theirs.
From behind the front, mages cast spells in desperation:
"Arcane Burst!"
"Flame Torrent!"
"Frost Bind!"
Brilliant lights lit up the battlefield—columns of fire scorched the otters, ice javelins impaled leaping eels mid-flight, and waves of arcane force shattered turtles like ceramic.
The monsters screamed—some hissed, some roared, some just flopped and twitched as their insides boiled.
But the mana drained quickly.
"I'm out! I’m out of mana!"
"Healers, we need support—!"
"We’re getting surrounded!"
The players broke into scattered groups, each cluster fighting to survive.
It would’ve been a massacre...
...if not for Gavin's group.
"Hold position!" Gavin roared, his tower shield planted deep in the earth, his spear like a lightning rod ready to strike.
His squad moved like one body—practiced, professional.
Two mages behind him cast Chain Lightning and Stone Lance in rhythm, while four spearmen flanked the sides.
Each time Gavin deflected, they struck—targeting weak points, breaking skulls, stabbing through necks.
Blood sprayed in rhythmic bursts.
Bargan and his axemen flanked, their brutal swings splitting Bubblebacks in two, cleaving through spine and shell with crunching cracks.
Up on the rocks, Marra and her archers let loose burning arrows.
The sky glowed with crimson arcs as they fell.
"Fire on my mark—NOW!"
BOOM!
A wall of flame erupted on the southern flank, turning otters and eels into blackened carcasses.
A Croaker Fang tried to sneak in behind.
Gavin pivoted and lunged.
His spear rammed through the beast’s throat and out the back of its skull.
It thrashed once, gurgled, then went limp.
Meanwhile, on the eastern flank—
Denver fought like a monster in human form.
His heavy katana was soaked red, the blade dragging behind him like a death banner.
He carved through Ripple Eels, their bodies flailing and splitting apart mid-lunge.
He let out a furious battle cry and charged a group of Muckducks.
"COME ON THEN!"
His blade tore through three in one mighty swing, guts slopping out like meat from a crushed pouch.
Blood poured down his face from a lightning burn, skin blistered and raw.
Still, he pressed forward.
His group—only ten in number—fought with savage unity.
No formations. Just rage. Just steel. Just carnage.
"Denver, left!"
He turned just in time.
A Pondfluff Otter leapt at him—
CRACK!
He caught it mid-air with the flat of his blade and smashed it against a tree.
Bones burst through fur.
Blood and brain matter streaked the bark.
Beside him, a rogue blinked in and out, slicing into eels' eyes, leaving spurts of dark fluid in his wake.
"Haah... haah... they just keep coming..." someone whispered.
Still, the lake frothed.
More silhouettes slithered and stomped forward.
The air was thick with the stench of burnt meat, ozone, and rot.
The earth beneath their feet was no longer dirt—it was soaked with blood, viscera, and the trampled corpses of both monster and man.
My longsword gleamed dark red, dripping, steaming in the cool air.
I moved like death incarnate.
Cutting.
Slashing.
Ripping.
Where others screamed—I remained silent.
Where others fell—I surged forward.
Where others bled—I healed.
I was surrounded by corpses.
Still I stood and waited.
Because I knew...
The worst was still to come.
