Chapter 34: Not even an army of Lv.1s could kill her~

Dodge when possible, draw attention when necessary—far easier than trying to break through and kill them.

Even Welf, using his massive blade, held back more monsters than he should've been able to.

On the other side, Fron, wrapped in black fire and red lightning, didn't engage head-on but employed hit-and-run tactics, kiting the enemies.

Yet the strange discomfort from the mind-body dissonance led him to constantly unleash strength beyond his imagination—an unpleasant feeling.

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The sight of the two at the front lines fighting the monster with all their might stirred the girl's heart, making her want to respond to their struggle.

It was something she should—and must—do: her own battle.

Lefiya's apricot eyes widened with resolve as she began her chant—her own chant!

"Proud warrior, snipers of the forest "

"Take up your bows before the advancing plunderers"

"Answer the call of your brethren and ready your arrows—"

In the midst of fierce combat, the elf's chant flowed like a clear stream, washing over the hearts of the two.

A crimson magic circle suddenly unfolded, and countless magic particles began gathering around Lefiya.

She was like a guiding light illuminating the path forward.

"Tinge them with flame, the lamplight of the forest—"

A single slash severed the enemy's neck, blood splashing across Fron's body.

No time to deal with it—an ear-piercing whoosh rang by.

With a boom, the destructive flame met the clash, repelling the enemy's assault and shattering their weapon.

"I command you to shoot, fire arrows of the elves—"

Using the momentum from being struck, Fron pivoted on his left foot, spun, and raised his right leg—blasting apart the enemy's head with a kick!

"Release them, the fire arrows of the fairies. Falling like rain, burn away the savages—"

It was a melody of hope—a song called victory.

"Fall back, Welf!"

As the chant reached its climax, Fron called his comrade back beside Lefiya.

"Fusillade Fallarica !!"

—?

The sky flashed—an endless rain of fire began.

The next second, a torrent of golden light-arrows poured down from the sky, like a golden rain. The blazing, arrow-shaped magic bolts traced arcs through the air.

Roars of flames, winds tearing the air, arrows striking, piercing enemies, igniting blazes. Those that missed shattered the ground, ripped through the mist, and upheaved the ground.

Everything in sight was completely annihilated—whether it was an orc, a imp, even a Infant dragon—none were spared.

Welf was left speechless by the terrifying power of Lefiya's wide-area annihilation magic.

That was dozens of monsters, most of them large types.

Normally, it would take at least a team of 10 well-coordinated adventurers under unified command to barely manage such a situation. And it would require massive consumption of weapons and supplies.

If lucky, the team might survive victorious—but in most cases, they'd suffer serious casualties. Along with a heavy monetary loss.

From there, the team would decline… and eventually die.

Yet, such a desperate situation was obliterated in an instant by Lefiya's bombardment magic—leaving not even ash behind.

A rear guard magic-user whose single blast could determine the battle—scorching the enemy to nothing.

Fron, though aware of this, was still shocked seeing it with his own eyes.

Wide-area annihilation magic—a rare magic type. A strategic-level spell that, once invoked, tipped the scales of victory.

How lucky they were—Welf thought, looking complicatedly at the elf girl with a shy smile but eyes full of courage.

As for Fron, now wasn't the time to dwell on their feelings.

For Fron and Welf, this was immense pressure—a light of hope in the darkness.

But for Lefiya, it was different. She was Lv.3. These monsters posed no threat to her—not even an army of Lv.1s could kill her.

That may be why she managed to chant successfully.

Fron knew the girl feared strong enemies—her chants always went off-key when facing them.

"Maybe this place isn't pressuring enough, but it's still good training."

The excited girl was bursting with emotion.

Fron crouched down, squinting at something on the ground—his heart turned cold.

"This spot... Let's get out of here."

"Lefiya, Welf. I can't do this alone—help me collect the magic stones and drop items, then let's leave quickly."

He didn't mention the ominous feeling in his heart—he just urged them to speed up.

"Y-Yes!"

"Man, what a haul—Lefiya's magic even left the magic stones intact. Tch tch, way better than a certain idiot."

"..."

Fron admitted he often lost control of his magic due to mind-body misalignment—but that's no reason to insult him.

They had gathered 40 to 50 high-quality magic stones—a big payday.

Among them were a Infant dragon's membrane, a Silverback's hard bones, and other drop items.

"Good stuff. The stones alone are worth 100,000 Valis. The items—we'll use them for crafting practice."

"Let's go—advance to the 'Middle Floors'!"

A massive, lightless room.

Darker and quieter than a dungeon. Only two primitive torches crackled in the silence.

"Is it done?"

A voice rang out from the only stone throne in the room—filled with amusement, delight, and madness.

"Apologies, sir. They escaped."

"Hmph. Useless trash. Fine, chasing them off is enough. They didn't find anything, right?"

"Yes, they seemed like rookies."

"Doesn't matter. As long as they didn't find out. Next time you transport monsters, be more careful. You know the price for a leak, right?"

"Y-Yes!"

"Hehehe… Just wait, you surface-dwelling bastards—"

The darkness hidden within the shadows stirred—that was the true calamity.

That overly confident someone would never imagine that one of the three rookies had seen through her plan in an instant.

But Fron kept it to himself.

He was still weak. Not just the enemy—he too had reasons not to be exposed.

"Tch. Just a bunch of clowns."

He shot a disdainful glance toward a direction—and quietly flipped the bird.

"You've been zoning out ever since earlier. What are you thinking about?"

"T-That's what I want to ask!"

"…Nothing. Just wondering what we could make from all these drops. You know—that satisfaction of crafting your own gear and signing it!"

"Ah—pure bliss."

Lefiya tilted her head in confusion. What were they talking about? She didn't understand at all.

"Lefiya, is there anything you want? Tell me, and I'll make it for you."

As he spoke, Fron gave the elf girl a smiling once-over.

Elves always astounded others with their beauty—even 14-year-old Lefiya had great fashion sense.

White strap stockings, princess shoes with ribbons, a butterfly-collared dress paired with a pink-toned one-piece—classic beauty.

"Mr. Fron—I think the way you're looking at me is a bit strange. Please don't do that."

"…Hey, don't be so obvious, man. I can't handle this."

"Tch tch. Am I looking at you the way you look at your goddess?"

"Nani—what the hell are you saying?!"

"Ah, you know… human-divine romance!"

"Shut up, you bastard!"

Lefiya blinked, imagining a little drama in her head: Welf looking at his goddess the way Mr. Fron looked at her just now—eeeeeeek!

Hu-Hu-Human-divine romance???

Whoosh—her entire face turned crimson and she fainted on the spot.

"Hey—!"