"Iron body!"
Atlas gritted his teeth as razor-sharp teeth grazed him, trying to slice through muscle and bone. But no matter how hard the Meadow chewed, its prey refused to crumble. Survival instincts kicked in—raw, primal, unthinking. He didn't hesitate. With a grunt, Atlas grabbed one of the creature's jagged fangs, wrenching it free with brute force before driving it deep into the soft flesh lining its throat.
The acid burned like liquid fire against his skin, dissolving cloth, leaving marks on his skin. His leather armor disintegrated piece by piece, but he barely noticed. All that mattered was escape. Piercing again. Again. Again. Each thrust tore deeper into the Meadow's insides, ripping apart its so-called mouth until it groaned in agony.
"HAAA!!" Atlas roared, gasping for air as he pushed himself out of the disgusting maw. The slimy residue clung to him, dripping from every inch of exposed skin. He landed on trembling legs, chest heaving, muscles screaming in protest.
"ATLAS!" The Captain shouted, reaching out her hand.
He took it without hesitation, letting her haul him up onto solid ground. For a moment, they just stared at each other, breathing heavily, hearts pounding in syncopated rhythm. The relief was palpable—but short-lived.
"…Fuck me," Atlas muttered, collapsing onto the grass. "That's a great start." His voice dripped sarcasm, sharp enough to cut glass, even as slime coated his body like a grotesque second layer of skin.
She let out a shaky laugh, brushing sweat-soaked hair off her forehead. She watched him lie there, half-naked now, his shredded clothes revealing an ironclad torso honed by battles fought and survived. Her cheeks flushed faintly, though she quickly masked it with irritation. "Next time…just give me a notice before you want to die or get eaten, okay?"
Atlas nodded silently, a bit of guilt weighing on his shoulders. This was his mission. His responsibility. And yet here they were, already fighting for their lives moments after landing. Knowing better than to argue, he turned his attention back to the dying Meadow. Its groans grew weaker, quieter, until finally, it lay still—a monstrous corpse sprawled across the glowing grass.
Something glinted amidst the gore. Atlas approached cautiously, his golden "truth eyes" scanning the remains. His lips curled into a faint smile when he saw it—the ring. The insignia ring. A relic he thought lost forever, sacrificed in desperation during their escape. Yet here it was, waiting for him like fate had decided to throw him a bone.
"I thought I lost you," he murmured, slipping the ring onto his remaining finger. It fit perfectly, snug and familiar, pulsing faintly with authority. Authority he'd need if they were going to survive this nightmare.
He glanced upward, toward the dark fog hanging above them like a shroud. How had it fallen so far? What twisted path had led the ring here? None of it made sense—but none of it mattered either. They were alive. That was enough—for now.
"Captai—"
"Eli," she interrupted sharply, swiping away beads of sweat trickling down her temple. "You can call me Eli."
Atlas blinked, caught off guard by the correction. Then he nodded once more, committing the name to memory.
[Notification]
[You just killed a Meadow, killing it before MC. You have earned 1 point.]
"...Eli," he repeated softly, testing the weight of it. "Let's see the bright side. While others might see this as a severe problem…" He gestured vaguely around them—the blood-soaked clearing, the lurking shadows, the oppressive darkness with luminous pressing in from all sides. "…I like to see it as opportunity."
Eli crossed her arms over her chest, raising an eyebrow skeptically. Still, despite herself, she couldn't help but admire the resilience in his tone. Or maybe it was something else entirely. Something about the way his bare chest glistened under the eerie bioluminescent glow of the forest. The scars etched into his skin told stories of pain endured and victories won. Stories she wanted to hear someday—but not today.
'Is that really the body of a boy?' she thought, shaking her head slightly. 'Stop it. Focus. Focus, we need to Survice. Survive....Don't forget who you are.....'
Atlas bent down beside the Meadow's carcass, fashioning makeshift weapons from its broken teeth. A spear for her, a dagger for emergencies. Practicality over sentimentality. Their first priority was survival—finding shelter, food, water. The journey ahead would be long, brutal, unforgiving. The Dark Continent wasn't kind to intruders; it demanded death, swift and merciless. But Atlas had faced worse. Memories of the game flickered at the edges of his mind, blending with fragments of his past life. Both realms bled together now, indistinguishable yet inseparable.
Atlas sighed, running a hand through his damp hair. His gaze drifted forward, scanning the winding path ahead. Red everywhere. Trees, grass, plants—all bathed in crimson hues visible only to his truth eyes. Danger lurked behind every shadow, including one particularly ominous shape perched high above.
'...Is that a giant fucking spider watching us?' he realized grimly. 'And look—it's already prepared a web trap right along our path.'
[World Understanding Used]
[Wind Accuracy Acquired]
His vision sharpened further, focusing intently on the spider's eight glittering eyes. One stood out—its weakest point. Without hesitation, Atlas grabbed one of his remaining Meadow knives and hurled it with precision enhanced by wind magic. It flew like an arrow, piercing straight through the spider's eye, lodging itself deep within the tree behind it.
FLOP!
The massive arachnid twitched once, twice, then fell lifeless to the ground below. Its hungry gaze dimmed, extinguished forever, not knowing it was not the predator, but Prey.
[Notification]
[You just killed a Giant Spider, killing it before the MC. You have acquired 3 points.]
.
.
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Near the Entrance of the Dark Continent – Evening
Slice!
[Notification]
[You just killed a high Ork.]
[You have gained 3 points.]
Lara swung her lancer sword with precision, whipping off the green blood from its blade before sheathing it reverently. The giant ork before her crumpled like a marionette cut loose, its upper body cleanly severed and collapsing at its sides while its legs knelt in death. Lara stepped forward, planting her boot firmly into the warm, viscous puddle of green gore beneath her feet. To her, this was routine—another chore in a long line of battles.
"Forward!" she commanded sharply, her voice slicing through the oppressive air like steel meeting stone. Eight figures trailed behind her, each loyal to the core but visibly weary. Two mages exchanged wary glances as their mana reserves dwindled; three knights marched stoically, their armor dented and scratched from years of service since day one by Lara's side. A berserker grunted under his breath, flexing calloused hands around the hilt of his axe, while an archer scanned the treeline for threats with hawk-like focus.
And then there was Denish—the vice commander. His presence alone commanded respect, a warrior whose name echoed across kingdoms as equal to the fire of Berkimhum. Yet here he stood, humbled, walking shoulder-to-shoulder with the young leader who was carving out her own legend.
"Your Highness Lara," Denish called softly, his tone carrying the weight of wisdom rather than mere suggestion. "Night will be upon us soon. Let's camp out for today…" He didn't need to finish the thought. The exhaustion etched onto every face said enough.
Lara hesitated, glancing back at her team. Sweat dripped down their foreheads, mingling with dirt and dried blood. She clenched her jaw, torn between pushing ahead and relenting. Finally, with a reluctant sigh, she nodded. "...Okay...let's camp for tonight."
"No, Your Highness," interjected one of the mages, her staff glowing faintly with residual mana. Her words carried no regard for others' fatigue. "We can still move on."
Lara smirked, tilting her head slightly so her gaze fell on the mage's trembling legs hidden beneath her skimpy skirt. "So, tell me your leg shaking is not my imagination." Her teasing remark earned gazes from the group.
"Ohh perverts!! Stop looking at my legs!" she shouted, pulling her skirt down as much as possible.
"Hahahaha..."
"Haha...hahaha..."
"Let's camp, then," Denish declared firmly, taking charge as he retrieved camping equipment from Lara's infinite storage. The tension eased momentarily, replaced by groans of relief.
"My back hurts..."
[Notification]
[Observation Will is alerted. Someone is watching.]
Lara froze mid-step, her fingers already wrapped tightly around her sword. Denish mirrored her actions, drawing his weapon silently. The rest of the group followed suit, weapons poised and ready to strike at a single gesture from their young leader.
After a tense moment that stretched into eternity, Lara exhaled sharply. "...False alarm..." she muttered, lowering her sword. Relief rippled through the group like a wave breaking against the shore.
"...Don't just stand there, get to it," Denish ordered gruffly, tossing tents and supplies to the others, all the items coming out from lara's infinite storage. They moved quickly, setting up camp under the crescent moon.
Lara lingered near the edge of the clearing, her sharp eyes scanning the forest beyond. While others saw only shadows, she glimpsed something deeper—a glimmer of movement, a flicker of red amidst the darkness. Her pupils dilated slightly, narrowing in on the source as she saw something, something she could not ignore, her eyes turning wide.
Later That Night
Under the cover of darkness, Lara slipped away from the camp, claiming privacy as her excuse. When her mage offered to accompany her, she declined curtly, disappearing into the jungle alone. The crescent moon cast pale light over the dense foliage, illuminating twisted roots and gnarled branches like skeletal hands reaching for her.
"…I am here, alone as you requested," Lara whispered into the silence, her voice barely audible even to herself.
From the shadows emerged two crimson orbs, glowing like embers in the night. Slowly, they drew closer, revealing the grotesque form of a creature too monstrous to describe fully. Its Huge, lipless mouth curled into what might have been a grin—or a snarl—as it's hulking fat body loomed over her.
Lara unsheathed her sword without hesitation, pointing it directly at the creature's chest. "I'll ask this once—and only once," she growled, her voice low and dangerous. "How. Do you. Know About. My Brother?"
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Monster's Gude
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Chapter 5: Ground Dwellers
Giant spider
A hairy horror so massive it could use a castle as a footstool! This eight-legged terror lurks in dark forests or cavernous lairs, weaving nightmares with every step. Don't let its shaggy, bus-sized bulk fool you—this beast is a cunning predator ready to make you its next snack.
Strengths: Those webs? Stickier than a troll's candy stash, spun strong enough to snare a wyvern mid-soar. Its venom drips from dagger-like fangs, turning heroes into gooey puddles before they can squeak "help!" With eight gleaming eyes, it spots your every move, and its legs scamper up cliffs or ceilings like a ninja on a sugar rush. By night, it struts silently, shaking the earth with swagger, ready to pounce with a cackle that chills your bones. Once it's fed, it sheds tiny eggs that hatch into pint-sized terrors, spreading its legacy of fear.
Weakness: But oh, my Giant Spider's got a hilarious Achilles' heel: one of its eight eyes is the soft eye, a squishy orb as fragile as a soap bubble. Smack it with a stick, dazzle it with glitter, or strum a jaunty tune, and this beast goes bonkers—twirling like it's at a barn dance, legs flailing, totally forgetting you're dinner. A sharp "eww!" stings its pride, making that soft eye blink in shame. Spot this weakness, and you'll send it tumbling into a sparkly, sulky heap.
So, tread lightly in its shadowy domain, armed with a torch of glitter and a cheeky song. My Giant Spider's a web-spinning titan, but outwit its soft eye, and you'll scamper free, laughing at its disco-flop defeat! 🕷️✨
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