“Is this the power of a Tier 4?”
Celia murmured, tightening her grip on her longsword. She stood before the white tiger, refusing to retreat an inch.
She was the only one left who could still fight. She would not back down, no matter what.
At the same time, the white tiger noticed she was the last one standing. With a roar, it lunged straight for her.
Clang! Clang! Clang!
The sound of sword meeting claw echoed through the forest. Each parry drained a significant amount of Celia’s stamina, and as she grew weary, she struggled to keep up with the tiger’s movements.
Its claws left deep gashes on her shoulder and thigh. The potent sword techniques and magic that had slain the other beasts were useless against this one, and her will to fight began to wane.
But her spirit remained unbroken. The white tiger might be an insurmountable foe for her now, but that wouldn’t always be the case.
After blocking another swipe, its tail whipped out of nowhere and struck her sword, sending it flying from her grasp. Celia herself collapsed to the ground, gasping for breath.
Bruul, still on the forest floor, managed a bitter smile. He knew they had lost.
To be honest, he was astounded that a Tier 2 hero could hold out against a Tier 4 beast for so long. A newfound respect for Celia bloomed within him.
After all, if she had simply abandoned them from the start, her team might have had a chance to escape.
The white tiger padded closer to Celia, step by step. It loomed over her fallen form, a foul mixture of blood and saliva dripping from its jaws.
“Don’t you dare touch Celia!”
Isha’s voice rang out from behind the beast. A pair of chakrams flew toward it, their blinding light forcing the tiger to leap back and dodge.
Seizing the opportunity, Celia swiftly retrieved her longsword. With a single swing, scorching flames erupted from beneath the tiger’s feet, striking its soft underbelly.
It flinched in pain, instinctively preparing to jump away again, but chains suddenly materialized from the space around it, binding its four limbs.
Immobilized, it could only endure the full force of the flames, its belly fur charring to black.
Aurora, who had collapsed earlier, was now painfully pulling herself up against a tree. She gasped for air, the glow of magic finally fading from her right hand.
The chains were her doing.
Their resistance finally enraged the white tiger. The fiery patterns on its fur blazed a brighter crimson as its magical power surged, and terrifying orbs of electricity began to crackle around its body.
Once it had gathered enough energy, it unleashed a barrage of electric spheres, which howled through the air toward Celia and the others.
Wherever the spheres struck, dirt flew and trees were scorched black. The blinding white light of the electricity even eclipsed the sun.
All the color drained from Bruul’s face. He knew this was truly the end. Defenseless, they were doomed to be turned to ash.
The scarred man tried to struggle to his feet, but his legs were weak with fear. He managed to rise only to collapse again.
“Look out!”
Knowing it was futile, Celia still threw herself over the already wounded Isha, tensing her entire body and gritting her teeth to withstand the electric onslaught.
It was a near-impossible feat for a Tier 2 to block a Tier 4’s magic.
Yet, as the seconds ticked by, the electric spheres never struck. Even the crackling sound had vanished.
Realization dawned, and Celia turned to look. As she expected, a woman in a black robe stood before them. The orbs of electricity were nowhere to be seen.
“Instructor!”
Overjoyed, she released Isha and scrambled to her feet, running toward the smiling woman.
But as Celia drew near, the woman’s smile vanished. She raised a hand and flicked her forehead.
“Ow!”
Celia cried out, clutching her head. She stopped in her tracks and lowered her gaze, looking like a child caught misbehaving.
“That was reckless. All that knowledge I taught you… did you forget all of it the moment you faced a Tier 4 beast?”
Faced with Dorothy’s scolding, Celia guiltily averted her eyes.
They had been too inexperienced, too flustered in the face of such a powerful monster, and they had thrown everything they learned out the window.
If their instructor hadn’t arrived, they would all be dead.
“You all still have a long way to go before you can call yourselves true heroes.”
Dorothy guided Celia behind her and turned her attention to the white tiger in the distance.
Ever since she had appeared, the beast had been crouched low to the ground, emitting low growls. It seemed to sense the danger she posed but was unwilling to abandon its prey.
Greed often comes at a terrible price. Dorothy raised her hand, and silver-white petals condensed from the air, drifting slowly toward the tiger on the wind.
ROAR—
Sensing the immense danger from the petals, the white tiger’s pupils shrank. Its powerful limbs began to tremble uncontrollably, and even its roar became a strange, distorted shriek.
It wanted to flee, but its body was no longer under its control. It could only watch helplessly as the petals drifted past its body, unleashing a fountain of garish blood.
Its life drained away, bit by bit. Its vision faded to black. Finally, its massive body crashed to the ground with a thunderous thud, snapping a fragile tree nearby.
To see a Tier 4 magical beast killed without even a fight left Bruul and the others stunned.
They knew Celia’s instructor would win, but they never imagined it would be so effortless. Before her, the Tier 4 beast was like a Tier 1, utterly powerless.
Was this… the strength of a Tier 6 hero?
The day’s events had been so surreal that Bruul didn’t even remember how he got back to the guild. He had no memory of the bandages being wrapped around his arm. He felt little of the joy of surviving.
After receiving treatment, Celia’s team had left with their instructor. He stared blankly at her retreating figure, his mind filled with the image of scattering silver-white petals.
Those petals were so familiar. He felt as if he had seen them long, long ago.
…Could it be her?
He had no answer.
In silence, he left the guild and headed for a tavern that catered specifically to heroes.
Whenever something troubled him, he found himself drawn to the tavern for a drink to clear his head.
It was still daytime, so the tavern wasn’t crowded, but as Bruul pushed open the door, the rich aroma of ale washed over him.
At the bar, he spotted two familiar faces.
One was a middle-aged hero with a missing eye, known as the One-Eyed Wolf. The other had a particular fondness for drink and had caused quite a bit of trouble while drunk, earning him the nickname Drunkard from the other heroes.
The number of heroes in the guild was small, so after a few years, everyone knew each other and could be considered decent friends.
“Care for a glass?”
The Drunkard sloshed the cup in his hand. Bruul hesitated for a moment before snatching it and downing the contents in one gulp.
“Bruul, I heard you ran into a Tier 4 beast. Is that true? If it was really Tier 4, how did you make it back in one piece?”
The One-Eyed Wolf sized him up, then added, “Oh, well, not exactly in one piece. Lost an arm, have you? You’ll probably get a nickname like ours soon!”
He and the Drunkard roared with laughter.
But Bruul seemed not to hear their teasing. He sat down at the bar, turned, and asked them with grave seriousness:
“Have you heard of any powerful heroes in recent years whose magic manifests as silver-white flower petals?”