Chapter 138

The vast cavern trembled as though a storm were tearing through it. Mikhail looked up at the basilisk emerging alongside its razor-edged cry.

A lizard of staggering length.

Its cylindrical lower body and legs must have remained planted on the cliff below, yet the head and neck reared upright—along with the tail hoisted high into the air—were more than enough to fill the towering ceiling.

"……"

Nothing but breathing passed between predator and prey.

The surrounding factions wielded their silence like drawn weapons, locked in a battle of nerves with the basilisk before them.

Mikhail stood his ground and stared into the beast's smoldering eyes. Then, without warning, he took a single step back.

Tap.

The instant his heel touched the ground behind him, the announcer's voice cracked through the air.

"—Everyone, brace yourselves! The first attack is incoming!"

BOOM!

The silent standoff ended with the beast's opening strike. The basilisk whipped its tail and hammered the ground below, and the floor beneath every pair of feet lurched violently.

"Whoa—!"

Startled screams erupted from every direction. Even as the surface bucked and heaved, most managed to hold their footing—bracing their legs or driving their weapons into the stone for balance.

Mikhail, positioned furthest back, had slipped the worst of the shockwave with that single retreating step.

"……"

But a few weren't so fortunate. They staggered like scarecrows stripped of their stakes and crumpled helplessly to the ground.

GROOOOOO—!

The moment the formations showed cracks, the basilisk let a boiling growl roll from its throat—refusing to let the opening pass.

Its jaws split wide, baring rows of teeth that jutted like serrated saw blades. Mana gathered on its crimson tongue.

TSZZZZ….

The reptilian pupils narrowed to vertical slits as it compressed the mana into a sphere. A gaze dripping with killing intent locked onto the ones who'd lost their footing.

"Eyes over here! Your fight is with us!"

A thundering shout shook the cave. The basilisk swiveled its eyes toward the source.

"Hmph!"

Tibeau Ringer—the Allied Knight Order's trainee captain—stood with his arms folded, staring up at the basilisk with an air of raw authority.

"Fan out!"

The knights spread outward with Tibeau at their center and thrust their shields forward. A wall of blue mana light shimmered across the barrier that materialized in an instant.

The basilisk's mana sphere slammed into the line of shields, arrayed like the ramparts of an impregnable fortress.

KA-BOOM!

The blast sent dirt and stone fragments spraying in every direction. But the knight order's formation held without a single tremor.

GRRRRRK.

The basilisk, on the other hand, was reeling—neck swaying, senses scattered from the recoil of its own spent mana.

The window to attack. The first sign of incapacitation.

"Incredible—!"

Gasps and cheers spilled from the assembled ranks.

But the surge of confidence was short-lived. The scrape of small claws against stone was closing in fast.

Every eye snapped forward. Dozens upon dozens of serpents were slithering up the cliff face, advancing in a black tide.

Hssssss….

The jet-black snakes flashed the same vivid yellow-green eyes as the basilisk—then lunged with savage fury. They swarmed the armed fighters, latching on to keep them from reaching the basilisk. The scene dissolved into chaos in a heartbeat.

FZZT!

Mikhail fired a pulse of mana and crushed a black serpent closing in on Hailey's blind spot, then flicked his gaze upward.

TWEEEEE—!

That was the moment. The attack-signal horn sliced through the air in a clean, straight line.

"—You two! Move, now!"

Nisha's shout rang out as she carved through a serpent. The two who launched forward like loosed arrows were Ethan and Lloyd.

Their hair whipped behind them like banners in the wind.

Weapons in hand, the pair tore through the dense cloud of dust and threw themselves at the basilisk.

THUNK!

Flashing blade strikes punched through the gaps between the basilisk's scales and gouged deep wounds into its flesh.

The vivid spray of red that followed was proof enough—the hits had landed clean.

Attacks from other factions poured in right behind them. Ethan and Lloyd's strikes had served as the signal flare.

"……"

Mikhail watched the situation unfold along its predetermined course and let the corner of his mouth curl with satisfaction—then turned his head toward the magic research institute's formation for one final check.

TSZZZZZZ….

Mana was gathering slowly above the outstretched palm of a single figure who'd stepped forward.

Blue energy, drawn into a tight sphere.

It was released the instant the last attacker pulled back from the basilisk with a sharp backstep.

—BOOM!

The mana sphere hammered the basilisk's skull, splitting the scales across its surface into a web of cracks.

That sealed the final clean hit.

But the one who'd delivered it wasn't Verte—the star performer up to this point.

Mikhail shifted his gaze to Verte, standing at the rear of the research institute's formation.

"……"

Verte's complexion was ashen. He stood motionless, clenching and unclenching his fist over and over. Irritation was etched plainly across his cheeks.

Mikhail took in the scene without a word. The image of Verte clutching that pouch of mana potions and striding away surfaced in his mind.

"Hmm."

Judging by the situation and his condition, Verte must have decided the potions hadn't taken sufficient effect yet.

Then he'll probably make his move on the next round.

Mikhail pulled his gaze from Verte's profile and let a faint scoff drift through his nose.

"—Amazing! Just amazing!"

The moment Mikhail's attention returned to the front, the announcer's awestruck voice rang through the air.

"The Allied Knight Order's defense sets up Salvator's opening strike! Followed by the research institute's finishing blow! That first sequence was textbook! Absolutely flawless! Every faction is racking up impressive scores!"

GRRRRGH!

Before the announcer's praise had fully faded, the basilisk shook its massive head and pulled itself back into fighting posture. Wounds were carved across its body, but it paid them no mind—craning its neck high with open contempt for its injuries.

The scales lining its straightened neck writhed as though alive, and a crimson glow bloomed across their surface.

TSZZZZT!

Static noise split through the air like a honed blade, and a keening wind whipped through the cavern.

On the backs of every hand that had struck the basilisk moments ago, red markings began to sear themselves into the skin.

"What is—!"

The faint smell of burning flesh spread, and cries of stinging pain erupted from pockets across every formation.

Ethan and Lloyd grimaced in unison, staring down at their own marked hands.

Mikhail watched the scene unfold and called up the relevant lore.

〔Magic: Fury of the Dragon Coiled Beneath the Earth〕

The basilisk's unique skill. It analyzes the origin of wounds inflicted on its body, tracks those who dealt the damage, and delivers a curse. Once activated, all mana belonging to the marked targets is burned away.

As if to confirm what he'd recalled, the crimson shimmer dancing like heat haze across the basilisk's scales grew more vivid by the second.

The basilisk was drawing breath for a finishing roar when—

WHOOSH!

A volley of projectiles streaked in from the flanks like a rain of arrows.

Blue hooks launched by the support unit latched onto the basilisk's neck one after another, flaring with brilliant light as they devoured the crimson energy.

FSSSSH.

The red glow collapsed in an instant, and the markings seared into the attackers' hands vanished without a trace.

Snared by the hooks, the basilisk slumped into incapacitation once more.

TWEEEEE—!

The attack horn sounded, clear and sharp.

Mikhail stole a glance at where Verte stood, then called out to Dian as he coiled to charge.

"Dian! Pull your punches this time!"

"…Huh?"

Dian's eyes went round as he turned toward Mikhail, but he must have decided there was no time to argue—he didn't press further.

Dian kicked off the ground and sprinted forward, swinging his bludgeon into the basilisk's neck.

THUMP!

The force behind the blow looked like less than half of what Dian could actually produce.

Tap.

The instant Dian pulled back, a mana sphere generated from the research institute's formation hurtled toward the basilisk.

WHOOSH!

The sphere barreling head-on radiated far more size and pressure than the one the institute had produced in the previous round.

—KA-BOOM!

The compressed mana struck the basilisk's scales and detonated on impact, shaking its entire body.

GRKK.

The basilisk convulsed with a violent twitch.

Had that strike carried even a fraction more force, the basilisk's threat-response mechanism would have activated and triggered an attack no one saw coming.

Mikhail studied the beast's body, then turned his head toward Verte.

"Hmph."

Verte wore a look of smug triumph. His intent was transparent—to showcase his power as something a cut above the rest and force everyone to acknowledge it.

At that moment, the announcer's voice echoed through the open air.

"Ah—attention, please. We're asking that all magic output be reduced to half its current level. Excessive damage during this phase of the encounter will not convert into points, and may result in a formal warning!"

But what followed was the exact opposite of the flow Verte had been counting on.

"…What?"

Mikhail watched Verte freeze in place.

Beneath the bloodless pallor of his face, Verte's lips trembled as a sharp-edged question burst out.

"Hold back against a beast we're supposed to kill?! What kind of nonsense is that!"

"Mmm, explaining it in full would take a while, but—in short, if you don't comply, everyone here could be in danger! Demonstrating your abilities is all well and good, but this time, please follow the rules!"

Verte glared at the broadcasting device, then let a hollow laugh escape as he pressed a hand to his forehead. He swayed as though about to collapse, and Noen stepped in to steady him.

"……"

Mikhail flicked a light breath off the tip of his tongue and turned to look at Salvator's formation.

The basilisk was gearing up for another attack, but Ethan and the rest of the cast stood facing the enemy with notably more composure than before.

From defense to offense—having traded a full cycle of blows, they'd built a solid read on the beast in front of them.

Mikhail allowed himself a relaxed smile. At this rate, the first phase of exchanges would wrap up smoothly, and the progression would reach its conclusion before long.

THUNK!

Ethan wrenched his sword free from the back of the basilisk's neck. He confirmed the vivid wound carved between the scales, then used the beast's body as a springboard and launched himself backward.

GROOOOOO!

Stabbed and slashed across every inch of its body, the basilisk looked moments away from toppling.

Ethan landed, stole a glance at Salvator's formation, and let the corner of his mouth rise.

Maybe it was because they were seizing the advantage with such ease.

Right now, he felt better than he had at any point since the campaign began.