Chapter 5: The Slayer — Young Fox

The Young Fox Slayer

Finishing off wounded enemies was something Winniegar excelled at.

In the blink of an eye, Veranie had dispatched twelve Sheep’s Cry cultists and six high-ranking members, while Winniegar’s finishing blows accounted for six cultists and four senior ones.

Veranie’s archery was impressive, but the legendary tales of splitting a willow at a hundred paces were just that—legends. With ancient bow-making techniques and the accuracy of hand-crafted arrows, merely hitting a poplar tree at such a distance would already be proof of remarkable skill.

Her abilities, while not the finest in the world, made her stand out among the new generation of adventurers as one of the more competent. At these ranges, Veranie could not guarantee a kill with every arrow, which provided Winniegar ample opportunity for his own contributions.

But the enemies were too many.

It seemed as if every hostile creature around the new Sopig town had been drawn to them.

With a fierce whistle, Yarrow’s explosive fireball detonated among the monsters, scattering a cluster of Sheep’s Cry cultists and their half-orc protectors in a fiery blast.

Yet Yarrow’s magic was not potent enough to finish off the elite half-orcs and the higher Sheep’s Cry acolytes. At this point, Winniegar’s task of finishing them off became overwhelming.

“I need to reconstruct a new role to handle this situation,” Winniegar thought.

Role selected, analysis complete... Reconstruction begins. Level one Meow-Meow, construction complete!

Wait a minute—why was he still Meow-Meow?

It was still the same Meow-Meow, but this time, he’d constructed the Technician variant. The Technician trait granted a 1.5 times boost when using skills of base power below 60. This meant that previously weak but low-cost, high-accuracy moves like Scratch, and the similarly modest but unerring Flying-type skill Swallow Reversal, were now significantly enhanced.

This was a battle-ready Meow-Meow, unlike the previous one designed for cuteness and money-gathering.

Given the value of this trait, Winniegar only unlocked it after leveling up. Of course, the energy cost was a bit higher than before.

This time, he couldn’t safely hide in the back and hurl electric waves. He had to plunge into the enemy ranks himself.

His targets were the Sheep’s Cry cultists who could use low-level magic. He had no desire to test whether his fragile Meow-Meow body could withstand the half-orcs’ heavy clubs.

Absolutely not...

The once nimble Meow-Meow, now employing the swift Swallow Reversal, darted with even more grace than a feather in the wind. Hitting Winniegar at this speed was a daunting task.

It was precisely this advantage that emboldened him to dash into the fray.

Meanwhile, Murak had narrowly escaped danger several times. As the only shield-bearer in the group, he bore the brunt of the enemy’s attacks. Jermor’s healing spells could barely keep pace with Murak’s injuries. In desperation, Jermor administered two vials of enhanced healing potion, barely preventing Murak from falling unconscious from his wounds.

However, the enhanced healing potion came with side effects, and concocting it was nothing like the simple mixing in a game...

A moment’s distraction—suddenly, a streak of fire blazed in from Winniegar’s side. He couldn’t dodge in time and was hurled by the explosion straight into a tree.

It was Fire Crossbow—a spell cast by another Sheep’s Cry elder, as Winniegar saw when he struggled to look.

He could break the transformation and reset his body, but that would leave him defenseless and vulnerable as a human among a horde of savage monsters. Transform again? As if he could shapeshift without limit!

Swallow Reversal!

Winniegar staggered to his feet and raked two deep claw marks across the elder’s shoulders, then landed and immediately turned, slashing with Scratch for a follow-up blow.

Before the cult elder could turn, Winniegar had darted away through a gap between several half-orcs’ clubs, leaping far to the side.

From above—Explosive Fireball!

Yarrow, furious, unleashed a magical fireball that, by luck, hit its maximum damage, blasting several enemies to pieces. At that moment, Winniegar saw Jermor gesturing in his direction.

Healing Light.

Winniegar waved him off—any skill, whether healing or damaging, was woefully inefficient, and stat-boosting spells, potions, or magic had no effect on him.

Winniegar surmised that his abilities were highly anomalous, as if he had constructed a separate domain within this world—one that did not belong to it. Within this domain, he could manifest his imagination and gain powers that defied the world’s laws.

It was a data-driven realm, yet it existed within the tangible world, which was why the world itself repelled him—similar to the phenomenon where the advent of a god brings about a kind of cosmic resistance.

For deities, such resistance merely reduced “impossible to be slain by mortals” to “very difficult to be slain by mortals.”

But for Winniegar, what did this suppression or rejection mean?

He couldn’t say for certain, but he could sense it. This very resistance, this suppression, proved his abilities were, in some sense, godlike.

So powerful—they threatened the normal workings of the world itself!

The question now was how to harness this power, to minimize its drawbacks and maximize its advantages. Winniegar dared not claim he truly understood his own abilities.

Though his mind was filled with information, as if these new skills were instinct, to achieve the overwhelming dominance he had in games, this understanding was not enough.

He could use them as naturally as his own hands—but what he wanted was to understand each cell, each strand of DNA. Only then would he be truly unstoppable.

Winniegar swiftly circled to the front of Yarrow. Having just cast her powerful fireball, Yarrow needed a moment to recover. Murak and Jermor, meanwhile, had little attention to spare for her.

Murak was under heavy pressure, and Jermor focused most of his energy on the ranger captain. With Yarrow’s slight frame, if she were struck, she might not even survive long enough to be healed.

Winniegar could see that both Yarrow and Veranie were specialized types—immense offensive strength, but little capacity for self-preservation. Only with the protection of their teammates could their power truly shine.

Could Meow-Meow protect others? Hardly—a typical case of low defense, low health, and low level...

But Winniegar could do something else.

He leaped forward, striking viciously at the necks of two half-orcs attempting to flank the team. Enraged, the monsters turned on him with furious roars, while Winniegar gleefully bounded toward his next target.

Drawing monsters’ attention, pulling their aggression onto himself—wasn’t this just like playing a game?

Half-orcs were not bright; most had the intelligence of human children. Their cooperation with the Sheep’s Cry cult was likely due to some method of control the cult had developed.

Even so, their stupidity remained. After a round of provocation from Winniegar, the half-orcs fell into chaos. More than half chased after him, greatly easing the pressure on Jermor and Murak.

At this moment, Winniegar used the skill Substitute...

Before him, a doll that cost him a quarter of his stamina bounced out. The simple-minded monsters—and even many cultists—focused on the substitute and gave chase.

Without hesitation, Winniegar turned and fled. By now, Yarrow and Veranie had already dealt with the most dangerous dozen or so cultists.

Winniegar, too, joined the work of gathering “experience points”—his goal was simple: reach level three as quickly as possible, so he could choose a stronger role for his next transformation.

The Substitute had some defense and evasion, but was far clumsier than the real thing. With Meow-Meow’s fragile stats, it didn’t last long before being smashed to smoke.

But by then, Winniegar had already regrouped with the party, most of the cult elders and acolytes eliminated.

Now, Murak could finally devote his attention to the half-orcs.

Divine Soul Art: Holy Spirit’s Aid.

With expert-level divine soul magic, Murak could boost the party’s physical attack accuracy. Unfortunately, Winniegar was an outlier—such magic had no effect on him.

After casting Holy Spirit’s Aid, Murak drew his longsword and plunged into the half-orc horde.

Clearly, Murak was well-rounded—whether it was divine soul magic, swordsmanship, or shield work, he handled it effortlessly.

His killing pace was not swift, but steady and dependable—he inspired confidence.

Winniegar followed closely, dispatching heavily wounded but not quite dead enemies—Swallow Reversal’s guaranteed hit shone here. For those with enough stamina, he finished them with a few Scratches.

The battle lasted nearly half the day. When the last enemy fell, it was already close to noon.

It was time to tally the spoils. Winniegar licked his lips with satisfaction.