"Phew—" Deacon muttered, wiping an arm across his forehead before he pulled out a Stamina Potion, popped the cork with his thumb, and downed the green liquid in the same time it took him to take it out.
As he felt the contents of the potion bring his stamina pool to just under 60%, he kept his eyes trained onto the cave in front of them while loosening the rope around Sam, Bonehead, and himself.
Three hundred meters ahead, the mouth of the wyvern den yawned open in the side of the towering mountain spire. As Deacon's breathing finally evened out and he sucked in a deep breath, a violent stench of rotting meat, guano, and wyvern piss shot into his nose, forcing him to turn his head aside with a wince.
"Damn enhanced Perception…" he muttered.
A moment later, a downdraft carried the same scent down to the rest of the group, still recovering on the ground. Too exhausted to even groan properly, they could only let out pitiful whimpers as the smell washed over them – safe for Bonehead, the only one lucky enough not to have a nose.
"Did anyone see the wyverns circle back yet?" he asked, lowering the now-empty bottle into his Spatial Sling Bag.
"Here," Esmerelda said softly as she uncorked a Stamina Potion and pressed it into Jass's hands. She braced an arm behind Jass's back and pulled her into a sitting position, rubbing her shoulder in small circles, holding a Mana Potion in his other hand for her to drink from. "Slow sips."
"…You're an angel," Jass whispered as she drank the potion in one gulp before doing the same to the Mana Potion.
Esmerelda gave her a gentle smile before helping her to her feet after she had drunk both potions.
"No wyverns so far," Sam answered, shaking both his hands vigorously to force the blood flow back into his numb fingers while looking off into the distance behind them. "… And they won't be back till a couple more hours from now – their morning hunts take up to just over five hours after waking."
Meaning we have around three-ish hours until they arrive, Deacon mused as he reached into his Spatial Sling Bag, and drew out both pieces of gear he planned to use — the first being Echoform Reliquary in its Ulfberht form, and the second, the shield his uncle had given to him two weeks back to touch up his proficiency with them.
Item Name: Bearclaw Heater Shield
Type: Shield – Light
Rarity: Rare
Description:
A steel heater shield bearing the raised image of a roaring bear. A memento from an uncle from a nearly forgotten era to a nephew setting out on his journey. The metal has been treated with a layered forging technique that has long since been lost within the Tower, granting it improved resistance against physical and magical attacks. Its reinforced base allows it to be suitable for frontal defense, while the curved edges simultaneously allows it to be suitable for parrying incoming attacks.
Effects:
Self-Repair, Enhanced Physical Resistance, Enhanced Magical Resistance, and Enhanced Flame Resistance.
Requirements: Lv 15+ & Humanoid
Smirking at the sight of the roaring bear on the face of the shield, Deacon slid his arm through the straps and flexed his hand into the grip.
"Alright, let's check if there are any left behind to defend the nest," he said, keeping his voice low as he stepped forward. "If the cave's empty, then we set up a trap for them to take them down fast and hard."
Seeing nods of agreement from them all, Deacon turned back to face the entrance of the wyvern den with Blood Sense flickering to life
And together, the Ravenlight Party stepped into the shadows of the wyvern den.
***
Hours later, the first heavy thuds hit the plateau outside the wyvern den, each one strong enough to make loose rock shake off the ceiling of the den and roll across the cave floor.
Spread out within the wyvern den with their nostrils plugged with wax just to survive the rancid smell of the den, the Ravenlight Party tensed their bodies as they heard the noise of their prey arriving.
While the wax did not block the stench completely, it dulled their sense of smell enough to keep them from gagging.
Bonehead, of course, was the exception. While the rest of the Ravenlight Party tried their hardest not to gag as they slipped into the den and set up traps when they first entered after confirming they were the only living beings inside, he, blissfully free of both a nose and a sense of smell, happily scooped up several pounds of wyvern shit and bat guano into many large empty jars he had stored in his Spatial Satchel.
"Hehehehe, my precious fertilizer," he cackled earlier with a shrug before stuffing another clump into a jar and sliding it into his Spatial Satchel.
Now, hours later and with his fertilizer jars filled, Bonehead stood at the back and beneath the wyvern den beside Sam and Esmerelda, the three of them waiting for Deacon's signal.
Up near the entrance, Deacon clung to the upper corner of the cave wall, with his fingers hooked into tiny cracks like chisels, and his boots wedged into the stone for balance.
Across from him, on the opposite wall, Jass pressed herself against the jagged corner like a spider as her earth magic kept her anchored in place.
Her body was perfectly still and calm despite being coated from head to toe in dirt and wyvern shit — the same foul camouflage every member of the Ravenlight Party currently coated themselves in to blend in with the cave and mask their scents.
Activating Blood Sense, he lowered his gaze to check up on Sam, Esmerelda, and Bonehead; however, he could see only two humanoid figures beneath the ground due to Bonehead's lack of blood.
They're suppressing their mana signatures really well… good, Deacon thought. With their suppression active, Sam and Esmerelda would be able to spam-cast Earth Spikes while Bonehead kept their mana topped off.
Also, Bonehead would be able to mask any mana leaks by flooding the area with his own undead miasma — deliberately overexuding it to the point where his miasma would drown out whatever mana traces Sam and Esmerelda would end up revealing when they cast spells.
As long as he kept pushing it past the point of what his parasitic symbiote could absorb, the wyverns wouldn't be able to tell where their mana was coming from as the undead miasma that Bonehead would exude wouldn't be a weird thing to sense given how many bones are in here, Deacon concluded as his eyes caught sight of the many bones, both whole and cracked, decorated the floor of the cave.
The cavern shook and trembled with several more heavy thuds as the wyverns outside landed on the plateau outside the den.
The Ravenlight Party heard heavy footfalls near the entrance that gave way to the scraping drag of claws as the creatures stepped off the grass and onto the bare stone leading into the den.
Deacon pursed his dry lips, eyes locked on the red silhouette of the first wyvern approaching. He lowered the intensity of Blood Sense the moment it crossed the threshold.
Its skull — elongated, armored, and sporting ridges along the brow that looked like jagged stone plates — pushed into the cave first. Its nostrils flared, sucking in the stale cave air and exhaling a gust so pungent it made Jass's eyes narrow to slits as it wafted across her face.
The wyvern's thin, scythe-like forelimbs scraped along the ground as it moved in, each talon long enough to pierce into and out of Deacon's back, if given enough force.
Its wings folded along its ribs as it entered fully, the joints trembling slightly from exertion. Old, male – the head of the flock, Deacon noted as he took notice of the four thick ridges along its tail and the spread of its chest in proportion to its overall size, as they both indicated its age and gender without himself needing to look under and check.
One by one, six more wyverns stalked into the den: three more males, all broad-chested with thick talons, broad-chested, and with four ridges on their tails; and three females, smaller-bodied, with two ridges on their tails, and slimmer through the shoulders, which resulted in them having much more angular heads.
The younger wyverns scuttled further in, their talons tapping faintly across the stone as they snapped playfully at each other's tails. The three smaller ones shoved at scattered bones with their muzzles; bones of giant goats, wolves, a dozen smaller creatures, even those with humanoid features.
While the older, larger wyverns, whose stomachs were bloated after coming back from a hunt with their younglings, began clearing debris from the center of the den with their wings that brushed along the stone floor to clear the mess the younglings created from their trophy hoard.
Feeling a stare drilling into him, Deacon glanced forward and found Jass glaring at the side of his head — the kind of look that said, "Bitch, when are we attacking? I am not sitting here with mud and shit on my face any longer than necessary."
Seeing an expectant look on her face, Deacon turned away from her and focused back onto the wyverns – I'm so fucked.
But, future Deacon will handle future Jass's fists, Deacon reasoned to himself while mentally praying for his future self's health.
Watching the second-largest male begin to settle onto the cavern floor while unfurling its coiled wings, it let out a deep huff as its eyes began drooping.
As seconds passed by and its chest slowly rose and fell into a synchronized rhythm, Deacon began to count.
Ten seconds.
Fifteen.
Twenty…That's long enough.
Emptying out the carbon dioxide in his lungs, Deacon coiled every muscle fiber of his body as he tightened his grip his hands and boots hand on the walls he clung to.
Then, with a sharp inhale that flooded his lungs with oxygen, he cast Flame Steps.
Twin eruptions of fire blasted from the soles of his feet — two vertical geysers of orange-red heat that kicked downward and hurled him forward in a whipping arc, leaving twin streaks of flame in his wake.
The wyvern's eyes snapped open, pupils sharpening to slits as it surged upright in confusion; however, before it fully registered the explosion of noise that rumbled and shook the walls of its home, before it managed to pull air into its lungs, Deacon's blade — Echoform Reliquary, separated its head from its neck in a single stroke.
*[Wyvern Lv 20] has been slain – XP has been given.*
The moment the notification flashed behind his eyes, Deacon let out a shrill whistle that echoed sharply throughout the wyvern den.
Action on his signal, Jass exploded from the wall across from him the same instant, her body coated in Earthen Armor for protection from flames that might spew her way, as well as to supplement the impact of her fall.
Her glaive snapped to full length mid-descent, its blade catching the sun that streamed through the entrance of the den as she flipped it to face the wyvern below.
With a crunchy squelch, Jass's glaive drove straight into the top of the nearest female wyvern's head — piercing it with so much force that the blade punched through its brain, burst out through its lower jaw, and buried itself in the stone floor beneath.
Wrenching it free with a snarl, Jass spun on her heel and rushed towards the entrance of the den to seal it shut with an Earth Wall and prevent the wyverns from escaping.
While she began to sprint towards the entrance, Deacon leaped off the corpse of the wyvern he had beheaded and towards the largest wyvern, the ground erupted.
A forest of jagged Earth Spikes erupted beneath the wyverns. Most of the spikes only scraped along their scales — but a few struck true, punching straight through the wings of the younger wyvern.