Sylvie crouched atop a branch, a swarm of leaves concealing her figure. She was the image of stillness, her breath halted, her muscles frozen. Her light weight ever so slightly bent the branch beneath her feet.

Beneath her, Azhar stood, back pressed against the trunk of the tree, his hands hovering above his head, towards his bow.

Sylvie and Azhar were positioned a good ten paces behind the clearing. In front of them, behind the trees that stood at the very edge, were Jeanne, Vahid, and Launcelot – the main vanguard. Right behind the vanguard were Amelie and Launcelot's trio of damage dealers.

Sylvie and Azhar stayed far back because this was where they operated best, at a distance where they could carefully note the tides of battle and scope out chances for critical strikes on vital locations. To Sylvie, this had become almost an artform, having sliced open countless monster throats.

It had come to the point where she had managed a breakthrough in power, manifesting her second specialty as a Kaishaku, an advancement of the ninja specialty that focused her abilities on seamlessly executing enemies at their weakest and most vulnerable states.

She reached under her cloak and grasped at shuriken she stored in a belt pouch. It was a pain to get these specialty forged, always needing to show the blacksmith blueprints from her eastern scrolls, but without them, many of her skills didn't properly manifest. But even with her equipment fully stocked, she still hoped she had enough power to get through this hunt.

Azhar exhaled deeply, his stomach sinking as he closed his eyes. His wild, shoulder-length hair started to tremble as magical energy surged through his body, concentrating on the tattoos etched into his skin. Silhouettes of galloping horses on his left and right arms started to glow a deep ruby red as he prepared to call a spirit steed.

The magic of the hinterlanders – spiritual shamanism.

Sylvie took this as a sign to get ready. She withdrew her shuriken, each one of the metal stars wedged between her fingers. She couldn't see outside the foliage surrounding her, so she relied on Azhar to give her cues, and it was evident that he had seen that the front vanguard had given their signal to start getting ready.

A great rumble droned through the air as the Venom Wyrm yawned. The sound of claws massive and sharp cracking into stone became louder and louder, until finally, there was a heavy thud as the wyrm draped its body across the clearing to bask in the sunlight.

Sylvie shivered as she felt the foliage around her rustle. The flapping of wings – birds were taking flight, terrified of the wyrm that did not belong here. She had wondered why it had traveled so far. Its home – the mire bogs – were far, far west. Even further west than the already remote hinterlands, wedged between the hinterland plains and the furnacelands where demons spawned and prowled.

Regardless, this creature was unwelcome here. An invasive species and a danger to all. It could rot the entire ecosystem with a tantrum or, as Launcelot had noted, wreak devastating misery and suffering to countless villagers and farmers. She tightened her grip on the shuriken. She was nervous. She always was, no matter how many times she did this, but this was still her duty as an adventurer.

She only hoped she wouldn't hold back Jeanne.

A whistle pierced through the forest.

The front vanguard was mobilizing. Everything started to happen in quick order, as if precisely choreographed. The vanguard would be engaging the wyrm at any moment now. Sylvie glanced below as Azhar unslung his bow and leaped in the air as particles of red scattered underneath him, condensing into a horse the shade of ruby. It glimmered like the jewel too, the individual particles sparkling and hazy, spiritual at their core.

"On me!" said Sylvie as she pushed off the tree branch, silently gliding into the next tree, and then the next, until she was at the very last ring of trees before the clearing, where she had a clear line of sight towards the battle. She could hear the clopping of Azhar's spirit steed following close behind her, giving her support.

Sylvie peered through a few stray leaves at the ongoing fight.

Vahid roared as he barreled forwards, the tattoo of a bull at his back glowing with cerulean might.

The wyrm, still sluggish, tried to stand on its four legs while shaking its serpentine head to throw off its sleepiness.

Vahid slammed his greatsword into one of the wyrm's front legs, cutting a nasty gash into it. A swing like that would have cleaved a man in two, but the wyrm's hardened scales and tough sinews made for a powerful armor that prevented major damage.

Still, Sylvie could see as the wyrm roared, the pain was now starting to jolt its system back into full function. She and the others had to make quick use of the wyrm's momentary lethargy to inflict as much damage as possible.

She saw as the wyrm used its undamaged front leg to swipe at Vahid. The clawed foot was almost as large as the giant hinterlander himself, no doubt able to inflict serious damage with its blade-like claws, but Vahid saw this coming and immediately ran back.

Launcelot came forwards, bearing his greatshield and slamming it on the ground. The wyrm's leg crushed into the shield with an echoing impact, driving Launcelot several feet back, but he kept his shield firmly up.

Sylvie's eyes honed in on the wound that Vahid had inflicted. Though not deep, it could certainly be made deeper, but for that, she needed a bigger opening.

"Shoot!" said Launcelot as he gritted his teeth and held his shield against the raging torrent of wyrm muscle and claws.

The wyrm, seeing that Launcelot managed to stop its blow, raised its leg again while surging forwards, aiming to get a good angle to stomp Launcelot under its great weight where his shield would be far less effective.

But a barrage of projectiles halted it. Amelie had fired a spear of lightning while Launcelot's trio rained down explosive arrows, blades of cutting wind, and jet streams of concentrated fire.

The wyrm growled as it stumbled back from the force of the combined attack. It wasn't enough to deal serious damage through its chest, where its scales were thickest, but that was also where the center of its balance was, making it the best spot to strike to force it back.

The real damage would come from Triple Threat.

Sylvie spied the instant the wyrm struggled back, distracted by the lightshow blasting at its chest, and thrust out her hand, shooting out a salvo of five shuriken that curved into the air, their spinning bodies wreathed in shadows as they embedded into the open wound at the wyrm's leg.

She calculated that five cursed shuriken would stack enough damage enhancing curses to let Azhar do his work. The shadows seeped into the raw wyrm flesh, creeping throughout the leg like faint tendrils of black, almost as if a tumor of wispy darkness had embedded deep within.

"Thanks, Sylv!" said Azhar from directly below as he took aim from atop his steed, his arm pulling back the bowstring, the fingers tightly gripped around a nocked arrow. His muscles tensed for a second, empowered from red eagle wing tattoos gracing his shoulder blades.

Then he loosed. The arrow blasted forwards, spirals of wind surging at its tip. Sylvie hoped that the arrow, empowered with [Snipe], would do enough damage to cripple the wyrm. After all, this was the fruit of Azhar's own training.

Before, he had been a ranger with a specialty as a beastmaster, but after growing strong alongside Sylvie, he had also developed a secondary specialty – that of a sniper meant to deal devastating damage from a distance.

The wyrm screamed as the ballista like arrow crashed into its leg, shearing apart swathes of flesh until it embedded into bone. It hobbled for a bit before it crashed into the ground, unable to support its weight anymore.

"Reposition!" said Sylvie as she leaped to another tree, Azhar following below, making sure that the wyrm never managed to single them out with a concentrated shot of its breath.

Like this, they were a deadly duo. Sylvie specialized in putting targets down but weakening them from a healthy condition was a different matter. For that, Azhar was perfect, his immense firepower only needing the slightest bit of guidance to truly shine. The fact that with his spirit steeds, he could keep up with Sylvie's mobility made them perfect partners for picking enemies apart without any chance for retaliation.

"Stand ready for venom!" said Launcelot as he waved everyone except Jeanne back.

Sylvie nodded. The wyrm was now very much awake, and now that it knew it was in danger, it would not hesitate to use the venom stored up in its throat. For that, Jeanne stood ready. She hadn't been part of the action yet, as when it came down to it, she was the only one capable of casting a barrier powerful enough to deflect something intangible like venom clouds.

Amelie, though an experienced mage, focused on destruction, specializing as an elementalist. The only barrier she could erect would be for herself. Launcelot's supports, too, had no shielding capabilities, purely relying on his immense durability to get by, but his shield could not block something like a toxic cloud.

Yet as Sylvie waited in the treetop, her eyes narrowed as she focused on the wyrm, she wondered why the wyrm did not unleash its signature venom breath.

As the smoke and dust settled around it, the wyrm opened its mouth.

"Here it comes!" said Launcelot as he hunkered down behind his shield. All the ranged casters and even Vahid were behind him now.

Only Jeanne continued to stand beside Launcelot as she clasped her hands together, readying to reinforce a magical barrier with her priestly powers.

Sylvie's eyes widened in surprise. The wyrm blinked in seeming understanding before it loosed an ordinary roar and contorted its body, generating massive amounts of rotational force as it whipped its heavy, muscle-padded battering ram of a tail straight into Launcelot.

"What!?" Launcelot managed to say before the tail struck his shield hard, sending him flying straight into the crowd of adventurers he was supposed to protect, toppling everyone over in a domino effect.

Sylvie's breath caught into her throat. The wyrm was smart. It had realized what the adventurers were planning and subverted their expectations. Yet all the texts she had been forced to memorize in guild training had told her that wyrms were dumb creatures incapable of complex thought. Only more evolved species such as drakes and dragons had intelligence.

She heard as Azhar's spirit horse rushed forwards, crushing dead leaves underfoot in a mad pace.

"What are you doing? Stay in position!" shouted Sylvie.

"Ain't nobody gonna' survive if that wyrm breathes now!"

Sylvie froze up. The plan was shattered. Her breath felt heavy through her mask. She had to formulate another plan. She had to analyze the situation again, reassess, calculate. But she had to think quick, she had to move fast, or else it would be like last time, when she couldn't think hard enough, and Ragnar had died because of her. She had to-

"Come with me, Sylv!"

Sylvie looked down to see Azhar had stopped, shifting his body further up the horse so that there was space for her.

"Stop thinkin' so hard. All's we gotta do is help them."

Sylvie swallowed in a calming breath and nodded, leaping off her tree branch and onto the horse. It felt light, like sitting on a cloud, but it was still warm, almost alive.

Azhar dug his heels into the horse and charged forwards, into the clearing.

Sylvie blinked. The wyrm wasn't using its breath. In fact, it was trying to run, its wings stretched out and flapping, drawing out gusts as it tried to generate momentum. Launcelot was still on the floor, groaning and shocked by the blow.

The rest of the adventurers were just starting to get up. There was just Jeanne left at the front, still trying to gauge whether she had to cast a barrier or not. She couldn't do anything here. She couldn't reach out and use her strength to hold the wyrm down, because if it used its breath then, everyone was dead.

She had to stay there, and Sylvie knew from how still her back was that a raging ocean of conflict was broiling within her. Did she grab the wyrm and open everyone behind her to die? Or did she stay here and let the creature escape?

No, only Sylvie and Azhar had the necessary skills for this situation.

"Do you have a clean shot?" she said to Azhar.

Azhar nocked his bow again. His eyes darted up and down, trying to follow the flapping wings. The wyrm was starting to float now.

"Damn thing ain't movin' on instinct," said Azhar as his aimed arrow shifted up, then down, then from side to side. "It's swervin', trynna' dodge me. Fucker's lookin' at me too, trackin' my eyes."

Sylvie bit her lip. She had not prepared the right poisons for her equipment to paralyze the creature. How could she have known the monster would even know how bows worked? How strategy worked? She had no way of slowing it down.

The wyrm, with a swift, final push of its wings, swirled itself around so that its stomach faced Azhar. Now, it was even harder to hit. Optimally, Azhar would have sniped its shoulder joint where the wing connected to its back to disable its flight, but this frontal view concealed those joints. Just punching an arrow through the wing membrane wouldn't be enough to stop its flight.

Think. Think. Sylvie knew she had nothing for this situation. She knew Azhar, having just become a sniper, hadn't learned enough strong skills to deal with this. But she did have one resource left.

"Jeanne!" she shouted. "Hold it down!"

Jeanne wavered, but the grip on her priest's staff started to loosen.

"If it hasn't used its poison by now, then it doesn't have the ability!" Sylvie gritted her teeth. She had no idea if that was true or not. But she had to convince Jeanne to act somehow. If the wyrm did use its breath, then Sylvie would take responsibility for the lost lives. She had to try nonetheless.

Jeanne cast aside her staff and leaped forwards, jumping several meters in the air as her hands grasped the tip of the wyrm's tail. With a roar, she pushed her arms down, and the wyrm stumbled in the air as heroic strength dragged it back to the earth.

Jeanne dug her heels into the dirt and pushed backwards. Her greaves shattered into the earth as the wyrm screamed while it flapped its wings, blasting out great winds as it tried desperately to pull free from Jeanne's grip, but she was like an anchor keeping it suspended in the air.

"Azhar, aim for its venom pouch."

Azhar cast a frantic backwards glance at her, but he shifted his aim nonetheless towards the white pouch at the wyrm's throat. "The hell? That'll make it explode, and then all kinds of disaster's gonna' rain down on us. Ain't no barrier gonna save us then."

"Aim, but don't shoot." Sylvie kept her eyes trained on the wyvern, on its eyes, and she noticed them flitting towards Azhar's bow, noticing its trajectory. She had re-framed the wyrm in her mind and formulated new plans based on treating it less as a mindless monster but more a sentient enemy. "If it's smart, it'll know that the moment it tries to use its venom breath, we're going to pierce its throat. It won't risk it."

Like she predicted, the wyrm did not use its venom breath. Instead, it decided to use its wings to propel itself downwards, slamming into Jeanne with its back leg. Shattered shards of rock scattered through the air as it crushed Jeanne underfoot, but when the ploughed up dust started to settle, it was evident that the hero hadn't met her end just yet.

Jeanne still stood strong, her arms trembling over her head as they prevented the massive foot from grinding her into paste. Her white cape fluttered at her back as she sunk further and further into the earth.

"Never keep your aim off the pouch, let it know we have it's life in our hands at all times," said Sylvie as she leaped off the horse and called out to the rest of the adventurers behind her. She could see how to solve this problem now, how to use all the pieces around her. "All of you, get up! Vahid and Launcelot, help Jeanne and disable that leg! And you, the mages at the back, fire at its wings!"

Launcelot shook his head as he tried to stand on wobbling knees. The impact had done a number to his head. Vahid helped him up, slinging a brawny arm over the shielder's shoulder.

"I can't see properly. Impact hit my head hard," muttered Launcelot as he put a gauntlet to his helm. "I'm afraid I'm of no use."

Vahid shook Launcelot, rattling his armor. He positioned himself directly in front of the shieldbearer, flexing his wide back. "Do ya see me?"

Launcelot nodded. "A blur."

"That's all ya need!" Vahid gripped his greatsword with both hands, his bull tattoo flashing again. "Just follow my back, big man, and ya got this! Now raise that shield and let's show this overgrown lizard what real men are made of!"

Vahid charged forwards, and Launcelot followed behind, his shield positioned ahead of him like a battering ram. Launcelot's steps were shaky, but they were still quick, only needing something to follow.

Behind them, Amelie twirled her staff, conjuring up magic circles that blasted forth piercing branches of lightning meant to shred as much of the wyrm's wings as possible. Launcelot's companions stood behind the more experienced mage, casting their powers in unison, wreathing the electricity with shards of razor-sharp wind, fireballs, and arrows that gleamed white with explosion magic.

Sylvie watched as her orchestration bore fruit. She put back her shuriken and instead unsheathed a wakizashi from her waist scabbard.

The final piece would be herself, and she had to be ready for the perfect moment, the killing instant, as it was called among assassins – that one perfect second where everything was laid bare, all vulnerabilities maximized, where time constrained, leaving only but one fell strike to end it all.