After everyone finished introducing themselves, Damon looked at Rena.
“Rena, your turn.”
Milo's gaze pinned itself to her. This was the moment he had been waiting for.
Rena merely reached down and tapped the two short blades at her waist.
“Rena. Primary: Martial, secondary: Elemental-Poison. Class: Night Patrol Assassin.”
In her past life, she had run with many teams and knew a great deal about class compositions.
Combined with the information she had extracted from Rena's soul, she easily laid out “Rena's” class background.
Obtaining class information was simple; the difficult part was the skills.
She had no way of knowing Rena's skills, so to prevent Milo from pressing further, she immediately shifted the subject.
“The introductions should be over. I'll lead the way to find the treant, and after that, I'll act as support depending on how things play out.”
Damon frowned. “You're not joining the main assault?”
Rena raised her right hand and rotated her wrist.
“My right arm was pierced by a tree root, and the poison hasn't fully cleared out yet.”
She looked up at Damon. “I barely escaped with my life from that treant. I didn't just wake up from a nap at the tavern.”
“Making it back alive was already a miracle.”
“If you expect me to charge ahead like I'm completely fine, you can find someone else to lead the way right now.”
No one spoke.
In this temporary team, the only person who could lead them to hunt the treant was Rena.
At least, that was how it seemed for now.
Damon tapped the surface of his shield, staring at Rena.
“Fine, you lead. But you'll also be the one to brief us on the treant first.”
Severn chimed in. “Skills, weaknesses, attack range, and what to avoid—it's best to make everything clear right now.”
As soon as those words left his mouth, Milo shot his head up, looking as if he had finally caught an opportunity.
“That's right.” He stared at Rena, a trace of excitement in his voice. “Since you're so strong, you must still remember how it slaughtered everyone.”
Rena sheathed her short blades and looked at Milo with deep impatience.
“What exactly are you trying to ask?”
Milo swallowed hard, his voice stammering.
“The... the treant's weaknesses. And its skills.”
Isolde fell silent for a moment. She hadn't actually fought that treant.
In her past life, she had merely been forced to scout ahead, tripped a trap, alerted the treant, and barely managed to escape with her life.
She only knew a few of its attacks.
Though her knowledge was incomplete, it would be enough with a bit of embellishment.
“First, watch your step.”
The group fell silent, their expressions turning serious.
“The black mud in the Mist-Dwelling Forest—some of it isn't mud at all, but root-rot traps. If you step on them, thin roots will wrap around your ankles.”
Damon asked, “Can they be cut?”
“Yes,” Rena said. “But for every one you sever, three more will wrap around you. Once you're dragged down, that's when the real trouble begins.”
As the others pondered this, she continued.
“Second, if you see small, blue-and-white flowers, steer clear of them. Their pollen causes hallucinations and messes with your sense of direction.”
Severn's expression shifted slightly. “Mental interference?”
“I don't know,” Rena replied quickly. “I only know that Norman heard someone calling his name back then. He took a few steps back and was almost swallowed by a vine sac hidden behind the flowers.”
Milo blurted out instantly, “You're lying! Norman didn't—”
He stopped abruptly halfway through.
Because in his memory, the incident had taken place in the castle, not some forest.
Rena glanced at him, her voice flat.
“Didn't what?”
Milo's lips trembled.
The surrounding mercenaries turned their gazes onto him.
Damon sneered. “Didn't you say you ran away at the time?”
Milo's face flushed red. “I—I did run, but...”
“But what?” Rena asked. “Don't tell me you replaced this memory with your castle illusion as well?”
Milo gripped his short crossbow tightly. “I really don't remember this part, but that doesn't prove what you're saying is true either.”
“Exactly,” Rena agreed with a nod. “Because I'm the only one who made it back alive.”
A breeze blew from the direction of the Mist-Dwelling Forest, carrying the scent of damp, decaying leaves.
Milo's face grew even redder.
He wanted to argue, but he realized that every word he spoke only served to remind everyone that he was the first to run.
Damon grew somewhat impatient.
“Enough. Now is not the time to settle old scores. Rena, keep going.”
Rena withdrew her gaze and continued, drawing on the fragmented information she had gathered in her past life.
“Normal fire is useful, but not by much. The mist is too heavy; the fire will go out quickly. If you want to burn it, you have to get the fire near its root-core.”
Severn immediately asked, “Where is the root-core?”
Rena looked at him. “If I knew that, I wouldn't have been the only one to return.”
Severn was left speechless, but Milo grew even more frantic, pointing at her and shouting.
“You're giving us uncertain information again!”
Rena finally reached her limit.
With a soft shring, a short blade slid from her waist, its cold gleam sweeping across Milo's neck.
Before Milo could even take a step back, she grabbed him by the collar and slammed his back hard against a nearby wooden post.
The edge of the blade pressed against his throat, a mere hair's breadth from slicing through his thin skin.
Milo froze completely. He still held his short crossbow, but he didn't dare move a single finger.
Rena stared at him, her eyes completely devoid of warmth.
“Milo, I've tolerated you for long enough.”
Her voice wasn't loud, but it was far colder than before.
“From the tavern to the village entrance, you've questioned me, doubted me, and dragged everyone back to that night over and over again.”
“What exactly are you trying to prove?”
“That I'm a fake? That Buck and the others didn't die at the hands of the treant? Or that you were perfectly justified in running away back then?”
Milo's breathing grew shallow and rapid, but Rena didn't loosen her grip. Instead, she pressed the blade slightly closer.
“Milo, I was trying to save you some face.”
“Last night at the tavern, I didn't force you to spill all your embarrassing secrets. Today at the village entrance, I didn't crush your dignity in front of everyone.”
“But you had better remember one thing.”
She leaned in slightly, her gaze as cold as a blade.
“I'm not someone you can just snap at.”
“You want to suspect me? Fine. You want to keep an eye on me? Also fine.”
“But if you waste everyone's time and risk our lives with this stupid nonsense again, once we enter the forest, I won't wait for the treant to act—I'll throw you into a root-rot trap myself.”
Rena stared at Milo for a few seconds before suddenly releasing her grip.
Milo stumbled back half a step, his face turning a pale shade of green and white.
Rena sheathed her blade, her voice returning to its usual calm.
“Milo, anyone who wants to survive knows better than to speak with absolute certainty about things they aren't sure of.”
She looked into his eyes and slowly added another line.
“Unless, of course, they're a runaway.”
Milo's expression instantly turned incredibly ugly.
Damon couldn't help but chuckle. Reece coughed lightly but didn't interject.
Kolo looked at Milo, then at Rena.
She suddenly felt that this woman possessed an imposing presence, and was highly dangerous.
Milo trembled with rage, but in the end, he could only grit his teeth and mutter in a low voice:
“I will prove that I'm the one who's right. There is nothing wrong with my memory.”
Rena didn't argue.
“Suit yourself.”
With that, she turned and walked toward the Mist-Dwelling Forest.
Rate on N.U.
