Although swinging a massive word looked undeniably cool, Allen still put it away for now—despite inheriting Garen's legacy, he had never actually used a heavy greatsword before.
Forcing himself to show off with a weapon he had never trained with might work against fodder, but against a true expert it would only be asking for trouble. After all, until now he had only practiced with short blades. Heavy swords were completely outside his usual training. That earlier sneak attack had been nothing more than a gambit—to seize the initiative by silencing his opponent, exploiting the assumption that he couldn't possibly wield such a weapon.
Unfortunately, the attempt had failed.
But it didn't matter. If the sneak attack didn't work, then a head-on fight would. That was perfectly fine.
As the greatsword was stowed away, Allen flicked his wrist and scattered a handful of seeds. The instant they hit the ground, he waved his wand, accelerating their growth. Hundreds of vines burst forth from the floor, weaving together into a massive net.
This was Allen's old routine.
If the opponent was forced to deal with it, then in the next moment, countless deadly flowers would bloom from the ground, while the vines thrashed wildly, obstructing vision—giving Allen the chance to summon.
Yes—Allen had no intention of fighting fair.
In a fight, ganging up was king.
Unfortunately, the moment the vines spread outward, the old man lightly stomped his foot. In an instant, the once-vigorous vegetation turned yellow, then withered and died. Only two flower buds continued to grow slowly—only to be crushed beneath the old man's feet. He merely shrugged, shifting his position in a blink, appearing directly above the flowers and snuffing out the two most dangerous plants before they could bloom.
"Cough—cough— Very good," the old man rasped after a long coughing fit. "You've successfully angered me, child."
A staff long enough to be used as a cane appeared in his hand—or rather, it could hardly be called a wand anymore. It was an enormous piece of naturally grown wood.
"Do you have any idea what you just did?! Your unbelievably stupid action has wasted the majority of my three hundred years of effort!"
"I could have completely absorbed Orochi's power through his coffin and that seal! But because of you, you damned insect, I now need another two hundred years of work!"
"I will kill you—your body will be fed to dogs! And your soul, I will tear it out and roast it in flames for a thousand years! Ten thousand years!"
By the end, the old man's words were overflowing with resentment. His eyes burned with fury and murderous intent. Clearly, the more he spoke, the angrier he became.
*Three hundred years plus two hundred more… what are you, a monkey?*¹
Allen curled his lip in disdain, but his actions showed no hint of relaxation.
The other party wasn't joking.
Killing him was trivial. As for extracting and tormenting a soul—considering the existence of Horcrux-like methods², there were certainly ways to do it. In theory, it was entirely feasible.
If the old man wasn't lying, then he was at least over three hundred years old. Even subtracting two hundred years spent plotting how to invade this place, he had still been absorbing Orochi's power for a full century.
Without question, this was a terrifying opponent.
As several layers of shields flared to life around Allen, the wooden staff in the old man's hand slammed into the ground.
The earth immediately began to collapse. The crude furniture shattered, then, under the influence of magic, reassembled into several small wooden puppets—before vanishing from sight.
Accompanied by a wheezing, bellows-like breath, the old man spoke:
"Die—vermin!"
The instant his voice rang out, the vanished puppets reappeared. Wooden arms shot straight toward Allen, while the old man's roar completely drowned out the sound of air being torn apart!
A lion hunting a rabbit still uses its full strength.
Though he kept calling Allen "vermin," the old man showed not the slightest hint of underestimation.
With a wave of his wand, a ring of flames expanded outward from Allen's body. Before he could even see the results, Allen vanished from where he stood.
No matter how confident he was in his defenses, if he could dodge, he would never tank a hit.
In the next moment, he appeared directly atop the crystal coffin.
The opponent had been here for two hundred years. If Allen were in his place, he would have turned the entire building into his lair long ago. If there was any spot not fully under the old man's control, then it had to be this coffin.
As Allen pointed his wand loosely at the ground, yellow sand surged up from the cracked floor, solidifying into several warriors.
A group fight, right? Who's afraid of who?!
While summoning the sand soldiers, Allen began scattering seeds once more.
Admittedly, this was somewhat disrespectful to the one buried below—bordering on planting grass, or even trees, on someone's grave. But compared to having their corpse directly absorbed, this was the lesser evil.
When the wooden puppets missed their first strike and vanished again, the vegetation Allen planted flourished once more—and this time, it wasn't destroyed.
Clearly, his guess had been correct.
The opponent still couldn't fully control this area, which meant Allen didn't need to reveal any other trump cards yet.
As dense vines wrapped around him once more, Allen began probing attacks against the old man—whose name he still didn't know. Several ordinary spells were fired in rapid succession, not to deal damage, but to test the limits of his evasion.
Was it unrestricted movement?
Or movement limited to specific points?
Unfortunately, the answer was the former.
Spells fired from completely different angles weren't even blocked. Every time Allen released a precisely aimed spell, the old man simply relocated, looking utterly relaxed, as if under no pressure at all.
If Allen dragged this out, his magic would run dry first.
Worse still, the old man could cast offensive spells even while dodging, occasionally commanding the wooden puppets to re-enter stealth and strike again.
They were all blocked—either by sand soldiers or vines.
The occasional attack that slipped through was completely nullified by Allen's shields.
An elderly yet astonishingly agile opponent.
And an extremely troublesome one.
After Allen seized an opening and wiped out the puppets entirely with a single Fear spell, the old man didn't get angry at all. Instead, a look of realization appeared on his face.
"Hoo—so that's it," he said. "Little rat, quite a tough shell you've got. No wonder those fellows were willing to take risks just to bring you along."
He tightened his grip on the staff, his face showing a feigned look of regret.
"Tsk, tsk… what a pity. Even a genius wizard must fall someday!"
As his words fell, the ground suddenly heaved upward.
Countless stone spikes erupted from the earth, the sharp points stabbing into the vines first—then crushing inward violently, as if trying to fuse into a single mass.