Just as I steeled myself and was about to claim three easy points, an eerie green mist suddenly flooded the forest around us, stretching as far and as high as the eye could see. It spread fast and clung to everything. The wind couldn't disperse it; instead, the mist seemed to trap it, feeding on it as it climbed higher and stretched wider.
The girl who had been toying with the other examinee—while his friend lay bleeding out, waiting for the examiner to recall him—froze as she noticed the mist closing in.
"Drunkies!" the boy blurted in terror, while the girl cursed under her breath, "Fuck my luck!"
I stepped out of hiding and rushed toward the trio, equipping Dendron's Descendant grim cypher. The moment they saw me, they tensed in alarm. But as I used Dendron's Descendant to heal the fallen boy, their suspicion eased. They turned their backs to me, facing the mist, keeping watch for the shapes brewing within it—Grimmons, Drunkies.
"Considering the size of this mist, there are at least two or three dozen Drunkies hiding in there," the other boy said as I worked on his friend. "The four of us are no match for them alone… but together, we might stand a chance."
"No shit, Sherlock. Why do you think I didn't eliminate you and your boyfriend over there?" the girl said dryly. Then she glanced at me and added, "Hey, healer. Since you're inhaling Drunkey Mist like it's air, should we assume your healing can counter its effects?"
"No. I have an undead physique, so the mist doesn't affect me," I replied, making sure to clarify before they got the wrong idea. Anyone who breathed in Drunkey Mist would get drunk—badly drunk—and could even die from alcohol poisoning. That was exactly why the Drunkeys, despite their numbers, hadn't rushed us yet. They preferred to wait, letting their prey intoxicate themselves on the mist they brewed, ensuring no one escaped its suffocating reach.
"Thank you. I'm Nadron Napes, and that's my brother, Norel Napes," the boy I had healed said, offering a quick introduction.
"No problem. I'm Crayon V. Wyatt," I replied, though judging by their reactions, the introduction felt redundant.
The girl followed up with a smirk. "I'm Vivian Vox. I've got a very high tolerance for alcohol.""No shit, Sherlock. Why do you think I didn't eliminate you and your boyfriend over there?" the girl said dryly. Then she glanced at me and added, "Hey, healer. Since you're inhaling Drunkey Mist like it's air, should we assume your healing can counter its effects?"
"No. I have an undead physique, so the mist doesn't affect me," I replied, making sure to clarify before they got the wrong idea. Anyone who breathed in Drunkey Mist would get drunk—badly drunk—and could even die from alcohol poisoning. That was exactly why the Drunkeys, despite their numbers, hadn't rushed us yet. They preferred to wait, letting their prey intoxicate themselves on the mist they brewed, ensuring no one escaped its suffocating reach.
"Thank you. I'm Nadron Napes, and that's my brother, Norel Napes," the boy I had healed said, offering a quick introduction.
"No problem. I'm Crayon V. Wyatt," I replied, though judging by their reactions, the introduction felt redundant. The girl followed up with a smirk. "I'm Vivian Vox. I've got a very high tolerance for alcohol."
"No matter how high your alcohol tolerance is, as long as you're stuck in this mist, you'll end up dead drunk sooner or later," Nadron said. Then he added, "I can handle them before that happens, but you have to promise that while I do, you'll protect my brother and not harm us afterward. We can go our separate ways… or team up. What do you say?"
"Hey, do you think we're stupid?" Vivian snapped. "You want us to pull aggro while you escape."
Having already fought—and nearly killed—Nadron, she knew that without his deadweight brother holding him back, he had a good chance of slipping away. She had seen enough pairs like them—close enough to sacrifice one so the other could survive. She had no intention of becoming a pawn in that kind of game.
"Everyone's on their own," she continued. Then, glancing at me, she added, "But Crayon, if you want, we can team up till the end. I'll give you a third of the points I earn. Deal?"
"Shut up! My brother would never do that," Norel Napes shot back, stepping forward in defense of Nadron. "And the only reason you were winning is because of your petrification gion tattoo!"
"Let's assume he's telling the truth. I fought him—he's strong, but not strong enough to take on an entire Drunkey tribe in this thick mist," Vivian explained her concerns about the siblings' plan.
She didn't believe Nadron was capable of what he claimed. If anything, she was almost certain his brother, Norel, would help draw the aggro toward them, creating an opportunity for Nadron to escape.
Just as Norel was about to speak up for his brother, Vivian cut in. "Words aren't enough. I need hard proof—and fast. The mist is getting thicker, and it's already compromising our senses."
She was right. I nodded in agreement.
Norel opened his mouth to argue, but Nadron stopped him, turning back to Vivian, he proposed agreeing with her, "Fine. I'll prove it. I'll share my cypher card info with Crayon. You trust him, right?"
"Trust him?" Vivian glanced at me briefly before shaking her head. "No. I don't. But given our situation—and the fact that he's a healer—I'm willing to go along with it."
Then she turned to me, asking flirtatiously, "What about you, Crayon?"
I looked at the four of them before replying, "Why don't all of us exchange our cypher card info and come up with a better plan based on our prowess and weaknesses, instead of placing everything on one person's shoulders? I don't know about you guys, but I don't like to trust my future to others."
Though my words sounded noble, my intentions were anything but noble.