Chapter 114: Rock Ox - 2
By now, the Rock Ox had been forced into a single spot, and two massive vines cinched tight around its body. One coil gripped its abdon and dragged it backwards, while the other wrapped around its neck and yanked in the opposite direction—an ugly, awkward angle that made the beast hesitate to exert full strength, lest it risk snapping or spraining its own neck.
But that didn’t an it stopped resisting.
Even under maximum reinforcent, the Treant’s vines—each as thick as a mature tree trunk—were beginning to splinter. Jagged cracks ran across the bark-like surface as the Ox’s raw strength pushed against them. The Treant frantically pumped more mana into the vines to keep them from tearing completely. Its mana drained at an alarming rate, and Lily could already feel the faint tug—its siphoning would soon bleed into her reserves just to keep the restraint going.
It was another perk of the Spirit Caller talent—one Lily had only recently discovered—was this shared mana pool. If her spirit beasts ran dry, they would automatically draw from her reserves to continue fighting. Beast tars couldn’t do that; once a tar’s beast reached zero, it beca dangerously weak, vulnerable to death, and the safest option was to instantly unsummon them. The sa reason Leo frequently recalled Shyra and Niri into his spiritual space—to refill them before they burned out.
But in Leo’s case, the spiritual space itself massively accelerated mana recovery, a luxury most tars didn’t have. For almost everyone else, once a beast emptied its mana, it was effectively out for the rest of the battle.
So for Lily, it was both an advantage and a double-edged sword. Her beasts could keep going, but her own mana expenditure skyrocketed. Still, Spirit Callers were born with an absurdly high natural mana pool—sothing proven by Empress Cyrandel Aeloria—so the strain, for now, was tolerable.
Lily shot forward like a gust of wind, her enhanced blade lifted high. Wind sharpened along the sword’s edge, the faint bluish shimr giving off a cold, dangerous glint. The strangled Rock Ox must have sensed the incoming threat; it suddenly hardened the base of its neck—the exact spot she was aiming for—stone plates tightening and darkening.
Her sword ca down with a high, slicing shing as it cleaved through the air.
Scrappp—Slash!
The blade bit only a few inches into the reinforced stone before snapping apart with a clean tallic crack. Even so, the strike carved a shallow gash—a few tens of centitres long—enough to make the Ox bellow.
MOOOOOOO!
A trickle of dark red seeped from the cut. Not much, but enough.
With no weapon left, Lily didn’t hesitate. She pulled her arm back and drove her fist forward.
BAM!
Her punch landed right on the weakened stone. With her low 3-star strength behind it, a web of cracks spidered out from the impact point.
MOOOOOOOO!!
The Rock Ox shrieked, thrashing violently. In its frenzy, it tore through the vine around its neck with a brutal jerk. It reared up, hooves flailing like a maddened stallion, and then snapped its head toward Lily, ready to co crashing down and crush her beneath its full weight despite the abdon vine still holding.
Swoooosh!
Lily conjured a wind blade—extrely dull, but packed with dense, compressed force—and hurled it straight into the Ox’s torso.
"Mo?!" The Ox’s bloodshot eyes widened as the constant stream of wind pressure slamd into it. Instead of stomping down, its balance wavered, legs skidding as the blast pushed it backward inch by inch.
Lily seized the mont to pull back from close range, boots skidding across the torn forest floor. But before she could widen the distance, the Ox’s horns flared with a yellowish glow.
A sharp stutter of grinding stone echoed out as pebble-like shards ford around its head, then shot forward in a deadly burst.
She had no way to block.
The projectiles slamd into her body armour with brutal force.
Thud—CRANG!
The plates dented inward sharply. Lily winced, breath knocked out of her, as the impact hurled her backward across the dirt.
Tha—tham.
The Rock Ox finally collapsed onto its side, legs kicking weakly as it tried—and failed—to stand. The abdon vine strained to keep it contained, tightening again and again.
Lily scrambled up, teeth clenched. The dents in her armour kept jabbing painfully into her ribs and stomach, each breath scraping against the warped tal. She tore at the buckles, ripping the armour off before it could bruise her further. Only then did she notice the worst part—several stone fragnts had pierced clean through the armour and soft inner cloth, embedding themselves into her porcelain skin. Thin streaks of blood ran down her side.
She sucked a sharp breath as she plucked each shard out—painful, hot stings—before invoking the healing ability gained by the Treant. Warm green light pulsed over her wounds as the skin knitted back together.
But just as the final tear closed, the Rock Ox pushed itself upright with a furious grunt. Its horns lit up again.
Lily barely had a second to react.
A new barrage of stone projectiles exploded outward.
She sprang to her feet and dashed in a wide arc, running tight circles around it. Pebbles whizzed past her, grazing air against her cheeks; each miss was only by a hair. The Rock Ox was relentless—its horns spitting stones like a machine gun. Trees splintered and exploded as the projectiles embedded deep into trunks, shaking the whole forest.
Lily’s pulse drumd harshly in her ears. It would only take a couple of those stone bullets for her to beco a vegetable. She activated her mobility skill, the world blurring as she darted around the beast with streaks of wind trailing behind her.
"I think I need to run..." she muttered grimly between breaths. Her wind blades barely scratched its hide. The sword had completely broke after cutting only a few inches—useless now. And the wound she had made earlier, the one on its neck, had been sealed with a fresh layer of stone armour. The underlying flesh, however, still bled faintly. The Ox had no regeneration.
But it had no intention of letting her escape.
MOOOOOOOO!
CLLATT—CRACK!
The abdon vine finally snapped.
The Ox gave a violent shudder, shaking itself like a wet beast shedding water. The remaining vine tore apart under the force. Freed, it lowered its head, horns glowing, and prepared to charge—even as stone bullets continued firing in a vicious stream.
The Treant’s mana was at rock bottom. It hesitated, not wanting to drain its master of mana without permission.
It roared in a shrap screech, then charged headfirst.
Tham! Tham! Tham!
Its heavy wooden body pounded the earth as it rushed the Ox. Just before the beast could fully lower its head for a fatal charge, the Treant wound its arm back—
—and swung.
BOOM!
The punch landed square on the Ox’s jaw, a thunderous crack rippling through the clearing.
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