Once, there was a brave warrior who diligently completed every newbie village quest you could imagine, gathering twenty iron ores for the village blacksmith, collecting fifty rabbit tails for Aunt Wang, and even retrieving a mysteriously shaped laundry mallet for the village widow.
In return, he was awarded a Certificate of Valor from the village chief, granting him permission to leave the starter village and journey to the wider world.
However, instead of a portal to the grand city, what he received was the village's "finest" sword. And by "finest," let's be honest, we're talking about a blade worth maybe two or three hundred copper coins at best. With a solemn expression, the village chief handed it over and said:
"Child, your next mission is, "
Old Chief Wang, his hair already white and his hands wrinkled like dried bark, pointed toward the towering mountains near the village. His eyes glimred with hope as he spoke the rest:
"Go, child. Slay the demon dragon."
From an outsider's point of view, this tragic tale of a fledgling hero might make for the perfect alti entertainnt. After all, misery loves company, and there's always that one guy in the group who says, "Got sothing upsetting? Share it so we can all laugh."
But if you're the one living it… it's not so funny anymore.
Sure, people say they're sick of overpowered protagonists and endless harems, but if an isekai adventure actually landed on their heads, they'd be wishing for every cheat, buff, and magical glow-up the universe could offer.
Unfortunately, Allen found himself in the worst-case scenario, and now, the final boss had appeared.
Honestly? He'd have preferred to face an actual dragon. At least that would give him a fighting chance.
The last ti he landed a heroic blow on this guy, it was pure luck. The enemy had just been resurrected, his form unstable and power not yet fully restored. There were other advantages too, Thresh's lantern had a powerful anti-undead effect, and Dumbledore had already whittled Voldemort down to his last sliver of life. Allen had just swooped in for the final hit.
But now? All of those advantages were gone.
No Dumbledore setting the stage. No ti to carefully prepare a trap. Nothing.
Fortunately, he had one last card to play, escape.
Luckily, spatial lock spells required more than one caster, and Allen's trump card, the dinsional escape technique known as Stray Shift, was still usable.
But this wasn't as simple as just popping a skill and vanishing. No, this was the ultimate challenge: escaping while the boss was right in front of him.
From activation to full execution, the teleportation array needed exactly three minutes.
Under normal circumstances, three minutes might be nothing more than a boring mont in History of Magic or a quick stir of cauldron sludge in Potions class.
But right now, these three short minutes ant the difference between survival and death, between success and utter failure.
Allen's task was simple, activate the array, and then throw everything he had into buying ti. He had to survive these 180 seconds, the longest three minutes of his life.
And standing in his way was the most terrifying wizard in history, the greatest Dark Lord, Voldemort.
And this ti, he was practically at full power.
Even soone as strong as Grindelwald would have despaired in this situation without Dumbledore by his side. One misstep, one slip, and Allen would be plunging into an abyss with no return.
As Allen raised his wand, the low-growing plants around him burst into rapid growth. Luckily, the battlefield favored him sowhat, there was plenty of vegetation he could use to form a makeshift defense.
Vines erged from the surrounding flora, twisting together with leaves, stems, and roots under Allen's magic to form a massive green barrier. Within seconds, the area around Allen and Annie was shrouded in a thick do of entwined greenery.
Zyra's Deadly Spines, Thorns of Constriction!
Against an enemy like Voldemort, throwing out standard spells wouldn't cut it. So Allen cast Zyra's entire skill set in one go, summoning her ultimate along with it.
Among the growing vines, fallen branches were quickly absorbed, rotting into piles of foul-slling black sludge. Strange, human-sized plants sprouted from the ground, covered in flowerheads shaped like bird beaks and leaves rimd with serrated, blade-like thorns. Even the most fearless warrior would think twice before charging through that jungle of death.
Unfortunately, Allen didn't put much faith in his plants. He grabbed Annie and sprinted toward the densest patch of vegetation.
Voldemort responded with a screeching violet curse, slicing through the air like a whip.
The spell streaked toward them, but as it reached the carpet of vines, the plants reacted like snakes sensing prey. They lunged at the curse.
But they were no match.
Like moths drawn to fla, they were instantly reduced to goo under the magic's power.
Still, there were just too many of them. After vaporizing dozens of vines, the curse finally fizzled out, exploding and leaving behind a large, ugly crater of dead plants, like ink spilled on a fresh green rug.
"Damn it," Allen muttered. That curse was even more terrifying than he'd expected. Definitely not good news.
And Voldemort wasn't happy either. With a hiss, his sand-like body shed a layer. White grains fell to the ground, mixing with the blackened soil.
But this wasn't just him throwing a tantrum.
The sand-soaked ground began to boil, like tar over a fire, bubbling with a nauseating stench. Thick black smoke rose and ford a strange, grotesque magic circle in the air, just looking at it made Allen want to retch.
As the circle spun, the boiling mud opened up into a bloated, rotting flower. And from its center, a massive shape slowly erged.
But this was no spirit of nature.
It was uglier than its summoner, seemingly molded from filthy sludge and asphalt, oozing with thick, vomit-inducing globs of sli that dripped endlessly from its swollen body.
Under Voldemort's command, the disgusting summon took a step forward, its grotesque legs bubbling as it walked, yet sohow managing to move as fast as a human sprinting.
And the worst part?
Only 30 seconds had passed.
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