[hallway, somewhere in Nazarick]

Halfway though her story, Narberal cut her speech, lowering her head back while stomping louder on the marble tiles.

Lupusregina, who had earlier attempted to get Nabe to relax, was now the relaxed one herself.

Her ears were laying softly, showing comfort, but she was still rearranging them upwards every now and then to keep them wide open.

It was rare for Lupi to pay attention to a story.

Eager for the story to resume, she asked in a slightly higher tune questioning voice:

“So, what happened then?”

Narberal’s voice picked up volume. It was more pressed and articulated. She felt angry.

“I messed up…”

Beta replied in a breathy, quiet voice, so as to not disturb Narberal’s thoughts in any way:

“Huh?”

[a peat bog, nearby the Great Tomb of Nazarick]

Sinking in the mud, with barely any skin still visible on the surface, Clara’s body was resting motionless with pale white open eyes and a sickening grey skin tone.

The slashing wound on the body’s side was splitting her hip from one end to another.

The rainstorm splashed heavily on her forehead, diluting any trace of blood in the rising dirty puddle that covered the nearest 30 feet of ground.

At only few meters apart, more corpses were tainting the fluid mud, which had gained a dark crimson tint.

Above her, dirtying her navy blue robe, Narberal’s light body was pressing on her chest, barely moving it a centimeter down.

From about 50 feet ahead, large reptile hisses were drawing nearer to their prey.

“I thought I could win…”

Narberal was trying her best to get Clara to stand up. Her tiny hand movements shook Clara’s body without any effect. She knew it wouldn’t help. She was acting sheerly out of impulse.

“Hey… Come on! Get up!… Get up I said!”

Her muffed frightened crying was completely inaudible compared to the sound of the storm.

There was one thing Narberal hated more than humans: not having anyone to hear her gloating.

With a last effort, she slammed both her fists into Clara’s chest, finally giving up.

A steady growl could be heard from the short, tangled cattail nearby.

Giant Basilisks were capable of holding their breath for 30 minutes, just long enough for a group to argue about which way to go. For most adventurers, facing even one of the large beasts could be too many.

As the growls strafed closer, one of them threatened with a sudden roar.

A pair of terrifying, unnatural full black eyes and fangs which radiated thirst for massacre scared the beast into backing up a step.

“GO AWAY! [CALL LIGHTNING]!”

The stormy conditions were favorable for this spell precisely. [Call Lightning] would normally form a small rain cloud closely above the target, from which a bolt of lightning would strike down, however, the use of naturally occurring rain clouds doubled the damage of the spell.

As soon as Narberal’s hand reached out to cast, a faint shimmer came out, along with a few sparks.

The spell failed completely.

The emotions ruling over Narberal were, at this moment, anger - respective to the fire attribute, and fear, the near opposite of the overwhelming sense of superiority an elementalist needed to conjure lightning.

Narberal stood still, unable to think of a solution.

Her mind was vacant. She could only think of clenching her teeth to stop them from trembling in the cold.

Shouting for help crossed her mind, but her proud nature was still keeping her from speaking such words out loud.

However, for someone able to sense others’ aura, just a thought was more than enough…

The angered basilisk threw itself at Narberal with its mouth wide-open, with angler-fish like monstrous teeth which could tear through iron full-plate, and a disgusting gelatinous tongue flailing to the side.

For a second, her eyes closed impulsively. When they opened, a tall figure was blocking the faint shimmer of the Sun at eventide.

Before her, a paladin in full silver plate, which shined even in the darkness of the thunderstorm, held a bloodied greatsword with a single hand, the head of the basilisk laying to his side.

Just as another lunged to bite, the paladin’s empty hand reached to block it. As it bit into his forearm, a fountain of blood spurted out.

Nabe’s eyes widened as her pupils shrank. But before she could scream, the second basilisk dropped onto its side, shrieking in pain.

Blood spurted out from its mouth, of which all its teeth were shattered, and its jaw unhinged.

Around the bloody smears on the paladin’s forearm, there wasn’t a single scratch on the armor.

The paladin laughed, holding a basilisk in each hand, while allowing several others to bite on his shoulders and ankles.

His velvet red cape, as that of a hero from a fairy tale, fluttered in the wind, unaffected by the raindrops.

Without any care for sounding silly, or as a shut-in weeb who had already lost any last trace of self esteem, the paladin took a deep breath and exclaimed his catchphrase from the bottom of his lungs.

More than likely, an epic battle symphony was playing in his head:

“Saving someone who is in trouble… is common sense!”

[end of chapter 4]