The Druid Who Devoured the Great Nature

I forced open the locked door and stepped inside.

The flickering lights threw the interior into alternating patches of pitch-black darkness and harsh brightness.

The kind of atmosphere where, if you so much as blinked, something might lunge at you.

For anyone with ordinary nerves, it was the sort of ruin you’d hesitate to enter.

“Creepy.”

Hella muttered as she brushed a hand over the dried blood painted across the wall.

“Careful. We don’t know where the Corrupted might be hiding.”

“Don’t worry about me—just don’t get in front. If you get hurt, I can’t save you.”

“I wasn’t planning on it.”

I still didn’t know all the details of being a druid, but it wasn’t a class like knight or warrior that fought with its body.

The last mission, where I’d fought goblins head-on, was an exception.

Normally, when working with a partner, the principle was to act from the rear, like a mage.

That suited me fine—I was used to that style.

Step. Step.

Our footsteps echoed in the silence.

We passed the first floor, climbed to the second, and still sensed no presence.

Instead, what caught our eyes was a mess, as if looted clean by thieves.

Probably the city’s scavengers had already stripped the place once.

Any research materials left behind by a black mage were priceless—mages and corporations alike would tear the place apart for them.

The glitter of gold on the floor drew more attention than the threat of the Corrupted.

It was only when we neared the central laboratory that the scenery changed.

“Pig bastard. Ate like a king.”

Hella kicked aside a corner of the wall.

A pile of corpses, stacked like firewood, toppled over at the impact.

The huge bite marks across their torsos were grotesque.

No human had done this.

It was the grisly aftermath of a Corrupted’s feast.

“They haven’t been dead long.”

I brushed a finger across the floor.

The blood that clung to it still dripped fresh.

Proof the meal had been recent.

“Wait—looks like we weren’t the first to try this.”

While I scanned the surroundings, Hella rifled through the bodies.

Unlike the majority dressed in white lab coats, three corpses stood out—clad in armor, weapons at their sides.

Mercenaries or freelancers, by the look of them.

“Judging by their state, they didn’t even put up a fight.”

I crouched beside the corpse she’d dragged over.

I wasn’t formally trained in forensics, but years as a veteran gave me an eye for these things.

I could more or less guess what had happened.

“An ambush.”

“My thoughts too.”

They hadn’t even managed to respond to the Corrupted’s attack.

If both a mercenary like Hella and I agreed, it was as good as confirmed.

“Tsk. Idiots who don’t have the skill end up dying like this.”

She clicked her tongue, clearly irritated—though her gaze held a trace of pity.

Her hands gently closed the victims’ bulging eyes.

“…Something’s off.”

Her unexpected tenderness distracted me only briefly.

As I studied the bodies, unease crept in.

“What is?”

“If one was ambushed, wouldn’t the others have reacted? But all three look the same.”

“True.”

Hella narrowed her eyes. She also seemed unsettled.

‘Maybe they weren’t together.’

But that didn’t fit. The agency had assigned me a partner for this job.

Handling the Corrupted alone was dangerous enough that most missions paired people up.

Suppose they had taken the mission solo.

Even then, anyone skilled enough to accept such a task shouldn’t have died so easily to a first strike.

‘Then…’

I was beginning to piece it together.

Corrupted came in many forms, being by-products of all sorts of experiments, but their behavior could be sorted into broad categories.

And one of those was—

‘Right there.’

A shadowy silhouette flickered ominously, hidden in the darkness above, poised over Hella’s elongated shadow at the far exit.

The World Tree shivered in alarm.

Shhhk!

My vine lashed out at the same moment—

Swoosh!

—as Hella’s weapon thrust forward.

Crunch!

“Kyaaaah!”

The ambushing Corrupted shrieked, earsplitting.

Knocked off balance, it reeled into the air, and Hella darted forward in a blur.

Whoosh!

A flash of light cut the gloom.

The long spear in her hand carved a flawless arc through the air.

Slice!

Its jaw split neatly in two. The gleaming arc turned in a smooth half-circle and came down again in a vertical chop.

Even the Corrupted’s notoriously hardened bones were cleaved clean in a single strike.

A crisp, efficient finish.

“Shit—that scared me.”

Her belated curse slipped out as the creature’s corpse hit the ground.

From her stiffened face, it was clear she hadn’t thought, only moved on instinct.

‘Impressive.’

I marveled inwardly.

Her counterattack had been so swift it was hard to even follow with the eyes.

And not a single wasted motion. It was the mark of a seasoned martial artist.

‘And she handles mana well.’

The streak of light that chased her strike was the product of mana itself.

A technique beyond mere bodily enhancement—channeling mana directly through a weapon.

That was the hallmark of mercenaries, whose average skill was reliably high.

“Nearly had a heart attack. Where the hell did that thing pop out from?”

“It was hiding in your shadow.”

“Yeah? Then no wonder those earlier ones died.”

She frowned.

With that ability, it was nearly impossible not to get caught first.

That was why missions involving Corrupted were rated so highly dangerous.

‘No wonder she could claim she could handle it alone.’

And she wasn’t just boasting—her boss had assigned her here for a reason.

Even before I could warn her, she’d sensed the danger and reacted.

Her timing wasn’t far behind mine, even though I’d already anticipated it.

What others might dismiss as a lucky fluke was, in truth, honed instinct.

‘No doubt about it. She’s the same mercenary I remember.’

A promising tree shows its worth from the sprout.

Hella was indeed the one whose name I recalled.

“Well, your skills are no joke either. At least now I get why you were so stubborn about not needing me.”

She tapped my shoulder playfully, suddenly a bit too friendly.

Seeing my strength firsthand, maybe her opinion of me had gone up.

It was distracting.

“Stay sharp. This isn’t over yet.”

“What? But we just killed it.”

“Not that one. There are more.”

A seasoned mercenary, she understood instantly.

“…Ah. So that’s why they all died the same way.”

At least one for each of them.

That explained why the three mercenaries had all fallen to the same ambush.

“Great. So now we’ve got to check every damn shadow?”

“No need.”

I strode forward with confidence.

“And what exactly are you planning to do?”

“I’ll find them. You cut them down.”

“You really think that’ll work?”

“It will.”

I wouldn’t have said it otherwise.

‘Not with just my own senses, though…’

Detecting the signs of an ambush was one thing. But locating a Corrupted that had gone out of its way to hide was another matter entirely.

I knew of methods—oil, fire, the usual tricks—but they carried their own risks.

Luckily, I had something simpler in mind.

“Time to earn your keep.”

At my whisper, the spirit understood and drifted forward.

Its jittery, uneven flight revealed its fear, but I didn’t let myself soften.

I wasn’t asking it to do anything dangerous.

The spirit was invisible to everyone but me, Corrupted included.

It couldn’t be harmed—it was only whining.

‘There we go.’

And immediately, the usefulness of my idea proved itself.

The spirits detected the foul taint of black mana in multiple spots, signaling the presence of the Corrupted.

“One around the corner up ahead.”

“Already?”

I relayed the nearest target’s location to Hella.

Skeptical, she readied her stance.

“I can’t see it. What if I swing wide and miss?”

“I’ll grab its ankle. You finish it.”

I reached toward the ground.

To my eyes, the Corrupted’s outline was clear as day—illuminated by the faint glow cast from the spirit like a lantern.

Crack!

At my will, the World Tree’s roots split through the concrete.

“Kieeek!”

The roots shot up and clamped around the monster’s ankle.

At this point, it was like serving dinner and handing her the spoon.

The trapped creature never stood a chance—her spear, shimmering with mana like a heat haze, pierced straight through it.

Immobilized, the Corrupted perished without resistance.

“…Well, damn. You weren’t lying.”

Another fell easily, and Hella turned back to me.

Her blinking eyes glimmered faintly with heat.

“Don’t know what trick you’re using, but this makes things a hell of a lot easier.”

She smirked.

The so-called nightmare of Corrupted extermination turned into a simple routine for us: pinpoint their hiding place, strike to kill, repeat.

Thunk!

Her spear buried itself in the twisted skull of another Corrupted.

The body convulsed, then collapsed, leaving silence behind.

Hella wiped the sweat-matted bangs from her forehead.

“That was the last of them, right?”

“Probably.”

“Phew. Damn, there were a lot. What kind of experiments were they running here?”

We’d taken down nearly twenty Corrupted in this one lab.

Even if most of it had been repetitive grunt work, the sheer number was enough to wear on anyone.

It was the first time I’d killed so many in a single place.

The number of Corrupted always depended on the kind of black magic being researched.

And this lab, as far as I knew, had dealt in some particularly polluted kind.

“Chimera research.”

I replied, glancing over the torn papers scattered at my feet.

Artificial lifeforms—chimeras. One of the black mages’ favorite projects.

Hardly a common pursuit.

It demanded specialized facilities, drugs, and a steady supply of test subjects.

Once started, it always left behind devastation.

“Hah. Sick bastards. But how do you even know that?”

“Read a little, you can figure it out.”

Recognized or not, black magic was still a branch of magic.

The fragments of archmage knowledge left in my mind were enough to reconstruct the gist from scraps of notes.

“You really are full of surprises. Seriously, won’t you join our office?”

“Didn’t you say you wouldn’t ask twice?”

“Take it as proof of how much I mean it.”

Hella’s tone was serious.

“I couldn’t have handled this so easily alone. With those eyes of yours and that scouting ability, you’d pull your weight anywhere.”

I gave a short laugh.

‘She’s got some nerve.’

I’d thought proving myself would shut her up. Instead, it only made her recruitment pitch bolder.

Still, it wasn’t unpleasant.

A mercenary needed that kind of shamelessness.

And if nothing else, it meant I’d shown my worth.

“Not yet.”

“Not yet? Last time you just flat-out refused.”

“That time you were joking. This time you’re not. If it’s a decent office, no harm in keeping it in mind.”

By most standards, being a mercenary was far better than freelancing as a contractor.

Who knew what the future held? Keeping the connection wasn’t a bad idea.

“Fine. I’ll tell the old man. If you change your mind, come find us.”

“Sure.”

“Then let’s head back. We’ve got plenty of time—how about a drink?”

She whistled as she suggested it.

I didn’t answer.

I was getting tired of ignoring her constant, playful advances.

This face of mine wasn’t all upside.

…

But I didn’t move either.

We’d cleared the Corrupted, yes.

Yet something still nagged at me.

‘That magical presence I sensed heading deeper—I never traced it to its end.’

Could it be the black mage himself was still here?

“What’s wrong?”

“Wait.”

The realization hit me suddenly.

‘One of the spirits I sent out never came back.’

The World Tree still stood with its leaves stiff, tense.

Had it been warning me all this time?

Its branches leaned, pointing toward a corner.

“Break that wall.”

“Huh?”

“Just do it.”

Crash!

Her spear split the wall apart.

But what lay beyond wasn’t the outside.

“…So that’s where you were.”

My earlier sense had been right—the magic had led inward.

Had the space itself been distorted?

An expansive chamber, wider than the central lab, stretched out before us.

And there, rising to his feet in a tattered robe, stood an old man.

“You might have walked away quietly, letting the curse take you to a painless death. But instead you choose to hasten your end in agony.”

Long, straggling hair. A cropped beard.

Sunken blackened eyes above a frail, wasted frame.

Hella jabbed me in the side with her elbow.

“…And who the hell’s that?”

“A black mage.”

That wreck of a man was the very picture of someone consumed by the art.

“The master of this laboratory.”

The black mage glared at us, his presence sharp and cold as a blade.

(End of Chapter)