On the eighth day of their adventure, Serie was ignoring Rhodes.
The reason was simple: her pride had been deeply wounded.
Just monts before, Rhodes had spotted a Gray-Horned Rabbit in the forest ahead. It was hiding behind a tree, with only its gray tail visible. Under normal circumstances, catching it would have required a large-scale area-of-effect spell.
But Rhodes had a different thod.
After briefly estimating the rabbit's position, he cast a spell, launching a small arrow of light. The arrow curved gracefully in mid-air and struck the Gray-Horned Rabbit directly.
That's right. In a matter of days, Rhodes had learned Serie's tracking magic.
However, instead of the incredibly difficult technique of attaching his mana to the projectile itself, Rhodes had used a clever workaround. He pre-determined the target's location and then had the spell alter its own trajectory, achieving a different kind of tracking effect. This thod required far less practice and saved a considerable amount of effort.
The price for this ingenuity, however, was a very displeased Miss Serie.
Leaning against a tree with her arms crossed, her golden hair spilling freely over her shoulders, Serie's delicate face was taut with irritation as she watched Rhodes's display.
She turned her head away, deliberately avoiding his gaze. "That was just a cheap trick. That isn't tracking magic."
Rhodes picked up the rabbit by its ears, quickly dressed it, and stored it in his pack, a helpless smile on his face. "But it's certainly practical."
The thought of trying to attach his own mana to a moving projectile made his head spin. His current thod was far simpler. He had no idea what the Goddess was thinking, transmigrating a science major like him into a fantasy world and granting him a talent for [Creation]. It made him constantly try to invent magic using the principles of science.
"True tracking magic requires you to imbue the attack with your mana, using the enemy's aura to determine its path. Most importantly, even if the enemy dodges, you can launch a second attack. As long as the magic in the spell isn't depleted, you can continue to attack them," Serie finally turned back, her golden eyes filled with unconvinced defiance. "Your... your thing is..."
It was the longest speech Serie had given in their days of adventuring together. It was clear she was genuinely flustered.
"A guidance spell?" Rhodes offered tentatively.
"What is that nonsense!?" The expression on Serie's face was a masterpiece of shifting emotions, a canvas of indignation that was, sohow, undeniably cute.
"In any case, it's not real tracking magic!"
Serie wanted this man to surprise her, but only on the condition that those surprises didn't co at the expense of her own pride! Why had she spent years learning tracking magic, only for this man to master it so quickly? Even if it was a workaround, he had achieved the sa result. So, our Miss Serie desperately tried to justify her position, absolutely refusing to acknowledge it as true tracking magic.
Looking at the pouting Grand Master, Rhodes suddenly found this version of Serie even more endearing than her usual self. If not for the very real fear of being struck dead, he would have loved to pat her on the head and gently pinch her round cheeks.
"Alright, alright, it's not real tracking magic," he conceded. It was just a na, after all, and he had no desire to argue the point further. "If our great Miss Serie wouldn't mind, could you perhaps teach again? This ti, I promise I will diligently learn the 'proper' tracking magic!"
Rhodes had co to a realization. This tracking magic was likely one of the elves' most closely guarded secrets. In a sense, it was an utterly overpowered ability. Imagine fighting a mage: you dodge a volley of attacks and rush in, only to see their spells loop around and co flying at you again. In that mont, you'd likely have a few choice words to scream. It was a technique that would result in serious injury at the very least if one wasn't prepared for it.
He wondered why such a spell hadn't been passed down to later eras. Was it simply too difficult for most mages to learn? Or had magic in later ages beco so powerful that tracking spells were rendered obsolete? Rhodes felt the latter was unlikely. Sothing must have happened.
Serie, of course, had no idea what was running through Rhodes's mind. Hearing him admit that his spell wasn't "real" tracking magic and then asking her to teach him again, a barely concealed smile lifted the corners of her lips.
"Since you are so sincere..."
She raised her hand, a wisp of mana gathering at her fingertip. "Watch closely. This is the orthodox—"
Before she could finish, a violent explosion echoed from the distance.
Both of them turned their heads in unison, their eyes drawn to a patch of dark, violet-black clouds spreading across the sky.
"That's..." Serie's expression instantly turned grim. "The aura of magical beasts."
Rhodes imdiately cast his Greater Detection Spell. The magic circle ford in his hand, the direction of the explosion just barely at the extre edge of his range. Gazing at the dense cluster of dots on the magic circle, his face grew pale. "There are a lot of them."
It was, after all, only a prototype spell. He couldn't distinguish between friend or foe, nor could he gauge their individual strength. All he knew was that the enemy's numbers were large.
"What's the call? Do we run, or go check it out?" If he were alone, he would have been long gone the mont he heard the explosion. But since Serie was with him, he chose to respect her opinion.
Serie glanced at Rhodes, a spark of excitent in her eyes. "Let's go. At the very least, we won't be bored."
In truth, she had also cast her own detection spell and hadn't sensed any particularly powerful beasts. She was inclined to see what the commotion was about.
"Alright," Rhodes nodded. Together, they headed in the direction of the sound.
After crossing through a dense forest, a small settlent appeared before them. The air was thick with the sll of smoke and blood.
"Is this a dwarven settlent? It appears to be under attack by magical beasts," Serie observed, seeing the dwarves clashing with monsters.
Rhodes looked up. The village's defensive wall had a massive hole blasted through it. Dozens of humanoid wolf-like magical beasts were locked in battle with the dwarves.
"Greater Wolvenfiends," Serie said, her eyes narrowing. "An superior species to the common demonic wolves we killed before. They fight in packs, and their power increases dramatically under a full moon, though they lose what little reason they have in the process."
Rhodes looked closer. These so-called "wolvenfiends" looked exactly like the werewolves of his old world's legends, only far more grotesque and bloody. There were many of them, and while the dwarves were fighting valiantly, they were clearly beginning to be overwheld. The village was small, the kind you could see from one end to the other. There were probably only twenty or thirty dwarves capable of fighting, far too few to handle such a large number of werewolves.
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