Chapter 31: Do Not Lose Focus

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The Rust Monster, also known as the "Underground Scavenger" or "Subterranean Wanderer." Like many other insect species, they typically dwell within the countless deep, shadowy caves of the "Gloomdark Region." The pitch-black environment has gradually dulled their eyesight, prompting them to shield this vital weakness beneath a tough, armored shell. Feather-like antennae sprout from either side of their heads, and behind them, dense bristly fins form a long tail that acts like a cane, guiding their movements through the labyrinthine caverns.

In some respects, these creatures, which do not primarily feed on flesh, possess a relatively docile nature. Given sufficient nourishment and proper care, they can even be tamed like cats or dogs, becoming obedient pets. However, as their ominous moniker suggests, Rust Monsters can sometimes exhibit fierce aggression.

Feeding on metal, Rust Monsters show no discrimination—iron, mythril, adamantine, and more all fall within their diet. Their highly refined sensory abilities allow them to detect the presence of delectable metals from miles away. Naturally, adventurers’ armor and weapons become prime targets for these creatures.

According to the Adventurers’ Guild, many explorers perish each year under Rust Monster attacks while venturing through the Gloomdark Region—even when fully aware that discarding their weapons and armor could save their lives. Much like camels crossing deserts or herds migrating during droughts, the Rust Monster’s unique dietary habits endow it with a natural talent for locating various ore veins. Their highly corrosive saliva softens and erodes hard metals, making them easier to consume.

As fellow denizens of the mines, dwarves—renowned for their smithing and mining prowess—hate these monsters with a passion. Some clans even dispatch specialized extermination squads annually to purge these parasitic “termites” from their veins.

Shanan, hailing from another world, has only ever met one dwarf—the towering, bearded Barn in the Rockhammer Forge, who stands several heads taller than him. Yet now, gazing at the grotesque figure skulking on the ground ahead, he cannot help but empathize.

A glance toward the meadow reveals a single-handed hammer, nearly corroded beyond recognition by the thick, dark green saliva. His mouth grows dry, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he swallows nervously. His palm, gripping the sword hilt tightly, is slick with sweat.

At this moment, he even begins to contemplate fighting with the two daggers at his waist.

“This pressure… it’s really weighing me down!”

Hesitation lasts but a heartbeat. Despite the turmoil within, Shanan grips his longsword and instinctively rushes forward to assist. Having rested in a corner, he is now almost an entire camp away from Larry, and no matter how quick his reaction, he cannot match the speed of the Wanderer seated by the central campfire.

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After taking just a few steps forward, the almost invisible figure slips beside the first Rust Monster like a shadow.

“Shhhk!”

The air tears apart as a sharp cross-shaped silver flash bursts forth.

Shanan feels a blur before Wood’s form, followed by the two daggers in his hands stained with yellow-green insect blood.

“Hiss—”

A piercing, mournful insect cry echoes through the forest.

The Rust Monster’s thick shell, resilient even against hammer blows, is effortlessly sliced apart by Wood’s pair of daggers barely longer than his palms, breaking like fragile paper.

Blood sprays everywhere!

The fin-like tail lashes like a whip but strikes only empty air, falling uselessly onto the soft grass.

Wood has already moved away from the spot.

His ghostly, nimble body leaps up, landing atop the Rust Monster’s back shell.

Furrowing his brows, he seems dissatisfied that his previous strike—though grievously wounding the monster—was not lethal.

The Wanderer’s combat technique, “Gut Crushing Strike,” capable of splitting viscera and bone cavities, fails to achieve the desired effect against a creature so structurally different from humans.

Yet Wood’s extensive battle experience and knowledge of monsters instantly reveal the creature’s weak point.

“Swish!”

His short dagger darts out like a venomous snake, slipping through a seam in the Rust Monster’s neck plates with a precisely angled thrust.

Like a yellowjacket’s stinger, it delivers a light but deadly jab.

The shrill insect cries abruptly cease.

The heavily armored body beneath the shell collapses with a heavy thud, lifeless as a broken machine.

One of the four Rust Monsters is down.

Before anyone can even exhale, Wood pulls his dagger free from the creature’s body but suddenly senses something.

He sharply raises his head.

His pupils contract!

Unnoticed amidst the chaos, another Rust Monster has circled around and reached the far end of the camp—where Haian is positioned!

“Master, watch out!” he shouts at the top of his lungs.

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At the same moment, the figure standing atop the insect’s shell dissolves into a shadow and vanishes.

Silver-white strands of hair cling damply to Haian’s cheeks in sweat. Having retreated to the rear since the battle began, the half-elf’s fingers are drawn taut on the bowstring, ready to provide support anywhere on the battlefield.

“One is already dealt with by Wood, one is with Larry and Doris, and one hasn’t breached the camp yet. I need to—”

“Wait, what about the last one!?”

Haian’s mind races as he analyzes the situation.

Suddenly alarmed, Wood’s shout carries through the air.

There’s no time to think!

Because in the next moment, a sharp, piercing shriek accompanied by an acrid stench approaches from behind.

Haian spins around abruptly.

Before his eyes stands the Rust Monster, its grotesque body rearing high.

Its bone-white, razor-sharp mandibles open and close, brewing a deadly green poison within.

The shadow of death seems to freeze time itself in Haian’s vision.

But then—

A flash of iron-gray arcs bursts from the darkness beside him, snapping Haian back to reality.

[Spinning Slash]

The gleaming crescent-shaped sword arc appears and vanishes in an instant.

Again, the cut runs cleanly through the seam of the shell, slicing off half the insect’s brain as it spins away.

“Clack.”

The heavy insect body falls to the ground, its putrid blood spurting like a spring.

Flowing smoothly, the sword is sheathed.

Shanan glances at the blade’s surface, relieved to see only insect blood and no corrosive poison.

Then he notices the half-elf before him, still dazed by the sudden attack, his face smeared with thick green blood.

Frowning, Shanan cautions:

“Be careful, don’t get distracted.”