On the battlefield, no one is above the rest. Even the strongest can fall to the sheer number of the weak.
_________________
Buzz!
The space ahead of me shimmered with spatial energy. A tall, solid door stood before me—but I hesitated. The downside of this ability was clear: I had no idea what was waiting outside.
The moment I opened these doors, I could be hit by an attack not even meant for me. Still, I tightened my grip on Rai'ki, its blue glow reflected in my eye, and reached for the doorknob with my left hand.
SWOOSH!
A blood thorn shot past my face, slicing my cheek open. Blood spurted. Just an inch closer, and it would've torn the skin right off.
Most people would freeze in fear. But not me. I didn't know what kind of life I'd lived before, but even a near-death experience didn't rattle me.
The old me was either insane—or involved in a very dangerous business.
With fluid steps, I dodged left and slashed—cutting the blood thorn clean in two.
Bam!
Without pause, I lunged forward. Since the gate had opened on the ground when I first fell in, it opened in the same spot now—launching me upward. My eyes widened in shock by the scene I witnessed.
The blood thorns had formed something like a birdcage behind our front lines, trapping the support team. Even then, more thorns filled the space, skewering everything inside.
Meanwhile, the front line was busy trying to hold off what could only be described as a massive infestation of blood vine growth.
Ding!
> [Subtask Acquired]
[Break the encirclement. Create an opportunity for the surviving medicas to escape before they are wiped out!]
[Medicas left: 15/15]
I frowned.
The mission came out of nowhere. But more importantly, the system didn't seem to care about the powerless humans—only the medicas, support-type Limitless.
Did it want them saved because they were vital to the mission?
Questions flashed through my mind, but I didn't have the time—or the answers.
"I was planning on fighting anyway!" I shouted, hurling Rai'ki forward.
SWOOSH!
It spun fast, drifting to the left and slicing through every blood thorn in its path.
Thud!
I landed hard, rolled, and dropped to one knee.
Pa!
Without hesitation, I clasped my hands together and raised them over my head. The air trembled violently against my grip, but it couldn't break free.
With a firm pull, I tore the space open—creating a path to my pocket dimension. Since the attacks were coming from above, the first thing I had to do was protect my head. And I did just that.
Barely a second after I opened the [door] over my head, blood thorns rained down—skewering people by the tens! Cries, screams, and wails of agony filled the air. Chaos erupted. Most were running in panic, and only a few had the courage to fight back.
This was the real purpose of the expedition—to filter out freeloaders from the skilled. Funding a Limitless in the academy—where they had access to the best of everything—wasn't cheap. It was only natural for the government to make sure its resources weren't wasted on the wrong people.
Bam!
"Aah!" I gasped, my eyes widening in pain.
A blood thorn had curved around the spatial door and pierced my shoulder. I knew these things acted on instinct, but I hadn't expected them to be smart enough to bypass defenses.
"I underestimated them!" I hissed, my face twisted in pain. "But that doesn't mean I'll let you win either!"
Swish!
Just then, Rai'ki returned to my hand. In one swift motion, I slashed the thorn and yanked the remaining piece from my shoulder, tossing it aside.
"Agh!" I groaned and pressed my palm over the wound.
Blood seeped through my fingers. The stab wasn't too deep, but it wasn't shallow either.
It hit me then—I couldn't stay here. Another flaw of my [talent] was that the doors were fixed in place once summoned. They couldn't move.
If they could, I would've used the door as a shield while retreating to the front line.
I tried to stand, but fell back to one knee. My vision blurred, and my head throbbed with stabbing pain.
The second hit had worsened the venom already inside me—speeding up its effects.
Blegh!
I held my belly and puked right there in the middle of the battlefield. My eyes watered, but my vision started to clear. Somehow, throwing up made the nausea ease up a bit.
But I had no time to celebrate.
Dozens of blood thorns slithered toward me with malicious intent. I was still retching, unable to stop the natural urge my body gave in to.
It was over...
They caught me at my weakest moment.
'I guess it's checkmate,' I muttered in my head and shut my eyes, quietly waiting for death.
SWOOSH!
From the sound alone, I thought it was a rock flying toward me. But when my eyes flipped open, I was met with something far brighter—like the sun itself being hurled in my direction.
Before I could react, it blazed past me, smashing into the thorns lunging from my left and setting them on fire.
At the spot where the vines had come from, a scorching sphere, roughly the size of a grown man's head, sat half-buried in the ground from the impact. The core glowed red, while the rest of it was wrapped in familiar orange flames.
After a month at the academy, I'd gotten to know a few classmates who stood out—and this was definitely one of them.
"My God... Natasha," I muttered, eyes widening.
The owner of this [Talent] was Natasha—a girl with striking scarlet hair. She was the complete opposite of Pamela—busty and thick, with curves and edges that made most guys' minds wander.
Her outfits didn't help either. Always tight. Always drawing attention. But it wasn't just her looks that stood out.
As a Limitless student in her early twenties, Natasha was one of the most talented in the class.
Her talent, [Core], was rated B—
A ranking on par with people like Pamela and Viktor.
If nurtured well, there was no doubt she'd reach their level... maybe even surpass them.
My head snapped at the slightest sound—and there she was, casually walking toward me, two scorching spheres orbiting her like planets around the sun.
The sphere half-buried in the ground trembled, then shot into the air and returned to its master.
Thud!
Natasha stopped just a step away. From where I knelt, her figure loomed over me, forcing me to look up to meet her gaze.
"Pamela ordered me to make sure you survive. Stand," Natasha said, her voice sharp with disgust.
That was when I remembered her biggest flaw—pride.
She was talented, and she knew it. She flaunted it. She looked down on anyone she considered beneath her.
Loud, vile, and obnoxious, Natasha was someone most people avoided like the plague.
That's why they called her the Witch of the West.