I Refused To Be Reincarnated

In the forest's absolute silence, Adam scowled at his trembling palm. The lingering warmth of his elemental spear was all that remained of it. That and the orange wisps drawn into the moss that coated the root like bioluminescent armor before they could drift into nothingness.

He balled his hand, squeezing, arm muscles bulging with mana. The tremor from the impact instantly dissipated as he smirked. If mana didn't work outside, nothing could stop him from using it inside. 'Elena's shapeshifting it is.'

Still, his smirk crooked at the edges. Desmond's face had already taken an unsightly shade of purple, and he could be choked to death at any moment—and Adam didn't count on Haldris to save him. His dislike for Desmond's screams and thunderous spells didn't matter. They had started this hunt together. They would succeed together.

His calves turned as solid as enchanted metal as he launched himself with devastating speed toward Desmond. This was not merely mana, but the intrinsic ability of his mythical legs. Like a swift shadow, he accelerated to his maximum speed instantaneously.

Roots collapsed where he had stood a heartbeat before, raining soft dirt as the hail drilled through the ground with what he felt was hunger. But the miss didn't deter the roots. A dozen more surged in silent menace from the ground, darting at him like wooden stingers.

The first aimed to impale his chest. He twisted sideways, letting it pass harmlessly. The second came almost simultaneously, a vicious blow aimed at his groin. With a soundless snarl, the ground caved under his kick as he flipped upward. The pointy tips of the remaining roots rose with purpose, as if recognising a cornered prey.

Adam knew the basic thought process. Mid-air, without support, and with the moss pulsing in anticipation to feast on spells, he couldn't dodge.

Wrong.

Mana bubbled in his circuits, and he gripped growing stumps at his shoulder blades. With his sharp pull, wings erupted from his back. Sky-blue feathers shone with an almost metallic hue as they flapped. Just as he moved, something struck him. Even if he had seen dozens of flying beasts and could recite their wings' anatomical composition down to the cellular level, he had never flown himself!

'Damn it!'

Instead of shooting forward, he barreled toward the roots, feathers scattering like broken glass. Roaring despite the mysterious power stealing sounds, he flapped to spin on himself. Mana flared beneath his skin and at his nails as he blurred like a typhoon.

At this moment, the roots' sharp tips crashed against his spiralling descent.

The centrifugal force dissipated the root's strength slightly. His growing claws met them next. They shredded the roots into jagged splinters, gleaming the death-pale ash gray of the basilisk talons. They were sharp and durable, yet he winced with each collision. His spinning momentum was fading, and his finger bones felt like glass about to shatter.

A root pierced his defence, then a second, and a third. They slammed into his chest, the soundless impact knocking the air out of his lungs. He was flung back, crashing in a rain of crumpled leaves, pain searing through his body. But pain couldn't hinder him, not now.

He coughed and rolled into a handstand, then flipped upward. Through his tattered uniform, dented scales glinted bright red over his bruised skin. This had been the third layer of defence he had relied on—the scales of a drake. He cursed himself for the failed flight, but still grinned. He had reached Desmond.

The teenager's purple face betrayed the world of pain the roots had put him in. He was suffocating, eyes closed in a futile attempt not to see the horror coiling around his flesh. Feeling it was enough.

Without wasting a second, Adam gripped the root choking Desmond and pulled. His muscles burned with the strain, and mana surged from his heart to feed the effort. And yet, the root, thicker than the others, just held fast, like a tight collar refusing to move. If sounds were allowed, he knew it wouldn't even have groaned.

He would still break it.

He blew through clenched teeth, mana flooding his muscles in unholy quantities with each thump of his heart. His bones groaned, muscles swelling beneath his uniform. It shredded, enchanted fabric drifting beside the deepening depression of his footprints. They became larger too.

So did the rest.

In a heartbeat, he grew three times his size with hands so big he could crush torsos like breaking cups. Now, he felt nearly as powerful as when he could use qi, and this power showed instantly on the root. Hairline cracks spiderwebbed its coarse surface. It bent toward him, returning air to Desmond's bruised neck.

The other roots didn't just watch him. The ones behind him shot with twice the rage. More surged all around him in a twisting prison, whose very bars curved over his head to impale him from above.

'Not happening!' Veins squirmed on his red neck and arms like snakes as he thrust his torso forward and pulled with all his might once. The bark splintered instantly, revealing the soft wood beneath.

Again!

A rain of shards exploded the second time. It would shatter with the third. But death's icy fingers wrapped around his heart. The roots were on him, tips a few inches away from puncturing him like a butcher's carcass.

Yet, he smirked. Destroying the root was just vengeance for the ambush. The real goal?

He caught Desmond, who fell from the loose coil of the root, crouching in the same motion. Simultaneously, his body shrank to its normal size, giving him more time before impact. Then, he threw the boy on his shoulder and bolted toward the sunlit edge of the forest. They should be safe there. At least they hadn't been ambushed until they set foot in this somber perimeter.

In his shrunken form, most roots missed, and he weaved through the remaining ones like a shadow slipping through bars.

The vibrations made Desmond snap his eyes open. For a moment, he frowned. Why was Teacher Haldris carrying him like a sack of potatoes instead of teleporting him out of this cursed place? And... he gasped. Why was he naked, save for cracked dark pants?

At this moment, Adam reached the light. The roots halted at the edge, as if contained by a mysterious power, or afraid of the sun's warm kiss. The howls of beasts in the distance, the rustle of wind passing through leaves, and the sound of his ragged breath all returned at once. He took a deep breath, tossing Desmond to the ground as he dropped on his rear.

The rough treatment made Desmond gasp. Before he could talk, Adam massaged his battered muscles. "This one might be a little too much even for me."

"Wait..." Desmond's eyes widened, and he screamed, his voice sounding off due to his damaged windpipe. "Where's Teacher Haldris? Didn't you go search for him?"

"Why would I?" Adam simply shrugged. "The points, remember? Do you think we'll get them if he has to save us?"

"Probably not..." Desmond muttered, realisation dawning on him. Haldris had never come. Adam had saved him for the promise of two hundred points that they might not even win. He lowered his face, touching his neck. "Liar."

Adam frowned, and Desmond shot to his feet, pointing a finger at him. "Liar! No one would fight that silvester bastard of a beast for a few points!" He clutched his chest, feeling his heart drum painfully. "D-Do you really see me as a friend? A true friend." He asked, blunt and direct, the fear of hearing no tearing at him.

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AN: Longer chapter :)