The Chronicles of Leafshade [Isekai/LitRPG]

The bad news is that I've already spent nearly half of my precious items.

The good news? The elf archer we'd been waiting for was finally joining the battle.

[Cinderbrew Vial used]

The elf's next arrow ignited mid-draw, engulfed in a bluish-red flame. The moment it struck Mad-Eye Mordok, a small explosion rippled out, followed by a thick cloud of black smoke.

"Whoa… I wasn't expecting that," he called out, shielding his face from the blast.

"Don't thank me yet," I grunted, coughing through the smoke. "It's too early to celebrate."

Cinderbrew Vial, a concoction designed to imbue weapons with fire attributes. The creatures of Redridge Range were weak to fire, which is why I'd stockpiled Red Nightshade and Emberfly, the key ingredients for both Flameburst Flasks and Cinderbrew Vials.

The problem was, I'd intended to use them later, as part of my future strategy.

But as always, reality had a cruel way of turning plans upside down.

Thirty minutes had passed.

Our limbs were lead. Breaths shallow. Mana low.

But we had done serious damage. Scorch marks marred Mad-Eye Mordok's mangy fur. One leg dragged awkwardly behind him, ruined by repeated attacks. The beast growled low, frustration and pain crackling in his throat.

Then he raised both of his massive axes high above his head.

My eyes widened. "Dwarf, run!" I shouted with all the strength I could muster.

Fortunately, the dwarf had already sensed the danger and had begun retreating even before I gave the command.

[Windstride cast]

The air shimmered around him, his movement surged into a blur, as if the wind itself was carrying him away.

BAAAAAM!

The sound of the impact was deafening. Mordok's axes slammed into the ground where the dwarf had been just a second earlier. Dust exploded into the air, and a violent gust of wind burst out from the epicenter.

We were thrown backward like rag dolls.

I hit the ground hard, tumbling over gravel and loose stone. My ribs screamed in protest. Dazed, I rolled onto my side, coughing, ears ringing.

This was one of the instant-kill moves that could be found in the depths of Dreadspire, a brutal and unforgiving technique.

"Is everyone still breathing?" I asked, forcing myself to my feet.

"Barely," the elf replied. "But breathing, yes."

"Then get up." I gritted my teeth. "We finish this now."

Without missing a beat, the three of us sprang to our feet and launched ourselves back into the fray, attacking the Gnoll Chieftain with everything we had.

[Piercing Arrow cast]

[Bastion Strike cast]

This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.

[Flameburst Flask used]

[Lightning Bolt cast]

[Shield Bash cast]

Mad-Eye Mordok howled in pain as the onslaught struck him. In a final act of desperation, he hurled both of his massive axes toward us before a brilliant white light engulfed his body and vanished entirely.

One of the axes flew off into the empty air, spinning out of control.

The other, however, flew directly toward the elf's head.

The dwarf's eyes widened.

Time slowed. The axe spun, death etched into every rotation. The elf turned just in time, eyes catching the gleam of steel in the darkness.

"An axe thrown that slowly will never hit me," he quipped, smirking.

Swish... a dark streak of blood appeared across his upper body. The smile disappeared.

"Darwyn!" the dwarf cried, rushing toward the elf in alarm.

It turned out Mordok had infused his final throw with the element of wind, using it to slice through the elf's vulnerable form with unnerving precision.

The elf stumbled, breath hitching as blood bloomed through his tunic, soaking it instantly. He collapsed to the ground.

[Rejuvenation cast]

I rushed forward, knelt beside the elf, and raised my staff as the green light of Rejuvenation pulsed into the wound.

"Hold still," I muttered, my voice sharp. "You're not dying here. Not after all that."

[Low-rank Healing Potion used]

The dwarf's hands shook violently as he poured a potion over the wound. "C'mon, lad. Breathe, damn it. Just breathe!"

The elf's body twitched, then went still.

"No, no, no," the dwarf muttered, eyes wild. "Don't you dare die on me, you stupid leaf-eared bastard! I still owe you five rounds of ale and three hundred stones from our last bet!"

Three potions down. Still no change.

The blood kept flowing. Too fast, too much.

I kept casting my spell on the motionless body.

I could see it clearly. The panic on the dwarf's face, the sadness in his eyes. His lips pressed into a tight line, as if holding back tears.

Seconds felt like hours. Every drop of blood was a countdown.

Then, movement.

A twitch of fingers. A low, ragged cough.

I froze, barely daring to hope.

I leaned in, checking his pulse, brushing a strand of hair from his blood-slicked forehead.

"…The wounds are severe," I said slowly, trying to mask the relief in my voice, "and they've struck vital organs. But… he should survive."

"Hahaha… thank the gods," the dwarf exhaled, collapsing onto the ground beside the elf. His voice trembled as he added, "You scared the beard off me, you pointy-eared bastard."

The elf opened one eye, barely conscious. "Still… winning that bet…"

"Shut up, ya fool," the dwarf grumbled, wiping his face. "You almost died."

"…but didn't," the elf whispered weakly. "So… drinks are on you."

***

"My name is Muradin Bromir, son of Thrain," he said with a chuckle.

"Fangbone Scepter," I replied coldly.

"Plus half of the Mana Stones and both Gnoll Tails."

Confusion was evident on his face.

In this world, druids were often underestimated and given the smallest share. On top of that, I had only joined the battle in its final phase. From my perspective, this was the perfect moment to negotiate. The elf was resting, and the dwarf was riding high on adrenaline after a long, exhausting fight, too mentally drained to think clearly.

"That's too much, druid," the dwarf said, his expression hardening as his grin faded.

"I've already used almost all of my precious consumables," I shot back.

"And let's not forget, I saved the elf not once, but twice," I continued, pressing the point. "Besides, you got Mordok's Battleaxe. That should be more than enough."

Mordok's Battleaxe was a drop weapon from Mad-Eye Mordok, the Gnoll Chieftain, a named Field Boss from the Gnashfang Warrens. Weapons dropped by bosses always had much higher stats than regular weapons. What made this one particularly special was that it came with an active skill, a weaker version of the instant-kill attack that had almost ended the dwarf's life.

The dwarf fell silent for a moment, before responding, "You can take the scepter and all the monster parts. That's my final offer."

I exhaled, preparing to play my last card. "You do realize I saved you from Mordok's instant-kill attack, right? I could have let you die and defeated Mordok along with the elf instead."

It seemed the dwarf finally understood, as he inhaled deeply and fell silent, processing my words.

"Alright, as long as you tell me your name," Muradin grinned, his expression loosening, and the mischievous look returned to his face.

"Eryndor Leafshade, but you can call me Erynd," I said with a faint smile.

I hadn't expected my negotiation to succeed. My hands were damp with sweat, and my legs were shaking.

I guess I hit the jackpot this time.