Arwen dived underwater again. With one attempt under his belt, he knew the drill now.
He grabbed the ankle of a Foglet that had fallen into the water and killed it with a thrust of his sword.
[Slayed Foglet. Obtained 25% Foglet Mutagen.] [100% Foglet Mutagen detected. Synthesize?]
"Synthesize!"
[Obtained Foglet Mutagen x1.] [Foglet Mutagen (green): Installing this mutagen slightly increases physical speed and grants the green talent Illusory Mist Invisibility.] [Illusory Mist Invisibility (green): Your skin mutates. Simply concentrate and remain motionless, and your pores will produce mist, blending you into your surroundings.] [Install mutagen?]
"Install!"
An itching sensation immediately spread across his skin, and an instinctive understanding arose within him.
He raised his head above the water and kept his entire body still.
A wisp of thin mist emerged from his exposed skin, then rippled outward.
Arwen's head gradually disappeared, blending into the surface of the water.
But around his submerged body, the flowing water dispersed the mist as soon as it formed, leaving no chance of invisibility.
Arwen clenched his hands. Used well, this effect would be an absolutely godly skill for ambushes.
Boom!
The sounds of battle thundered along the shore. The fight between Old Spearhead and the ancient Foglet had reached a fever pitch.
Relying on his terrifying strength, the former held his own even against their combined attacks.
From time to time, he whipped up a gale that overturned the attacking Foglets around him, sending down a gray rain.
Splash! Splash!
Foglets fell into the water in twos and threes.
Arwen's feline eyes focused. The hunt began again as he picked off the fallen Foglets one by one.
But he moved with extreme caution. If a Foglet was less than ten meters from shore, he would not approach it.
He had no desire to attract either side's attention. Quietly making a fortune was the right way to go.
Time passed, and a pale light spread across the horizon.
Arwen harvested another seven Foglets.
He opened the panel.
[Foglet Mutagen (green) x2. Remaining Foglet Mutagen: 75%.]
He looked toward the shore. Under the sunlight, the bank of mist began to weaken.
The two sides had already put distance between them. The battle was coming to an end.
The ancient Foglet stood surrounded by a group of Foglets. Its assumed form of Vesemir had long since dissipated. It panted continuously, its right arm hanging limply beside its leg, clearly severely injured.
As for Old Spearhead, he was hardly any better off. Scratches covered his entire body.
He looked as though he had been soaked in a pool of blood. There was no longer any telling his own blood from the Foglets', and he resembled a devil from hell.
The ancient Foglet's teeth chattered. Hatred filled its gaze as it let out a roar.
"Hah!"
The dim yellow spots on the surrounding Foglets' chests shone, gathering clouds of mist as they began to disperse into the woods.
At the sight, weariness showed in Old Spearhead's cloudy lone eye.
He pressed his left hand against a grayish-white shaft in his right leg. It was a Foglet's severed arm, with stark white bones exposed at the joint. Its five sharp fingers were like spears, embedded deep in his flesh.
"Roar!"
Old Spearhead roared and forcibly pulled out the Foglet's arm, tearing loose a chunk of flesh that fell to the ground.
His heavy breathing rumbled. He crushed the severed arm in his hand into a ball amid a series of cracking bones, then stuffed it into the mouth hidden beneath his bloodstained cloth.
His yellowed teeth chewed up and down, spilling bright red drool.
For his enormous frame, that morsel was clearly not enough to fill the gaps between his teeth.
His gaze swept his surroundings. Foglet corpses lay scattered everywhere, some beaten to pulp, others torn apart alive. Organs and intestines littered the ground in a complete mess.
He lumbered forward with heavy, limping steps, not forgetting to pick up a few relatively intact Foglet corpses along the way.
When he reached a slight rise in the ground, his entire body abruptly slumped into a seated position, and he began taking great mouthfuls.
In the bushes not far behind him, a pair of gray feline eyes appeared.
While Old Spearhead ate, Arwen had swum ashore and crept all the way here.
His gaze remained fixed on Old Spearhead's slack posture. Even as he ate, exhaustion showed in his movements, and the wound on his right leg was still bleeding.
A mad thought kept running through his mind.
An opportunity!
This was definitely a chance to kill Old Spearhead.
Arwen assessed the risks of this hunt.
Old Spearhead was undoubtedly in an extremely weakened state, but the enormous disparity in their strength could still get him killed.
In terms of speed, however, Arwen now held an absolute advantage. Even if he proved no match, he could dive back into Killer Lake. In Old Spearhead's current condition, catching him would be utterly impossible.
He had to find a way to drive Old Spearhead into a frenzy and make him bleed heavily...
Ideally, he would put out his eye!
Arwen tightened his grip on his silver sword. Spiderweb cracks covered the blade. With [Blade Perception], he could just barely attack with it, but raising it to block Old Spearhead's blows was absolutely out of the question.
While he was considering this, Old Spearhead finished eating the corpses beside him.
His gaze began to wander, searching for intact corpses.
Not far behind him lay two intact Foglet corpses.
But those corpses were over thirty meters away from Arwen.
If he was discovered along the way, all his efforts would come to nothing.
"Caw! Caw! Caw!"
Old Spearhead raised his head. A harsh cry rang out overhead as a raven with jet-black wings circled in the air.
Drawn by the thick scent of blood here, it had come looking for scraps.
At that very instant, Arwen rushed soundlessly out of the bushes.
Within two breaths, he reached the space between the two corpses.
His heart hammered, and adrenaline surged.
He had not expected the opportunity to come so soon.
Holding his breath and concentrating, he let thin mist spread from his skin and swiftly cling to his body, then twist and shift, blending into his surroundings.
Old Spearhead snorted and raised a hand, driving away the approaching raven.
When he turned around, Arwen grew intensely tense, his palms slick with sweat.
Old Spearhead's lone eye spotted the Foglet corpses beside Arwen.
He slowly rose and approached step by step. His heavy breaths gushed out as white mist, accompanied by a nauseating stench of blood and decay.
He drew closer and closer, seemingly unaware of Arwen.
Arwen crouched, every muscle rigid. He forcibly suppressed his panic and even stopped breathing, afraid of alerting him.
Old Spearhead reached Arwen and casually stretched out a hand to pick up the Foglet corpse beside him, dragging a shallow furrow through the mud.
Suddenly, Old Spearhead inhaled sharply. His protruding nose twitched beneath the bloodstained cloth, as though he had caught an odd scent, yet he saw nothing.
He bent down, and his bloodshot, cloudy lone eye rapidly grew larger in Arwen's sight, like a milky-white jade platter.
The pupil, larger than a human head, slowly contracted, exuding an overwhelming pressure.
The cold morning wind brushed across the water. Ravens cawed as they fed on the corpses along the shore.
A flash of sword light suddenly thrust out!