Ludmila Lionheart, after the first incident—specifically, after becoming aware of the existence of [Turbulence] within herself—dedicated herself nightly to awakening it.
To put it more bluntly, she sought ways to “Turbulence”.
And she realized something.
Awakening the mana accumulated within her by her own means required methods that, unfortunately, could never be executed in front of others.
Of course, there were methods that could be used openly.
However, doing so would socially annihilate Ludmila as a person, leaving her unable to show her face anywhere, let alone among the beastfolk society, where she’d likely be condemned to live alone in the wild.
Was there no alternative to social self-destruction?
From the beginning, the answer was clear: seek the help of the entity that had awakened the potential within her.
If she couldn’t control it, the only solution was to entrust her body to someone capable of doing so.
“Ho.”
She calmly regulated her breathing.
Under the hand stretched forward, a spear of magic began to form, and mana slowly gathered around the spear.
[Hehehe.]
Then Ludmila heard it—a very faint laugh.
[You’ve got talent, don’t you?]
It was a voice different from Phoenix’s.
Calling it a voice was absurd because, to her ears, there was only the sound of the wind.
[It’s been a long time since I’ve seen someone this naturally gifted. Even among those I know, I can count your kind on one hand!]
Yet, the voice rang vividly. Not because its tone compelled her attention, but because the source of the voice was manifesting right before her.
[You’re blessed, you know. To think that I, the greatest master in wind-attribute magic, am intertwined with Phoenix!]
The mysterious entity began to show itself.
A small giant.
Though smaller in stature than Ludmila, her beastfolk senses—her mana core within her heart, and the dormant turbulence in her abdomen—screamed through every fiber of her being.
A god?
[Hehehe. If I were to speak in terms you could grasp, you may call me the Wind Demon—]
[Silence.]
Ludmila shivered as a low, otherworldly male voice rumbled from behind her, cutting off the self-proclaimed Wind Demon.
[Focus.]
The command’s meaning was immediately clear to Ludmila.
But understanding with the mind and feeling with the heart were separate matters.
The hand gripping her felt unfamiliar.
Though clad in clothing, it radiated a strange, alien energy.
As though someone had donned a human guise.
[Feel the mana flow.]
The voice was equally foreign.
It was deeper, weightier than usual, carrying none of the playful intonation she expected but resonating soberly—not just in her ears, but throughout her entire being.
[Balance the mana flowing from the two cores.]
Phoenix guided her hands gently, leading the mana with an unfamiliar precision.
Ludmila focused on the sensation rising from her lower abdomen.
Whatever was happening—whatever Phoenix was—whatever the entity calling itself the Wind Demon was—
[Can you feel it? The wind?]
As refreshing air filled her lungs, Ludmila nodded slightly and spun the spear of mana in her hand.
[When you try to compress the wind and shoot it, it bursts. The nature of the wind is not suppression but freedom.]
The Wind Demon—a girl with black hair streaked with green and cat-like ears—mimicked Ludmila by forming a spear of mana herself.
Wooosh!
The intangible wind howled, creating relentless air currents around them.
The girl grabbed the wind as though it were a physical substance and hurled it forward.
There was no sound.
But Ludmila could see it.
The forest of Tentacle Trees was torn asunder by the storm.
The wind shredded everything in its path, carving forward relentlessly before forming the eye of a hurricane in the midst of enemy lines, sweeping everything away.
Was it real?
No.
It was an illusion.
A vision of her destination—a goal to pursue.
[Now, Miss Ludmila.]
He whispered to Ludmila.
[Are you ready?]
His hands no longer held onto her.
Though there was no physical contact, Ludmila decided to entrust herself to the solid presence she felt behind her.
Whether it was a delusion or a genuine sensation, she accepted it.
The one supporting her was her classmate, her comrade, a trusted ally.
“…Did you know?”
Before throwing the spear, Ludmila spoke slowly, voicing the thoughts she held inside.
“Mercenary groups are bound by money. Hunters are no different.”
She questioned herself.
Until now, how many people had she truly been able to entrust her life to on the battlefield?
They weren’t blood relatives, nor were they bound by money. How many times had she been able to place her trust in complete strangers?
Not once, as the A-rank Hunter [Cutting Wind].
But Ludmila Lionheart, the Academy student, was different.
“As your classmate, not as a mercenary…”
She threw the spear forward with force.
“I will stand with you.”
For her comrades.
[That’s a noble mindset.]
The Wind Demon grinned and winked at her.
[Don’t lose that, or else…]
Hehehe.
[This body, will take over your body and make a child with him!]
“…”
Ludmila gripped her spear tightly.
“That will never happen.”
No matter what her opponent was, Ludmila steeled her resolve, reaffirming the iron will flowing from within her.
* * *
“Wow, Miss Ludmila, that was incredible.”
I stepped back from Ludmila, gesturing toward the Tentacle Tree forest ahead.
“The tentacles are just exploding everywhere.”
“Ah, ah, ahhhh!”
A shriek came from behind.
Someone who normally wouldn’t scream looked utterly flustered, clutching their head in disbelief.
“No! My cores!!”
Yurha let out a wail of despair.
And understandably so—the scene before us was catastrophic. Ludmila’s unleashed [Turbulence] had obliterated the Tentacle Tree forest.
It resembled the aftermath of a massive hurricane in the U.S., the kind of devastation captured in iconic photographs.
Most of the Tentacle Trees were reduced to stumps, shredded as if sliced by a colossal blade. The remnants of the trees were hurled sky-high by the hurricane generated by Ludmila’s mana.
“Senior Yurha, why are you saying those are your cores?”
“What did you say?”
“Isn’t the one who hunted and retrieved the cores their rightful owner?”
“The cores are completely destroyed—wait a second.”
Yurha, who had been about to argue with me, paused mid-sentence.
“Why are you assuming the cores are still intact?”
“Because they are.”
“What?”
“From the outside, it might look like everything’s been torn apart. Oh, and don’t touch Ludmila.”
Ludmila remained still, her hand outstretched toward the forest.
The mana flowing from her body was far stronger than that of an ordinary A-rank, and it was obvious to anyone that she was controlling the 50-meter-high whirlwind tearing through the Tentacle Tree forest.
“Just wait a little longer. You’ll see—ah, there it is.”
Whoosh!
Something burst from the top of the whirlwind.
The objects, flung upward, began to scatter in all directions as they left the hurricane’s influence.
“Debris…!”
“The corpses of the Tentacle Trees…!”
Massive, grotesque chunks resembling human heads rolled toward us.
I stopped one of them with a light kick, like a soccer ball, and held it steady.
“Can you feel it inside?”
“…A core?”
“You could call it the heart of the Tentacle Trees. In short, Ludmila has been surgically extracting the hearts of these trees using that sharp wind—[Turbulence].”
“…”
Yurha gulped, visibly uneasy.
Judging by her fingers fidgeting as if pressing an imaginary calculator, she was likely calculating the monetary value of Ludmila’s technique.
“Only the cores… are being extracted?”
“Yes. The rest is continuously ground down inside the whirlwind. Those razor winds are slicing and breaking apart the Tentacle Trees’ bodies, selectively lifting the core-infused chunks into the updraft and ejecting them.”
Ideally, the cores would remain in the eye of the storm while the bodies were pulverized down to atomic or molecular levels.
However, that’s the stage of [Gale], not Ludmila’s nickname, [Cutting Wind].
“In three minutes, all the remaining Tentacle Tree offspring will be shredded. After that, it’ll just be the boss monster left.”
“…You’re saying we’ll eliminate the mobs and the boss with 100% efficiency, securing all the loot?”
“Exactly.”
As an RPG gamer at heart, such a prospect was non-negotiable.
If there’s a fixed number of monsters in a field, the rule is clear: farm every resource and XP available before clearing the stage.
“Instructor Esta, I’d like to make a suggestion.”
“Go on. As long as it’s not completely ludicrous, I’ll hear you out.”
“Regarding the Tentacle Tree raid, would it be possible to, let’s say, fabricate part of the strategy for dealing with Tentacle Lilith?”
“…You’re saying there’s some unique method you can’t easily share with others?”
Instructor Esta’s hand moved to her magic panel.
“A weakness specific to Tentacle Lilith? Something that, if known by industry professionals, would make them pay through the nose for it?”
“Yes, but more precisely, it’s not a method against Tentacle Lilith as an entity, but rather a strategy aimed at that lunatic obsessed with lilies over there.”
I pulled Yunia and Evangeline closer, holding one on each side.
“The three of us have a combined technique that can force Tentacle Lilith to self-destruct.”
“…Self-destruct?”
“Yes.”
A method effective only against beasts infected with angelic energy—beasts whose roots are celestial in nature.
“We’ll create a massive illusion.”
Operation codename [Heaven’s Corruption].
“We’re going to create an illusion of a beautiful girl.”
“And then…”
“The creature will become so ecstatic about monopolizing the girl’s affection that it won’t care what happens to its offspring.”
It will mistake her for a fellow female, trying to cozy up to her lily-like essence.
“And beneath it, unaware, will be its deadliest poison.”
Thinking it’s indulging in a lily, the angel will instead touch something entirely different.
Not a delicate flower, not a radiant halo.
But massive, solid, and unyielding—the horns of a devil.
