Obsessive Gacha System

Chapter 13: First Real Battle

SWOOSH!

A gust of wind rolled across the open field, bending the grass low and sending a soft rustle through the leaves overhead. It smelled of damp earth and old wood—the breath of the forest stirring from its sleep.

Lucien and Seraphina walked side by side, their footsteps quiet on the dirt path. Around them, trees stood thick and ancient, branches tangling into a ceiling of green.

Taewun Forest. Not far from the city.

Their target was somewhere ahead.

RUSTLE!

They stopped and surveyed their surroundings. The rustling didn’t escape their ears.

From the grass, a creature came out.

At first glance, it looked like a rabbit—plump, soft, with fur the color of dry grass and floppy ears that twitched at every sound. Its nose twitched too, small and pink, and its paws were round as a child’s toy.

But then it turned its head.

Two short horns curved from its skull, pale as old bone and needle‑sharp. Its eyes were not gentle brown but amber rings around vertical slits. It did not blink.

A lady might rush to hug such a creature.

But Lucien and Seraphina didn’t lower their guard.

The creature was still letting out a squeaking sound when something red flowed out from its head.

A short blade cut the creature in two.

Blood stained the green grass.

The Fang of the Unnamed Dark made no sound.

Ding!

[Host has killed a level one Initiate Realm Cottontail Impaler. You have gained 5 EXP and 2 SP.]

This was a Volkoid called the Cottontail Impaler – a cute predator. They looked adorable but were born killers. Fast. One impale could kill.

And also...

More rustles resounded. Under the trees, numerous red lights appeared. Red eyes.

Impalers moved in packs. That was the real danger.

"Are you ready, husband?" Seraphina grinned.

He had reached level 5 before leaving the mansion – enough to handle one Impaler.

SKREE!

The cry came from everywhere at once. The grass parted. Impalers poured out from under the trees, from the bushes, from the shadows between roots – a flood of brown fur and white horns.

Lucien counted five. Then ten. Then he stopped counting.

The first one reached him in a blink. It leaped, horns aimed at his thigh.

He sidestepped and swung the Fang. The blade caught the Impaler mid-air, splitting it from belly to throat. Blood sprayed warm across his hand.

"Flame Lash."

The name echoed in his mind. Fire answered.

The blade in his hand erupted – not with a roar, but a whisper. Orange light crawled along the edge like liquid. The heat kissed his fingers but did not burn.

Another Impaler lunged. He slashed. The flaming blade sheared through fur and flesh. The creature squealed once, then fell in two smoking halves.

Three more took its place.

Lucien moved. Left, right, pivot. His boots crushed grass. His breath came fast. The Impalers were fast too – faster than rabbits had any right to be. They dodged, circled, feinted. One almost got past his guard. He twisted, felt a horn graze his ribs, and answered with a backhand slash that sent two of them tumbling.

But for every one he killed, two more appeared.

He didn’t notice when Seraphina stepped back. He didn’t see her leap into the air, spear in hand, watching from above. All he saw was fur and horn and red eyes.

Ten more. Fifteen.

His arm ached. His lungs burned. fгeewebnovёl.com

Too many, he thought. I can’t kill them all.

He needed a plan. A quick plan.

Then it came to him.

He stopped moving.

His feet planted on the grass. His knees locked. His spine straightened.

Ding!

[Host has entered the passive state: Iron Anchor Stance. You cannot be moved by forces less than ten times your body weight.]

An Impaler slammed into his side. Its horn scraped his ribs – but he did not stagger. Another jumped at his back. He felt the impact, but his feet stayed rooted.

Two more struck his legs. Nothing.

The Impalers squealed in confusion. They bit. They clawed. They threw themselves at him like waves against a stone. He bled in a dozen places. But he did not fall. He did not move.

Seraphina, hovering high above, raised an eyebrow. Interesting.

Lucien exhaled. His heart slowed. His mind cleared.

Now, he thought. Now I have time to think.

He closed his eyes and remembered Seraphina’s words from the carriage.

"Husband, if you want a quick way to learn how to battle, the best thing is to leave it to your body. Lock yourself from the world. Let your heart fuse with your mind. Follow where your heart goes. This might seem easy, but it takes a lot. That is all I can say."

"Let your heart fuse with your mind," Lucien muttered inwardly.

The squeals of the Impalers faded. The rustle of grass, the thud of their bodies against his rooted stance – gone. Even the sting of the cuts on his arms and chest became a distant whisper.

He pulled air deep into his lungs. Held it. Released it slow. His heartbeat, which had been a drum of panic, began to slow.

Inside, he felt two things. His heart – a warm, restless drum that wanted to run, to swing the blade, to survive. And his mind – cold, sharp, calculating how many Impalers remained, how much blood he had lost, how long he could hold.

They were not aligned. They were pulling against each other.

Instead of forcing logic, he let himself feel. The weight of the Fang in his hand. The heat still lingering in his palm from the flame lash. The memory of Seraphina’s grin – "Are you ready, husband?" – not as words, but as warmth in his chest.

The warmth spread. His thoughts, instead of racing, began to move with the feeling. Not "I need to kill them all" but "Where does the blade want to go?" Not "I must survive" but "What is the cleanest path?"

Something clicked.

It was not a sound. Not a light. Just a shift – like two rivers meeting and becoming one. His heart no longer panicked. His mind no longer froze. They moved together, smooth and silent, like the Fang itself.

Ding!

[Host has achieved a state of Heart-Mind Fusion. All combat actions now cost 20% less stamina. Reaction speed increased by 30%. The path to instinctive combat has opened.]

Lucien opened his eyes.

The Impalers were still there – a circle of red eyes and lowered horns. But they looked different now. Slower. Predictable.

He saw the gaps between them. The openings.

He did not think about attacking. He simply moved.

His feet lifted from the grass – not breaking the stance, but gliding. The first Impaler lunged. He stepped into its charge, turned his hip, and the Fang slid through its neck like water. No wasted motion. No thought. Just the blade, the heat, the path.

Two more leaped from the left. He ducked under the first, spun, and his elbow caught the second mid-air. It squealed. The Fang finished it before it hit the ground.

The Impalers hesitated. Their red eyes flickered.

Lucien did not wait.

He walked forward. Each step was a cut. Each cut was a step. The flaming blade left trails of orange in the air, like a painter brushing fire on a canvas of fur and blood.

Three became five. Five became ten. The grass grew wet.

And still he moved – calm, unhurried, as if the battle had become a dance he had always known.

Above, Seraphina lowered her spear. A small smile touched her lips.

There you are, she thought.