An Aura Farmer's Guide to Another World-Chapter 21: First Encounter

"On the count of three, we move," Evelyn murmured, her hold on the kusarigama firm.

One end of the weapon featured a curved sickle that glimmered under the starlight, while the other end was equipped with a weighted iron ball connected by a chain.

I tightened my grip on the katana. Evelyn stood resolute, her eyes locked on the black snow dune ahead.

'Gulp Gulp...'

I swallowed hard, my gaze flickering to the oasis and the lone date tree behind us. My fingers trembled against the hilt of my sword, gripping it with both hands as unease crept through me.

"Do you think that sound came from a monster or a human?" My voice rang out louder than I had meant, betraying the unease tightening in my chest.

With slow, deliberate movement, Evelyn hoisted the sickle end of her kusarigama onto her right shoulder, exuding an unsettling calm.

Her posture shifted—not tense, not wary, but poised as if she were about to glide across a ballroom floor rather than a battlefield.

"We can ask them if you want to?"

My eyes widened to their absolute limit as I darted a glance at Evelyn, a cold bead of sweat tracing a slow path down my neck.

"Please don't do anything stupid."

Evelyn's elongated ears twitched as she thoughtfully rubbed her chin and tilted her head.

"Hmm... fighting them head-on sounds interesting."

Her hand moved with practiced ease, setting the chain attached to the Kusarigama into motion. The iron ball end blurred as it spun, its velocity so intense that the chain resembled the furious rotation of a speeding truck tire.

"Liam, do you ever think about how good it feels to be hit just right?" She glanced at me.

"Excuse me?" My eyes widened as I snapped my head toward her. Sweat trickled down my neck. "You—You fantasize about getting hit?"

"Not just hit, hit well," she corrected, flashing me a mischievous glance.

"You know, some people prefer not to be hit for fun," I muttered.

Evelyn giggled. "Cowards."

I inhaled sharply, mentally preparing for the incoming disaster.

"Just please focus on not dying," I begged.

She twirled the chain of her kusarigama once more, letting it snap through the air with a sharp metallic whip.

"Dying?" she echoed, grinning as she stepped forward. "Come on, Liam. Where's the fun in that?"

Before I could react, she flicked her wrist, sending the weighted iron ball flying toward the dune with deadly precision. It crashed against the sand, sinking deep into the shifting black grains.

Silence. Then—

A sharp, startled breath.

I stared at the dune, my pulse spiking. Suddenly, two individuals emerged from the dune.

"I told you sneaking was a bad idea," a female death-row inmate clad in the same green prisoner uniform as us, spoke.

She held a double-edged sword, her hair neatly tied in a ponytail.

"It does not hurt to exercise caution," her partner responded.

He aimed his self-loading crossbow, its magazine stacked with 30 arrows, and spat out sand-laced saliva, his eyes cold and steady.

"In the desert, those who hoard water are the villains. Even after I kill you, God will have mercy on my soul."

Before we could react, he fired two arrows, both slicing through the air with deadly precision—each one locked onto our torsos.

Evelyn didn't flinch. Instead of deflecting the arrow with her kusarigama, she thrust her palm forward, letting the projectile bury itself into her flesh.

Unlike Evelyn, I sidestepped, barely escaping the arrow's path. My reaction was unnaturally sharp, as if my Ocean Eyes had magnified my vision tenfold.

"Don't disappoint me," Evelyn muttered as she gripped the arrow lodged in her palm. With a brutal yank, she tore it free, the motion smooth yet ruthless, like ripping a spiked thorn from dense cotton.

"If you're administering the Lord's punishment on us for hoarding the oasis, then you are not allowed to show mercy; hit us with all you've got."

The man gripping the automatic crossbow narrowed his eyes and clenched his jaw.

The crossbow was made of two tubes joined together like a gun, its sleek metal frame was reinforced with gears and a compact firing mechanism, ready to unleash a barrage of bolts in rapid succession.

"My apologies," the man said, pressing his right hand to his chest. He leaned forward slightly as if paying respect to a noble.

"Did I forget to mention?" His voice dripped with mockery as his grin widened. "That my arrows are laced with poison."

He looked at Evelyn with a disdainful glare, as if she were no more than a mere animal.

He shifted his stance, resting the crossbow over his shoulder. "Just one drop of my poison can kill thirty elephants."

He paused, directing his gaze to Evelyn's blood-soaked palm. "By now, the poison has already taken effect. It causes no pain, spreading quietly as it binds to your cells. At any moment, your veins will betray you, rendering you a puppet under my control, a mere doll subject to my will."

"Oh? And here I was expecting something more exciting." Evelyn licked the blood leaking from her injured palm.

She raised her blood-stained hand, twisting it under the starlight to gaze at every detail of the injury.

Her hand mended itself, the wounds sealing as if time had reversed. Once fully healed, she swung it sideways, sending the lingering blood flying.

"I'm sorry things turned out this way," Evelyn said gently, her tone light, almost comforting, like a maid soothing a dissatisfied customer.

"I'm immune to poison. Looks like you've got the worst possible match-up."

The female inmate beside him tugged at his shirt, leaning in to whisper something.

Without delay, he pivoted and sprinted away in a wide arc, putting as much distance between us as possible.

'Whoosh!'

An arrow whizzed past mere inches from my nose, prompting me to step back in alarm, nearly losing my balance.

Determined not to remain a stationary target, I maneuvered in a curved trajectory toward the source of the incoming arrows, aiming to close the gap between us.

Black snow kicked up with every frantic step as I tore across the dunes.

Evelyn and the female inmate stood across the oasis, their silhouettes distinct against the moonlit scenery.

But my focus was locked on the man ahead, moving fast and cutting an arc along the dune. His crossbow was raised, steady in his grip, and his eyes locked on me.

I ascended the dune running like a snake, closing the gap to just three meters.

He discharged another shot aimed at my chest, and before I could react, a second arrow was directed at my left thigh.

Instinct took over, and I jumped forward, but to my shock, I soared four meters into the night sky, higher than I ever thought possible.

'Could this be the result of my evolution, the stamina granted by becoming the vessel of the Demon God?'

'Whoosh!'

The man released another arrow, targeting my torso with precision and leaving me no chance to evade.

I drew a slow breath, steadied myself, and chose to improvise, relying on a technique I'd seen Lucy use during our battle against the wolves in the Forest of Diva.

My body twisted mid-air as I narrowly deflected the incoming arrow, my katana catching it just in time to redirect its path.

At the same moment, I extended my index finger toward the man, my body was spinning through the night sky like a Ferris wheel.

"Blood Art Technique: Negative Touch," I yelled.

A surge of gravitational wave reverberated through my veins, culminating at the tip of my finger. My oceanic eyes were fixed on the inmate's head, and I unleashed the blast, expending 10% of my mana.

The wave traveled through the air unseen and unexpected by the inmate. The inmate never saw it coming. It slammed into his skull and blasted it away from his neck like he was hit with a shotgun.

"Smack!"

My body fell and collided with the snow dune. Fortunately, the snow grains served as a cushion to break my fall. They felt warm, the opposite of the coldness attached to white snow.

At a distance below, Evelyn stood near the oasis. From my vantage point, she looked impossibly calm.

She was having a Mexican standoff with the female inmate.

The female inmate gripped the hilt of her sword firmly, directing the blade toward Evelyn.

With only one and a half meters separating them, Evelyn held her Kusarigama; the sickle end was placed in her left hand, and the bottom end of the weapon rested in her right.

She swung the weighted iron ball in slow, deliberate circles with her left hand, the chain spun through the air like a serpent coiling for a strike.

The female inmate lunged, her blade carving a flawless arc through the air. The strike aimed to cleave Evelyn in two, a seamless motion fueled by lethal intent.

Evelyn sidestepped, and the blade missed her by inches. In one fluid motion, she swung the chain, its weighted end looped through the air before locking around the inmate's sword with precise control.

The iron ball whipped around the sword's hilt, coiling tightly. Evelyn yanked the chain, but rather than let her weapon be ripped away, the female inmate closed the distance, stepping in fast. With a swift motion, she slashed, her blade cutting toward Evelyn's neck.

Evelyn swiftly lifted the sickle end of the Kusarigama, employing its blade to deflect the incoming strike.

Evelyn's sickle consisted of an iron rod forming the handle and a curved blade attached to one end.

She intercepted the slash at the intersection where the iron rod met the blade, using the angled point of her weapon to absorb the force. She pushed the sword back, driving it against the female inmate's neck and pinning her in place.

Evelyn seized the sword's hilt and used the inmate's neck as a pivot to execute a seamless maneuver to position herself behind, disarming the inmate and securing her stance within the inmate's blind spot.

At that moment, Evelyn stood behind the female inmate, her grip firm on the stolen sword. With a swift, calculated motion, she executed a clean cut, severing the inmate's head. It spun across the ground like a football, leaving behind only silence.

She lifted her gaze to me—gone was her usual playfulness. Instead, her eyes were void of her usual playful expressions and now replaced with a cold glare.

"We move to the next sector immediately," she said, her voice steady. "We can't afford to remain in the 3rd sector."