I Reincarnated as the World's Worst Healer-Chapter 102: Forest Thorns vs. Blood Thorns (5)

In the sky above the city, over the Melian family’s mansion, hundreds upon hundreds of fireflies floated, which from a distance looked like living stars to the townspeople who, for a few moments, could look up and admire the sight in awe.

"(Interesting... To summon that many spirits, this must be his last attempt... But I won’t be able to dodge all of that... I guess I don’t have many options either)" the assassin thought as he clenched his jaw, carefully measuring the situation closing in on him.

Without wasting time, Sifhon removed his mask, revealing beneath it an aged, pale face full of scars and missing one eye. His damaged, twisted skin made him look even more disturbing under the light of the explosions.

Without hesitation, Sifhon began injecting magic through his threads into every egg he still had left, moving his fingers with desperate precision, as if he was no longer fighting to win, but simply to avoid being erased.

"Coagulate and Degrade!" the assassin shouted as his body began to release a torrent of magic, and blood started flowing from his eyes due to the strain, marking his face with increasingly thick red lines.

{{Blood Magic: Crimson Weaver:}}{{Rotting Flesh Bombardment}}

Each egg, one by one, began to change color until turning red and radiating bloody magic intensely. The entire sphere seemed to sicken, as if the entire nest had been rotted from within by the assassin’s will.

The shell, once white, began to crack open, revealing a fleshy and deformed content. What was inside no longer resembled an embryo or a hatchling, but a living mass prepared only to explode and take something with it.

"Come on, you damn half-breed, I’ll devour your shitty insects!" the assassin said as he twisted his fingers connected to his magic threads, forcing each egg into becoming a bomb fueled by his own rage.

"You damn brat..." Lucian said, and with a sharp, precise motion, sent the hundreds of fireflies crashing down onto the battlefield at high speed, as if the entire sky had taken his side.

At that moment, the assassin extended his hands toward the sky, and all the eggs began to fly upward, leaving behind a trail of reddish magic. They rose like deformed projectiles, eager to collide with that rain of spirits before being consumed.

At that moment, across the entire city, people saw how hundreds of fireflies began to rain down from the sky, while hundreds of red trails shot upward, crashing into each other, painting across the night a collision both beautiful and horrifying.

With each impact, explosions were generated—small at first, then increasingly numerous—lighting up rooftops, walls, and nearby streets with flashes of green, red, and smoke spreading in every direction.

However, Sifhon, without wasting time, continued sending eggs into the sky with one hand, while with the other he began controlling the massive mother spider, sending it to kill Lucian, splitting his attention with sick precision.

The elf responded by sending Shin, the tree-man he had summoned, pointing at the creature with a short whistle. The summon didn’t hesitate for a second and ran to intercept that mass of legs and fangs.

The arachnid’s jaws collided with the thorn-covered arm of the living oak; both began attacking each other brutally, defending their masters. Wood, fangs, silk, and thorns mixed in a violent clash in the middle of the ruined garden. 𝘧𝓇ℯℯ𝑤ℯ𝘣𝓃ℴ𝓋𝑒𝑙.𝑐𝘰𝑚

At that moment, the small spiders that were still alive launched themselves at Shin, trying to overwhelm him with their dissolving silk, but blow after blow, they were crushed, bursting under the oak fists before they could close the gap.

However, above their heads, the battle of precision and quantity began to tilt out of balance, as from among the explosions, some spirits that had survived began to fall, descending crooked but still alive enough to burn something.

The assassin, seeing he was going to lose by sheer projectile count, decided to make the greatest sacrifice he still had left. His breathing grew heavier, and for the first time his posture revealed true desperation.

"I won’t surrender... I won’t lose to some fucking elf who looks down on me like I’m some sewer rat!" the assassin shouted furiously as spirits fell from the sky at high speed across different parts of the garden.

Grabbing his knife, Sifhon, with a guttural scream, cut off his own arm. Blood burst from the open wound, soaking his clothes and the grass, yet he remained standing through sheer rage.

"Sacrifice!" the assassin shouted as his blood began to gush from his wound, traveling through the air toward the few eggs he still had left to send into battle, feeding them as if they were part of his own body.

{{Blood Magic: Lamb’s Sacrifice}}{{Rotting Flesh Bombardment x3}}

"I won’t die without at least taking that stupid arrogant smile with me!" Sifhon charged toward the green-haired elf with his dagger, while some spirits managed to reach the ground, burning the assassin’s skin upon contact.

Meanwhile, his eggs, infused with his own blood, began to grow rapidly until violently splitting, generating dozens of new flesh bombs that started flying into the sky to intercept the spirits before they could descend further.

Lucian, seeing his opponent’s determination, couldn’t help but form a small, rare smile. It had been decades since he had felt that harsh emotion of fighting someone who was also giving everything without holding back.

At that moment, Lucian, wielding sharp thorns the size of stakes, charged toward his enemy. As he ran, he stepped over the reddish silk that burned his skin on contact, yet he didn’t slow down for a second.

Far from the pain of overexerting their bodies, far from the pain of being burned by stray spirits or by silk as corrosive as stomach acid, both rivals only wished to give everything in this battle that already smelled like an ending.

Each tried to stab the other while, from time to time, a spirit would fall attempting to kill the assassin, who dodged these attacks with precision, moving through fire, silk, and blood like a cornered, enraged animal.

Lucian, on the other hand, despite the pain of the acidic burns, began to gain ground with his speed, until suddenly a fleshy egg fell from the sky and exploded near him, forcing him to lose his balance.

When the elf hit the ground, his face briefly touched the silk below, but instead of reacting to the intense pain, Lucian only thought to look at the sky and see how his spirits were losing ground against the flesh bombs.

So much so that some began falling toward him, like sick stars crossing the air. The image made it clear that if he stayed down for even one more second, that rain would fall directly onto him and it would all end there.

However, instead of seeking cover, the elf leapt toward the assassin with a focused gaze. He didn’t defend himself, didn’t look for cover or time; he simply charged forward again, as if he had already accepted everything that hurt.

Explosions and spirits began falling randomly while summons and masters clashed in the garden in a delicate balance, dodging every attack from above and moving across the battlefield with no real margin for error.

"You’ll die here, you fucking elf! You’ll die by the hand of a human, of a slave! One who will never return to the chains of your people!" the assassin shouted in fury as a manic laugh began to escape him.

Lucian, hearing his enemy’s words, didn’t know what to say, didn’t know what to feel, because he himself knew the atrocities of his own people. Even so, hearing that in the middle of that fight hit him harder than expected.

But seeing the wounded and deformed face of his enemy was like seeing the reflection of his own heritage, one despised by all humanity. It wasn’t an insult thrown into the air, but the living weight of a history that still chased him.

"...I’m sorry..." the green-haired elf managed to say in a regretful tone, enduring the pain of the burns on his legs and the sting left by every red thread that brushed against him.

For a moment, the assassin stopped; he hadn’t expected those words, hadn’t expected that look of compassion. But far from forgiveness, his heart only filled with more hatred, and his breathing became even more violent.

"DON’T YOU DARE LOOK AT ME LIKE THAT!" The assassin, losing blood with every passing second, fell into suicidal rage. The dagger moved again with blind fury, no longer seeking to win, but to sink into Lucian even if it killed him as well.

The lingering spirits began crashing into the man’s body, who, out of control, only sought to kill Lucian and stopped dodging the small fireflies. Green fire began to ignite across his clothes and skin.

Little by little, his clothes caught fire, but the assassin didn’t care. He kept advancing through the flames, jaw clenched and dagger trembling in an increasingly weak hand.

Lucian, horrified by the sight, could barely defend himself, taking cut after cut from the assassin’s dagger. Every attempt to stop him left him more wounded, more exhausted, and less capable of stopping that madness.

"Stop! It doesn’t have to end like this!... Please! I was imprisoned too, I also ended up alone because of those bastards... STOP!" Lucian shouted desperately, no longer fighting only with his body, but also with his guilt.

"You’re just another one of them... You don’t know what loneliness is... You..." the assassin said as the flames began consuming him, turning his silhouette into something trembling and almost unreal amid the smoke and blood.

"You... are just like them... You’ll always be one of them..." Sifhon, exhausted and engulfed in green flames, collapsed to the ground, still clinging to that hatred until the very last moment his body could hold on.

"...Heartless filthy elf..." were the assassin’s final words, his hate-filled gaze never leaving Lucian for even a second, even as life slipped away from him.

The elf, exhausted and stunned by the scene, finally dropped to his knees. It wasn’t just physical exhaustion, but the weight of everything he had heard, seen, and allowed up to that moment.

Instantly, the explosions in the sky ceased, the fireflies began to disappear, and the silk covering the garden with its acidic presence dissolved into nothing, turning into magical particles in the air along with the great spider.

"Luci! Are you okay? Easy... it’s over now," Shin said as he approached the elf. His oak body couldn’t transmit warmth, but even so, he placed his wooden hand on his old friend’s shoulder while Lucian only lowered his gaze—not out of exhaustion, but out of shame.