Natural disasters have long been a source of fear for humanity.
Even in modern times, with all our scientific advancements, the best we can do is try to minimize the damage caused by natural disasters. Overcoming them entirely remains an impossible dream.
Floods in summer, typhoons, blizzards in winter, and wildfires—these had practically become annual news events.
To Rena, it all seemed distant, like stories from faraway lands.
No matter how catastrophic the damage might be, it was hard to grasp the impact of natural disasters while living in the city.
Rena had even grown indifferent, wondering why everyone got so worked up about it.
That changed the day she visited Jeju Island and was hit directly by a typhoon.
Cars were flipped over, buildings swayed violently, and there was a deafening roar as the skies seemed to collapse.
Glancing out the window, Rena caught sight of a person being lifted into the air, swept away by the wind as if they were weightless.
That day, Rena truly understood the sheer terror of natural disasters.
Afterward, whenever news of related incidents came up, she no longer dismissed them. Instead, she took them seriously.
Before traveling, she meticulously checked the local weather forecast to ensure she wouldn’t encounter the same trouble again.
But none of this mattered after she found herself in the Great Forest.
On a day when it rained as if there was a hole in the sky, Rena ran frantically away from the water’s edge, panic-stricken.
This was her first relocation since arriving.
Fortunately, Rena had good instincts.
Whenever she felt something was “too intense” and moved away, disaster would inevitably strike in her wake.
Now, her instincts were talking to her again.
“Your survival instinct (Level max) is being activated!”
It was a clear warning—to stay clear of whatever was happening over there.
“A Dominator-class monster has appeared!”
“Warning! Engaging a Dominator-class monster presents extreme danger!”
“Preparation is strongly recommended before challenging it!”
“※Special advice: Seeking assistance from allies may potentially lower the difficulty of the fight…”
The status window flooded with urgent messages as if it had been waiting for this moment.
Each word was highlighted in blazing red, capturing her attention no matter where she looked.
The exact content was unclear, but the warning was evident enough.
Rena swiped the status window out of her view with a flick of her hand.
As if I didn’t already know how dangerous this was just by looking at it.
Rising above the collapsed ceiling on a roof beam, she got a clear view of the chaotic battlefield below.
Every one of those black dots soaring in the sky—that’s an Orc, right?
Their “flying” experience, though unprecedented, appeared to bring them little joy.
Most of them were in horrible shape, their bodies mangled, resembling meat grinders. They weren’t just gliding; they were already dead—free-falling corpses.
Rena’s skin prickled with goosebumps.
A chill ran down her spine, causing her whole body to shiver. This enemy was no ordinary monster, as the scene below resembled a natural disaster.
“Should I just run?”
It was said that a wise person doesn’t go near dangerous places.
In more refined terms, they practice “Wufang Bulin,” a phrase from the Analects of Confucius.
Since moving into the Great Forest, Rena had relied more on her instincts than reasoning.
Have I become an animal, living in the wild like this?
Criticisms like these fell on deaf ears.
It wasn’t that Rena was apathetic—it was simply a smart choice.
Knowledge from modern urban life didn’t translate well to survival in the wilderness.
Ancient sages warned her, and her instincts urged caution.
Her decision was swift.
“Let’s run.”
Who in their right mind would willingly jump into a disaster?
Sorry, Orcs.
That’s a lie. I’m not sorry at all.
It wasn’t her fault—bad luck seemed to follow them.
Baduki, who’d been lying in wait nearby, suddenly flopped onto his side as if in agreement with her decision. He wasn’t just some random messenger—he had seen the danger coming and had fled at the first hint of trouble, driven by his animal instincts.
There is only so much one can assess before taking action, but even that has limits.
No beast in their right mind would confront a monster clearly beyond their ability to handle—it was just common sense.
But wait… why do I feel uneasy?
Rena couldn’t shake an uncomfortable feeling, like needing to clean up after using the restroom but forgetting an important step.
That kind of foreboding usually came from past experiences.
She racked her memory and realized the feeling was similar to forgetting to turn off the gas stove at home.
Home, gas stove, home, home?
“Ahh!”
Rena bolted upright.
“That! That’s my home!”
She couldn’t just stand by and watch like a bystander.
The Orcs, in their chaotic retreat, were moving closer to her location.
And where was that leading them?
Straight toward Rena’s house.
“No!”
It was her newly established sweet home, a place brimming with cherished memories and a second hometown.
At the thought of it being destroyed, Rena felt a lump in her throat, knowing she’d cry uncontrollably if it came to that.
Of course, there was also the possibility that her house would remain untouched.
The Orcs’ retreat was chaotic and unpredictable, and since a Dominator-class monster was chasing them, there was a chance they would move far away from her home.
But relying on such slim chances was akin to prayer, and prayers often went unanswered in the wild.
Rena understood that one had to secure their future through their own strength and effort if they wished to survive.
So the answer was obvious.
“No one touches my house!”
She had to act personally.
Rena dashed forward, running without hesitation.
Kurrrrr!
Massive trees split and the ground cracked.
A creature twisted its body, reducing nearby beings to a puddle of blood with a single motion, while its powerful exhalation brought death.
Dominator-class monster, the monstrous snake Python, remained utterly unmoved by all this.
To Python, such destruction was as natural as breathing.
The title “Dominator-class monster” given by humans failed to fully capture the monster’s true threat.
They were living calamities—outliers among the monsters of the Great Forest.
Fortunately, they rarely acted without reason.
Humans praised this restraint, citing wisdom and consideration of consequences, but they were mistaken.
In the wild, no such human philosophies applied.
They simply didn’t feel inclined to act.
Harassing small creatures was only momentarily entertaining.
It wasted unnecessary energy, after all.
Engaging in a battle with a fellow Dominator-class monster wasn’t worth the risk.
It was akin to the behavior of human leaders.
Perhaps humans had grown more beastly.
Therefore, it wasn’t entirely surprising when Python got involved in the conflict between the Lizardmen and Orcs.
There was no supernatural rule restricting the actions of Dominator-class monsters—just their mood.
But their mood could change, and they could act accordingly.
This time, Python’s actions weren’t based on personal choice.
“Failed resistance to High-tier Mental Magic.”
“Abnormal condition occurred: Agitation.”
“The abnormal condition is ongoing.”
Something had triggered Python’s rage, sending it into an extreme emotional state.
Since being ensnared by a dark tendril from a magical circle, Python had felt irritable and angry.
Despite the disappearance of the tendrils, the feeling remained.
Python didn’t care.
Smashing everything would suffice.
The strength to do so was within its power.
The Orcs, however, unaware of Python’s abilities, blamed their leader and fled in fear.
Had their previous decision to invade the territory of the Silver-scaled Lizardmen been correct?
It was the fault of the Orcs for destroying Python’s scout.
Their complaints fell on deaf ears; their previous leader had been the first to be eaten.
According to Orc society’s laws and customs, the next leader would be the Warrior Chief.
Now also the Tribe Chief, the Orc carried the responsibility to guide the Kalbaram Orcs.
But even so, he couldn’t rally his tribe.
Despite his cries, the overwhelming fear gripping his tribe overpowered his commands.
Additionally, the bloodline of the former chief weighed him down.
“You are also one of the culprits responsible for summoning the monster.”
It was an unfair accusation.
Had they criticized his leadership and challenged his authority when he opposed the war initially?
The new chief, doing his best amidst unfavorable circumstances, tried to save as many of his tribesmen as possible.
But his sense of duty became his undoing.
While hesitating, Python closed the distance.
As the enormous tail loomed above, the Orc chief’s thoughts turned to someone familiar.
That frail-looking yet terrifying girl, Rena—perhaps she could have prevented this calamity.
Ironically, when the Dominator-class monster finally appeared, Rena wasn’t around.
Even if she had been, would it have made a difference?
Python’s presence demanded that much respect.
…But, was it really true?
The pressure she exerted, forcing submission by invading the mind, remained vividly etched in his memory.
Now, such comparisons were meaningless.
There would be no chance for him to witness a battle between Rena and Python.
The face of Rena, suddenly appearing in his mind, was just a hallucination… right? Could a hallucination be so vivid?
The Orc chief’s eyes widened in disbelief.
“Hey, you! Tribe chief! No, Warrior chief? Oh wait, you’re the Tribe Chief now? Congratulations! Now snap out of it and gather your tribe, and run as far as you can!”
It wasn’t a hallucination.
“If my home gets damaged, I won’t leave you alone.”
With a simple wave of her hand, the massive tail—Python’s attack—was effortlessly stopped.
