Return of the Wind Mage: A Regression litrpg

Santi ran forward, crossing the distance quickly as he prepared to swing the heavy axe. The sharp crescent blade scythed through the air and the hag jumped to the side. It was a powerful monster and its physicality was equal if not greater than Santi’s own leveraged stats. Even with its primary skills and natural talents leaning toward magic.

Santi had to sway, bending at the waist to let the claws go high. He spun on one foot and lashed out with a single arm letting the blade’s weight swing him about. The axe sliced open a cut on its thigh and Santi was forced to throw himself to the side to avoid a quick snap kick.

Gaining his feet, Sant was forced into a series of jukes and dodges as the hag refused to relent even for a moment. Every ounce of his attention was needed to keep ahead of the ebony claws. Another arrow smacked into the hag with the sound of metal on flesh. It was enough of a distraction to allow Santi to finally strike back, the axe parted flesh as he chopped right below the lowest rib and rotated.

It wasn’t quite a disemboweling strike, but it was close as he was going to get in the circumstances. He was forced to leap back as the frustrated hag screamed and stomped on the ground where he had just been. Concrete shattered under the force of the strike. Santi swiped at the overextended leg, splitting the kneecap with a pure strike downward.

The hag screamed in pure agony as its leg buckled, allowing Santi to back up as more and more fighters started to close in. The Night Hag was primarily a magic user who was using their physical stats right now. They were going to be royally fucked if it got full control of its magical prowess.

“HIT IT!” a voice yelled.

Blows rained down on it, people darting in and out in a continuous press of blows. Hobgoblin spears and knives were the most effective, though some of the homemade weapons did take their pound of flesh. Painful wounds that had the hag screaming in rage but not debilitated.

Santi lurked behind the frontline waiting for his chance. It would have been better if Chloe was here with her more powerful direct combat skills. Or even Daniel with his Pierce. They could do it like this as long as they stayed too close for the hag to use its powerful magic. The death of a thousand cuts hadn’t worked against the troll-kin because of its powerful regeneration. The hag didn’t have that. Every wound bled and soon it was covered in its own black blood.

Desperation drove it, eyes wild in panic and pain it lashed out with its newfound strength. Orange-red flames bursting from its skin in a wave that enveloped the leading group, with little time for anyone to react. Santi triggered Gust trying to buy the people around him the time to survive.

His weak Initiate level spell couldn’t hold it back, the wave of fire washing over the frontliners. The weakened spell just ensured they suffered longer as the flames didn’t immediately incinerate them.

Santi was falling and rolling, trying to put out the flames as his shirt had caught on fire. Between the spell and the wall of humanity that had been in front of him, the wounds were mainly cosmetic and he managed to put the flame out. The people who had taken the flame blast stood and screamed, arms windmilling as they waited for death to come.

The hag was in bad shape, pale body covered in nasty burns, blisters already forming as it panted in exhaustion and pain. The handful of survivors were running, their nerve broken by the powerful burst of magics. It was understandable to flee after seeing the display of magical might, but it was a mistake. The monster had likely just drained its mana pool and was now also physically injured on top of it. Now was the time to finish it off.

Santi spared the still screaming people a glance, but he had seen and done worse. He ran around them with the borrowed axe ready to finish the fight. The hag met his eyes as he burst through the black smoke, its irritating smile finally gone.

“DIE!” Santi screamed as he put his all in on trying to turn his command into reality. The axe was a blur as he hemmed the hag in, each blow slicing through the burnt skin. It put the best resistance it could, warding the blows off by offering up its fried forearms. The bones were too hard to chop apart, each blocked blow simply taking another chunk of flesh.

Santi lowered his shoulder and slammed into the wounded hag, legs churning as he drove forward. The hag tilted and fell, Santi riding it down to the ground. He had to be careful not to cut himself with the axe and when they crashed to the ground he rose above it and started his gristly work. Each blow was thunderous, packing every ounce of strength he had in it as he hacked and chopped away. The minutes ticked by as he continued to work relentlessly.

Night Hag lvl. 26

Such an innocuous kill alert for the first Acolyte monster slain. Santi couldn’t believe it and was the one perched over its corpse after having hacking it apart like a tree. The screaming from the burning had stopped, their pain finally ending. Santi looked about, trying to take in the damage that had been done.

Nearly half their number lay dead.

Burnt.

Stabbed.

Clawed.

His stomach heaved and he had to fight the bile down. This was what he had been expecting when he realized he had come back. This and the War Chief. The carnage was beyond what anyone around could conceptualize. The strewn about body parts. Things that should be inside of a person that were no longer inside for them. The vacant glassy stare. The stench.

The alerts were ringing out in a constant barrage, but he ignored them. They needed Tank out here as soon as possible. There were just too many injured for them to continue. They had to finish off the hags in the hospital and dispel the nest. Maybe there’d still be supplies that they could salvage and use to keep some of the wounded alive.

“Chloe! Where’s Tank and the rest of the team?”

The goth girl was looking stunned as tears streamed silently down her face as she took in the destruction. She just managed to nod her head back toward the hospital and Santi was moving past her at his best speed. He didn’t need to go far as Tank, Hana, and Rayleigh were already coming down. Supported between them on a cot was an unconscious Daniel.

His chest was rising and falling but was covered in bloody bandages. They had been too aggressive with their attack. This had been the highest level team they could field and only two of them were on their feet and ready to keep going. The regressor and healer. There was no way they could tackle the goblin nest.

“Tank, there’s a lot more wounded out there. They need your help. But, first, is the nest cleared?”

“Yeah, I went with Hana and we helped Daniel as best we could. He had already killed five of them by himself.”

“Fucking warrior. Listen, we don’t have the strength to tackle the goblin nest today. We need to fort up and I think this is the best spot for it.”

“Santi. I went and looked at the fifth floor. We can’t have anyone up there. It’s…it’s evil.”

“Agreed. We stay on the ground floor. I just have to go and dispel the nest and we’ll be good.”

Santi left them and made his way laboriously up the flights of stairs. Monster nests could form for a lot of reasons, but they formed where mana grew dense. They hadn’t figured out if the system spawned the monsters or if mana spawned them or what. They appeared where mana was thick and they were quick to infest any local node as fast as possible. The hospital’s fifth floor had an overabundance of energy that the hag’s had corrupted to build their nest.

Even with their death’s the chill remained. In time the nest would repopulate. The corrupted nexus spawning more and more of the monsters until it reached its limit. At the moment it was exhausted and its guardians were dead. It had to be dispelled regardless of how badly those below needed help.

Walking the ruins of the fifth floor without the threat of immediate dissection was an experience he didn’t want to relive. The stench was pungent and he had to keep himself from gagging. Waste, dirt, blood, rotting meat, and the alchemical scent that had infused every nook and cranny of the floor was repugnant.

He studiously avoided looking at the pile of humanity. There were no survivors. His Air Current told him that much. The thin spherical weave of air detected no changes in pressure from someone breathing at least.

The black cauldron sat on the cracked floor like a pustule. Waves of malevolence wafted off of it, threatening his sanity. This was the nexus point. Whether it had been something else and then changed when the hags took it, he didn’t know. It could have been an instrument of healing or research and then was warped by the hags on magic when they were drawn here.

It didn’t really matter. He had to destroy it,