If I hadn't learned Werewolf Form before, relying solely on Poison Creeper, I would have thought twice, perhaps even choosing to bypass them. But now it was different. Level 8 Werewolf Form gave me enough confidence to easily slay the 6 Fallen. As for the Elite Level Fallen Shaman, I planned to leave it to Poison Creeper.
I checked my Mana; it was already full at 24 points. I had used Werewolf Form once when I first entered the Cave, consuming 15 points, but several hours had passed since then. Even at a rate of one point every ten minutes, it was enough to fully replenish my meager Mana.
I carefully simulated the entire battle process. After all, this was my first time challenging an Elite Level Boss. Although victory was almost certain, I still intended to be fully prepared.
"Attack," I commanded the Poison Creeper, sending it charging directly towards the Elite Fallen Shaman.
"Roar!"
At the same time, I let out a low growl, and my entire body underwent a drastic change. While my body continuously grew taller, a layer of fluffy white fur quickly sprouted all over me. My mouth and nose slowly protruded, finally forming a wolf's head. The Wooden Club in my hand instantly turned into a warm current, merging into my arm. I clenched my hands (paws), looking at the sharp claws emerging from the furry fingers, feeling stronger.
"Woo—"
I tried my best to suppress the involuntary sounds after shapeshifting. Although I couldn't help but let it escape from my throat in the end, the sound was very faint. At least for now, it seemed the Fallen opposite hadn't noticed.
Only 40 seconds, but it was enough...
During the shapeshifting process, I never stopped moving. After the shapeshifting was complete, I was already charging side by side with the Poison Creeper.
The Poison Creeper's silence, coupled with the thick layer of paw pads on my feet after shapeshifting, meant we were only discovered when we were almost within 5 meters of the group of Fallen.
The Elite Level Fallen Shaman let out a strange cry, and the 6 Fallen immediately charged towards me, waving the Blades in their hands. The Fallen Shaman, meanwhile, chanted rapidly, clearly preparing its signature move, Fireball.
But there was nothing I could do. I was still more than 5 meters away from it, and there were 6 Fallen in front of me. Without a Ranged Class to interrupt, this attack was unavoidable.
With a "whoosh," the Fallen Shaman waved its Ghost Head Staff, and a basketball-sized red Fireball, carrying raging waves of flame, charged towards me.
"Bang!" I had just reacted, only having time to instinctively raise an arm to block, when I was hit by the Fireball.
Don't think the Fireball's speed is as slow as in the game. Among Adventurers of the same Level, perhaps only Assassins with the highest Dexterity could occasionally dodge it. For a Druid like me who had never added Dexterity, being hit was inevitable, without any suspense. Dodging it would be a miracle.
"Hoo..."
I only felt the extended arm heat up, as if scalded by boiling water. That burning hot sensation shot straight to my nerve endings.
I waved my hand expressionlessly. The burning pain didn't make me show any weakness. Pain? I was already used to this kind of pain.
However, I was slightly surprised by the power of this Fireball. Elite was indeed Elite. Just this one Fireball had already taken away more than a tenth of my Life.
I engaged in close combat with the Fallen, while the Poison Creeper bypassed my battle and charged directly towards the Fallen Shaman.
Good, thankfully the Poison Creeper didn't misunderstand my intention and knew I was referring to the Fallen Shaman. If it had messed something up, this battle, which was a sure win, would have become troublesome.
The Fallen Shaman's Fireball Cooldown Time wasn't over yet. Seeing the Poison Creeper charging over, it wasn't in a hurry. Instead, it quickly drew a Dagger from its waist and charged towards me. However, its Speed was much slower than the other Fallen, and it started later, so before it had taken many steps, it was already entangled by the Poison Creeper.
Seeing the Fallen Shaman was within its Attack Range, the Poison Creeper unceremoniously burrowed out of the ground. It opened its chillingly terrifying mouth full of sharp teeth and bit the Fallen Shaman with lightning-like Speed, then immediately burrowed back into the ground. Only the Fallen Shaman was left, its whole body turning mottled green, standing there dumbfounded, bewildered by the surprise attack.
Fortunately, the Fallen Shaman was also battle-hardened. In just a moment, it recovered from the shock of being ambushed. Its left hand holding the Knife immediately stabbed towards the ground. Its Attack target had changed to the Poison Creeper.
As for my side, rather than a battle, it was more like an abuse. Fighting as a werewolf for the first time, I couldn't have imagined the effect would be so good. The Dexterity and Movement Speed increased by shapeshifting made my movements fast. Even the Fallen's rapid Blade attacks, I could occasionally dodge a few times.
As for my Attack, that goes without saying. After shapeshifting, I was over 2 meters tall. Compared to the Fallen's short stature, it was practically a performance of the story of the White Wolf Prince and the Seven Dwarves (counting the Fallen Shaman fighting the Poison Creeper nearby...). From a height advantage, plus the increased 17% Strength, whether gripping with both hands and smashing downwards forcefully or relying on the sharp claws, I could cause huge Damage to the enemy. The 24% increased Attack Speed meant that when I swung both claws, even the airflow was stirred up. Visible gusts of wind landed on the enemy with my claws, leaving streaks of blood.
"Roar," I leaped up, clenched both claws, raised them high above my head, and then following the momentum of my body falling, smashed fiercely down onto the head of the Fallen in front.
With a 'bang,' that Fallen was completely disoriented by my attack. I thought, if not for the Game Rules, its entire head would have been smashed into its neck by this blow. Even so, this attack of mine almost caused a stun effect on it. Seeing it staggering and unable to even stand steady, I quickly seized the opportunity to flash aside, dodged the Blade of the Fallen behind me, and my claws struck left and right, continuously targeting this Fallen's head without stopping.
Heh heh, only a fool wouldn't take advantage of a good opportunity.
Attack, attack again. I only swung 6 times and finished off that still staggering Fallen. Before, it would have taken at least 8 times. My heart rejoiced. Now my DPS was completely comparable to Doug and Geoff.
Of course, I was referring to DPS, not Attack Damage. After all, I was a Level 3 Druid, while they were Level 11 Barbarians. Even though I had Level 8 Werewolf Form, my Damage was still far less than theirs. I had seen their battles; they probably only needed 3 successful hits to kill a Fallen.
However, their Attack Speed was not as high as mine. For example, the time it took them to attack 4 times was enough for me to attack 6 times. And one of the Barbarian's characteristics is low Attack Rating; out of 4 attacks, there would often be one Miss, which was equivalent to only attacking 3 times. This way, the time it took them to kill a Fallen was almost the same as mine.
After a while, I took the opportunity to kill 2 more Fallen. Suddenly, a flash of white light appeared on the ground. I saw the first Fallen I had knocked down, whose brains were already spilling out, stand up again, vigorously waving its Blade at me. This was the first time I had seen a Fallen Shaman's Resurrection Spell.
But I didn't have time to dwell on this first time. Seeing the Fallen stand up again, I felt a surge of anger—this damned Fallen Shaman, couldn't even protect itself, and still had leisure to resurrect these small Fallen.
I took a moment to look at the battle on the other side. Sure enough, the Fallen Shaman, who had just barely cast a Resurrection Spell, was again tangled by the Poison Creeper, crying out loudly. It waved the Dagger in its hand wildly and occasionally cast a Fireball.
Looking at both sides' Life again, my heart skipped a beat. This Elite Level Fallen Shaman was indeed not easy to deal with. Looking at the color of its appearance, its Elite Level ability should be Enhanced Defense, which happened to be countered by the Poison Creeper, famous for its Poison Damage. But looking at the current situation, the Poison Creeper had already lost a third of its Health. However, the Shaman was pitiful, now only having a third of its Health left. Who was stronger or weaker was clear at a glance.
Actually, the best way to deal with this group of Fallen was for me and the Poison Creeper to first take out the Fallen Shaman in one go, then turn back to deal with these Mobs. But after shapeshifting into a werewolf, I was full of confidence and wanted to test the power of the Poison Creeper, so I let the Poison Creeper fight the Elite Fallen Shaman alone. Now that the goal was achieved, I naturally didn't have the mood to keep testing. Seeing that the Werewolf Form time was also almost up, I didn't delay any longer. I nimbly rolled on the ground, leaving behind the few Fallen attacking me, and quickly charged towards the Fallen Shaman.
It seems rolling is almost becoming my signature skill. How many times have I rolled now?
Under the fierce pincer attack from me and the Poison Creeper, the Fallen Shaman finally slowly fell down after letting out an unwilling Howl. As it fell, I clearly saw several items pop out. Looks like a Loot Explosion! My heart was filled with wild joy. Elite are indeed different, so generous with their drops. Looks like I'm saying goodbye to the era of running around naked.
At this moment, my Werewolf Form time also just ran out. A flash of light flashed, and I returned to my original appearance. The Wooden Club that had merged into my body also reformed in my hands.
Phew, thankfully it was an instant recovery. Unlike shapeshifting, which changes bit by bit. That tingling, itching, numb pain of bones slowly stretching made me shudder every time I thought of it.
The remaining 4 Fallen (originally 3, one was just resurrected by the Mage) were no threat. I couldn't even be bothered to look at them. I silently sent a command to the Poison Creeper in my mind, telling it to deal with these minor characters.
I impatiently squatted down. Not even caring about the disgusting sight of the Fallen Shaman's body, dismembered and broken by Poison, I reached out and fumbled around on the spot. The allure of Equipment was indeed infinite.
My hand fumbled under the Corpse. First, I grabbed a Bottle. My heart felt a wave of disappointment—a Potion?
(end of chapter)