Halfway strike—a somewhat shameless tactic, but undeniably effective.
Since Allen's side clearly outnumbered the enemy, delivering a combo before the opponent could fully react was the perfect choice. After all, this wasn't a game; the boss didn't have invincibility frames or absurd abilities to avoid damage. What could be hit, would be hit.
Whether the Orochi had eight heads or nine—still a matter of debate—wasn't Allen's concern. Practice was the only test of truth; counting could wait until after the death blow. After all, only a dead Orochi was a good Orochi.
Allen thought this and acted accordingly. As the vines on the ground began to coil, Valor's swarm of crows descended upon the fourth head of Orochi that had just appeared. Countless dark-purple crows danced wildly, accompanied by fresh scales and blood torn from the snake. A pained scream rang out from the four extended heads.
When the last crow, conjured from magical energy, plunged into the ripped flesh, Valor reappeared and immediately veered toward Allen—its previous attack had exhausted much of its strength; it needed a moment to recuperate.
As Valor withdrew, the blood-soaked flesh finally fell to the ground, drenching the land and Allen's summoned plants. Fortunately, there was no corrosive hissing or foul stench; at least these two problems wouldn't interfere with the battle ahead.
And if Allen didn't worry, someone else had to—naturally, the fox. The already rapidly growing vines surged through the blood, writhing like snakes before weaving into a giant, incredibly sturdy net. Once fully charged with energy, it shot forward toward Orochi.
Although massive, Allen's net was still tiny compared to Orochi's enormous size—this was just the portion that was exposed.
Still, the net covered the head Valor had severely wounded. Several nearby vines twisted together, forming unbreakable strands that pulled the entire net downward. The vines touching the wound took on a pale red hue, with tiny rootlets extending into the injury, clearly feeding on Orochi's flesh and blood to grow stronger.
At that moment, a massive fireball erupted from another head, striking the restrained vines. The sound of flesh sizzling filled Allen and the fox's ears, accompanied by the scent of roasting meat—Orochi was furious, even cooking itself in anger.
But it didn't matter. Allen had summoned these vines not as kindling.
The fire, though powerful, was not the legendary Amaterasu. The vine surfaces scorched slightly, but nourished by blood, they grew even more vigorous. More vines burst from the wound, coiling tightly around the neck of the trapped head and connecting firmly to the ground.
The immense pain caused the massive beast to thrash its remaining heads, even dislodging a few heads still trapped underground. This came at a cost: some of the forcibly pulled heads lost scales or bore deep gashes.
Shaking alone wouldn't solve anything. The crimson vines thickened, some extending toward the other heads—but before they could reach them, the other Orochi heads unleashed a furious barrage, nearly foiling Allen's plan.
======
Amidst the chaos, the fox finally snapped out of her fear-induced stupor. She abandoned the idea of fleeing with this overconfident fool—there might even be a chance to win.
She swung her staff, releasing a cerulean flame that flowed like liquid. Condensing into a grapefruit-sized orb, she gently tossed it to the ground—precisely where she had intended.
Orochi was said to have eight heads and eight tails—or some claimed nine heads and eight tails—but regardless, there was a critical connection point. The fox had hit it.
This point is commonly referred to as the waist—though snakes may not technically have waists, it was undeniably a vital weak spot. As the fireball landed, one head drooped instantly. Frost-like breath escaped its snout, and the fox's flame was extinguished effortlessly. Almost all heads locked onto her, clearly bearing a grudge.
This was bad news. If Allen couldn't defeat Orochi, the fox would be relentlessly targeted during their escape.
Perhaps due to the fox's intervention, Orochi realized one thing: one of its heads could not be saved.
Without warning, after seven other heads glared with pain-filled hatred, Allen sensed the trapped head sag. Then—BOOM!
Blood mist sprayed everywhere. Before it hit the ground, the head was severed, leaving only half the neck. The vines Allen had entwined around it vanished instantly. He spat blood, his face pale from the backlash.
The vines' success wasn't random—it was the combined effect of vampire power and Zehra's magic. Carefully controlling them exposed Allen to backlash. The fox flinched, but Allen waved his wand; several bright lights flashed, and his pale complexion returned to normal.
"No worries, just a minor injury—healed already. And the good news? Our mission has a solid start." Allen said casually, dodging Orochi's attacks with the fox, waiting for the frenzy caused by the lost head to subside.
Yes. The task was simple: one head down, a few more to go.