The West Meadow was less of a battlefield and more of a picnic spot. Balls of blue, translucent jelly bounced aimlessly through the tall grass, making squelching noises.
"Blue Slimes," Elara explained, keeping her hand on her sword hilt. "Physical attacks are ineffective unless you hit the core in the center. Magic is preferred, but they are weak."
Alferd cracked his knuckles. "Magic. Perfect. I haven't tested my mana yet."
He focused on a group of three slimes clustered together. He raised his hand, and suddenly, words that weren't English flowed into his mind. They felt ancient, melodic, and powerful.
[Skill Activated: Elven High Tongue (Auto-Translation)]
Alferd took a deep breath, his voice dropping an octave as he spoke the incantation.
"Naur dan i ngaurhoth, togo hon beleg!"
Elara gasped. "That... that is High Elvish! How do you know the language of the Ancients?"
Alferd didn't answer. He snapped his fingers.
He intended to cast a small Firebolt. Just a little spark to roast the jelly.
Instead, a lance of white-hot plasma, thick as a tree trunk, erupted from his fingertip. It screamed through the air, evaporating the moisture in the meadow instantly.
FWOOM.
The beam engulfed the three slimes—and the hill behind them—and continued into the sky, parting the clouds for miles.
When the steam cleared, there was nothing left. No grass, no dirt, and definitely no slimes. Just a scorched trench of glass.
"Did I get them?" Alferd asked, peering into the smoking ditch.
Elara walked to the edge, her face pale. "You... certainly got them."
Alferd hopped down to collect his loot. He knew monsters dropped 'cores'—little magical stones that adventurers sold for money. He kicked around the blackened earth.
Nothing.
"Where are the drops?" Alferd frowned.
"Sir Alferd," Elara said, pinching the bridge of her nose. "You incinerated them. The cores. The loot. The proof of the kill. They were vaporized at roughly four thousand degrees."
Alferd froze. "So... I get zero silver coins?"
"Zero," Elara confirmed. "You effectively just erased money from existence."
Alferd sighed, looking at his smoking finger. "Note to self: Use English for small mobs. Elvish is for deleting geography."
"There is one more slime over there," Elara pointed to a terrified blue blob shaking behind a rock. "Maybe... just poke it with a stick this time?"
Alferd picked up a twig. "Yeah. Good plan."