'I Reincarnated But Have No System? You Must Be Kidding Me!'-Chapter 35: Thrashtalk Mode: On

The small vial shimmered with a sparkling red glow, its contents swirling like a bottled storm. Within the liquid, flecks of green and purple herbs drifted lazily, each piece holding concentrated mana and alchemical potency. Though it only held about 50 ml, it might as well have been nitroglycerin for how dangerous it looked in Auren’s hand.

Auren’s grip tightened on the tiny bottle, his fingers trembling slightly—not from fear, but anticipation.

’Master! Are you sure about that!? Is this really the best time to use the Red Bull!?’ Bigbird’s voice echoed in his mind, laced with genuine worry.

After all, what Auren was holding wasn’t an ordinary potion. It was a homemade booster—a concoction so unstable it made most alchemists weep in horror. Based loosely on the idea of Earth’s energy drinks, the Red Bull was Auren’s most volatile invention to date. It worked like an arcane shot of adrenaline, caffeine, steroids, and reckless abandon... in one sip.

Once ingested, it sharpened the mind, supercharged critical thinking, and temporarily doubled his physical stats. On top of that, the herbs and mana crystals infused in the mixture dramatically boosted his mana flow, stamina, and health regeneration. It was the equivalent of strapping lightning to your nervous system and praying your heart didn’t explode.

For ten minutes, Auren would be an unstoppable blur of action.

But then came the price.

The crash afterward would leave him paralyzed for another ten minutes—sluggish, nauseated, and hallucinating like a drunken dwarf in a mushroom forest. The last time he’d tested it, he’d punched a rock thinking it was a troll... and lost so bad with broken fingers.

Still, the choice was simple. Use it, or die.

’I have no choice,’ Auren answered mentally, already raising to drink it. ’Desperate times call for desperate potions! Or would you rather I wait until I’m a corpse to use it?’

Bigbird had no retort this time.

Seeing him pull out the violently glowing liquid, Jairah gaped. "Auren, I really don’t think now is the best time for a drink!"

But before Auren could raise the bottle to his lips, his instincts screamed.

Danger.

He twisted to the side just in time—a flash of metal cutting past him. A dagger, dark and narrow, shot straight toward his heart. A moment later, it struck the bottle mid-motion.

CRACK!

The Red Bull shattered in midair, spilling its contents in a steaming hiss across the forest floor. The mana-infused herbs burned through the dirt like acid, vaporizing in seconds.

"What a waste!" Auren growled, his teeth clenched.

He looked up, eyes narrowed—and saw him.

Rhiki.

"Not on my watch kid." Rhiki said with a wide grin.

The leader of the Velka’Dar tribe stood atop a thick tree branch, now fully visible. His illusion had dropped just long enough to reveal his smirking face. A flick of his fingers, and the dagger snapped back into his hand as if tethered by an invisible cord. It was a special technique the elven people have mastered.

Auren’s eyes flared. That dagger almost pierced my heart. And it killed my only Red Bull...

Then Kardel’s voice boomed from across the clearing.

"What do you think you’re doing!? I thought I was going to finish him. Why mess with my attack?"

From his perch atop a high rock, still mounted on his magical deer, Kardel looked visibly annoyed. His crystal staff pulsed with the ongoing effort of maintaining the [Glimmercuts] spell.

Rhiki shrugged nonchalantly and lounged along the thick branch like it was a cushioned sofa. One arm propped up his head lazily, while the other twirled his obsidian dagger between his fingers with practiced grace—relaxed, playful, and utterly dangerous.

"I was getting bored," he said with a yawn, eyes half-lidded. "You were savoring the moment too much. I merely sipped a drop, that’s all. But don’t forget—I get dibs on his head."

Kardel’s eye twitched in visible irritation.

"Then may I suggest," he snapped, nostrils flaring like a cornered beast, "that you stop interfering and let me do my job?"

He sneered, raising his chin with pride. "That’s the problem with you Velka’Dar scum—no respect, no discipline, and absolutely no self-control. You act like savages. You lack class, unlike us Sylvan’thir."

Rhiki’s grin sharpened like a blade unsheathed in moonlight.

"Oh? Big words from a man who smells like burnt pinecones and old spell ink." He sniffed the air mockingly. "How nostalgic."

"You should at least learn to chew on scented leaves," Kardel snapped, visibly disgusted. "I can smell you from a thousand kilometers away, and that’s being generous."

To that, Rhiki simply chuckled.

"What can I say? I like how I smell. Blood and dirt. It’s honest. Raw. Real. Unlike you perfumed spell-clowns who smell like overcooked elfwine and wet bark."

Kardel scoffed. "See? That’s the problem. You think filth is something to be proud of. Did you know even your own people call you ’Rhiki the Shitty Hunter’?"

Rhiki’s brows rose, more amused than offended. "Oh, they say that behind my back? I’m flattered they’re still alive."

"And you act so proud," Rhiki continued, his voice growing colder, "for someone who can’t even walk properly. If it weren’t for that oversized slave beast you ride, you’d collapse after five branch-lengths—gasping like a dying boarhog."

The magical deer beneath Kardel shifted restlessly as he leaned forward, his grin stretching into something darker, more venomous. "Says the charcoal elf who pissed and shit himself the first time he met the White Fang."

Back in the middle of their escalating banter, Auren and Jairah stood frozen in disbelief—watching the verbal duel unfold like two drunk uncles at a divine tribunal.

"Are they seriously trash-talking each other right now?" Jairah whispered, half in awe, half in horror.

Auren nodded slowly, golden eyes blinking.

"Yep. And weirdly... I think this is the most peaceful moment we’ve had all day."

"Are... are they seriously arguing right now?" Jairah blinked.

"Looks like it," Auren said.

Both of them could barely keep up with the absurdity. Their would-be killers were too busy bickering to mind them—an opportunity they couldn’t afford to waste. Or is it just another part of their trap?

Anyway, if they are looking for a chance to escape, now is a good time!

But just as they prepared to jump away from the tightening circle of blades, the whirring weapons froze mid-spin.

TING!

A resounding clang echoed across the clearing.

Both Auren and Jairah looked towards the sound —eyes wide.

Rhiki had vanished from the branch. In the next instant, he was already in front of Kardel, dagger in hand, having just stabbed into the air shield surrounding the Sylvan’thir leader. The shield had barely held, glowing with reactive energy thanks to the deer’s protective enchantments.

Kardel recoiled slightly, raising his staff in alarm.

Auren and Jairah exchanged looks. Both of them came to the same realization at the same time.

They’re fighting each other!

For a heartbeat, the world seemed to slow.

This... was truly their chance!

Auren’s golden eyes glowed with renewed purpose. "Jairah," he whispered, "we’re running. Now."

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