The System Sent Me to Breed an All-Female Amazon Tribe-Chapter 212: Can I Literally Not Hurt That Woman? She’s Not the Eldest Born for Nothing
I used magic to expand the reach and explosive quality by thousands, hence why she’d assume it was a spell doing it.
"Oh..." She seemed both relieved and slightly disappointed, "I almost started to think you were truly some type of variant just now. But still, that was an impressive feat, Benjamin. You are a remarkable mage."
"Ahaha, thanks."
When should I tell her that Lotus put me through the wringer until all my spells were wordless and without incantations (even though hers weren’t)?
I bet she’d start looking at me differently. I don’t want them to think I’m some god figure and start becoming distant.
But looking back at what was supposed to be nothing more than a roasted woman lying in a smoking crater, I instead saw the Eldest Born standing completely unharmed, her tall, imposing silhouette framed against the scorched plain.
She was calmly watching me with those unnerving golden pupils that seemed to pierce straight through the distance between us.
Her right hand, now blackened and charred down to the bone in places, was still outstretched exactly where my fireball had struck.
Charred flesh peeled away in thin wisps of smoke, yet she showed no sign of pain; she neither groaned, nor grimaced.
And around her feet, a towering ring of heavy, roaring flames burned in a perfect circle, the fire so intense that the air above it warped and shimmered like heat rising from sun-baked asphalt.
The flames licked upward in hungry tongues of orange and violet, casting flickering shadows across her emotionless features.
She twisted her wrist with deliberate slowness, her fingers curling inward until her hand clenched into a tight fist.
The moment her grip tightened, the encircling inferno responded as though it were an extension of her body.
The flames began to swirl violently, spiraling inward in a tightening vortex, colors bleeding from bright orange into deep crimson and then into an almost liquid black at the center.
One by one, the towering pillars of fire bent toward her clenched hand like water being drawn down a drain.
They collapsed inward with a low, roaring whoosh, sucked completely into her palm until not even a spark remained floating in the air.
The blackened skin of her hand cracked audibly, fresh grey flesh bubbling up beneath the char, knitting itself back together in seconds.
Veins of dull gold pulsed beneath the regenerating tissue as her aura spiked—menacing, sudden, and oppressive—like a pressure wave rolling outward across the battlefield.
Mhm. Terrible idea.
It was an absolutely terrible idea to hit her with magic at all.
She hadn’t just survived it; she had devoured the attack whole and come out noticeably stronger with her presence heavier, and the air around her thicker with the stolen power.
But wait... let’s try it without the magic.
I focused again, this time pulling together a much smaller fireball—barely bigger than my fist—for pure speed and kinetic force rather than raw destructive scale.
I compressed the pure fire attribute down tight, with no extra magical expansion and spell-like amplification, but just dense, screaming-hot flame wrapped in momentum.
And with a sharp mental push, I launched it forward.
The shot cracked out with a deafening blast that echoed across the plain like a cannon firing.
The fireball streaked low and fast, a blazing white-orange comet trailing a thin tail of superheated air.
It tore unrelentingly through the battlefield... searing large, smoking holes straight through any Children unfortunate enough to be in its path.
Grey, bubbling bodies parted like wet paper; chunks of flesh vaporized mid-stride, black ichor flash-boiling into hissing steam that drifted upward in angry plumes.
The projectile didn’t slow and didn’t waver; it didn’t lose an ounce of velocity as it closed the far distance in a heartbeat.
It hurtled straight toward the Eldest Born’s emotionless face—close enough now that I could almost see the faint reflection of my own fireball dancing in the flat gold of her pupils—until—
SLAP!
Crap...
Her hand moved with this casual, almost lazy precision.
Her open palm met the fireball in the middle of the air with a sharp, resounding crack that rang out like wet leather striking stone.
The impact flash was blinding for a split second, white light flaring outward, then the fireball simply... vanished.
She’s not the Eldest Born for nothing, I guess.
There was no explosion or scattering embers; and no backlash on her for touching such a powerful attack.
She had swatted it aside like an annoying fly buzzing too close to her ear.
The motion was so calm and effortless, that she didn’t even shift her weight or change her expression.
Her golden eyes remained locked on me, unblinking, as though the attack had been beneath notice. Maybe she was daring me to do better?
[Sys... is it just me, or can I literally not hurt that woman?]
{Affirmative. I have been attempting to inform Master for some time now. Anything Master throws at the eldest born—magical or physical, or anything brisk —will be devoured and used to strengthen her further. The more potent the attack, the greater the benefit she derives.}
How unfair! Then what the hell is her weakness?!
Maybe if we strip all the magic and ambient energy out of the area around her, she’d starve and wither away? Cut off her food supply entirely?
{...If I may ask a question of my own... Why is Master so intent on destroying the Eldest Born specifically?}
[No, why are you asking that so seriously all of a sudden? She’s clearly the leader of this massive gang that just showed up out of nowhere. Strike the sheeps and the shepherd will follow... or wait, is it strike the shepherd first? Either way, take out the head and the body falls apart, right?]
{Answer: then Master would achieve far better results by striking himself!}
...Kill myself?
The words hit like a slap of their own.
For the first time in a while, I again felt something real and raw seep out from Sys; not the usual flat, mechanical neutrality, but actual rage.
Burning, and simmering, and definitely personal.
I knew that she had been changing lately, giving opinions with surprising vigor, and showing flickers of emotion that no mere system mechanic should possess.
And she had been especially prickly, basically sullen, ever since I created a physical vessel for Vaelora.
[Sys... if I somehow offended you—
