How to Get Girls, Get Rich, and Rule the World (Even If You're Ugly)-Chapter 39: How to Set a Forest on Fire with One Bad Decision

The silence of the clearing collapsed under the weight of something that didn’t yet have a name.

The air, once merely stifling, turned into a wet cloth that clung to the skin—heavy and dense like a sealed cave. Even the insects stopped.

The branches, which had been swaying in the night wind, went still.

The forest held its breath—and so did I.

The first thing I saw were the eyes.

They didn’t glow like the little ones—the hungry red dots.

They were bigger.

Deeper.

Green, like wells of enchanted poison.

And they stared at me like they already knew who I was.

The rest came slowly, pushing the underbrush back as if the forest itself were yielding passage to an old king who refused to be ignored.

The creature emerged from the dark with ritualistic slowness, each step steady enough to make the ground lightly tremble beneath my feet.

| ENTITY PROFILE: THE VERDWYRM – COVENANT FORM |

| Type: Primordial Arboreal High Entity

| Classification: Pact Judge / Totemic Alpha |

| ATTRIBUTES |

| Height: ~2.5m (composed of ritual-grown bark and sentient roots)

| Core: Living – glows with ancestral amber magic

| Presence: World-Bending (silences all natural life within radius)

| Will: Autonomous, tied to ancient contracts—tests, not kills

| Weight: Metaphysical – shifts terrain perception within 10m

| ABILITIES |

► Eyes of Pact Recognition [Passive – Targeted Awareness]

→ Instantly identifies anyone who has touched sacred druidic fragments. May judge as heir, threat, or thief.

► Silence Pulse [Passive]

→ Disrupts rational thought and magical focus in 5m aura. Requires Will Save to maintain control of casting or action.

► Breath of the Grove [Triggered]

→ Roar with no sound. Applies internal shockwave to opponents. Targets experience disorientation, mana disruption, and nausea.

► Absorption Pact [Reaction]

→ Can absorb unshielded ancestral magic (like the Heart Fragment) to fuel itself or escalate form.

| WEAKNESSES |

→ Amber core reacts to impact if struck precisely mid-casting

→ Temporarily stalled by ritual disruption or pact contradiction

→ Cannot pass through consecrated or anti-nature magic

It was larger than any of the others—over two meters tall, with broad shoulders covered in living bark, lichens hanging from its chest like ancient medals, and roots coiled around its legs as if the very earth were trying to hold it back.

In the center of its chest, pulsing with a thick amber hue, was a living protrusion. A core.

An exposed heart.

Breathing.

Thalia took an involuntary step back, pressing herself to the rock as if it might protect her from a thunderclap.

"What is that?" she whispered, unable to hide the fear.

I didn’t answer.

Because the truth was: I didn’t know either.

But I recognized the pattern. The rhythm. The ancient energy vibrating in the air.

And the fragment on my belt answered before I could.

| ITEM PROFILE: HEART OF THE ANCIENT CEDARS |

| Type: Ritual Seed-Core

| Classification: Grove Key / Wild Spell Catalyst |

| FUNCTION |

→ Allows user to establish temporary influence over sacred forest regions

→ Amplifies any spell cast with fire, earth, or spiritual resonance

→ On overload: explodes in radius of 3m, dealing pure root-magic damage

| ABILITIES |

► Grove Sync Pulse [Passive – Triggered When Held]

→ Aligns user with ancient grove frequencies. Opens paths, repels minor entities. Attracts high-level attention.

► Totemic Surge [Active]

→ Can be used as a battery to restore mana in desperate situations. Risk of soul/nerve feedback.

| LIMITATIONS |

→ Cracks after second overload; may shatter if overheated

→ If absorbed by wrong creature, empowers enemy instead

It began to pulse. Steady. Hot. Recognizing the creature.

I felt it tremble against my leg, like it was begging to be used.

I grabbed the Heart of the Ancient Cedars.

The wood seemed to contract in my hands, alive, whispering in a language I couldn’t tell if it was plant, magic, or just condensed madness.

But I understood.

This was a remnant of something old.

A vegetal pact between things that existed before cities, before swords—maybe even before language itself.

I channeled mana.

And the world around me changed.

The clearing reacted with a muffled snap.

The vegetation shriveled and expanded at once, like the forest had suffered a seizure.

A ring of greenish light spread around me.

The roots in the ground rose timidly.

The leaves trembled on their branches.

And for a moment—just one—the creature hesitated.

It stopped.

One step before the circle.

Its eyes blinked.

It tilted its head, like it was listening. Or sensing something.

I thought it might back off.

But then it roared.

A soundless roar.

Something that shook from the inside out—like thunder trapped inside ribs.

My stomach flipped, my teeth clenched, and the fragment’s energy flickered.

The creature took two more steps.

Crossed the edge of the magical protection like stepping into a forgotten memory.

It wasn’t stopped.

It wasn’t burned.

It endured.

And it smiled.

Not with its mouth.

But with its eyes.

With its chest pulsing harder, as if it had absorbed part of the energy I’d unleashed.

"Shit," I whispered. "It liked it."

I looked at Thalia.

She didn’t back away.

But she trembled.

Fist clenched, eyes locked on the creature like someone staring down the personification of a childhood fear stepping out of the closet to demand answers.

And right then I knew: I had to do something.

Fast.

Smart.

Or stupid enough to work.

The fragment burned in my hand.

It wanted to be used.

But not as a shield.

The forest was too old to defend itself.

It was asking for retaliation.

For vengeance.

"Alright then," I murmured. "You want fire—you’ll get fire."

I channeled what little mana I had left.

The fragment vibrated.

Cracks began to form along its surface.

Veins of light surged through the wood, like I was holding a caged sun about to explode.

But before I could throw it—before I could decide between attack or bluff—the sound changed again.

Not behind the creature.

Around it.

The brush moved.

Branches snapped.

And other eyes—smaller, red, ravenous—lit up in the darkness.

Dozens.

"Oh no..." I exhaled.

"What?" Thalia whispered.

"They called reinforcements."

And with the fragment ablaze in my hand, a monstrous heart pulsing before me, and a pack of predators closing in from all sides, I understood: this wasn’t a fight to be won by strength.

But maybe—with a little fire, a lot of desperation, and just enough creative stupidity—I could survive the next minute.

The trees cracked.

The creatures took position.

The clearing trembled with the weight of the great old monster rooted at its center, like a monument dedicated to the end of hope.

And there I was.

Mana dry.

Heart pounding.

My cracked hand still clutching a magical fragment that looked ready to explode—or take me with it in the process.

Thalia was panting behind me. Still alive, by some stubborn miracle, but in no shape to help. And the worst part? She didn’t know how to fight either.

No sword. No staff. Not even a vinegar flask to throw in someone’s face.

But she did have a bag.

A well-stitched leather bag, reinforced with lilac-colored fabric straps, fastened to the mule with more care than the animal itself.

And if I know the type of girl Thalia is—and by now, I know a lot more than I should—it was very likely she’d hidden something useful in there.

Maybe a potion. A reagent. A chewable leaf. Or at the very least, some kind of magically-enhanced candy with horrifying side effects. I’d take it.

So I took a deep breath, spun around with a short hop, and shouted over my shoulder:

"Cover me for ten seconds!"

"Are you running away?!" she shrieked.

"I’m heroically invading your privacy!"

I dropped to my knees by the bag and started digging through it like I was searching for the bottom of a bottomless well.

First came a notebook—full of meticulous notes about herbs, plants, and travel impressions. Tossed it aside.

Then a little pouch of seeds.

Dried raisins.

A hairbrush.

Another notebook.

A note in Marlow’s handwriting that said "if he’s being stubborn, hit him with the toe of your boot."

Mental note: return that later.

Behind us, the creature advanced. One step at a time.

Like it had all the time in the world.

Like it knew time was on its side.

The smaller ones were circling wider now, eyes locked on us, claws parting the underbrush like blades.

"Thalia, where are your potions?!"

"What? I don’t have potions!"

"What do you mean?! Who travels without an emergency potion?!"

"Do I look like a witch who carries potions?!"

"You do look like a witch!"

She let out a sound that was equal parts rage and despair.

A branch whizzed past my ear—the big one was testing us.

The smaller one was closing in.

And I still had half the bag to dig through.

My hands found a vial.

Small.

Clear.

With a turquoise-blue liquid that shimmered like magic under the moonlight.

"Hallelujah," I murmured.

I unscrewed the top with my teeth, poured the whole thing into my mouth without thinking, and swallowed.

The energy hit like a punch to the face. Literally.

My stomach flipped.

My head exploded in colors not even on the visible spectrum.

I felt my entire body vibrate, like someone had replaced my blood with lightning and spun my soul in a washing machine.

But it worked.

Mana returned.

Fast.

Chaotic.

Unstable.

"What kind of hell-potion is this..." I muttered, blinking like someone waking from an interdimensional coma.

"It was stormroot concentrate," Thalia murmured. "Just one drop is enough to clear the mind."

"I drank the whole vial."

| ITEM PROFILE: STORMROOT CONCENTRATE (POTION) |

| Type: Alchemical Reagent / Magical Stimulant

| Classification: Mindshock Elixir |

| DESCRIPTION |

→ Deep blue liquid distilled from stormroot petals struck by lightning

→ Meant to be used in single-drop doses

→ Full ingestion results in full-body magical seizure and unstable mana surge

| EFFECTS |

► Immediate Mana Flood (+8 mana ticks over 10 seconds)

► Enhanced Reflexes: +2 Initiative

► Cognitive Overcharge: See distorted time + heat signatures for 30 seconds

| SIDE EFFECTS |

→ Risk of magical arrhythmia

→ Vision flickers in colors beyond known spectrum

→ Requires magical stabilization post-use to prevent burnout

"Oh."

"’Oh’ is all you’ve got?"

The ground shook.

The big one roared, now with its chest split into three living gashes, roots spilling out like tentacles from a starving tree.

The smaller ones howled too, in tribal sync, like they were about to crush us with more than brute strength.

This was a hunt.

But I felt alive.

Electric.

Fast.

| ENTITY PROFILE: DANTE – STORMROOT FORM |

| TEMPORARY STATE |

| Body Status: Overclocked – nervous system on magical overdrive

| Mana: Fully replenished but unstable

| Will: Reinforced by ritual focus and proximity to sacred soil

| Threat Level: Increased due to Pact Sync and Stormroot infusion

| ABILITIES |

► Stormblood Rush [Potion-Based – Timed]

→ Movement + reaction speed doubled. Spellcasting bypasses vocal delay. Reduces control.

► Flame Pulse Conduction [Fragment-Based – Hybrid Magic]

→ Any contact with pickaxe causes chainfire through nearby roots or creatures (short-range AOE).

► Pact Resonance [Passive – Aura]

→ When standing in a Grove zone, Dante projects "Heir of Flame-Wood" presence. May cause hesitation in spiritual entities.

| WEAKNESSES |

→ Cannot distinguish friend from foe mid-crash if control is lost

→ If fragment shatters: immediate magical feedback and unconsciousness

Breath was back.

Mana danced under my skin like stoked embers.

I grinned.

"Time to return the favor."

I struck the pickaxe against the ground, channeling what little I could, and the fragment at my belt flared again.

The forest’s roots trembled, and for a second, the creature hesitated.

But the hesitation didn’t last.

With a furious roar, it lunged forward—

and so did I.