Chapter 189: Crossroads (11)
Around the same time, the siblings Scilio and Weizen, as well as Calia and Aellasis, came across the unnamed group. The group had a total of six members, including men and women.
At first glance, they appeared to be typical mercenaries dressed in armor and holding blades, yet there were some significant differences. Normal people do not wander about with drool flowing from their mouths and red eyes. Most essential, humans do not tear into others’ thighs as if they were chicken legs.
Unfazed by the terrible and disgusting sight, Weizen pointed out another oddity.
“Why does their skin look like that? Did they do drugs or something?
Their skin was covered in bulging veins—not light blue ones, but jet-black ones. Something other than blood appeared to be flowing through them. Their eyes and veins were both black. Not the irises, but the whites of their eyes had acquired a dark color.
At first sight, they appeared to be just walking around with empty eye sockets, but the tiny glimmer of light reflecting off their eyes revealed their true nature.
They approached quickly, their stillness ringing throughout the vacant streets. The terrifying blades in their hands, a combination of longswords and daggers, sickles, and serrated, jagged-toothed blades, raked the pavement.
Aellasis spoke forward, frowning at what he saw.
“Are they even humans? They don’t appear like it.”
“They ate something they should not have. They may have previously been humans, but they are no longer.
“Are they dead, Calia?”
Calia replied with a chilly voice.
“No. Their bodies have been altered by magic based on sacrifice. They have no intelligence and no drive to survive. They’re more like puppets, with no instinct other than to follow the will of the sorcerer who animates them. They will die after they have fulfilled their purpose.”
Aellasis inquired,
“Until then?”
“Many humans will die.”
People will die. Will many people die? Despite taking on the guise of a human, Aellasis was not one. The reason she had assumed a human shape was simple:
For the world to evolve and mature, intelligent beings’ consciousness must remain constant. As a result, the world’s accessories changed slowly but progressively.
Plants, creatures, dragons, giants, humans, elves, and dwarfs. . .
A startling recollection from a corner of her mind forced her to scowl uncontrollably. Aellasis ignored the minor headache and used her magic. Dragons have a mission. In a world where practically all dragons have vanished, leaving only remnants of their presence, she, as the only remaining dragon, may be able to do something.
“I don’t particularly wish for that.”
“Me neither.”
Calia also raised a hand. Her palm burst open unexpectedly, allowing scarlet blood to flow freely. The blood defied gravity, elongating and twisting into a long, slender spear.
Scilio glanced at Calia with wide-eyed surprise.
“Wow. Sis, can you utilize that type of magic as well? What is it?”
“Since when did you start calling me sis?”
“Oh, come on. Between us. Don’t tell me you’re still holding onto what I said yesterday.”
Calia laughed at Scilio’s remarks and twirled the blood spear in her hand. Before aiming at the approaching party, she spun the spear’s smooth shaft and razor-sharp blade twice. She spoke softly.
“Their outer look may be human, but what is inside is not. They are a tangled combination of malicious magic and necromancy. They acquire power by feeding on human flesh and blood; therefore, calling them the devil’s spawn is not an exaggeration. Draw your swords.”
Her keen eyes and judgment, developed over years of magic practice, warned her that the individuals in front of her were not ordinary. Simply drooling and having bloodshot eyes indicated that they were not normal.
However, their internal blood flowed sporadically, sometimes stopping and sometimes speeding up, which was inconceivable for a live being with a normal internal structure. It was different if an external force was at work.
Most importantly, Calia spotted the traces of blood and tissue between their parted lips and teeth. Unless they had recently mauled a live chicken or dog, the marks indicated that they had chewed on a human. Calia has the ability to discern between animal and human blood.
Aellasis spoke as her unshaped magic hovered above her.
“Won’t the guards come? These strange people are currently invading the city. What about the police force?”
“Wow, such a bright little kid. How old did you say you were?”
“I am not a little kid. And don’t talk informally to me, why are you talking informally when we just met?”
“You’re really prickly.”
Scilio, lightly dismissing Aellasis’s angry words, twisted her wrist and said.
“Count Jayvir doesn’t care much about the city’s security. His objectives are for greater power. He doesn’t have time to care for what’s right under his feet. That’s why nobody like myself or other mercenaries with nothing but power ends up becoming guild leaders. They are undoubtedly racking their heads right now.”
Aellasis, who had been contemplating Scilio’s comments, spoke.
“They’re trying to conserve their strength while making a big show of it?”
“Smart! You are so cute, eeheehee.”
“Do not touch my face! Get away!”
The sight of Scilio lovingly squeezing Aellasis’ cheeks seemed to be a universe apart from the shouts, roars, and turmoil that could still be heard here and there.
Watching her sister, Weizen shook his head and murmured,
“So we can’t expect any support. That’s great. This is fantastic.”
Scilio did not draw her weapons. Instead, she just tightened the ties tied to her sleeves and pants to finish her preparations. She was confident in her fist and foot skills, just as she had been the day before, when she easily defeated Weizen.
‘Oh, if only that guy were here.’
Scilio regretted it. She regretted not being able to demonstrate her impressive acrobatics. There were also a lot of spectators here. The little boys peeping over from a distance, unaware of the danger, were proof of this.
Swoosh. . . Clank!
The group of six, who had been coming while scratching the ground with their blades, burst forward, their legs pumping. The command ingrained in their primitive brains was straightforward.
Kill people and convert them with magic, then enter the large circular building. That was the beginning and end of the commands they had received, and their drug-induced minds lacked free will.
All that remained were the killing techniques engrained in their bodies and a forcibly instilled desire for cannibalism.
Magic, blades, and limbs collided, causing a shockwave throughout the market square.
🔷🔷🔷🔷🔷🔷
“Gaaaah!”
Giselle screamed and suppressed her convulsing body. Her body, sitting cross-legged, shook violently. It was the result of her violently shutting down her own thinking.
Giselle’s limbs knocked down the candles placed around her, scattering the molten wax on the floor. The hot, white wax sizzled as it met the black magic circle etched on the floor, emitting white smoke.
Giselle was at the heart of Aldrick’s army camp on the Ferger Plains. The wind was strong, causing the tents to flap.
Giselle trembled as she listened to the howling wind and recalled the events that had led up to this point. She couldn’t recall much.
And it was the lack of memory that was driving her insane. Giselle had made significant sacrifices to acquire her current status.
Of course, she did not imply that she had spent her own riches or life. The lords and warriors who served the prince had donated those items.
The various pieces that comprise a human being were put in an orderly manner on the magic circle created with blood. She knew there were items inside her body, but she was hesitant to remove them.
The stench of blood and rotting guts that permeated the tent would not leave. Even if another person entered the tent, they would be unable to see or smell this sight or smell. Human senses were powerless to resist the enchantment.
“Ugh, cough!”
Despite this, Giselle wanted someone to lift the flap and pat her on the back. For a wizard or witch, fainting signified something else. It was like tearing up a carefully stitched tapestry.
And that was what had just happened to Giselle at the hands of an unknown man. She knew she’d been coerced into disclosing her secrets, but she couldn’t recall who.
Uncontrollable terror and revulsion prevented her conscious mind from recalling his identity. All she could recall was a pair of searing eyes.
Giselle, who had now ceased convulsing, waved her hands. A weak magical power, less than half her normal strength, poured forth, erasing the magic circle painted on the floor and converting the entrails to black dust.
After clearing up the tent, Giselle collected her thoughts. There was still work to be done, and it wasn’t too difficult.
🔷🔷🔷🔷🔷🔷
The inside of the building was dark. There was no illumination from lanterns, magic stones, or magical orbs.
Russell strode down the corridor with Final Frost in one hand. The hallway was too narrow to accommodate a huge greatsword like Nahilnir.
He soon arrived at the battleground. The conflict was marked by eerie silence on one side and loud shouting on the other.
“What the hell are these monsters!?”
“My lord, please get out of the way, guah!”
“Eben!”
A crowd and expressionless, armed guys were involved in a melee. Knights centered on a chubby man dressed in a bright, frilly clothing and cap, and others who attacked them. It was an understandable composition.
The number of escort knights was not large. It appeared that two of them had already been killed, as their bodies lay on the other side. The nobleman cried, pale-faced, from the space between the last three escort knights.
“My guys! I am not sure who sent you, but my name is Pitchellon, and I am under the princess’s protection! Withdraw immediately, uwagh!”
Pitchellon wailed as the persistent attackers knocked him to the ground. An escort knight, who had barely managed to block the sword, swung the little shield attached to his left forearm, knocking the attacker back.
“Are you alright, Lord Viscount!?”
“S, Swiftly kill them! Quickly! And you dare to call yourselves knights who eat my money!”
It was hardly a particularly encouraging cheer, but the escort knights rallied. Despite their efforts, the number of opponents did not decrease.
They had survived the attacks of eight magic-wielding superhumans thus far because of the escort knights’ competence and the fact that they had been working together for a long time.
However, two of the knights had already been slaughtered, leaving only three. Knight Derban was ready to die.
“Ikel, Coben, I will detonate my magic, so you clear a path.”
“What?”
“We’ll go together, what the━”
“The enemy’s condition is abnormal. They don’t say anything but charge at us like berserkers. I’m also concerned about the explosion that occurred earlier. So quit whining and━”
Derban’s statement was cut short. It was because a white axe emerged unexpectedly in the corner of his view. The axe was the only source of light in the building’s dark interior.
The knights, who had been using their powers to discriminate between friends and foes, were taken aback by the axe’s abrupt appearance.
They were astounded by the sound of flesh being torn and the subsequent cracking.
“W, What is that?”
Could it even be considered a human movement? Derban, at the very least, did not believe he was capable of such movements.
Swinging, slicing, cutting, and ripping. There was a short sentence written in the four simple movements. Death.
The expressionless attackers who faced a new opponent collapsed pathetically, as if they were not the ones the knights had fought against until now.
The blade was aiming at the skull but missed, cleaving off a shoulder that dropped to the floor. There was no sound of blood flowing. Only the sound of something like sand grains rolling over the floor.
Derburn felt a sudden chill, and he realized that it was physical, not mental. The chill was emanating from that axe.
The frigid dance in the darkness came to an end in less than a minute. His ankles felt cold. Derban noticed that the wielder of the axe was looking down at him, his eyes considerably higher than his own. The man holding the axe spoke.
My name is Russell. And you are?”
“D, Derban sir.”
Derburn didn’t even realize that he was speaking politely.
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