Clang, clatter—
Weapons began to spill out from Ian’s pocket dinsion.
Longswords, round shields, battle axes, and various other weapons clattered to the floor in quick succession. Ian didn’t stop there; he continued to produce more equipnt.
Clang, clatter—
Armor pieces like steel gauntlets and iron boots followed, relatively small and easy to don quickly.
Despite the spectacle of Ian pulling items from thin air, the Count, still held by Thesaya, paid no attention. It was clear he hadn’t even noticed. His gaze remained fixed on the black mist that had engulfed Obell.
Then, Thesaya released her grip, and the Count collapsed to the ground, finally voicing his despair. "No... Obell... no..."
None of the group paid attention to him. Aside from Philip, who was maintaining the barrier of holy light, they were all busy sorting through their gear.
"Grk... gurgle..." A sound like mud being churned emanated from the smoke. Within it, sothing black and bulbous was growing. It had to be Obell undergoing a transformation.
Snap, crack—
The sickening sound of bones breaking and reforming echoed. The black mist surrounding Obell spread out like a shimring heat haze.
At the sa ti, the corpses of the head servant by the dais and the knight and soldiers near the door began to twitch and mutate as well. Ian, having finished donning his boots, picked up a wrist guard and turned his head. Thesaya, tearing part of her skirt to fit into her leather boots, looked at him.
"Count," Ian spoke in an even tone, but the Count didn’t respond or even glance his way.
Thesaya swiftly slapped the Count across the face. Though not a hard slap, it was enough to snap him out of his daze.
"What... what is this...?" The Count finally looked at Thesaya, his lips trembling with blood.
Thesaya’s cold eyes t his as she spoke. "Pull yourself together, Count. Can’t you hear the sounds outside?"
"...?" The Count’s eyes widened. Beyond the now dim windows, faint screams were heard. Another wave of shock and fear crossed his aged, withered face, making him look even smaller and more frail.
Thesaya continued, "Listen to Sir Ivan."
"What... what is he saying?"
"I don’t have ti to repeat myself, so listen carefully." Ian, eting the Count’s eyes, spoke as if he had been waiting for this mont.
"Your son is beyond saving. And if you linger here, your land and city will et the sa fate. If you want to stop it, answer . How many troops do you have in the city?"
"Not quite two centurions... no."
The Count, blinking, then shook his head. "Now there are even fewer. However, half of the male residents can serve as troops when mobilized."
"We don’t need the reserves. The lord here will escort you outside. Gather the remaining soldiers and lead the residents to evacuate the city. Make sure they touch nothing suspicious. Can you do that?"
The Count, staring at Ian with a pale expression, spoke in a strangled voice. "...My son, is he really beyond saving?"
"The young lord is already dead," Ian replied, looking at the writhing silhouette swelling beyond the black smoke. "What’s left is a completely different monster, born from his sacrifice. And..."
Ian t the Count’s eyes, now hardened like a mask. "This isn’t the end. The corrupted ones who share the young lord’s goal must have noticed the situation. They’ve likely begun the ritual they were preparing, even if it’s incomplete."
"A ritual...? You an a ritual?"
"The darkening sky outside is evidence of it. There’s no ti for detailed explanations. Just answer . Those close to the young lord, are they the priests of the church?"
"Yes, but the church has the symbols of Lu Solar and... the statue of Della Lu as well..."
"Trust , corrupted ones can bypass such protections without issue."
"I thought I had finally co to my senses... Damn it... my son... Was our family tradition really that burdenso to you...?" The Count muttered in despair.
Ian had already turned to Charlotte and v. "You two escort the lady and the Count. Lead the soldiers and evacuate the residents. After that, head to the church."
He paused, picking up the broken Sword of Judgnt from the floor and tossing it to Charlotte. "Keep this with you. Its holy power should help ward off the curse. The young lord ntioned corrupting the land, so it’s likely a curse of decay. Be careful. Avoid contact with anything suspicious as much as possible."
"Got it. We will." As Charlotte nodded, v reached out and grabbed the Count by the collar, pulling the old man toward her.
"Look at , Count."
"...!"
"Don’t you want to avenge what happened to your son?"
The Count’s eyes, which had montarily stopped, finally settled.
"... I do," he said, gritting his teeth as he t v’s gaze. "With everything I have."
"Then I will carry out your revenge."
The Count’s eyes widened as v’s green eyes began to turn a deep, blood-red.
"So you must save your people. We will assist you." v released her grip on the Count’s collar and began donning her gauntlets.
Squelch—
It was at that mont that the transford corpses rose. Their bodies, once emaciated, were now covered in a tar-like black substance. Dark green fluid dripped from their lted eye sockets, noses, and mouths. Despite this, they still wore the armor and wielded the weapons they had in life.
Ian, now fully equipped, rose to his feet, gripping his black sword. "Escape through the window. Philip, escort them safely to the window. Once you’re equipped, support . The two of us will handle things here."
"Yes...! You two sirs, once you’re done, could you please bring my equipnt? Just to the window!" Philip shouted, maintaining his holy barrier as he moved to the side.
The Count finally took in the sight of the surrounding group. Thesaya, fastening a sword at the waist of her dress. Charlotte, having completed her simple armoring and holding a massive battle axe in one hand. v’s entire body glowed with sticky, blood-red holy energy. Philip, extending one hand to maintain a faint holy barrier. And Ian, standing with a black sword, his back turned to the Count.
"Who... are you people...?"
"Let answer your earlier question, Count," Thesaya said, lifting the Count to his feet as she spoke. "We are here to eliminate the corrupted ones infesting the West. This is also an act of vengeance for soone, and it aligns with the will of the Great Platinum One."
"Platinum...? Are you saying you are—"
"Save such thoughts for later," Ian interrupted, his gaze fixed on the approaching undead. "Right now, we need to focus on our roles."
"Do you truly intend to face those things alone? No matter how skilled you are, this is suicide—"
"et us at the church. Go now." Ian cut off the Count’s protest.
Charlotte, now carrying the Count, nodded and moved with Philip’s equipnt in hand. Thesaya and Charlotte, with the Count in tow, headed toward the window.
Swoosh—
The light barrier swept past Ian, who adjusted his grip on the black sword’s hilt.
Good, if you listen well, you’ll drink plenty of dirty blood today.
Ian thought to himself, feeling his skin tingle from the curse radiating from the transforming Obell. But that was the extent of its impact. The fragnts of chaos within him countered the curse, dulling the pain.
Ian opened his eyes to the sight of the shambling undead. His gaze shifted to the nearly fully transford silhouette of Obell.
Finishing this before he completes his transformation isn’t likely, is it?
"Grrr...!" As if in response to his thoughts, one of the approaching undead let out a guttural sound. The creature resembled the decayed minions Ian rembered from the ga, dripping tar-like ooze with each step.
"See you at the church!" With Thesaya’s shout as she leaped out the window, Ian charged forward.
One undead, forrly a soldier wielding a spear, ca within range.
Shink—
The thin, sharp blade of Ian’s sword cut through the soldier’s body and chain mail in a diagonal slash. Unlike usual, he refrained from using a Vacuum Explosion to prevent the cursed flesh from splattering everywhere.
Thud—
The severed upper body fell like a lump of clay. Ian ignored the still-twitching corpse and swung his sword at another undead nearby.
Swish! Crack—
The black sword carved through three more undead in quick succession. Ian’s gaze flicked toward the window where Philip was gathering his equipnt, noting the approach of the undead who had once been Sir Aurel.
Tap-tap—
Ian dashed forward, his black sword slicing through the exposed back of the undead knight’s head. The head split in two, and Ian moved past the falling corpse, turning to face the next threat.
"Grrr..."
A sticky groan emanated from the remaining mouth under the severed head. One undead raised its weapon, but Ian was faster, kicking the creature’s chest plate and sending it flying.
Crash!
The headless body fell, spraying fluids from the severed neck. Ian extended his left hand toward it.
Whoosh—
Flas burst from his hand, a basic Fire Beam without any amplification. It was enough to incinerate Sir Aurel and the twitching undead around him.
The burning undead emitted thick, acrid smoke as the flas consud them. The last of their movents ceased.
Just like in the ga, the elental advantage holds true.
"Ju-just buy a little more ti, sir! I’ll join you shortly!" Philip’s urgent shout ca from behind.
Knowing it would take ti, Ian ntally noted the situation and focused on the undead entering through the main entrance. He leaped over the burning corpses toward the transforming Obell.
"Gwaaaah—"
An eerie noise cut through the air as a trail of black sli blocked his path.
Sizzle—
Ian rolled to the side, narrowly avoiding the acidic substance that began to evaporate on the walls and floor.
Fuck, I was wondering when this would happen.
The skill, Rotten Vomit, was a powerful attack in the ga, dealing significant damage, causing additional dot damage, and slowing movent speed. It was one of the minion’s skills.
The one spewing the vomit was the head servant-turned-minion. Ian swiftly got back on his feet, leaping over the foul-slling vomit and slashing down with his sword.
Crunch!
One swift motion severed the head servant’s neck and shoulder. Before the upper body hit the ground, a fireball struck it.
Boom! Whoosh—
With a minor explosion, burning flesh scattered. Ian darted through the flas, finally getting a clear view of the transford Obell.
It appeared hunched over, but that was an illusion. Only the swollen head and neck kept so semblance of their original form, buried in the mass of flesh. The rest was a massive, black, amorphous lump. Many tooth-filled maws opened like knots in the wood, sucking in the black smoke around them, with purple veins pulsing throughout.
As expected.
Ian’s eyes glowed red.
Whoosh—
Dancing Flas flickered around him, ready to ignite.
Roar—
All the maws on Obell’s body exhaled the smoke they had inhaled, releasing it like spores in all directions.
"...!" A blue shield of force erupted around Ian just as the wave of smoke hit. The flas burst outward and dissipated.
"Ugh?!" Philip, still donning his equipnt, reflexively reinforced his holy barrier and flattened himself against the ground.
Ian, pushed back by the force of the smoke, skidded to a stop.
"Grr..." Obell’s grotesque head, now buried in flesh, emitted a rattling sound as it rose.
The asymtrical eyes glowed dark green, and pus-like liquid dripped from various parts of the deford body. The na of an elite monster from the ga flashed in Ian’s mind: The Root of Decay.
Squish, squelch—
Obell began to move forward, not walking but gliding like an amorphous creature. He wasn’t heading toward Ian but the main entrance, aiming to leave the manor and take root outside, just as in the ga.
That may be your wish, but... Sorry, Obell, I can’t allow that.
Muttering inwardly, Ian’s eyes ignited as if flas were engulfing them.
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