Chapter 24: The Legend of Stalvan |
Morgan jolted awake, groggily grabbing his sword and stumbling out of the inn behind him.
On the cobblestone streets of Darkshire, Allen’s figure flashed past, his silver-gray cloak billowing in the wind behind him.
Morgan, weighed down by his heavy plate armor, ran huffing and puffing, his speed far slower than Allen’s.
“Where did they go?”
“Look around, should be to the north.”
In the forest, Wen Lei moved as if returning to his most familiar hunting grounds, taking the lead with light, nearly silent footsteps.
Varian followed close behind.
Stella struggled along on her short legs, panting heavily at the rear, the parachute haphazardly shoved back into her pack.
Stalvan, at the front, glanced back at his pursuers, a venomous gleam flashing in his eyes.
A dilapidated hut appeared ahead, and just as Wen Lei ran past a pile of scattered graves in front of it, Stalvan let out a sharp, shrill shriek.
Crash!
The grave pile beside Wen Lei suddenly exploded, mud flying as bony arms burst forth from the earth, followed by skulls and torsos—over a dozen skeletal frames crawled out of the dirt.
Wen Lei stopped dead in his tracks, too close for his bow. He flipped out a dagger instead, readying for close combat.
Just then, a figure descended from the sky.
Varian leaped into the air, his body spinning mid-flight, sweeping his greatsword with the force of a thunderbolt—Whirlwind!
Where the blade passed, the undead that had just crawled from their graves were instantly reduced to a pile of shattered bones.
Stalvan slithered like an eel into the decrepit hut.
Wen Lei whipped around and fired several Explosive Shots.
The arrows flew through the window, plunging into the hut. Flames erupted from the opening, shaking the whole building to its foundations, splintered wood flying everywhere. Smoke and dust billowed, and the interior fell silent.
Wen Lei and Varian exchanged a glance, then silently split up.
Varian cautiously approached the front door, while Wen Lei circled to the window, bow drawn, watching the scene inside.
The moment Varian neared the doorway, Stalvan charged out like a rabid dog.
“I’ll drain your blood dry!”
Varian blocked with his left arm while swinging his greatsword in a wide arc with his right.
Stalvan’s dagger slashed across Varian’s forearm, sending blood spraying.
Then, he agilely leaped high, performing a backflip to dodge the sweeping greatsword.
Wen Lei’s arrow arrived in an instant, but just as it was about to hit, Stalvan’s figure suddenly turned ethereal, flickering and translucent like a reflection in water.
The arrow passed clean through his body, flying harmlessly off to lodge in a distant tree trunk.
“What?!”
Stalvan flung his hand midair, and several throwing knives shot out, heading straight for Wen Lei.
Wen Lei dodged frantically, but one knife grazed his thigh.
Stalvan landed on the hut’s roof, raising both hands high as a sickly green, malevolent light flickered in his palms.
He muttered an incantation under his breath.
Then, the ground began to tremble.
Graves around them exploded one after another, rotten corpses crawling from the dirt. They staggered to their feet, turning in unison toward Wen Lei and Varian, letting out low, guttural roars.
More and more, more and more!
Wen Lei and Varian watched the dead slowly closing in from all sides, cold sweat beading on their foreheads.
Too many!
Just then, a childish yell rang out from the distance:
“Get down!!!”
Without a second thought, Varian and Wen Lei dove for the nearest cover.
A small, round object arced through the night sky, landing precisely in the middle of the corpse horde.
Boom!!!
The explosive force of the engineering grenade blasted the corpses apart, the shockwave rattling the surrounding trees.
“See? I told you it’d come in handy!”
Stella stood nearby, hands on her hips, her small face beaming with pride.
But the next second, a dark shadow dropped from the sky, lunging straight at her.
The pride on Stella’s face instantly froze.
“Eeeek!!!”
She let out a shriek, frantically pressing a button at her waist.
Fwoosh!
The rocket boots kicked in instantly, twin flames erupting from the soles, launching her like a meteor across the night, leaving only a trail of screams in the wind.
The shadow tried to give chase, but a whistling arrow flew in.
Wen Lei’s Frost Shot struck Stalvan squarely in the back. The magic embedded in the arrow exploded on impact, spreading a layer of ice from the wound across most of the shadow’s body.
His movements slowed abruptly, and the next moment, a glimmering sword tip burst through his chest from behind.
Varian had charged to his rear, his greatsword piercing through his torso.
Stalvan looked down at the blade protruding from his chest, the madness in his eyes slowly fading.
“Tiroia…” his lips moved, forming a blurry murmur, “My Tiroia…”
Then, his body crumpled to the ground, lifeless.
Varian panted heavily, feeling all his strength drained away.
He struggled to pull out his sword, staring at the fallen body. He was certain he’d struck the heart, but he intended to deliver one more blow, just to be sure.
He raised his blade, aiming for Stalvan’s neck.
In that instant, Stalvan’s eyes snapped open, and he let out a bloodcurdling shriek.
The sound carried a curse-like power—Stalvan’s curse.
“Aaaahhh—!”
Varian felt as if his head had been struck by a sledgehammer, the agony robbing him of all strength. His greatsword clattered to the ground.
Wen Lei doubled over in equal pain, his bow falling from his grasp as he curled into a ball.
Stalvan’s black robe was torn away, revealing his true form.
Grayish, decayed skin, withered flesh, rotting fluid dripping from the corner of his mouth—he had long since become an undead! An immortal monster!
Varian tried to pick up his fallen sword but found his limbs paralyzed and unresponsive.
He looked down at his forearm—the wound from Stalvan’s dagger was now a sinister blackish-purple, poison spreading.
Damn it! His weapon was poisoned!
Wen Lei, too, knelt on one knee, his calf wound sending waves of numbness through him.
Stalvan staggered to his feet, his ghost-fire eyes scanning them as he let out a hoarse laugh.
“You all… die…”
Just then—
“Stalvan!”
A voice came from the woods, “You ugly old bastard!”
Stalvan whipped around.
Allen had finally arrived!
He stood not far away, gasping for breath, with Morgan far behind, his heavy armor slowing him down.
Stalvan’s ghost-fire eyes locked onto Allen, a hatred so intense it seemed ready to burn him alive.
The next second, Tasha’s Hideous Laughter slammed into him.
[Saving Throw: Success]
What?!
Seeing Stalvan’s successful saving throw, Allen felt his doom was sealed.
Without time to think, Allen instinctively dove to the side. Sure enough, Stalvan’s dagger whistled past his shoulder like lightning.
Allen rolled and scrambled to his feet, back to Stalvan, without a moment’s hesitation. He cast Grease right beneath his own feet.
A thick pool of lard spread from under him, instantly covering the surrounding area.
At least he’d trap Stalvan by his side.
[Saving Throw: Success]
[Saving Throw: Failure]
The success was Stalvan’s; the failure was Allen’s.
Allen’s foot slipped, and he fell flat on his back, landing hard on the greasy ground.
It’s over.
He lay there, watching helplessly as Stalvan turned and walked toward him, step by step.
Moonlight was blotted out by dark clouds. A lightning bolt split the sky, illuminating that twisted undead face.
Thunder crashed.
Stalvan stood before him, raising his dagger high.
Thud—
The icy blade plunged into his chest.
Agony shot through his entire body, cold and burning, the breath of death washing over him.
Then,
Time stopped.
Everything froze in that moment—the lightning bolt hung in the air, raindrops hovered, Stalvan’s sneer was locked on his face.
Allen saw a slender, perfect foot.
A delicate ankle, rounded toes, nails gleaming with a pearl-like luster, faint purple veins visible on the instep, all lightly stepping onto Allen’s chest.
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