Chapter 468 |
"It was not House Ultimer who cast this ritual," Nick stated, his voice tight as the sheer gravity of the revelation weighed heavily on every word. "It was the Circle of Pure Souls.”
Gaelen froze, his hands going slack. "The cult? The ones who attacked Alluria?”
"Led by Alexander himself," Nick confirmed, glancing at Rhea, who paled. They’d barely gone over that whole mess, given how much there was to cover, but the fact that the once-pleasant man had gone so far off the deep end was something everyone was still struggling with. Shaking his head, he gestured to the bloodstained runes covering the floor. "He is here, hiding in the North. They took this tower, slaughtered the guards, and forged that Ghast to hold the pass, though I have no idea why.”
It took Rhea a moment to process the information, but she eventually did, looking around with a pained expression. "If the Circle is operating up here... do you think Ephor Ultimer knows? Is he fighting them, or are they the ones he is hiring?”
Running a hand through his hair, Nick paced, trying to make sense of the fragmented pieces of the geopolitical board. He knew the players and, more importantly, their fundamental natures. He could figure this out.
"Ephor Ultimer has a contract with a Greater Demon," Nick reasoned aloud, pursing his lips. "Alexander and his Circle are violently, fanatically opposed to anything resembling divine or infernal intervention. They hate the gods and despise demons. A man like the Ex-Vicar would never willingly bow to a demon-contractor.”
"Then are they here to attack him?" Gaelen asked. He was the only one who didn’t know Alexander, and there was a strange eagerness in his voice at the thought of so much chaos befalling House Ultimer.
I’m not so sure it’d be a good thing. Beyond the countless deaths such a confrontation would cause, something else is going on. Something I’m missing.
“No, I don’t think they are here to hunt them down. But if there is something between them, it is an alliance of convenience, likely a fragile one," Nick deduced. "Ultimer needs a disposable army to do his bidding as he prepares his rebellion, and an excuse for why he isn’t helping with the war. Alexander needs a secure, isolated region to conduct his business without the Crown breathing down his neck. They are using each other. And when the time comes, they will undoubtedly try to kill each other.”
"Which means Toneburg is infinitely more dangerous than we anticipated," Nick concluded, his expression hardening into an unyielding mask. "The mercenaries are likely meant to serve as a buffer against the royal army, while the cult operates in the shadows. Then there is the Duke, whose role we still don’t know.”
The days of treating this as a simple surgical strike were over. Even if they managed to slip into Toneburg unnoticed and somehow find their way into the Ultimer estate, he had the feeling it would not be a quick fight, no matter how strong they grew in the meantime.
"We should leave," Nick said, shaking his head. “Let's put some distance between us and this place. If the Circle is seeding the main roads with undead, we need to find One-Ear's smuggler path before they reach it as well.”
The others had nothing to add, so they descended the rocky incline and returned to their tethered horses. The animals were restless, spooked by the residual death magic radiating from the peak, but Gaelen managed to calm them enough to mount.
Pushing hard, they left the abandoned fortresses behind and plunged deeper into the freezing wilderness, avoiding any sign of civilization.
For a while, Nick was tempted to stop in one of the towns that dotted the northern countryside. They were still south enough to have farming communities, and they surely would know if more undead were hanging around, but they were operating under complete secrecy, and a single word from one of those villagers to a soldier might screw them.
As they navigated a narrow, steep-walled gorge, Nick sensed several people trying to sneak up on them. He silently alerted the others, who kept moving as if unaware. When the attack came, it was completely silent. A volley of steel rained down on them from all sides, and even Nick was somewhat surprised by the sheer brutality.
He’d have thought there would at least be a request for them to identify themselves, but apparently, things were just that dire.
Along with the rain of arrows, six armor-piercing javelins shot from the dense brush lining the ridge of the gorge, hurled with enough force to suggest they came from high-level martial classes.
Ten kinetic fields of varying strength sprang up around them, pulling three of the javelins off course and sending them sparking harmlessly into the stone walls.
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The others, however, were coated with piercing skills and managed to punch through, forcing him to adjust their trajectory at the last second with gusts of wind.
Two plunged directly into the chests of Rhea and Gaelen's horses. The animals collapsed instantly, dead before they hit the freezing mud. Nick’s own mount reared in panic, taking the final javelin in its flank, forcing him to throw himself from the saddle and land smoothly in the dirt just as the beast crumpled beneath him.
Before the enemy could unleash a second volley, Gaelen had already hurled several of his daggers, which trailed oily darkness as they homed in on their targets.
Several dull thunks echoed, and Nick felt at least two souls fade into the ether, but it wasn’t enough. A dozen figures stepped out of the tree line’s shadows, dropping seamlessly into the gorge.
He almost scoffed at their abandoning the high ground, but then again, they’d seen him cast magic, and everyone knew that facing a high-level caster from a distance was a foolish errand.
These men were clad in enchanted plate armor, painted a matte, non-reflective gray. They moved in unison, instantly forming a tight shield wall that blocked the exit of the gorge.
The ground rumbled, and the path they’d just traveled collapsed, leaving them with no way out.
Technically, at least. Nick could easily grab the others and fly away, but that would leave them exposed to fire, and while he’d only had his horse for a few days, he’d liked the gentle beast. These guys were not getting out of this.
As he locked onto their signatures, he grimaced. These were true veterans, men who made their living fighting in the deepest, deadliest corners of Berea. The average soldier in the formation radiated an aura dense enough to be at level sixty. Worse, standing directly behind the shield wall were two imposing commanders, burning with the pressure of the low eighties.
“Harass them from the flanks!” Nick commanded with a whisper of wind, flying forward. "I will break the center!”
The mercenary formation advanced in unison, trying to prevent any attempt at flanking, while one of the commanders raised a mace and the shield wall suddenly glowed with power.
Nick recognized it as a resonance skill that pooled the defensive power of the entire squad into an unbreakable barrier. He’d seen something similar back in the Green Ocean, when the men under his father’s command worked together to face stronger foes, and he knew it was the hallmark of an elite force.
Worse, the enemy hadn’t even tried to speak. Whoever they thought they were fighting, they had no intention of showing mercy. This would be a battle to the death, senseless though it might seem.
Knowing the limitations of basic elemental magic against such defenses, Nick lifted his staff, visualizing the conceptual fulcrum he had practiced that morning. He anchored a mana point directly in front of the advancing shield wall and drew a dense current of water and a searing stream of fire, channeling both into the axis.
This time, however, he didn't let the orbit stabilize into steam. Forcibly overcharging the fulcrum, he fed an immense volume of mana into the construct until the conflicting concepts screamed to be released.
"Brace!" the other commander bellowed, sensing something was amiss despite the absence of visible effects.
Nick shattered the fulcrum.
A concussive wave of superheated vapor slammed into the shield wall. The skill flared blindingly bright, absorbing the brunt of the thermal damage, but the sheer kinetic force of the expanding atmosphere was unstoppable.
The center of the formation buckled as two mercenaries were thrown off their feet, their shields ripped from their grips, creating a narrow gap. The men were already moving to fill it, but it was enough.
Gaelen moved like a shadow, slipping through the swirling steam he trusted Nick to protect him from, his throwing daggers finding the unprotected joints and visors of the staggered men. Two more mercenaries choked, falling into the mud with blades buried in their throats.
That was when Rhea struck, hurling a flask of acid at the rocky overhang above them. The concoction ate through the stone in seconds, sending a shower of debris crashing down on the right side of the formation, further scattering the squad.
"Kill the mage!" the second commander roared, jumping over the broken line.
He was a towering man wielding a two-handed greatsword with one hand, and from the resonance Nick could feel, his armor was etched with wind-acceleration runes. He blurred forward, closing the distance between them in a fraction of a second, his blade descending in a strike meant to cleave Nick in two.
[Crest of the Thunderbird] materialized just in time. The impact still cracked the frozen mud beneath Nick's boots, as the warrior’s physical strength was immense. Yet the divine-inspired spell proved its match, showering him with lightning.
"You are out of your depth, boy," the man snarled in pain as the currents surged through his body, pressing his weight against the barrier.
Nick didn’t bother with banter. If they wanted this to be a real fight, he’d give them one.
Instead, he grinned, and a blinding spear of spiritual lightning erupted from his staff, point-blank. It washed over the commander, bypassing his physical armor by following the established currents and scorching his soul.
The man screamed as the esoteric lightning disrupted his internal mana pathways, causing his grip to falter and his defensive skills to falter as well, allowing even more damage.
Not wanting to give him any more chances, Nick spun his staff, and a [Spirit Crunch] slammed into the commander’s temple, sending him crashing into the ravine wall, dead.
From there, the battle devolved into a vicious, fragmented melee.
Without their perfect formation, the remaining mercenaries were highly vulnerable to Nick’s team. Gaelen drew his cursed blade, weaving through the disorganized soldiers and severing hamstrings and arteries while taking only a few blows himself, all accepted in exchange for far greater damage. The dark steel drank the spilled vitality, and the corruption crept up his arms, but he ignored the pain, his focus entirely on the kill.
Spears of granite erupted from the ground whenever the mercenaries tried to regroup, dividing them again and leading many to their demise as the ground opened wherever they landed and swallowed them.
The final commander, seeing his men routed and his counterpart defeated, raised his mace and flared with desperate power. His aura washed over the battlefield as he roared, charging directly at Rhea, intent on taking at least one down with him.
Nick dropped his [Territory] over the man, increasing the spiritual pressure tenfold. The commander stumbled, his charge suddenly feeling as if he were running through deep water.
The man was a beast, and he kept going despite the opposition, but his slower pace allowed Rhea to pull back, and once she was safely out of the way, Nick unleashed a [Spiritual Hurricane] the size he’d never managed before.
The magic howled, fueled by his emotions, and fell upon the enemy with fury, shredding his spirit and body.
Oh, the man fought back. He erupted with aura, trying to push back, but he was fighting something he couldn’t comprehend, and the damage to his soul mounted until it was too much, and he collapsed.