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Blacksmith of the Apocalypse
337. A Blacksmith can be late sometimes

337. A Blacksmith can be late sometimes

A giant meteor of light struck the caravan, hitting friend and foe alike. The leader of the angels had never planned to offer any of them salvation. The only reward for disobedience was death and nothing less.

The plain was enveloped in a huge cloud of dust and smoke.

Pip had a hard time breathing. She was stuck under the rubble of their protective dome and could only look out into the dust. There was no way of knowing what happened to the others. Every labored gasp filled her lungs with dust and made her cough.

Just what happened? Everything had been chaos since they had to leave Karina's place. The nature that had turned hostile when the corruption came, the fire that had chased them for days, the monsters that...that...

Things had finally started calming down and making sense. Every time she found some hope it would be taken away again...

Tears started flowing down her cheeks, painting trails in the dirt on her face, and she could do nothing to stop it. Pip couldn't move, couldn't breathe, and her will started faltering.

The rest of the battlefield was in a similar state with many people dead or severely injured and unable to move. Marcel held the lifeless Elza in his arms. His tear fell like rain on her expressionless face.

She had lost an arm and was bleeding profusely without a healer in sight.

It had not been long since they knew each other, but their relationship had quickly developed into more than friendship during these hard times. Although they had not taken any big steps. Now, he finally held her in his arms but at what cost?

Despite tragic scenes like this happening all over the battlefield, there were still people fighting. Explosions, thunder, screams, and the clangs of weapons echoed through the dust cloud. The light of magic made the chaotic carnage colorful and almost festive.

~ My lambs! If you can still stand, rise! Strike the Rebels! ~

All around the place, mounts of loose dirt suddenly started moving and people with terrible injuries rose from the earth like zombies. Tears and blood streaming down their bodies, as they moved with expressionless faces.

Puppets moved to end those who could not resist while the dark messengers were busy striking the last resistance. Using hit-and-run tactics, they would dive down from the dust to attack and vanish again attacking somewhere else.

The young magician had tried hard to get out from under the rubble but failed. Pip could only listen to the noise of battle that slowly started dying down. As she was staring into the distance, she noticed a minute change to it.

New screams and cries were added to the background noise. Otherworldly cries that resounded for just a moment before they were cut off were added.

Marcel heard the whistle of something approaching at high speed and hugged Elza tightly. He lacked the strength to stand and fight. The guild leader was determined to shield her with his body. His eyes clenched shut he waited for the pain and death.

Instead, he felt a hand on his battered shoulder and a healing warmth flooded his body.

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"Man... I guess I am a little late?" Seth talked to him embarrassedly.

Marcel could only look at the blacksmith in disbelieve. His brain had short-circuited as e had not expected to still see Seth in this life.

"Listen here, let go of her for now. Otherwise, I can't heal her," he spoke kindly to Marcel who was still holding tightly onto the cold beauty.

"Ah! Y-Yes! Please!"

Using the Golden Fleece's Superior Heal, the woman was enveloped in a soft golden light as her wounds slowly started closing up. Even her arm, which was blown off just below the elbow showed signs of regrowing.

"It will take a while for her arm to recover, you should stay here and protect her for now. Just stay here and try not to be killed. I might send other survivors your way."

Seth had left Duhu with the others while he and Puffles entered the battlefield. The nightmare centipede was having a good meal in the air while Seth wandered the battlefield.

He was not really prepared for a large-scale battle like this. he knew there was music that could be helpful in this situation, but he had never learned any. Most of the songs he knew were either meant for crafting or only useful to buff himself or his party.

Seth had never seen such a massacre. The field was covered in bodies and souls kept flocking to him as he ran by. It was the first time he didn't really want these souls. He followed the noises to find people that were still able to fight.

The land was a slight slope and he was probably close to the epicenter of the strike. The fighting noises he followed were those of thunder and lightning. It was probably the leader of the chimeras fighting in that place. If he could get her out of a tough spot, she would be a good figure for the survivors to regroup around.

On the way, he kept his eyes open to see if he found anyone needing help. Sadly, it was only once or twice that he saw someone like marcel, someone he could help. Most were beyond saving. People struggling to stay alive with less than half their bodies intact. The corpses here, close to the epicenter, looked all like this.

It was when one of these poor souls grabbed his ankle that he was forced to stop. The man was less than a torso with a head and an arm, but the one hand tenaciously grasped onto Seth.

"Please! Please help me! I don't want to die! I can't die, yet!" he pressed out while coughing up clumps of blood.

"I-I'm sorry, I know no magic that could still save your life." Seth stuttered surprised.

"Please save me!"

"Please save!"

"...save me!"

More and more such voices echoed fused into a pitiful choir. Seth was normally quick to make a decision and go with it, but it was different now. He was never faced with such a situation and had no idea what to do. It did not help being surrounded by a cacophony of misery.

It had been ages since this skill had leveled up. When his mind calmed down and he managed to drone out the unfortunate people around him he had an idea. He bent down to the man who was still holding his ankle.

"I might have a way to conserve your very being. A way to keep living. But you won't be a human, you might not even have a body of your own. It might be even worse than death. Do you... still want to?"

Seth spoke with the to make it clear that this choice was not a fun one and to reach all of those who called out to him. Many of their please fell silent as the dreadful future his voice picture may seem worse than death.

But some did not. One was the man grabbing his leg. The one eye he had left was staring at him with an unbroken will.

"Fine. Don't resist now. It might increase your chances." he said.

He grabbed the man's head and harvested his soul. The light and will in his eye vanished and his hand went limp.

The soul of a man who did not want to give up on life. >

He didn't know whether he was right when he said that not resisting would increase the chances, but of the three people who agreed to the deal, all three souls had an ego. Just their rating varied.

It was a gain, but actually, Seth felt uncomfortable doing this to humans. Despite their acknowledgment of the consequences. But he did not have the time to ponder on the morals of his actions now.

There were more important things to do. He hurried on in the direction where he saw the light of lightning and heard the roars of thunder.