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Blake Pudding
B01C33 - The Dream

B01C33 - The Dream

image [https://i.imgur.com/xcQhW8Y.jpg]

Aurelia spun and swayed, her dance wild with glee, her fingers tracing over my form with reckless abandon. Lost in our whirl of pleasure, Aurelia and I remained oblivious to the chaos unfolding around us. My tendrils responded to her touch, moving with her motions and contours, caressing every crevice of her body, all while indifferent to the stunned onlookers. To the soldiers emerging from the wreckage of their encampment, it must have seemed she was fondling herself in a feverish ballet of insanity.

Our waltz continued unabated, even as unease curled within the back of my thoughts with each knight that clambered from beneath the debris. I knew all too well my vulnerability to Anlyth’s holy magic; even a glancing blow could sear through me with excruciating pain. Yet, I found solace in Aurelia’s presence, her affection a shield against the elf’s last devastating spell—a blast so fierce it reduced our tent to ashes. I suspect, though, it had more to do with unleashing magic within a spatial tent, akin to popping a balloon with too much air, but what do I know.

Amid the ruin, a flicker of admiration stirred within me as I watched the elf responsible for the destruction. But when my gaze landed on the paladin, a mischievous smile played across my mind—I would have said lips, if not for the fact that in this form, the only lips I possessed were rather busy, firmly planted on Aurelia’s ass, along with another set teasing her other nearby lips. Perks of being a shape-shifting, gooey monster.

Tee-hee! I’m so naughty.

The sight of the elf’s tears—tears she shed as she watched Olin, her comrade, her lover, rise from the rubble with a grievous wound she had inflicted—was deliciously satisfying… or was that Aurelia I was finding so delicious? Yeah, definitely Aurelia! Where was I going with this again? Oh, right!

It felt like just retribution for the one who dared to steal away my prey—or rather, my potential prey. I had really wanted to kill that goblin myself. Sure, I got to eat him in the end, and he tasted rather delectable, but the satisfaction would have been so much sweeter if I had made the kill myself. Yes, I’m being particularly bitchy about it—more so than usual. I wonder, is this a trait of my new body?

Anylith and that dwarf woman were exchanging words with Aurelia. I couldn’t make out what was being said, but the harsh tones made it clear they weren’t kind words. I’ll have to slowly kill them for that. Meanwhile, I noticed a sly grin spreading across Aurelia’s face as she glanced back at Olin. Should I have been paying more attention? Absolutely. But honestly, it was really hard to concentrate right now with this vampire hottie’s bare flesh pressing against me.

Eh, Aurelia can handle herself better than I can.

Lost in my bliss, my mind froze when I noticed Aurelia approaching Olin. That wasn’t the strange part; the truly strange and horrifying moment came when she slid her hands down his pants. To say I was horrorstruck would be an understatement, especially when she grasped his manhood. My horror intensified as I realized my flesh was coating her hand like a glove!

Um… What’s she doing?

At the sight of my woman rifling through Olin’s pants, Anlyth suddenly screamed, “I’LL KILL YOU!”

Aurelia responded with a dark, tantalizing grin that sent a quiver of delight through me. With a rough yank, she pulled out a golden circular band. Not like that, you pervert—I mean, she literally pulled it out. Shit, that sounds worse. Um, let’s just move on, okay?

At first, the golden band appeared too small for her wrist, but as she slid her fingers through the tight hole, pushing deeper, the band miraculously expanded, adjusting perfectly to fit snugly around her thin, pale wrist as her fist cleared the opening.

Uh, is she wearing Olin’s cockring?

No… Maybe? Probably. Yes. Yes, she is.

Curiosity piqued, I found myself wondering not just what it was, but why. Why would she wear such a thing here and now? And more intriguingly, why was Olin’s meat suit wearing that to begin with?

With a fierce battle cry, Anlyth unleashed a deafening scream, her voice resonating like a thunderclap, “BY THE GRACE OF THE GODS, LET MY HOLY LIGHT BE MY GUIDE!”

Geez, she likes to scream a lot.

Following her proclamation, Anlyth released a heart-wrenching scream, unleashing a relentless torrent of holy light, a turbulent river of divine might poised to turn all in its wake to mere cinders. But Aurelia, with a grace that belied the direness of the situation, brushed the divine onslaught aside as if it were nothing more than a bothersome gnat.

I was not so fortunate—oh no, not by a long shot. As divine light ravaged my consciousness with a hellish, all-consuming pain, my mind scrambled into the comforting arms of darkness. Oh, the agony—it danced with my senses, twirling me unexpectedly into the realm of dreams once more, despite—or maybe just to spite—my supposed Sleep immunity.

The sound of childish laughter—a symphony of joy and delight—touched my swaying mind. Cracking my eyes open, I beheld a verdant meadow where six young children frolicked without a care. They cavorted and gamboled, their giggles ringing through the air as they chased each other in wild abandon. The sight was both haunting and beautiful, a nostalgic reminder of the carefree days of innocence.

Ah, shit. Did I just die?

The first to approach looked oddly familiar, a youthful child with golden tresses and a beaming face. Her laughter rang out like chimes in glass, her happiness a contagious grace. She hopped and twirled with hand outstretched, eager for a new friendship to be fetched.

Wait… why am I channeling my inner Lewis Carroll geek in my narrative? Ugh, whatever, let’s just roll with it. It probably won’t be that intense, and might even be a bit spotty.

Okay. Extremely spotty.

“Greetings, once again!” she exclaimed, a twinkle perhaps betraying her awareness of my bewildered expression. “You do remember me, don’t you? It’s me, Sophia! Do come and join us. Let’s frolic in a game of tag—you’re to be it!”

With disbelief swirling in my heart, I beheld a wondrous sight with utter glee. Glancing down, I noticed I had shrunk to a child’s size, a diminutive figure, a mere shadow of my pale former self, though wearing my typical I Decapitated Teddy Bears shirt, my hair dyed black and green.

Amidst the fluttering laughter that danced in the air, a smile adorned my face, a radiant expression I couldn’t contain. In that moment, doubts were cast aside, and with reckless glee, I clasped her tiny hand, becoming one with their mirthful brigade.

We raced through the meadow, their infectious energy infusing my every step with wild abandon. The echoes of youthful giggles cascaded like a majestic symphony, and within this realm of unadulterated bliss, nothing else held significance, for I had discovered my true sanctuary. My spirit awakened, resonating with the resounding laughter, basking in the boundless realm of joyous existence.

With nimble steps, I wove and bobbed, my heart alight, as I bounced and leaped, embracing the all-pervading happiness that enveloped the air. Playfully, I nudged the shoulder of a lad, his laughter rippling through the meadow as he twirled in mirthful delight. In this realm of enchantment, the gaiety knew no bounds, a tapestry of joy woven with each breath. Laughter and delight intertwined, painting a perpetual smile upon my face, as the magic of this place unfolded before my eyes.

“Rob, you are it,” Sophia proclaimed.

As the hours waned and the sun bathed the meadow in its warm embrace, we laughed and played, our spirits dancing in the radiant light. Yet, a weight settled upon my heart when I beheld another girl, her dark, freckled face and piercing eyes fixated on the foreboding, frozen woods. Her once vibrant smile had vanished, replaced by an air of trepidation. The shadows stretched, casting an ominous veil over the snow-filled expanse, stripping away its enchantment and revealing only darkness and fear.

A shiver coursed down my spine as I sensed imminent danger lurking within the depths of those forbidding woods. In the back of my mind, a call to run echoed, but it no longer felt as urgent as it once had. No, it was almost welcoming now.

As the day turned to dusk, the freckled child’s joy became a distant memory. She remained there the entire time, standing ever still, her gaze fixed on the silent woods, her face growing ever paler. My heart raced with excitement as the shadows crept nearer, poised to ensnare her joy forever. The woods seemed to hold magic, wonder, and glee that only I could perceive, as though the horrors within beckoned to me with dark delight.

A voice filled with kindness and grace called out to the freckled girl, “Fear not, dear Heather, ’tis just shadows that dwell, there is naught to see, only tales to tell of old nightmares they be. Do come and play with the children once more, dinner draws near.”

As I sought the woman behind the sweet voice, her presence eluded me. I rubbed my eyes and searched around, but her form was nowhere to be found. Yet, a mischievous giggle filled the air, whisking me away to a realm beyond compare.

With boundless glee, I chased after children in a carefree race, leaving behind the shadows of doubt and embracing the pure delight of their embrace. Their laughter and play, a profound symphony, enchanted my mind with joy unbound. In this magical place, I had discovered my true home, where laughter echoed and joy roamed free. The sense of belonging warmed my soul as I reveled in the wonders this realm unfolded. Surrounded by the tune of youthful laughter, I embraced the beauty of each passing hour. But alas, the woods called to me with welcoming whispers, and doubts about this new home crept into my mind—just as dinner beckoned.

The children—Sophia, Heather, Rob, Jeremy, Yua, and Jason—gathered around a table that seemed to expand as we each took our seats, our feet swinging in the air as we leaned in, eagerly awaiting the feast at hand. Laughter filled the air, our smiles reflecting the joy we shared. I sat there, immersed in my chair, a radiant grin adorning my face, captivated by their laughter and the harmony of their embrace.

As if conjured by enchantment, the table was adorned with a feast fit for kings, a culinary delight. The children’s eyes widened with delight, their hunger unmasked as they indulged in the flavors, their enthusiasm unabashed. Laughter and voices intertwined, forming an orchestra of mirth that filled the air, as they savored the earth. I leaned back, a smile upon my face, content in my quiet observation, cherishing their joyous embrace, a memory to treasure, an everlasting sensation to preserve.

Basking in the tantalizing allure of the feast, I refrained from partaking, my senses alert and watchful. My gaze was fixed upon the others as a malevolent notion insinuated itself into the recesses of my mind. A palpable air of unease cloaked the surroundings, a nebulous void that resisted comprehension. I scanned the expanse of the table, yet the enigmatic woman remained elusive, her presence a puzzle yet unsolved, leaving me with an unsettling disquietude and a riddle yet to be gleaned.

As the feast carried on, an ominous shadow cast its pall over the table, its presence unnoticed by the other children. The wooden floorboards creaked beneath our feet, and the house swayed with an unsettling rhythm. Yet, they continued to indulge in their meal with unabated glee, blissfully ignorant of the gathering darkness. The shadows deepened, their sinister tendrils creeping. As I scanned the room, my heart pounding in fearful—no! Gleeful—anticipation, I found naught but fleeting specters, dissipating like a nightmare’s hold released by the dawn’s gentle touch.

Still, my curiosity lingered, a gnawing in the depths of my mind, a resolute feeling that all was not as it seemed, and the darkness held a purpose, not blind. The children’s laughter, once so joyous and free, now rang hollow and forced, their faces contorted into a grotesque masquerade. The darkness ebbed and flowed, reemerging with renewed vigor, its tendrils extending and entwining my thoughts, pulling me deeper into a realm of obscurity where the brilliance of light faltered, and the shadows reigned supreme.

I caught sight of one such shadow, following its trail which, to my confusion, was cast by me.

My bewilderment was abruptly cut short during the feast when a boy’s head tumbled across the table—a sight that left me shaken with mirth, if indeed it was real. It was Rob’s severed head that had passed through, yet the other children feasted on, oblivious to the horrors I had borne witness.

I sat there, frozen in a mix of fearful awe and glee, as another head—this time seemingly belonging to Heather—fell into the cheer. Yet, the feast pressed on, like a nightmare turned reality. A sudden flicker of candlelight unveiled the truth, revealing the skeletal forms of the children, a haunting sight that could not be curtailed. I found myself clapping in joy at the spectral spectacle before me. However, it did not last, as the flicker returned the sight to what it had been. But still, the feast went on, the children—and even the headless—continued to chew. It was a nightmarish vision, one that I could not unsee, nor did I wish to.

A withered old hag, face hidden within a veil, gaunt and sickly thin, shuffled into the room with a slouch and a hobble. She was garbed in dark robes, so familiar, yet untrue. She approached with more food as the children cheered. They eagerly fed, yet only in the briefest of flickers did the candle reveal what to be true.

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I peered through the window and beheld the sinister woods that surrounded us. The trees, twisted and twirled like tentacles of darkness, beckoned me with their dance amidst the whirling snow. The forest was alive with dark delights, forbidden pain, and horrors of the night, and I found myself longing to join in their cruel revelry of memories of pained past lives.

I peered through the window and beheld the sinister woods that surrounded us. The trees, twisted and twirled like tentacles of darkness, beckoned me with their dance amidst the whirling snow. The forest was alive with dark delights, forbidden pain, and horrors of the night, and I found myself longing to join in their cruel revelry, a twisted echo of pained past lives.

What’s going on? Am I dreaming or am I dead?

A flicker of candlelight illuminated the scene, and I beheld the hag, not cloaked in her usual robe, but adorned in a grand ball gown. She soon took her place among us at the table, her gaze fixed upon the lavish spread with wondrous delight, her dark eyes occasionally shifting toward me. Yet, as I gazed upon her, her face remained shrouded within a void so dark, yet somehow it felt akin to a dream so pure. The only part of her that was visible were her skeletal hands of pure bone, stark white against the dim light.

“Duskara?” I murmured, questioning if she was indeed who I thought her to be.

Strangely, despite the unsettling yet magnificent sight before me, I sensed no malevolence emanating from her, only a surprising kindness. Yet, she did not answer me, appearing almost pained, as if saddened by the knowledge that our visit would soon be ending.

Another flicker of gleaming candlelight revealed the true feast once more, at last. The table was bedecked with decay and putridity—spoiled meats crawling with maggots and flies. It was, without doubt, a dream come true for my little black heart. I daringly indulged in a bite of a rotting heart, savoring its flavor as if it were a delectable fruit freshly plucked from a verdant branch. Greedily, I continued to dine, reaching next for a severed human limb, its grotesque flesh clinging stubbornly to the bone.

The children, seated around the table, were nothing but skeletons, with two skulls resting upon plates of twisted entrails and innards. The sight was ghastly, yet I couldn’t avert my gaze, captivated by the grotesque spectacle unfolding before me. With each morsel I savored, I would occasionally sway happily in my seat, as we all dined together.

I wonder if they each see something different? No, really. They all seem way too calm and happy right now.

With each bite I took, the taste of decay greeted my palate, a perverse pleasure that should have turned my stomach. Yet, I reveled in the sensation of each crunch and chew, savoring the morbid symphony upon my tongue.

The hag, draped in the elegance of a refined lady, carried herself with a grace befitting royalty. Her laughter was tender and whimsical as she observed my indulgence in the feast of the dead, her shrouded gaze exuding warmth and affection.

The elegantly dark woman’s next words floated through the air, imbued with a melodic solemnity: “I, the Crone, as most do call me, have decided upon a Champion, now that all of you have gathered,” she so decreed, her voice tinged with reluctance, aware that I had forbidden her from naming me. “As per the rules governing this system and to avoid unwanted gazes, I name only one among you. Thou, cruel Jason, with thy heart full of anger and rage, naught can quell the fire within thy cage. It is for that reason, I name thee, my Dark Champion. Go forth and be the harbinger of my will, so mote it be.”

Jason’s skeleton seemed to do a little jig in his chair with glee. The others appeared shocked—well, as shocked as any skeleton could seem—as I hummed to myself and continued to dine while the shadows in the dim dining room danced to my tune. I was content within this eerie dream, yet a part of me longed to wake up soon, as thoughts of Aislinn filled my mind. However, the happy rhythm was abruptly halted by a knock at the door, which sounded like thunder booming.

The Crone sighed, turning her dark veil toward me for a long gaze. “It seems it’s time to wake up now,” she said, her tone, cadence, and demeanor shifting to one of sorrow. “Do be careful. I do not know what she’s planning, but do not follow her poisonous wor—”

Suddenly, there was a flash of light, and an onslaught of pain scorched through me as sacred holy light narrowly missed its mark, yet still sent tendrils of agonizing pain throughout my being. The anguish was intense, yet it was overshadowed by the ferocity evident on Aurelia’s face. Every inch of her demeanor screamed vengeance, all directed at Anlyth for the audacity of harming me.

How long was I unconscious?

A few milliseconds... I think?

Before Aurelia could unleash her pent-up wrath, however, she found herself encircled by a squadron of knights, their weapons drawn, their intentions clear and deadly. It appeared everyone had finished pulling themselves out of the camp’s wreckage.

As Aurelia faced her opponents, the initial assault came from a knight clad in gleaming armor. Determination flared in his eyes as he aimed a ferocious overhead blow at her. Almost simultaneously, another warrior lunged, his blade seeking her heart with deadly intent. Yet, Aurelia’s reflexes defied belief; she sidestepped the overhead swing and gracefully pivoted away from the thrust, evading both strikes with ease.

With the elegance and danger of a wildcat, she retaliated. Her razor-sharp claws sliced through the first knight’s armor as if it were mere tin foil, inflicting a deep wound across his flesh. Twisting around like a gymnast, she executed a powerful kick to his kneecap, producing a horrific crunch that made him crumple in pain. As the knights were distracted by Aurelia’s prowess, I seized the moment. My tentacles burst forth, coiling and striking with merciless precision.

The knights and barbarians swarmed us with unyielding fury. Arrows flew, yet Aurelia deftly dodged or brushed them aside effortlessly. Mystical assaults followed; streaks of lightning and fiery orbs hurtled our way. However, a pulsating red barrier surrounded Aurelia, absorbing every magical blow, forcing the knights to resort to traditional combat techniques. While some fell to a singular, devastating hit, others showed commendable resilience, charging at us again and again.

On another front, Olin unleashed his wrath, tearing through the ranks with a storm of punches and kicks, only to be overwhelmed by sheer numbers. Despite the full might of my arsenal, the knights resiliently got back to their feet, hinting at the presence of healers among them. I filled the area with Blight and spread Spores liberally, which slowed their physical reactions—a useful ability when surrounded and outnumbered. My Fear spell caused many soldiers to hesitate as they approached, giving Aurelia the upper hand.

In desperate abandon, my tentacles continued lashing out, constricting knights by the throat and hoisting them into the air, only to have my grip broken by every blade’s strike. Some were momentarily incapacitated as I thrust tentacles down their throats, but even these were rapidly severed.

My Corrosive and Venomous touch incapacitated a few, and my Paralysis rendered others immobile, while Life Drain filled me with elation. I had to concentrate intensely to ensure my passive skills were only applied to my tentacles, as most of my body tightly coated Aurelia, and thus, many hits did not include them—much to my frustration!

Aurelia serenaded the battleground with a haunting tune, effortlessly dispatching soldiers one after another. Yet beneath the façade, her eyes betrayed hints of exhaustion. The most formidable adversaries were the scarcely clad warriors—a quite unanticipated sight. Their defenses varied; some boasted ethereal barriers that flickered upon impact, while others had skin as durable as metal.

Their notable attire—or the lack thereof—was not limited by gender, as both male and female warriors sported such minimalistic garments. Thongs? Leather lingerie? Straps and buckles? Honestly, I know I keep pointing it out, but it’s always a surprising eyeful, and I’m not quite sure what to call their Conan-wannabe outfits. Anywho, their tenacity was admirable, but my intentions were clear: their survival stood in opposition to my woman—they all must die!

Still, the momentum of the battle was shifting against us. Aurelia, ever graceful in combat, continued to demonstrate signs of mounting exhaustion, her movements increasingly weighed down by the incessant barrage from the knights. Her expertise remained evident, yet the relentless onslaught steadily pushed her toward her limits. As a knight’s blade aimed for her in a moment of imminent danger, I reflexively contracted around her midsection, forcing her into a stooped position to narrowly evade the lethal cut.

Capitalizing on this evasion, I retaliated with a surge of Necrotic Flame, reducing the knight’s visage to ashes. Observing Aurelia, even in her fatigue, I noticed a slight smile tugging at the corner of her lips. It radiated an unwavering determination, suggesting a deeper intent within her actions, as if I were missing something crucial.

Huh, I’m just noticing, but there’s a hint of dark red in her black hair.

Really? That’s what’s on my mind right now? Fucking hell, Blake!

The onslaught momentarily ceased as the soldiers strategically shifted to encircle us, cunningly staying just out of my tentacles’ reach. Their positioning taunted us, presenting a challenge I couldn’t answer. Recognizing the dwarf woman from our previous encounter in the deep roads and Anlyth beside her, my hopes dwindled. Memories of the tragic loss of Wartie due to the elf paladin’s actions flooded my thoughts, fueling my anticipation of imminent doom and the tangible prospect of Aurelia’s recapture or worse, her demise. Yet, curiously, within the depths of Aurelia’s grin, there remained an inexplicable spark of anticipation.

“Would ye look at what we have here? It’s the little lady herself, back in our clutches once more,” the dwarf sneered.

“It’s apparent to me we don’t have the means to restrain her,” Anlyth declared.

Anlyth moved forward, her sword ready, her light cloak billowing to reveal its underside. A sudden commotion disrupted the knights’ ranks as two amongst them unexpectedly collapsed, victims of an invisible adversary. Their collective attention shifted from Aurelia as they endeavored to pinpoint the origin of this unforeseen assault. Anlyth, with unwavering intent, continued her advance, her sword poised to strike. Yet, she found herself compelled to divert her planned blow, parrying a bony hand that grabbed at her ankle.

The battlefield was strewn with corpses from the tent that had exploded; their deceased brethren had littered every corner of the area. And Aurelia laughed as they began to rise once more. Amidst this chaos, Aurelia’s harmonious laughter resonated, serving as a haunting prelude to the reanimation of the fallen as undead beings. The subsequent events can only be described as sheer pandemonium.

Despite the knights being distracted by the reanimated corpses of their comrades, both the dwarf and the elf remained fixated on Aurelia, and by association, on me—regardless of their awareness of my true nature. I couldn’t shake the feeling of being in over my head with the imminent confrontation. As formidable as Aurelia had proven herself to be, it was clear, both alarmingly and intriguingly, that she was nearing her limits.

Any ideas?

Nope.

Anlyth charged, her sword targeting Aurelia. However, Aurelia deftly dodged the attempt. The dwarf took a different approach, unleashing a formidable punch to Aurelia’s side. Reacting swiftly, I adjusted my form to cushion the impact. The force was like a lightning bolt, catapulting Aurelia backward. Even with the shock rattling my senses, she persisted, battling against the odds. The dwarf didn’t let up, barraging us with punches that each reverberated with pain.

The dwarf’s punishing blow was immediately followed by the elf’s magic. Instead of charging forth, she maintained her distance, hand aloft as if orchestrating some impending doom. A radiant surge of energy burst forth, finding its mark on Aurelia before she could mount a defense or parry. The sheer force of the arcane onslaught sent us skidding across the warzone, amidst soldiers and risen dead alike. Through the barrage, Aurelia’s resilience shone, but even she had limits. My essence felt as if it was being scorched from existence. I couldn’t discern if the pain was from losing a part of myself, but the aftermath was clear: a trail of charred, black, gelatinous residue marked our path, remnants of me.

Desperation clawed at me, compelling me to draw on every scrap of ambient mana around, striving to maintain my form through sheer will. Yet, I was gripped by the dread of my imminent demise. It was not my own death that I feared, however, but the prospect of losing Aurelia—of losing my Aislinn.

~

Gimona reveled in the midst of the most exhilarating battle she’d ever experienced. True, using an army to wear down a vampire before confronting her directly might not scream honor, but with the legendary Aurelia in front of her, winning was all that mattered. Even more troubling was that Aurelia wore General Ezad’s spatial ring around her wrist, which contained the dungeon core they had painstakingly acquired. They had gone to great lengths to secure that artifact without the Ascended Empire’s knowledge, and now it was in enemy hands.

Every time Aurelia tried to dodge, her ever-adaptive dress absorbed the hits, shifting and changing to protect its wearer. Gimona had never witnessed such a piece of enchanted attire before. But under Anlyth’s relentless magical barrage, what was once a grand, flowing dress now resembled a tattered nightgown. Gimona smirked, thinking it wouldn’t be long until Aurelia was left in nothing but the kind of lingerie one might find in the city’s seedier establishments.

The battlefield was a frenzy of motion and magic. Aurelia masterfully controlled the undead and cast blood spell after necrotic spell. However, Gimona continued to marvel at the strange magic emanating from the dress—a cocktail of poisons, corrosive acids, and enigmatic green and purple flames. But to Gimona, a hardened dwarf warrior, such low-tier magical antics were hardly a concern. Most knights would’ve been severely challenged, but not her.

Yet, the real nuisance was the growing horde of undead, which swelled in numbers with each fallen soldier, reducing their ranks. Gimona could almost taste Aurelia’s fatigue, which fueled her anticipation. The endgame was in sight: soon, Aurelia would meet her fate, and her command over the undead would vanish.

Gimona took every ounce of her battle-hardened might and focused it upon Aurelia’s deteriorating form. Each blow, infused with dwarven magic, brought the satisfying sound of snapping bones. Her spirit soared as she prepared her ultimate strike, summoning her deepest reserves of magical energy into her fist. As it slammed into Aurelia’s midsection, the vampire was sent careening, the ground breaking apart beneath her. She was bleeding profusely, not healing—a telltale sign of a vampire in dire need of sustenance.

With victory seemingly within grasp, Gimona vaulted into the air, her entire body intent on delivering a death blow akin to the explosion of a mana crystal. But victory was snatched away in the blink of an eye when an undead tackled her, thwarting her fatal strike.

The challenge of fighting a necromancer like Aurelia is that the longer the battle wages, the more formidable they become—as more death simply means more soldiers for her undead horde. Typically, this wouldn’t pose too much of an issue since most necromancers are constrained by their limited mana reserves, capping the size of their armies. However, Aurelia was an anomaly. It was well-known that she did not rely on her own mana but tapped directly into the ambient mana itself—a feat that perplexed scholars and generals alike and was unheard of even among the ascended gods.

This battle would not end until Aurelia drew her last breath, especially since for every undead they cut down, two more rose in their place. Gimona growled when she noticed caged prisoners being freed by the undead; a few joined the fight, but most fled into the nearby forest. These were not Slaethian prisoners, but captives taken by the imperial soldiers. The dwarf thought it a shame that their champion, who had helped capture Aurelia, the fairy twat, Galen, was not here. His two replacements would arrive tomorrow, but by then, the battle would be long over, and Aurelia would have surely escaped.

Gimona wanted to scream in frustration, but no matter her anger, she knew it did not compare to Anlyth’s pain. Turning General Ezad into an undead was a terrible blow to the Kingdom of Slaethia and, more so, to the elf who loved him. The dwarf let out a fierce battle cry… and blinked as she glanced around for her target.

“Oi, any of yez fucks see the vamp?” Gimona Grimmail called out as she sidestepped a blow from an undead barbarian wielding a claymore.

Turning around, Gimona spotted Aurelia skillfully dodging blows from a few knights, effortlessly evading their attacks. She winced when she saw the vampire sink her teeth into one of their necks, moaning in glee. Then, something unexpected happened. Tentacles from her enchanted outfit sprang forth, leaving her nude flesh exposed to the ongoing battle as the gooey substance devoured the corpse she had just slain and drained, before pulling itself back over her body, coating her entirely in black.

Gimona charged forward, snatched a random weapon from the ground, and leapt into the air. She came crashing down with a war hammer aimed at the vampire’s head. But just as she was about to connect, an unfamiliar woman’s voice cried out, “Ethereal Mist!” To Gimona’s sudden surprise, her weapon passed straight through her target as though she wasn’t even there.

“W-What?” Gimona gasped.

However, that unseen woman’s voice uttered another spell, “Burst,” and in a flash of speed, Aurelia was gone. In an instant, the vampire disappeared in an ethereal puff, leaving the Slaethian and imperial soldiers to contend with the remnants of her horde, formed from their own dead. Worse still, almost all of their caged beastkin prisoners had escaped along with her, including the vampires they had impaled on pikes.