We spent the next hour killing off the remaining corrupted bandits in Silt, before we even attempting to drag the corpse of the Knight towards the end of the pier. Of the corrupted ones, only one of them put up a real fight, which earnt Patrik a nasty gash on his right arm, after the shadowy claw of its disturbing fifth limb sheared through his chainmail with ease. The rest we put down with disappointing ease. In terms of items, we were just rewarded with two more ‘Hearts of Shadow’, which Jakob got, and three ‘Ruined Red Runner Baldrics’ that Patrik claimed, since he said he could use them for crafting.
Patrik downed another healing potion as Jakob and I started unhooking the corpse. It seemed his wound wasn’t healing very well.
“Don’t drink too many of those,” Jakob warned.
“I know, mom,” Patrik responded snidely.
“What happens if you drink too many?” I asked, while struggling to wrench free the hook in the corpse’s shoulder.
Patrik wiped the back of his gloved hand along his mouth, then said, “If you drink four potions within half a day, so twelve hours, you’ll get sick and start bleeding internally.”
“Wait, you’re saying it poisons you??”
“Pretty much.”
I let go of the shoulder after removing the hook, the whole body falling down and wrenching itself free from the last hook that Jakob had been working on. It made a loud thud and a disgusting squelch as it impacted the wet floorboards. “How the fuck was I supposed to ever discover that??”
Jakob and Patrik both shrugged.
I shook my head, “Even the healing potions can hurt you in this place… ridiculous.”
“I think it had to be that way. Otherwise, you could just keep drinking potions and become invulnerable.”
“Listen to you talk as though logic has any role to play in this realm,” Jakob commented.
“Well, it does. After all, this place is mimicking a game, isn’t it?”
“More like a bloodsport for the amusement of some deranged God,” I muttered.
Jakob grunted with effort as he tried to lift the dismembered body of the Knight. “This thing is heavy!”
I grabbed the other shoulder. “Patrik, grab the legs… or well, what’s left of them.”
His brief expression of disgust said that he’d rather not, but it was clear that even between Jakob and I, moving the Knight’s body would be impossible.
If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.
It took us maybe forty minutes to move the Knight’s corpse to the edge of the longest pier in Silt. Several times Patrik and I both questioned why on earth we were doing this, but then eventually Jakob told us that there was a potential for the travel between Safe Zones to be blocked again if we just left the body where it was, at least according to something some random guy in a tavern had told him for free. I got the feeling that we were probably just being pranked. Nevertheless, we persevered through the arduous task, afraid we’d have to come back here later, if what Jakob said was true.
As one, we rocked the dismembered body back-and-forth as we stood on the edge of the rickety pier, and then with one last heave-ho! we sent it flying into the lake below. It landed with a great splash and then slowly cast bubbles to the surface as it sank. A half-minute later, a grey shadow moved through the water and snatched it, before disappearing back into the deeper parts of the lake.
Jakob did a mock salute to the giant lake shark, and then we made our way out of Silt and back to the Village, so that we could find transport to Gothershall where the tournament would take place.
We’d only just left Silt and its melancholic violin behind when someone came walking towards us down the incline of the road back to the Village.
“Fuck,” I muttered.
“What is it? You know ‘em?” Jakob asked.
“Yeah, he’s my stalker…”
I was about to start berating Kerebor for showing up again, after I’d told him to take a hike several times, but then I noticed that he was wielding his mirror-like shield and a longsword that I’d only ever seen secured within the scabbard on his hip.
Maybe I shouldn’t have pointed my sword at him last time… I considered.
“He doesn’t look like he just wants to talk,” Patrik noted.
Jakob was already knocking an arrow on his bow. In the distance, Kerebor had started charging, shield held up.
My friend looked at me, concerned. “Aiko, do we fight him?”
“He’s really strong,” I started, “but I don’t think he’s going to give us the option to choose.”
“Stay behind me,” Patrik said. “If we can’t beat him, we’ll run back into Silt. Hopefully he won’t be able to follow us.”
I readied my hands on my scabbard and hilt. “Fuck…” I cursed again.
Kerebor was only fifteen metres away.
Patrik moved up, raising his own shield and readying his mace.
What happened next felt like a long moment, but was only an instant: When Patrik drew within eight metres of Kerebor, there came a rush of air, followed by a loud crunch of metal and bone. Patrik was suddenly doubled over, with Kerebor’s sword pierced through his chest. Before either Jakob or I could do anything, he’d pulled the sword out of Patrik’s chest and chopped off his head, perfectly severing his neck between where the chainmail ended and the Barbute helmet started.
Jakob screamed something unintelligible, and the sound of his grief-struck voice made my chest hurt, as though a hand had grasped tight on my heart and constricted its rhythm.
I saw the change in Kerebor’s posture and immediately fired off a Quick Draw, just as he surged toward Jakob who was next to me. My sword slammed against something hard and knocked him off his course, sending him tumbling away into the porous sand and gravel. Before I could see what kind of damage I’d inflicted on him, I grabbed Jakob by the arm and ran back towards the stilted houses and walkways of Silt.
We made it to the first of the walkways that connected with the ground, just as Kerebor yelled in the distance.
“Aiko, you whore! You liar! Betrayer! I’ll kill you!”
Then suddenly, blissful silence, with naught but lapping water and creaking planks. Not even the violin returned as the zone around Silt enveloped us.