The following morning, I visited the worm-eaten alchemy shop, where I distilled two ‘Weak Healing Potions’ using the Alchemist’s own setup.
The Alchemist stared at me throughout the entire procedure, silently judging my technique, though he never said a word, which I took as a sign that I hadn’t screwed up anything. I made sure to buy a couple more glass flasks and healing plants in case I needed to make additional potions later. The finished potions and the two empty flasks put me right at 7.3 kg, which was just below the next weight class thankfully. After experiencing what it was like to have less stamina and movement speed, I knew I wanted to stay below that line for as long as possible, though it seemed an inevitable thing, given how I kept slow accruing items that I didn’t discard, like my starter alchemy set, just to name one.
Once I become more proficient, do I need to carry around a whole setup like what the Alchemist has?
I spent the next hour browsing the various bookstands in the marketplace, though I didn’t actually find any of the books about myself, but one book did catch my eye. It was called, ‘The Immortal and The Lightless City’.” No doubt it was about the immortal named Ceilameed, whom Kerebor had referred to. Granted, that bit of information now seemed more like a trap than a head’s up. Though I would’ve bought the book, it cost more than eight gold pieces, which was a tad bit too much for me to splurge on simple reading material. Since I’d discovered that repair fees for my obsidian blade were astronomical, I had to be frugal with how much I spent, so I wouldn’t end up unable to pay to have it fixed, should I happen to break the damn thing again.
When it was clear I wasn’t going to buy the book I was skimming through, the vendor rudely shooed me off, yelling, “This isn’t a library!”
I did notice one thing as I put the book down and that was its tooltip:
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‘The Immortal and The Lightless City’
-Book-
“Discover the story of the Lightless City’s most well-known figure and learn about his role within the city, as well as how he became one of the Frontier’s earliest Immortals.”
Written by: “Nova”
Weight: 0.5 kilos
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I need to find this Nova guy.
As I reached the edge of town, I equipped my armour and raven-feather cloak. I placed a hand on my scabbard, comforted by its familiar feel, and then set off towards the Old Church.
Since I wasn’t sure how long I’d be out of town, I’d bought a waterskin, though I’d replaced the water with beer since that was more filling. I’d also brought two sausages and a loaf of brown bread with me.
I was afraid that the food would put me over the weight limit, but for some reason it didn’t have any weight whatsoever, though it seemed to depend on how much I carried, as carrying ten or more sausages would make each of them weight 200 grams.[1] It was a strange, but ultimately useful, system that ensured players wouldn’t be starving because they couldn’t carry enough food for a day or two. Given that this Realm had physics-defying powers and items that crossed the border into the absurd, such as healing potions, it was likely that starvation wasn’t possible, though I still felt a stomach-ache when I’d gone too long without food.
When the top of the church came into view over the hills, it was shrouded in dark plumes of smoke from a fire recently lit. Fearing the worst, I upped my pace, eventually breaking into a full sprint as I went up-and-down the many hills.
“Now entering Emergent Stage ‘The Burning Church’.”
Emergent? What the hell does that mean? I wondered.
Half-exhausted already, I came sliding down the hill in front of the earth-swallowed church courtyard. Flames enveloped half the stone edifice and roared white-hot as they consumed the interior with untamed voracity. As I watched, slowly approaching the blazing furnace, a tall metal-clad figure burst through the large wooden door and, in a single motion, tossed the lifeless body of Father Adam across the courtyard, his tumbling body only stopping once it collided with one of the partially-swallowed stone benches.
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The Knight was coated in a layer of shadow, similar to what I’d seen on the Forlorn Aristocrat, and his armour was untarnished by the flames. I sped up, and, when I got close, leapt at him, letting loose my Quick Draw against the side of his helm before he himself could draw his weapons. The Knight stumbled for a second, but then regained his balance. The dent I had put in his helmet would’ve been enough to knock him unconscious had he not been one of them… the Forlorn. As I stood between him and the unconscious Father, that distinct stench of rot filled my nose, while the melody of the roaring flames burned in the background.
The Forlorn Knight had a beaked close-helm similar to the Forlorn Intruder I’d fought the day before, but his armour was in far better shape and covered his entire body. Around his neck was a royal-blue scarf, fluttering in the wind the roaring fire produced, its edges singed black by the flames. The Knight pulled his blade from its scabbard and withdrew a shield from his back. The armour, longsword, and shield all glowed unnaturally with the darkness I’d seen on the Intruder’s Halberd and the Aristocrat. I realised that the shadowy powers that Red Rian and his corrupted cohort had used were just a poor imitation of the real thing, but then again, they’d been feasting on the corpse of a Forlorn, so perhaps that’s why their control of the shadows was so poor and incomplete.
With a single step forward and his sword slamming against his shield, the Knight sent forth a shockwave that rattled the earth and made me lose my balance. Then, he immediately followed up this attack by charging straight at me, his mobility far greater than that of the Intruder.
I ducked under his strike and speared him through the chest with my katana, feeling a satisfying give of his metal cuirass when my blade cut through it. I continued moving past him, letting his own momentum tear free the blade, almost slicing him in half.
The Knight seemed unconcerned with this mortal wound however, and didn’t even stop, instead just ploughing onwards, aiming for the Father. Meanwhile, the veil of shadow on his body hastily covered up the wound, keeping his body from wrenching itself apart. I turned on the heel of my boot and chased him down, until I managed to catch up to him and, using my Lacerate, sever the tendons of his left leg, causing his armoured body to collapse face first upon the earth, only a few metres from the unconscious priest.
He was trying to push himself up with his right arm, which held the shield, but I stepped on top of him before he could get up and jabbed my blade through his armour, into the nape of his neck. As my blade rested in his putrid flesh, I performed my Lacerate once again, rending the flesh and fully decapitating him. Unlike when I’d slain the Intruder, the shadow still clung to the Knight’s body, and I didn’t spare a second to see if the supposed reanimation would follow shortly after his apparent death. Instead, I ran to the Father, hoisted him on my shoulders and took off.
After a hard climb up the hill, the breath burning in my lungs and my vision going blurry, I looked back towards the burning church and the fallen Knight. The blood froze in my veins and a fist tightened around my heart, when I saw him carefully stumble upright, like some puppet pulled on its strings, its movements entirely unnatural. A loud crash sounded from the church as the roof caved in on itself, and flames exploded out the tall windows, the hole in the wall, and the great door, momentarily lighting up the courtyard with the power of a thousand suns. In the moment the light flashed brightest, I saw that the Knight had no shadow but the one on his body. I would’ve liked to say that I was unfazed by what I saw, that the oceans of blood I’d already witnessed and the many deaths I’d wrought had somehow endowed me with an unshakeable resolve. But, that wasn’t the case...
I ran screaming down the side of the hill, trying my damnedest to get as far away from the undying Knight as possible. My foot slipped on the way down and Father Adam flew from my grip as I tumbled through the grass. Panicking, I picked him up again and hurried up the next hill. I never once looked back, fearing what I’d see shambling towards me in the distance.
At some point we reached the road, though I honestly couldn’t say how. I was breathing quickly, each breath a shallow wheeze, my legs wobbled like crazy, and my body was sore from the earlier fall. Without warning, a rider approached us on his horse. His face had a look of concern, which was fair, since we probably looked like a mess, plus the Father was still unconscious in my grip. I should’ve questioned the sheer coincidence of this encounter, but simply took it for granted. Not everything has to make perfect sense, least of all when you’re running for your life.
“Are you all right?” he asked.
“I… need… your… horse…” I said between each laboured breath.
When he was about to protest, I drew my blade and pointed it at him.
“Now… please…”
He quickly dismounted, and even helped me carefully lift the old Father onto the back of the mare. I jumped onto the horse as well and, grabbing the reins with one hand, scrolled through my inventory and tossed the man a sack of twenty silvers. He looked at the coins in his hand with some befuddlement, likely thinking this was the weirdest robbery ever.
I kicked the sides of the horse and it took off. I couldn’t remember ever having ridden a horse before, but it was like my body just took over. Just like riding a bike, I thought, not for the first time.[2]
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[1] I may or may not have found this out the hard way… Let’s just say that the guy at food stall got kind of mad when I wanted to immediately refund eight of the ten sausages that he’d made for me.
[2] Granted, in this case, the horse was nothing like a bike, but you get my point.