When Regis felt some of his strength return, he immediately used up his regained arcana to heal his most serious wounds, leaving him with scabs and small cuts that wouldn’t bleed continuously. With the pain lessened, he finally had a chance to take a look at the faintly glowing crystal that floated a couple inches above the archer’s corpse. As he kneeled beside the carcass and grabbed it, the crystal flared up as faint green words began to form into the air above it.
{Dual shot}
{Skill crystal}
{Item rarity: uncommon}
{This skill allows you to fire arrows in quick succession. Activation costs 5 points of stamina.}
{Requirement: 12 deftness}
{Do you want to learn this skill?}
‘No.’ He answered in his mind as he shoved the plum sized crystal into the coin pouch he took from one of the corpses. It was difficult to search the carcasses for any usable items in the dark, but seeing the outlines of the bodies proved to be enough. He soon found a new piece of armour that would go atop his gambeson.
{Simple leather pauldrons (scratched)}
{Item rarity: common}
{Item quality: ordinary}
{Durability: 81/100}
{Armour type: medium}
{Armour Value: 8/10}
The shoulder armour pieces felt a bit stiff, but the extra protection was more than welcome. It was already late into the night and Regis felt tired, bruised and hungry. He sat down in a half lotus position, closing his eyes for a few moments as he breathed slowly. Meditating on the battlefield was a no go, but he still tried to regain some of his strength. After a couple of slow breaths, he felt a warmth flow through his body as his heartbeat slowed. After a few short minutes of rest, he looked at the outlines of the bodies he dropped.
With no other soldiers or monsters around, he could safely do what he would have been burnt at the stake for back on the battlefield. He walked over to the group of archers with the undead soldier. With a bit of rummaging around in the dark, a few bronze daggers, the sword, three bows with the quivers and a couple armour pieces got stripped off and tied up into a bundle. When he was done looting the still useable gear and coin pouches, he prickled his finger with his rust spotted iron dagger. As soon as his blood hit the ground beside the corpse, the red droplets began to run around the warrior’s carcass, drawing up the familiar magic circle. The remains soon shrunk into a dried out husk as a pale green shard was formed. By the time he took care of the three archers, he also got two larger red and a blue shard as well.
The sense of power radiating from those shards was mesmerising. Regis clutched the shards with a firm grip, making them burst apart like the gathered Amaranth crystals usually did. These shards however directly affected him. He could feel his tiredness wash away as his blood boiled and arcana seethed for the next several seconds. ‘So this is what direct life force infusion feels like.’ He mused before he grabbed the belt that held the bundle of loot together, so he could drag it back towards the city wall. On his way back through the fog, he noticed a group of rotting soldiers to his right that waddled towards the city wall. There was one particular fallen that caught his attention. Although it was a bit further behind the rest, it was different from the rest. It wore tattered robes and its eyes burned with a strange blue flame that had the power to push the unnatural fog and darkness away from it by several steps.
“Is that a priest?” He asked aloud, but it proved to be a foolish idea.
A rotting soldier near him turned its head towards the noise. The young elf raised his bladestaff, stabbing forward.
“I wasn’t talking to you.” Regis grumbled as the tip of the bladestaff ran through the undead’s right eye, ending with a twist.
Not having time to search the carcass of the swordsman, he tried his best to sneak closer to the strange undead. When he was about 5 or so meters away, his legs refused to move further as cold sweat ran down on his back. The robed undead raised its hand towards an already killed archer and a creepy bluish light lit up on its fingertips. That same light started glowing beneath the corpse. A moment later the rotting carcass twitched as its severed parts got somewhat mended and it began to stand up again.
“Well, that's not good.” Regis stuttered as he took a step back.
A moment later he rushed forward despite his instincts screaming against it and swung the bladed end of his staff at the newly resurrected corpse that tried to stand up. The undead soldier collapsed back on the ground after getting struck in the head. He stepped back while his bladestaff moved towards the undead priest with a faint red glint, but it got deflected by the bronze mace the robed undead swung at him.
“What the fuck?” He cursed, surprised by its agile movements as he tried to distance himself from the abomination.
The youth grabbed his bladestaff firmly this time, using quick strikes against the fast approaching enemy. The first strike was deflected by the mace again, but the second one managed to strike the creature in the chest. It did little besides angering it. Pale blue flames covered its empty hand while it pulled out the blade, leaving a faint scorch marks on the weapon’s edge. What made it truly frightening was that it let out a blood chilling wail as it lunged towards him. As a last attempt, Regis used a Spartan kick to knock it back, but it only slowed down the undead horror for a split second. It still landed a glancing strike with its mace, sending the young dark elf sprawling on the ground. The air was knocked out of his lungs when the mace reached his ribs, even though he was already jumping backwards. Coughing, he rolled to the side, narrowly escaping the mace that came towards him once more. Dirt flew around as the robed undead’s weapon missed, however it was still capable of grabbing the azure haired youth as he just jumped on his feet. A searing heat appeared as the undead’s hand grabbed him by the arm, blue flames burning a hand mark into his left forearm guard and scalded the skin beneath it.
“Get off me!” He screamed as he punched the rotting horror in the face, yanking his hand free.
He pushed himself back onto his feet and raised his bladestaff, hacking at it with a heavy slash. His attack pushed the bronze mace back and he took the chance to use heavy slash again. The red light ran along the blade’s edge as it severed the robed undead’s arm at the elbow. Its other hand aimed towards him with an open palm. As Regis rose his weapon to strike again, the hair on his neck stood up, utter dread filling his chest. This sense of terror was so overwhelming that he immediately threw himself on the ground. A jet of pale blue fire blew through the space above him, burning away the air and dust. Seeing that its attack failed, the abomination tried to summon its fiery attack again. Regis was sweating bullets and knew that he wouldn’t survive another attack like that.
Still wheezing, he jumped up and tackled his rotting opponent while it tried to cast its spell again. As soon as he managed to send it on the ground, he grabbed its neck and started to pummel the undead’s skull with his bare fists, but the eerie blue flame from its eyes showed that his punches weren’t too effective. Seeing this, Regis fumbled around for a moment, grabbing a fist sized muddy stone he found in arms reach and began to smash its head with that. The barrage of strikes filled the darkness with the sound of bones braking and soon, only a pile of rotting mush remained. Golden letters formed in the air in front of him as his mind felt calmer and firmer.
If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.
{You have been burned, slashed, smashed and stabbed in one night, yet you kept pushing onward. You have earned the ‘Just a scratch’ feat. Your willpower got permanently increased by 1.}
Regis couldn’t feel any happiness from seeing the glowing words that intruded his mind once more. He was hurting all over and he was sure that his health points were barely above 10. Still panting, the dark elf plopped down to heal his most likely cracked ribs and burnt arm before meditating for a minute or two and identifying the robed corpse.
{Fallen Priest of Malice}
{Level: 7}
{Attributes}
* Allure:??
* Deftness:??
* Erudition:??
* Luck:??
* Might:??
* Mind:??
* Physique:??
* Spirit:??
* Willpower:??
{This dark priest of unknown origins took part in the dark arts and became an undead due to his strong connection to the powers of foul magic. Its original attributes had been halved by becoming an undead. It retained some of its capability of using its ingrained special skills, spells and items.}
Regis felt both disheartened and curious as he saw the question marks in the corpse’s stats. His curious mood however changed when the fallen priest’s corpse caught on fire. The familiar bluish flames washed over the carcass, stopping right above its chest. He readied his bladestaff in case the dead priest got tired of being dead, but no such thing happened. The young dark elf could only stare at the flames that shrunk from a blue torch to a pale red candlelight. It hardened into a horse bean sized amber coloured gemstone with fire burning inside it. As Regis reached out to touch the amber, the familiar green letters burned through the air to form a description.
{Ember seed}
{Spell crystal}
{Item rarity: uncommon}
{All fires are born from an ember. Absorbing this ember will grant you your own flame, unlocking the ‘Fire affinity’ feat.}
{Requirement: 10 mind, spirit and willpower.}
{Do you wish to absorb it?}
“Yes!” He answered almost yelling from happiness.
The amber cracked as flames burst out of it, seeping into his skin. He shuddered as the sensation of the searing heat rushed through his veins. It only lasted for a few moments, but it was enough to warm his tired and cold body. With the ember seed used up, he was ready to take the bronze mace and use the corpse sacrificial ritual. Before he could do so however, the lifeless corpse suddenly began to wither, emitting a black smoke with faint green lights swimming in it. Regis wobbled back, watching as the smoke collapsed into a pitch black crystal that floated above the pile of dust that was once a priest. His eyes were filled with greed as he stared at the black stone, but he pulled back his fingers as soon as he touched it.
{Necromancer’s will}
{Item rarity: rare}
{Unique Legacy Crystal}
{For those who walk the path of darkness, not even death counts as sacred. Accept the words of the shadows and you shall command the dead. By absorbing the fears, hatred and knowledge sealed into this crystal, you will unlock the ‘Necromancer’ Pathway and its related skill-line.}
{Legacy requirement: 10 intellect and willpower.}
{Do you accept this inheritance?}
“Necromancy,” he spat on the ground. “Not in a million years.”
He grabbed the bronze mace the moment he rejected the idea of inheriting the foul magic, and took a hard swing at the crystal. The mace bounced back with a clinking sound, but the stone was unharmed.
“Of course it wouldn’t be that easy to destroy it.”
He stared at the dark stone with a faint disgust on his face. Even he knew about the dark art of necromancy from books, not to mention witnessing it first-hand just now. He didn’t want to do anything with it, but he couldn't just leave it there. Thinking about the issue, he remembered that he had seen a church like building back in Hunor.
“That's right,” he mumbled. “Churches supposed to fight against such things, so they’re ought to have a way of getting rid of this thing.”
Once decided, he searched his vicinity for his dagger that fell out of its sheath during his fight. He cut a large piece of cloth from the re-killed archer’s pants and rolled it around the crystal before taking it away. As he looked at the ash filled robe of the corpse, he noticed a disfigured amulet and a small satchel hanging on its side. The amulet was obviously a damaged religious symbol and Charlatan’s wisdom soon revealed what he needed to know about the satchel.
{Simple leather satchel (scratched)}
{Item rarity: common}
{Item quality: ordinary}
{Durability: 77/100}
{A leather bag with small inner space to store items in. It is meant to be worn on a belt.}
Once he got hold of it, he opened it and pulled out a pair of scrolls and a mouldy piece of bread. One of the scrolls was sealed with a piece of cord and had a faintly glowing symbol on it. With his dwindling arcana reserves, he still took the chance and identified it.
{Scroll of lesser charlatan’s wisdom}
{It can reveal the nature of any item below well-made quality or uncommon rarity.}
‘There are actual magic scrolls in this place?’ He smiled weekly put the satchel on his belt after tossing the mouldy food away and putting the black crystal and the sealed scroll inside. While he was curious about the other parchment, he could only see its outline in the dark and charlatan’s wisdom only noted it as a ‘filled out’ scroll. After gathering his gear and loot, Regis headed towards the sound of distant battle, taking down and looting three more undead swordsmen before reaching the torch lit area of the battlefield.
“Regis,” Norma called to him as soon as he managed to reach the ramparts. “I was starting to get worried about you. You vanished after Grego ordered you to take care of those archers. At first we thought that you’ve returned here when after separating from us, but when we joined up with the others, they said that no one had seen you coming back.”
“Sorry for being late,” he apologized. “I got held up by a fallen priest.”
“A fallen priest?” Grego asked with his eyebrows twitching. “There’s actually such an abomination heading towards us?”
“Not anymore.” The short statured elf held up the damaged symbol.
“You’ve killed it?” Norma questioned him with an incredulous look on her face.
“It was a tough fight,” he admitted while showing the scorched arm guards. “It was the strongest fallen I’ve fought so far.”
“What matters is that you’re alive,” Norma said. “Once the sun rises, we’ll go to the church to get healed up. Until then, just drink this and bear with it.”
The guardswoman handed a small clay bottle with a light red liquid inside.
“Is that a healing potion?” The youth asked.
“Yes, but don’t get your hopes up. It’s the worst quality you can get. Even these are few in numbers.”
“I don’t get it,” Regis stared at the fist sized clay bottle. “They’re practically sending you to your deaths every night with no healer or priest around.” He looked up at the haggard line of defenders and the ones already laid out dead beside the ramparts.
“It can’t be helped,” Grego shook his head. “Most of our supplies and proper gear was sent on to the battlefields weeks before and Hunor was almost completely ransacked by the time we got here. Whatever little the people brought along with them isn’t enough for such a large amount of refugees."
"We’ve been cut off from the main roads leading inward the kingdom by the undead and the other abominations," Norma let out a weary sigh while cleaning her blade. "Even if we were able to send out people, I doubt there’s anyone left to ask help from. Our best alchemists were conscripted early during the war and the apprentices that were left behind barely have anything to work with. The Church of the Seven Paths also lost a lot of its people, making the rest of them too important to risk out here. They will be the ones to teach and anoint the new healers that are being trained. For now, we can only make do with what we have and try our best to survive long enough for the boats to get river worthy.”
Regis knew it better than to ask any other hopeless questions from the tired and sullen soldiers, so he just nodded and decided to concentrate on the more important matters at hand.