As they soared along the coastline of the continent, the landscape was a haunting sight, dotted with ruins and macabre abominations. Undead creatures of various forms roamed the land, their flesh long decayed. It was a true domain of the undead. Amidst this desolate scenery, they spotted a solitary fortress.
"What the hell? Are those people down there?" Mike's voice betrayed his surprise as they approached the makeshift fort. It stood fortified with tall wooden walls and hastily constructed earthworks. The individuals manning it comprised a diverse mix of species, and the presence of mages among them was evident from the substantial fortifications they had managed to build despite their small numbers.
"Adventurers... I remember reading about quests like this. The S-class and A-class occasionally venture here to gather rare magical materials found only here in the northern continent, it also gives bragging rights," Sophia remarked, observing the men and women scrambling along the fort's walls upon their approach.
"Money and glory, huh? Seems like a decent spot to grab a drink," Mike quipped humorously as they descended toward the small encampment, landing on the side facing the sea that lacked substantial walls. they strolled down the dock past a massive ship, surveying the surroundings.
As they neared, a band of wary adventurers intercepted them. At their helm stood a towering elf, flanked by an orc, a dwarf, and a beastkin reminiscent of a raven or some dark avian creature. The elf, evident in his elaborate robes and vivid pink mane, wielded a staff with the prowess of a practiced mage.
"Halt! State your names and the purpose of disturbing our encampment," the elf commanded, his posture signaling readiness for any provocation.
"I am Valicar," Sophia proclaimed, sensing a flicker of recognition across the adventurers' faces as they beheld Valicar's distinctive dual-toned hair and striking eyes.
"You can't be Valicar! She's human, and you're..." the elf began, gesturing towards Valicar's horns and tail, "Clearly something else."
"Maybe you're onto something. I am dragonkin," Sophia boldly declared, affirming her shifting nature and the revelations of her past unearthed by James years ago. The unknown past lingered, haunting her steps, yet she was resolute to confront it, even if it required drowning the mysteries in a sea of liquors.
The elf recoiled as if Sophia's words were a grave blasphemy as if she had beckoned forth the wrath of Ignial himself. "You lie! You're likely a warlock consorting with devils! Leave, and speak no more of this absurdity!" the elf barked, his company on edge, weapons at the ready.
"Easy, friends," Sophia interjected, forestalling Mike's imminent retort. "I bring valuable wares and services. Even if you doubt my claims, allow me to prove myself. I seek information."
Her words tempered the men's aggression. The elf appeared intrigued, though cautious. "What goods do you speak of and what information do you seek?"
"I possess rare treasures from distant lands and the power to prove my claims. All I request is the location of Death Tooth," Sophia bargained, her tone unwavering with years of practice.
"What need do you have for them?" the elf inquired, his tone guarded.
"I simply need to find them. You need not know more," Sophia asserted firmly.
"There's someone here who knows how to find them. Very well, prove your worth. Slay a hundred undead by nightfall, and then we'll talk," the elf declared as dusk began to descend.
"Deal!" Mike's voice cut through the tense air as he stared down the elf leader. Valicar leaped over the wall, and as the word "Satrax" echoed in the gathering dusk, the Black Ice sword materialized seamlessly in Mike's grasp. It was a perfect fusion of their magic, a manifestation of their combined essence in perfect sync.
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The sword, born of both demonic and arcane energies, radiated an otherworldly glow. Mike's grip on the hilt felt strangely familiar as if the weapon acknowledged the harmonious connection between the twins. With a swift, practiced motion, Mike swung the blade through the air, invoking the spell in a seamless dance of power.
"Patrax!" The sword became an extension of their shared will, and as the ominous surge of black shards erupted from its surface, it was clear that their magic had melded into a force beyond the sum of its parts. The ebony ice shards hurtled forth with a newfound intensity, tearing through the undead with a vicious ferocity.
Each shard, etched with the merging essences of Sophia and Mike, carved a path of destruction through the decaying horde. Bones shattered, and rotting flesh was torn asunder, the air filled with the symphony of destruction orchestrated by the twins' united power. The sword, now an instrument of both magic and pact, exuded an aura of undeniable potency.
As the last remnants of the undead succumbed to the onslaught, the battlefield lay eerily silent. Mike, still holding the Ebony Ice sword, felt the lingering resonance of their shared magic in a way he had never before. The onlookers, awestruck by the display, The night, once filled with the groans of the undead, now bore witness to the aftermath of a power that transcended individual power.
As Valicar descended, a hushed reverence filled the air. "You're her, aren't you?" the elf marveled, eyes shining with awe.
"I am," Valicar confirmed, the echo of their power lingering in the camp's midst.
"You might just be the answer to our prayers," the elf whispered, a glimmer of hope sparking within the desperate enclave.
But amidst their refuge, a sinister presence loomed—an undead terror, perhaps a lich, a vampire, or some other undead horror preying upon the adventurers. Every venture beyond the fortress walls resulted in the loss of valiant souls, the malevolent entity singling them out one by one.
The S-class dwarf, visibly concerned with doubt, voiced his apprehension. "Even if you're the legendary Valicar, facing it... you will lose!"
With a confident smirk, Mike finally interjected, "Nah, I'd win."
Valicar stood as a figure of significant renown in the eyes of the world, revered for their accomplishments at the Magical Games and for the tales that echoed across continents—stories of their exploits in the distant East, where they forged alliances to overthrow the empire and rekindle the flames of their long-forgotten kingdom. To their allies, Valicar was a beacon of change, a thorn in the side of the Templars, offering a glimmer of hope against the indomitable Pillar of the North, even if it was merely a small dent in his armor. After the very public death of the Pillar East, word had spread that the quasi-immortals could be killed.
Now, in this desolate realm of the undead, Valicar found themselves amidst adventurers sponsored by the Western government, venturing into the treacherous terrain for the benefit of themselves and their patrons. Amidst sharing stories and learning about the history of the land, The twins sought solace in drink, as they listened.
The adventurers' tales painted a grim picture as they sat around the fire—they had delved deep into the heart of the land, only to start losing men at an alarming rate. Initially attributing it to ambushes, they discovered a disconcerting pattern: a few men disappearing each night, not through brute force, but as though preyed upon by an intelligent adversary. The losses persisted even within the fortress, fortified with walls, bolstered by magic, and guarded diligently. No matter how vigilant they remained, someone would vanish in plain sight, a disturbing curse of the land that seemed inescapable.
With their supplies dwindling and their expedition in jeopardy, the adventurers, representing a guild from the Western Republic, faced a dire situation. The Pillar of the West's onslaught had ravaged their republic, leaving them desperate to secure provisions only found here for their people and augment their stature as heroes in their homeland.
In the center of the camp, shadows flickered wildly around the blazing fire. Hushed conversations shared tales of Northern terrors and whispers about the crumbling Empire's chaotic state. There was a chilling truth buried in these talks: the church now ruled after a brutal coup, triggering a brutal civil war. Losses were mounting worldwide, casting a bleak shadow over their dreams of reclaiming former glory. Their desire for a savior clashed with their desperation for wealth, as they yearned for help. But beneath their united front, there was a clear unease—an unspoken plea for a hero to rise against the ever-encroaching darkness. Valicar, entwined in ambitions tied to House Norail's tragic legacy and the lost kingdom of Kelvidion, stood out as a significant figure in this story of unyielding survival and unfulfilled desires.