The cursed armor hadn’t moved since the repairs had finished.

Many presences had appeared on the moorlands, but the Moorland Menace continued, resting under the tree with the spirits.

The presences numbered in the hundreds, was this an act of self-preservation?

A breeze hit the area and the spirits fled, prompting the Moorland Menace to stand up.

Six figures approached, all giving off a feeling of strength and competence.

Loran recognized them immediately. Not the individuals, but this was a six-man party sent by the Adventurer’s Association, or also referred to as the AA.

He had considered becoming an adventurer as it would help him move around easily but he never got to it.

Each of the party members had a specific role and should have exceptional teamwork.

‘This is it! Thee are the ones that will rescue me’ Loran thought.

He quickly identified the Golden Angel, or the healer of the group. It was a middle-aged man in a white coat and blue-green gloves. He should be the heart of the party, as parties often don’t survive long after their healer falls.

2 men in plate armor stood in front of him, one with a large hammer and another with a poleaxe. These were either Iron Walls or Unstoppable beasts, those responsible for putting themselves between the party and the threat or to keep applying melee pressure. Their weapons suggested that they were fully prepared to fight armored opponents.

A man and a woman stood in the back, suggesting they would attack from range. Those must be Crimson Eagles, adventurers focusing on spell casting from range.

As for the 6th person.

Loran had lost sight of him. This suggested he was either a Toxic Donkey which were assassins or Hawkeyes which were scouts and abused their environment to attack.

The names of their roles ranged from understandable, to wacky, which was because the roles got named after the most notable and impactful adventurers in the role.

The assassin-like adventurers used to be called Silent Nights, but recent events had put an assassin named Toxic Donkey in the spotlight, causing the role name to change.

There were other adventurer roles, but Loran didn’t identify the presence of those.

The armor clanged, suggesting something struck the Moorland Menace which reacted and swiped its arm to the side.

Magic circles flashed, and the sky lit up as [Flame Volleys], [Fireballs], [Flares] and [Flare Stars] flew at Loran.

Not a single movement, besides…

The moorland menace raised its arm and a large [Spectral Firewall] rose up, protecting itself and the tree, with the spirits behind.

The Moorland Menace emerged from the spectral flames and rushed to the 5 adventurers.

The ‘thud thud’ stopped as the Moorland Menace had been stopped in its tracks.

The armor tried to power through, but Loran identified the cause. A dark shadow had connected to the shadow of the cursed armor.

They had gotten hid by [Shadow Bind] originated from the Toxic Donkey.

The armored adventurers rushed in. first a hammer slam.

It connected, and the Moorland Menace got blown back.

The [Shadow Bind] reactivated, and now a poleaxe came for the Moorland Menace.

A black armored arm blocked the strike, grabbed the weapon, lifted the man overhead and slammed him down.

A grunt escaped from him and a light blue light enveloped him.

The Moorland menace focused on the man in a white coat and blue-green gloves, who had just used a healing spell on the man with the poleaxe.

The armor creaked as it failed to take another step.

A hammer head came down on the Moorland Menace, which attempted to block with both it’s hands.

Magic hit the Moorland Menace which originated from the Crimson Eagles flinging fire and lightning elemental magic.

It was great teamwork. The Moorland menace couldn't move due to the Toxic Donkey. The melee adventurers would keep up the pressure and possibly break the armor, and the Crimson Eagles would keep attacking from far. The Golden Angel would heal any incurred damage in case someone messed up.

Loran admired it but was also concerned.

The hammer and poleaxe strikes continued, he kept getting barraged by fire and lightning magic while being bound but…

No dents, no damage.

It was possible to damage the armor, but no damage had been incurred despite all these efforts.

Loran was also under the impression that any blunt force attacks would transfer to his body trapped within the armor, but… he didn’t feel anything.

What was going on?

Shadowy tendrils wrapped around the limbs, also reducing the freedom of motion of the upper body.

A masterful combination of [Shadow Bind] and [Shadow Tendrils]. The armored adventurers stepped back and took a breather.

The Moorland menace continued its futile attempts to break free.

‘This is it’ thought Loran.

The magic casters finished off a large lightning spell. A stream of purple lightning shot through the air and hit the cursed armor full on.

Loran didn’t feel any pain, but was sure that must have dealt some damage.

The light of the lightning flash eliminated the shadow based binds, and the moorland menace dashed forward.

Streaks of shadow stalked it and immobilized it, but not before Loran got forced to lift his arm.

A scream filled the battlefield as a [Spectral Flame Pillar] had incinerated the Golden Angel.

Blue flames started covering the black armor, slowly reducing the effectiveness of the shadowy binds as the blue light banished the darkness.

Loran didn’t understand. How could they have made such a stupid mistake. Anything that gave off light would remove the shadows of the Toxic Donkey.

The magic casters could only use fire and lightning, all which gave off light.

The team that appeared to have been put well together and having great teamwork got put in a different light.

Incompatible elements had been mixed.

Sparks discharged from the Moorland Menace’s metallic armor, and the melee adventurers got zapped any time their metallic weapons struck the Moorland Menace.

The Crimson Eagles switched to mainly fire magic, but this still reduced the effectiveness of the Toxic Donkey

Assassination wasn’t very useful against opponents fully clad in armor, making it a 4 versus 1, despite 5 adventurers being alive.

The adventurer with the large metallic hammer had gotten stunned briefly by the electrical shock he had incurred by attacking the Moorland Menace and got punished for it.

He got pushed down as the Moorland Menace mounted him and started exuding more spectral flames.

The man screamed and nobody could get close to help.

A wave of fare rolled in, the cursed armor got up, lifted the hammer adventurer and used him as a meat shield.

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The adventurers started to scream, and their teamwork broke down.

Loran had such high hopes for this party, but they would, in the end, die.

The sky flipped and Loran’s world turned upside down.

The poleaxe adventurer had used its weapon for a [Leg Sweep] and had floored Loran.

Only 4 adventurers were left, but only the poleaxe adventurer stayed composed. He stabbed at the weak points in the armor, but Loran felt nothing.

The weaknesses in the cursed armor appeared to be no weaknesses after all.

The poleaxe warrior was as surprised as Loran and this moment got him blasted away by a [Spectral Fireball].

He didn’t die, but was unlikely to be a threat.

The Moorland Menace got up and ran toward the magic casters, who started to run.

The black armored arm stretched out when its body froze.

Shadows restrained the Moorland Menace, and the Toxic Donkey had finally revealed himself.

He was in full concentration mode, and anyone could tell that a lot of effort went into the [Shadow Bind] and [Shadow Tendrils].

‘Thunk, thunk’

The Moorland Menace looked to the side at the poleaxe warrior throwing rocks at it.

It was an attempt at a diversion, one the Moorland Menace fell for.

A large stick, or more accurately staff landed next to the Moorland Menace, the Toxic Donkey and poleaxe warrior ran away and dove for cover.

The staff glowed and a massive [Explosion] went off.

Fire engulfed Loran’s vision but there was no heat or pain, not even a feeling of an impact.

The sky revealed itself after the fire cleared.

The sky flipped and the ground below him got visible, which flipped again and again. The Moorland Menace had been launched into the air and was tumbling down.

It was hard to tell, but the ground was coming closer and Loran could identify, with difficulty, that several individuals were running near it’s expected landing area.

The tumbling stopped and the armor forced Loran to get out of the crater, not like he wouldn’t if he had autonomy.

He was surrounded by men in various outfits. Some were chanting and others were drawing a large magic circle.

It was an attempt to trap the Moorland Menace in a barrier or seal it.

Loran however, disagreed. His state was already similar to being sealed. This would do nothing for him. He needed to be freed or killed.

He wished that someone would understand and stop this process.

His wish got heard, but not by anyone or anything he hoped for.

The Moorland menace rushed at the man that looked the most experienced, grabbed his arm and slammed him into another.

Having found a new weapon, the Moorland Menace started mowing down the men that tried to seal it away.

Any attempts to restrain him were weak, as these men appeared to be specialized in sealing and restraining.

Loran in his guilty pleasure was cheering the Moorland Menace on.

Bodies and limbs flew around and only paused when the weapon of choice and been ripped apart, which was when the Moorland Menace selected another individual to act as a weapon.

The creation of the magic circle had halted and not enough people were alive to continue the sealing process.

A thick red liquid dripped off the black armor as it flung another body into another.

Any trace of the magic circle had disappeared a while ago as the area was dyed in red.

A head burst like a tomato as it collide with another head. A snap and a tear as a torso detached from the arm the cursed armor was swinging, a crunch as the heavy armor walked over bloody limp bodies.

Loran’s guilty pleasure had turned into guilt. It was true that he refused to be sealed away, but this was too much.

The Moorland Menace stopped rampaging as there was nobody left to kill.

‘When will there be an end to this?’ and ‘when will someone defeat me?’ were the questions Loran had. Escaping was impossible by himself, as an adventurer party and hundreds of men couldn't stop him.

Loran got blasted away, moments after he heard the crackling of lightning.

Purple sparks jumped off the armor and he got up.

Hours had passed since the explosion, and he had forgotten about them, but there were still 4 adventurers alive.

One tried to keep in their stomach’s content while the poleaxe warrior circled around him while a magic caster kept shooting [Fire Bolts] to draw attention.

There was no sight of the Toxic Donkey, but that was the point of his role.

Loran’s body got forced to move again. The target of choice; the Crimson Eagle, who was trying to keep in the contents of her stomach.

The caster misstepped, slipped on exposed bowels and tumbled in the bloody mess.

A scream escaped from her mouth, which was her last.

The claw tore through a [Flame Barrier] that tried to protect the caster, resulting in a heated claw swipe.

A blob of shadow puled the body and the other Crimson Eagle away and placed them on the ground further down the slope.

The body glowed, and the woman gasped as her injuries disappeared and her necklace shattered.

An impact launched the Moorland Menace to the side and its attention turned toward the poleaxe warrior, who complained about the lack of dents in the cursed armor.

The ambient mana got primed and Loran knew that something big was coming.

The Toxic Donkey had hidden the 2 casters, who must have started casting a large spell.

Anyone in Loran’s situation would go and attempt to find them, but the Moorland Menace had other ideas as it focused on the poleaxe warrior.

A face down of armored warriors. One tried to strike a conversation while the other was unable to speak.

One a hero, one a villain.

One fighting for friends and family, one fighting alone.

One armed, one unarmed.

One buying time, one…

Loran had no idea why the Moorland Menace wasn’t doing anything. It would normally rush in and tear anything apart.

Sparks discharged spontaneously from both armors, and the poleaxe warrior used a strange skill to remove this effect.

The air got charged, and dark clouds gathered above the battlefield.

Loran could take a guess what would happen, but the Moorland menace took no action.

The staredown continued before the pole axe warrior suddenly dropped his weapon and ran away at full speed.

Thunder rumbled, and the area lit up as lighting flashed and hit the Moorland Menace.

The blood on the ground nearby rapidly evaporated and sparks jumped around the battlefield.

The lightning magic cooked anything organic, including the countless corpses littered on the bloodied moorlands.

‘First [Explosion] now a [Thundercloud], [Lightning bolt] combo. They sure are poorly tuned for fighting in groups.’ Loran thought, disapproving their strategy.

The skills were powerful, but were likely to take out allies as well.

The Moorland Menace didn’t have to worry about the poleaxe warrior, as he couldn't create enough distance in time and had gotten caught in the blast.

Attacking from stealth always revealed the attacker, as demonstrated by the 2 exhausted Crimson Eagles that had appeared out of nowhere.

Loran’s arm raised, and a [Spectral Fire Pillar] appeared where the 2 had been moments ago.

No screams, nothing. Only 3 figures behind him. One of which was panting heavily and was clad in black.

The Toxic Donkey let go of the Crimson Eagles and ordered them to flee, which they did. He then drew daggers and took a fighting stance.

Loran started to fight against the armor as he tried to help this group.

The Moorland Menace copied the stance but with claws instead of daggers.

Shadows erupted from the brave man, concealing his form and had disappeared after the shadowy distraction had disappeared.

Loran’s body got forced to move and the familiar ‘thud thud’ sounds indicated that the Moorland menace had started sprinting again.

At first, it appeared to run into a random direction, but it became clear what it’s destination was.

The backs of the 2 Crimson Eagles got closer and faces filled with terror looked over their shoulders moments before claws pierced their backs and lifted them, causing blood to drip down the elbows of the black armored arms.

A scream gave away the location of the Toxic Donkey. The assassin’s advantage had been lost as one of the dead casters got flung as a projectile and crashed into the man who had seen his whole party getting slaughtered.

The other caster got flung to the side as the moorland menace approached. It didn't need to run. The sole survivor of this party had injured his leg, which made for an easy prey.

Closing his eyes? Didn’t work. Trying to sit down or turn around? Didn't work. Yelling out for the armor to stop? He wished he could.

‘Thuds’ and ‘splashes’ acted as a timer, counting down to the moment of the assassin’s demise.

He crawled back and screamed.

The appearance of a magic circle behind him prompted the cursed armor to speed up and end the fight.

Magic was popular on the continent of Kaledon. It was even deemed to be the superior power, but it had a major drawback.

Not many could exploit this drawback, but the Moorland Menace could, which added another reason why it was a menace.

Magic required magic circles or magic chants to activate, both of which take time.

Magic chants are susceptible to interruption by [Silence], using wind magic to take their breath away, submerging them and anything that forces the caster to get interrupted, an inefficient method of casting.

The more popular way were manual or automatic magic circles.

Drawing them on surfaces was the manual type, also time-consuming. The fastest method was automatic which still took between 3 and 10 seconds for standard skills.

This was no problem in a magic flinging battle but when fighting fast opponents, this was a problem.

Adventurer parties had melee fighters for these reasons s thei either empowered their bodies with mana or used weapons.

Modern magic’s flaw was this; anyone who could close the distance and attack within 3 seconds could beat any magic user before this magic user could land a single hit.

The Moorland Menace fell under the entities that could achieve this speed, and it was why the assassin couldn’t finish his magic skill.

The fight was over as there was nobody left to fight.

Loran felt defeated, as, yet again, he had been a powerless bystander.

The weather reflected his mood as rain started to pour down.

For how long would he have to endure this? Would there ever come an end? Is there even a party that could defeat the Moorland Menace?

The ‘thuds’ started again as the cursed armor walked through the rainy moorlands.

Was it aimless? Did it even matter?

The ‘thuds’ stopped in front of a large crater.

A strangely bent tree was supposed to be here, but it was gone. Earth and nature spirits were supposed to be here, but they were gone.

All that was left was a large crater, caused by the [Explosion] that had sent Loran flying earlier that day.

The armor dropped to its knees and grabbed its head. It was the first time since Loran had been cursed that it did this by itself.