Talax sighed despondently as yet another wave of spirits crumbled to dust. Callum, the archer, returned to his lord's side, a small pleased smile gracing his face. In just a couple of minutes, he had managed to eliminate over twenty spirits. The ethereal spirits were met with a seemingly endless supply of traps known as the kiss of life, a common weapon against creatures associated with death magic.
Life magic was the bane of creatures with an affinity for death magic, making these traps exceptionally effective against such undead entities. Paired with enchanted arrows, the creatures stood no chance; a single arrow hit reduced them to sparkling dust.
Callum signaled to Walter, giving him permission to collect the precious dust. Walter's delighted whoop filled the air as he eagerly began collecting the valuable ingredient with unwavering greed. In just a few minutes, he had filled his pouches with the blue dust and promptly delivered his share to Edward.
The nobleman, without a word, efficiently stashed the sizable pouch inside his dimensional bag. Walter then retraced his steps to join Talax and Vesperine, a routine they had adopted during their hours of travel on the way to the final temple.
Talax couldn't understand why the lean warrior chose to walk alongside them. His open disdain for Vesperine was evident, and he rarely engaged in conversation with Talax. Their interactions typically consisted of him offering what he considered sage advice, only to be swiftly rebuffed by the condescending Vesperine.
Talax had come to feel like a teacher trying to control unruly kids who always wanted to squabble and one-up each other. It was as if he consistently found himself playing the role of the adult among children. First, it had been Qalo and Franny, and now it was Vesperine and Walter. At least Vesperine listened to him and once he told her something she usually stuck with it. The cold-hearted assassin transformed into an infatuated teenager whenever she was around him, something that Talax had grown to appreciate.
Vesperine would do whatever it took to gain his favor, from offering advice on improving his stealth skills to whispering suggestive secrets into his ear about what she had been trained to do in bed. When she had detailed all the interesting and somewhat disturbing ways she could use her mouth, Talax had turned a particular shade of red, which prompted Walter to erupt into giggles and make suggestive hip movements. His amusement, however, ended abruptly when Vesperine playfully blew a fistful of powder into Walter's face, leaving the fiery warrior sneezing violently for the next twenty minutes.
The hours of walking along the stony path had made it abundantly clear that their little group was overpowered for the oncoming spirits. Vesperine had informed him that the spirits ranged from level 8 to 15, making them easy prey for the experienced adventurers. After the fifth wave, Talax noticed something that had initially escaped his attention.
On each side of the barrier, there were small piles of stones spaced out every few meters. Each stone appeared the same, small and spherical, with a clear sheen. However, each pile had a different size. As they continued walking, Talax observed that some piles had new layers of stones added, creating a forming pyramid. It became apparent that when the stones formed a complete pyramid, that was when the spirits appeared.
As the next wave of spirits was vanquished, the next pyramid they encountered contained only the base row of small stones. Understanding how the spirits operated allowed them to anticipate the next wave, something that Edward seemed to have already figured out, often issuing commands before the spirits even materialized.
Talax couldn't suppress his curiosity, and it got the better of him when he encountered the next half-formed pyramid. He squatted down and closely examined the round stones.
"Puppy, what are you doing?" Vesperine's voice came from right behind his shoulder, her curiosity piqued as she observed his actions.
"Lad, don't be a strawhead. Don't go pokin' your nose where the spirits be restin'." Talax waved them away, paying little heed to their words, and focused on the enigmatic structure. He patiently waited for his mystic insight skill to activate and provide some clues about what was happening, but to his frustration, nothing occurred. This skill was meant to help him discern mystical constructs, yet for some reason, it remained dormant.
Reluctantly, his hand hovered over the stones, unsure whether to touch them.
"I wouldn't do that if I were you," Vesperine advised, causing Talax to turn around and meet her gaze.
“Why? What would happen?” Before the masked woman could respond Walter butted in with his usual flare. “"Oi, Talax! Ain't ya heard 'bout messin' 'round with ancient shite, especially when there's spirits involved? Yer messin' with them friggin' rocks, and mark my words, you'll be kissin' yer own arse goodbye!"
Talax raised an eyebrow at the man's warning, but Vesperine seemed to echo Walter's sentiment. "What he said," she replied, pointing toward the warrior. For Vesperine to agree with Walter suggested that what Talax was about to do might be particularly ill-advised. However, his curiosity was a force he couldn't resist. He simply had to know what those rocks were!
Taking a deep breath, Talax's hand made contact with the small stones. A cool, tingling sensation coursed through his fingers, causing him to freeze. He heard a groan from behind, and he couldn't be certain whether it came from Walter or Qalo. But when he heard a familiar voice exclaim, "Not this again! Stop touching things!" it became clear that Qalo had decided to intervene.
"Hmm, the only thing he's not touching is me," Vesperine complained, but Talax couldn't respond because, in that moment, something unsettling occurred.
A foreign consciousness brushed against his own, probing and searching. His eyes widened in shock as he felt fragments of coherent thoughts enter his mind. Then, a sudden and excruciating pain erupted, as if a sharp knife had been thrust into his brain, shattering his train of thought. Another stab followed, then another.
Talax couldn't help but moan in agony as he realized what was happening. He was under a mental assault by a spirit, one attempting to possess him. He felt an insatiable thirst, the overwhelming desire to gain a foothold in a living being. A chance for a second life by hijacking someone else's mind and body.
The chaos of jumbled thoughts from another mind made Talax lose his grip on reality. He couldn't discern where he ended, and the spirit began, nor could he distinguish his own thoughts from the foreign intrusion. As the relentless assault continued, a glimmer of hope emerged when a star within his mana core blazed with brilliance, activating his God-given gift, Lion-Hearted.
This divine gift granted him a 20% defense against mental attacks, and for a brief moment, it seemed to work. The spirit grew increasingly enraged, and Talax sensed its desperation and frenzy as it pounded furiously against an invisible barrier. This newfound clarity allowed him to regain control.
With trembling hands, he gingerly returned the small, seemingly innocent rock to its place in the pile. A howl of outrage echoed through his mind as the spirit lost its connection. Upon touching the pyramid, a small explosion of ethereal energy rocked the trail, causing the barrier separating the path from the cavern to lose cohesion.
Talax watched in horror as mana dissipated, revealing a wide gap in the shifting wall of energies. The forest beyond became disturbingly clear, and he could hear the howls and cries of the nearby beasts, as if they sensed a change.
"You idiot! I'll have you gelded the moment we're safe!" Edward's furious bellow rivaled the cacophony of the creatures outside. "Move! Everyone, move!" Strong hands helped Talax to his feet, though he remained disoriented and somewhat confused. His mind felt weak, unable to form complex thoughts after enduring the spirit's relentless assault. He wordlessly followed the rest of the company, who shot him angry glares.
This story originates from Royal Road. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.
Spotting a pulsing vein on the older nobleman's forehead, Talax couldn't shake the ominous feeling it gave him. The woman beside him whispered reassuringly, "Don't worry, puppy. I won't let him cut off your thingy." A sense of immense relief washed over him.
They ran for what felt like an eternity. At one point, the piercing screeches of unseen creatures reached Talax's ears, triggering an involuntary reaction. Fear surged through him, causing uncontrollable shivers that persisted until the unsettling voices fell silent.
"What's wrong with the lad?" a small man asked the masked woman who was providing support to Talax.
"He suffered a mental attack. It's a miracle he's not drooling like an imbecile," the woman replied, offering a comforting pat on his shoulder. Talax welcomed the affectionate touch.
The small man continued, "Well, he looks a bit like me sister's lad, he does. That young fella's thick as a plank, but he can whip up a right tasty soup, I'll give 'im that." A few more words were exchanged between the two, but Talax found it challenging to follow the conversation. He allowed himself to feel unburdened, following the woman and the silent, supportive big man beside him.
Occasionally, he noticed a young man with shiny hair sending him glances, sometimes with concern, other times with anger. He tried to smile at the man, but his mouth didn't cooperate very well, resulting in some drool slipping past his lips. In an attempt to wipe it away, he miscalculated his strength and ended up accidentally punching himself in the face.
"Ugh." Before he could even process what had happened, he heard the small man exclaim with feigned concern, "We best be leavin' that lad behind, he's off his rocker! Not even the Mother herself can set him straight!" Talax responded with a cheerful smile, momentarily searching for the lad the peculiar man was referring to, but something caused him to stumble.
The tusked man who had remained silent until now made his presence known with a low growl, causing Talax to shiver involuntarily. Through clenched teeth, the big man warned, "Try that, and we'll see what happens!"
The woman on Talax's other side hummed in agreement, and the small man raised his hands in surrender, quickening his step to join the men ahead.
They walked for what felt like hours, and Talax was ensnared in a tangle of incoherent thoughts. Foreign and strange ideas confused him as he struggled to make sense of what was happening. It was as if he were trapped in a web of truths and lies, attempting to distinguish his own thoughts from those of someone else.
Finally, his mind cleared in an avalanche of memories and emotions. His own thoughts and recollections crystallized on one side of his mind, while on the other, separated by an invisible barrier, rested the foreign consciousness, dwindling by the second. When the intrusion was finally expelled, Talax's mind became his own again. His eyes cleared, and he took a deep, steadying breath.
"Look who decided to turn back into his irresistible self! You're finally back!" Vesperine announced with a bright tone.
Talax nodded, but the slight movement sent a sharp pain through his brain, causing him to wince.
"Yep, that was one unpleasant experience," he replied. When Qalo realized that Talax was once again himself, he allowed him to walk on his own, falling a step behind them.
"Those stones..." Talax began, trying to make sense of what he had experienced and what the foreign memories had revealed. "Aren't stones at all... They are people..."
Qalo looked at him with surprise. "People?" he inquired, and Talax nodded absentmindedly, his eyes vacant as he attempted to recall what he had seen.
"They are those who failed the test along the path," Talax continued, his voice slowly regaining clarity. "Their souls remain here, becoming the test for the next worshipers."
Vesperine mulled over his words, deep in thought.
"It doesn't make sense sweety," Vesperine said after a thoughtful pause. "From what I've seen so far, the God to whom this dungeon is dedicated doesn't appear malevolent. If he had belonged to the Cadre of Necrum, I could understand him collecting souls. However, using the souls of sentient beings is abhorred by the majority of the pantheon, so it's highly unlikely that these rocks are actual souls."
Talax considered Vesperine's words, attempting to reconcile what he had witnessed from the spirit's memories with her perspective.
"I think... That the worshippers did it willingly..." His words trailed off as further clarity washed over him. "It was part of the deal. Upon entering the temple, they made a pact with the priests of the God. Each person sought something desperately from the God, something they were willing to bet their souls on."
"Desperate folks asking Gods for Favours... That’s new!” Vesperine scoffed. “Still, it doesn't make sense. A God associated with life would never act like that," Talax rolled his eyes at Vesperine’s denial. “It's like you're allergic to a good old-fashioned temple sacrifice drama." Qalo decided to chime in, offering his input. "There is also death magic."
Talax nodded and pointed at Qalo in triumph. "He's right. Maybe that's why the God doesn't exist anymore. Perhaps this act angered the other Gods and led to his downfall." Talax smiled, feeling satisfied with himself for arriving at that plausible conclusion.
"Maybe... Did you find out how to appease the spirits at least?" Vesperine asked. Talax shook his head sadly, his good mood evaporating. "Well, isn't that just splendid? We're stuck in a temple full of angry spirits, and our trusty psychic has no clue how to deal with them. What a delightful turn of events." She muttered as she patted her knives.
"I don't think the spirit knew. Besides, if it did know, it wouldn't have perished." Talax tried to defend himself, but Vesperine shrugged noncommittedly.
"I just find it unlikely that those are the actual spirits of the worshippers. It's more likely that the ambient death magic attracted the spirits after the God had fallen, but not before," Talax huffed at her stubbornness.
"I came in contact with the spirit's consciousness," Talax explained. "I could read its thoughts, at least whatever remained in the state it was. I even got snippets of its past life. He had been a cobbler..." As he spoke, scenes from the man's life flashed before his eyes.
He saw how the man had grown up in a large family, with so many siblings that most nights went to bed with an empty stomach. A cobbler at the end of the street had offered to take him as an apprentice, and he worked tirelessly, even though he didn't particularly enjoy the job. Love had entered his life, and he had married a raven-haired girl who gave him two beautiful boys.
But then, just as everything in his life seemed to be falling into place, it all came crashing down. He fell suddenly ill, bedridden for weeks, struggling just to breathe. His wife tried everything, buying health potions and salves with the few coins they had managed to save. His health only deteriorated, and desperation set in. She even sought the help of a biomancer, a life mage whose services were typically reserved for nobles due to their cost.
The mage left their modest home with the two boys crying in despair, while his wife cradled them, attempting to offer comfort. At the door, the man exchanged a few soft words with his beautiful wife, who hiccupped from the tears she was trying to hold back.
Even in her sorrow, she remained the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. The soft morning sun made her coffee-colored skin radiate with an ethereal glow that even elves would envy, and an unbidden smile stretched across his tired face.
The next day, she announced that they would be visiting the temple of a God he had never heard of. She entrusted their boys to her sister and had him moved to the back of a wagon headed for Tyran, wheezing and shivering throughout the journey.
After that, everything became fuzzy, a chaotic jumble of cities, villages, and forests. The next time he opened his eyes, he found himself surrounded by a group of crows prodding and examining him. They bombarded his wife with questions, and she looked haggard and distraught, clutching her hands with such force that her nails left red crescent marks on her once-beautiful skin.
The crows, with their beaked masks, crouched over him and shook him persistently, demanding something he couldn't quite comprehend in his fevered state. Then his wife appeared before him, as if in a vision, and gently touched his cheek. His mind, for the first time in a while, cleared, and he tried to do everything in his power to please the woman who had held his heart since he first laid eyes on her.
"Please, darling, accept the contract," she whispered softly, and his mind struggled to make sense of her words.
Then he saw the parchment, a magical contract forged from the will of the participants. It was a pact that couldn't be broken once agreed upon, a dangerous and rarely used form of magic. He had never made a mana contract before. While he had heard of them, no one he knew dared to use them. Once you signed the paper, there was no way out.
"Come, honey. Use your mana. That's all you need to do, and you will be cured. And we will be happy again." A single tear traced its path down her cheek, and he longed to reach out and wipe it away. He couldn't bear to see her cry, especially when he felt responsible for her sorrow.
The parchment seemed to beckon him, encouraging him to use his mana to seal the deal. He could feel the connection reaching out to him, searching for the other end of the deal to be fulfilled. With one last, longing look at his wife, he reached into his mana core and willed his mana to follow his command.
He had never been particularly skilled at manipulating his mana. That was why his abilities were limited, giving him a few bonuses to his work but nothing at all like the famous craftsmen who were renowned for their creations.
His mana reluctantly obeyed his command and reached out. When it made contact with the floating contract, he experienced something he had never imagined would happen.
The will of a God touched him, imperious and demanding, as if searching for something before passing judgment. Then, in an instant, the contract was sealed. A burst of mana, like a dam breaking, surged through his tired body, filling him with vitality, power, and a sense of promise.
He gasped. Talax gasped.
And a second burst of mana overwhelmed his body. And a new star was born inside his mana core.