Sebastian had prepared ten bottles of Ghost Touch Potion. It didn’t last long after being applied to weapons, and he and I agreed that it was far better to be safe than sorry.
“So… I really should have asked this ages ago, but how do we apply it to ranged weapons? We can’t smear it on non-existant beams of light.” I had the insane image of just smearing it on Rakim’s gun but that-
“Oh you just smear it on the bow or gun or whatever weapon you are using. Not complicated, really.” Sebastian smiled kindly. ‘Kindly.’
I sighed. “Yes, quite obvious now that you say it. That makes complete sense to me. Mmmhmm. Whelp will ya look at that time. I’m off.”
I quickly marched out of the Sky Realm and made my way to the Throne Room. I planned on bringing the same crew with me for the return raid on Hungry Moon Mountain- Rikka, Rache, Miyuki, Rakim and Versai. They had a good combination of traits, and with the exception of Rache, good combat ability. The question for me was, when the raid started up again, would we be in the clearing, at the temple, or at the inn?
Two chances in three that we won’t be dropped straight in the clearing. I can also hedge my bet a little by making sure everyone is holding a potion when we start the mission. In the event that we do drop straight in, they can apply the potion immediately.
The next problem was the fog hiding the ghosts. I didn’t have a good solution for that. I puzzled over it for a bit, and concluded that my initial impression was correct. I really don’t have a good solution for that. Fire was weirdly hard to start around here, outside of fire traps, and I wasn’t sure it would help in the first place. I don’t have a way to create magical wind, and in the event that the fog is just plain magic, I don’t have any counter-magic.
Well. Damn. I really don’t want to wing this. “Rikka, come to my Throne Room please.”
I didn’t jump four feet straight up when she emerged from the shadows next to my throne. At most, it was three feet eleven inches.
“Yes, Lord?”
“My heart!”
“Pardon?”
“No, no, never mind. I don’t have a heart anymore ahahhahahahha oh god. Anyway! Do you know if the fog in the Heartless Clearing is natural or magical?”
“I don’t know.”
I sighed mentally. It figured. Besides, there might not be much of a difference between the two in a Relic Site.
“What can you tell me about the Hungry Ghosts?”
“Generally, or the ones up on the mountain?” Rikka sounded utterly casual about the whole thing. Wish I was.
“Start with generally.”
“Hungry Ghosts are beings who suffered from powerful desire in life. Desire for food, wealth, power, anything, so long as it was their obsession.”
Whelp. Guess I know my future then.
“And… how do you kill them?”
“You don’t.” Rikka looked completely unbothered by that fact. I saw her hand twitch, just a tiny, tiny bit, towards the charm hanging from her waist. “You purify them.”
“Purify them?”
“Yes. To become a Hungry Ghost after death is a result of incorrect living. They lack virtue and are consumed by vice, namely desire. So purifying them of their desire is the way to defeat them.”
“Not… you know… stabbing them four hundred and seventy three times.” I asked, rubbing my forehead.
“What use would that be? They are already ghosts.”
“Right, but, aren’t there any myths of people killing them? Like wise sages or cunning woodcutters or something?”
“The saints purify them, and sometimes people trick them into going back to Hell.” She shrugged. Rikka had really nice shoulders. I noticed it in a half attentive way, having stumbled over my own thoughts. “I suppose if you did enough damage to their ghostly bodies, they would retreat to hell.”
I nodded slowly, trying to find that ringing bell. Ghost Touch potion would probably work. Damage them enough, and they run away. But that’s the brute-force option. Was there a better one? In the stories, it was always a clever trick by the smart peasant that saved the day in folktails. There were all kinds of anime shorts about that. A few tv series too. God, even xxxHolic was more-or-less about that.
Lot of purifying in that story too. Wasn’t the just-good-friends sidekick the junior priest of a Buddhist temple or something? And he got brought in on the ghost extermination jobs.
The Woodcutter. In the story, there was a woodcutter and his wife who tricked the village headman into hunting his fellow villagers.
“Is there a woodcutter who lives with his wife on the mountain?” I asked.
“Many… I would think.” Rikka’s voice trailed off.
“You would think?”
“Forgive me my Lord, I know that it should be true, but I can only recall one at this time. I am willing to accept punishment!”
“Easy, easy. As long as you know where they are.”
“Yes, my Lord. I know where their hut is.”
A number of things started clicking.
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“Have they been there for as long as you can remember?”
“I suppose so.”
Oh yes. Click, click, click.
We returned outside the Temple. I thought we might, the incense lighting ritual had the feeling of setting a checkpoint. The pine trees swayed gently in the breeze. The smell of them tickled my nose and reminded me of things I had never done. Never gone camping. Never wanted to go hiking. Never cut down my own Christmas tree, or any other kind of tree for that matter. I imagine the woodcutter would be unimpressed.
It did seem a little weird. An off-grid bushcrafted cabin where he and his wife lived off the land was a Woodcutter’s life. It wasn’t a YouTube channel. It was the definition of rock-bottom subsistence existence. You were sub-peasant. Peasants had land to farm. A woodcutter had nothing.
I positioned everyone like we were raiding one of the Empty people. Rikka was around the back, Versai would be coming in from the front, Rache was patrolling the extreme perimeter, with Rakim and Miyuki locking down the cabin from range. I was next to Rakim. She was my second best bodyguard, and I figured she would be fairly low on the aggro-generating table. Because the weak link in this lineup was, undoubtedly, me.
An owl hooted softly in the night forest. Everyone, myself included, poured Ghost Touch potion over their weapons. It was scentless, and left the weapons looking strangely matte. As though the dim light of the stars wasn’t hitting them properly.
At my insistence, Versia silently bored a hole through the wall with her gauntleted finger. She then peaked through, and I could see her body language change. Surprise, perhaps?
“VERMIN!” Her war cry was downright gleeful. I was right. She just needed to see the target for the ability to trigger. And since it only worked on things that were physically stronger than her, I was right about the target too.
Versai smashed through the wall shield first. The cabin blew apart like it was hit by a comet. She smashed into the ground, raising splinters and dirt. The targets must have been lying down.
An arrow whistled out. I wasn’t grinning yet but this raid start was about ideal. Once we pinned one of them down-
A blade of light slashed out, cutting the light-arrow out of the sky.
She was using Ghost Touch! How is that… oh. Oh God DAMN IT!
“THEY CAN USE ETHEREAL ATTACKS! DON’T BLOCK, DON’T PARRY! ONLY DODGE!”
Versai followed up on her ambush with a flurry of stabs- on who, I couldn’t tell. The other had rolled up and grabbed an ax. They were the one who cut down Miyuki’s snipe. Worse, they were rushing out of the cabin towards her.
“I don’t know why you are bothering us. We are a simple husband and wife. Woodcutters, making our humble living in the forest.”
I wasn’t too worried about Miyuki getting caught. She was extraordinarily nimble. But since they were willing to divide up their forces, I’d be silly not to take advantage. I patted Rakim on the shoulder and pointed her at the pursuing figure. Rakim brought her carbine up to her cheek, sited, and snapped off a few rounds.
This time we caught them. The rounds slammed into the figure, staggering them. Putting holes in them. But didn’t kill them. They didn’t even knock them down. I glared. Between the voice and what little I could see from the flashes of light, it was the husband.
“We lead a simple life- cutting dead wood and then bringing it down the mountain. If we have to harvest green wood, I promise you that we let it dry very carefully before we sell it.” The ax blurred in his hands, sending a crescent of light out towards Rakim. Rakim dodged some of it, but it still caught her leg. I could see her dress immediately tear, and badly.
They don’t bleed. Their clothes just get more and more damaged until they die. But they sure can feel pain. And fear. And fury.
I was already on the ground, crawling fast towards a rock I spotted five yards away. “MIYUKI, RAKIM! Kill that thing for me!”
Miyuki didn’t need another reminder. Her long arrow came streaking in again, this time coming from the left side of the Woodcutter.
It was a terrible angle. Unless you were a truly godly sniper.
Miyuki had timed her attack with vindictive perfection. The Woodcutter had just launched its attack on Rakim, the ax now out of position to parry. His upper arms were pressed against the sides of his chest. The arrow flew in from a high angle. Through one shoulder, down, through the lungs, down and into the other arm. It didn’t pin the woodcutter to the floor, but they were half killed regardless.
And then the whistling started.
I thought the giant was loud. It seems that the giant was just another common mob. This was the true whistling. The true terror. My mind went blank. The sound surpassed what my ears could withstand and I fell into a world of silence and horror. I could feel the fear beating on me, its thin claws sinking into the deepest parts of me. No matter how the rational mind screamed that this was a spell effect, that this terror worked for me, my body knew better.
This was the sound of death. Inescapable, brutal death. My only thin hope was to run. Run, and hope some fatter prey was slower.
Before I could force my legs into motion, three light bullets slammed into the Woodcutter’s forehead. Rakim was apparently born with ear protection on.
The woodcutter fell to his knees, then collapsed onto the dirt. The whistling sound slowly faded. He was dead.
“Rakim, two more in his head, please. Miyuki, go support Rikka and Versai.”
My voice only hitched a couple of times. I think I held it together quite well, all things considered. I looked over at the battle on the other side of the forest. The woodcutter’s wife was trading blows with Versai, and from what I could tell… winning.
Versai’s sword was sharp, and uncanny fast. Impossibly fast. Yet the woodcutter’s wife could dodge it. There would be a blur of silvery light that should have taken the wife’s head off, but she would slip the cut, and counter with a hook to the gut. Versai would block with her shield. There would be a godawful CLANG! And Versai would be forced back a step.
Impossibly strong. Impossibly fast. “Rache, to me!”
“Yes boss?” She rode over in seconds.
“Orders for Rikka- set traps, particularly traps that will slow down the wife. Then work with Versai to lead her into them. Miyuki is to coordinate with them too. Tell them without letting anyone else overhear.” I whispered. Maybe pointlessly, but… Versai was speed hacking, and this lady was keeping up. Something was very wrong here, and I had an awful guess what it was.
“Rakim, you stay here and guard me. Don’t shoot unless I tell you to.”
“Yes Sir.”
“VERSAI! DRAG IT OUT!”
“YES, TOWER MASTER!” She shouted back. I got the distinct impression that she was muttering unkind things about me in her mind.
Miyuki started chipping in. She could only shoot every thirty-ish seconds, but she used the time to move and change her angle of attack. The wife kept slipping the shots, inhuman reaction times pairing horribly well with inhuman speed. Versai capitalized on the distractions, chopping at the wife’s arms or stabbing at her feet. She didn’t land many hits, but each one inflicted wounds.
My instincts were to have everyone rush in and dogpile the wife, bring her down and finish her on the ground. I controlled the urge. My instincts were screaming. A lifetime of JRPG’s told me- don’t do it. Don’t you dare.
Versai started a line of high-low attacks, lightning fast thrusts to the eyes followed up with smashes to the body by the shield. The wife counter attacked, but was still forced back a few steps. The darting tip of the sword seemed fatally attracted to the wife’s eyes. The woodcutter’s wife didn’t seem to care for that one bit.
Versai drove her back step by step. By step… directly onto a spike. I could hear the crunch. I couldn’t quite see it, but the way her leg suddenly bent, the way she suddenly lurched to a stop- Versai had driven the wife onto one of Rikka’s traps. Then Miyuki’s arrow came smashing in, piercing the wife straight through the heart.
The noise transcended all reason. I froze. Too terrified to even run. The world plunged into silence. Vibrations in the air hummed the music of the apocalypse as they brushed across my skin. Soon, my nerves, every fiber of whatever artificial muscles I had been stuffed with, vibrated in horrified harmony.
The arrow nearly killed me, standing tens of yards away. My eyes were fixed on the wife. Never mind my JRPG instincts, surely the wife was dead. The little crystal of lucidity trapped in the ink-storm of terror kept repeating the same thought- the noise will stop soon. She’s dead. She has to be dead. The noise will stop soon, and you will live and it will be okay.
The noise stopped. The wife had dislocated her shoulder. The arm reached around, stretching impossibly long as she pulled the arrow from out of her back. It seemed to snag on something, not willing to come out. Her other hand grabbed the front of the arrow, and sharply snapped her wrist down.
She broke the front off an arrow of light. How did she break the arrow of light?! Even Titans thrashing around couldn’t manage that, so how?!
The long arm pulled the arrow clear and tossed it on the dirt. The arrow exploded in a cloud of light.
“Ah. There is always someone. Always. But I think this is the first time I have been pushed so far.”
Oh no. I was so ready to be wrong. The voice started old and withered, but soon warmed up. The monster unfolded itself, discarding its “human woman” costume.
My first thought was a Jorogumo. There were so many legs. Claws. Dripping fangs. There was a stink to her, a smell of rotting fruits and half repressed memories of a time I did something I deeply regretted. As she unfolded and grew, I knew she wasn’t a Jorogumo. She was something else entirely.
The face on her was… unspeakable. Awful. There was a bit of a spider there- six eyes, fangs, long whiskers and patchy fur. But there was also something of the bat to her face- the ears especially. A bat, and something of a wolf in those repeating eyes.
Not a monster from Japanese folklore. Just a Monster.
“Well, perhaps you can consider this a reward for doing so well. Oh yes, little Tower Master. I’m talking to you. Not your dolls. Do you call them dolls? That’s what they are. They are toys made to suffer, but they aren’t real. Not like me. Have you realized it yet? You are a doll too. You, too, are made to suffer. To be moved around and posed by things beyond your… heh. “Comprehension.””
“And do you think you are any different, Monster?”
“Yes.” The thing spun slowly, it’s many eyes taking in the battlefield. “I am entirely different. You are made to suffer. But I? I am happy. Ah, you found me too soon. You are too weak. Your dolls are far, far too weak. This won’t be much of a fight.” The monster sounded disappointed.
“I’ve been known to surprise people.” I fought to keep my nerve. I couldn’t let it get in my head.
“Funny. So have I.” She chuckled, like an auntie enjoying her favorite show. Then she reared up on her hind legs and spat out a spiderweb that seemed to cover the sky, coming right for me.
“I’m just full of surprises,” said the Dyn Hunllef. “Let me show you.”