Chapter 113I cautiously exited the eerily silent chapel. My escape should have been silent, preferably without a single soul noticing me.
And using echolocation meant I could check every nook and cranny around to avoid any wanderers. It was the complete opposite of the rushing violence I had entered with, but theoretically, it should have been easier thanks to how few people were left alive.
The keyword here was “theoretically”.
Crack!
To my surprise, a steel flail came swinging from around a corner and nailed me square in the face.
My skeletal carapace was strong enough to absorb the impact, but I was still forced to step backwards.
And in that tiny opening, my hidden assailant emerged to drive a small blade under my ribcage.
Reflexively, I sent out a burst of writhing fleshy appendages from my fingers, forcing the attacker to disengage.
“Damn, wriggly bastard, aren't you?”
The man stepped forward, and I instantly recognised his face.
Marcus Connor. The Solean knight whom I had yet to see involve himself in the conflict.
“Not blindly striking back? I figured as much.”
He cocked his head and gave me a lazy smirk.
“You definitely have some level of intelligence, but is it too much to hope you could talk?”
He tossed his dagger up and down, seeming totally at ease.
But I was too perceptive to fall for it.
He was analysing me. That echolocation couldn't detect him meant he must have done something to hide from it. The fact that he would even bother to take such a measure implied he already figured out some things about me.
But when? How long had he been tailing me? How much did he know?
“Hmm… That strange skull is such a nuisance. All I can read are the eyes. Still, looks like you're deep in thought there.”
He stepped forward and abruptly tossed his knife with staggering speed.
I smacked it away, but Marcus used the brief distraction to step in and slap a small piece of paper to my chest.
Before my claws could reach him, I was suddenly tossed into the air and pinned to the ceiling.
“Neat, huh? I figured if I was gonna be guarding such a narrow place, I should stock up on scrolls that work well here. This one's Gravity Spike.”
He stood directly below me, but it looked like he was only trying to inspect me again.
“Where did those tentacles come from? Is that the main body, I wonder? That would make cracking the armour pointless then. Then, are your vitals even in the usual places?”
His verbal assessment made me somewhat nervous, but for the most part, I was just plain impressed.
He was on the right track. Beneath the skeletal parts of me was a writhing mass of worm-like pieces that formed my actual body, just like a marrowthief. At the ends of these appendages were tiny mouths lined with sharp teeth that could absorb blood after penetrating the skin. Multiple of these mouths were contained within my tail, which was how I had been masking my kills as vampire attacks.
Naturally, as the marrowthief lacked most organs, so did I. All I had at the moment was a stomach. My soul substituted for everything else.
“Well, I've seen similarly crafted abominations before. It's actually not too hard to handle.”
He pulled a vial of black liquid from his belt and threw it at me.
“Oil. You know what that is? You will soon.”
He chuckled, but then suddenly grasped his stomach and winced in pain.
“Damnit. Gotta get this seen to…”
He lost his levity and opened another pouch to draw a simple matchbox.
As he suggested, burning my body was the easiest way to destroy my insides. It was seriously impressive how well he was handling an anomalous existence like mine.
He simply assessed and acted. Sure, he hadn't figured out my identity, and probably thought I was just some necromancer's pet, but even so, he had done well.
The match was lit.
“So long, freak.”
Marcus flicked it up, but the match was snuffed out as my tail swiped it away. I suddenly dropped to the ground, then kicked Marcus across the room.
I pulled back my leg, where a dagger was embedded in my ankle. In that short space of time, Marcus not only twisted to prevent me from hitting his existing wound, but also countered.
“Damn, was the scroll weaker than advertised? Goddamn tower mages can't do anything right.”
Marcus never lost his footing and seemed fine despite the surprise attack.
“Hmm…”
Marcus began sniffing the air.
“Huh. You can use magic? So you must have countered the spell. Am I right?”
I knew he was only talking so much to try to analyse my reactions, but it was hard to hold back my surprise.
“Your eyes wavered.”
He grinned.
He was right again. Even in my strange form, I could use Alma’s ring of spell storage. All three slots had already been filled, though only one remained.
Heal Moderate Wounds was used to stop Kenneth's bleeding. Considering I had to slip some tendrils into his eye sockets to touch the affected area directly, maybe going blind had a silver lining for him.
Dispel was my panic button for escaping situations just like the one I was facing, and that was what I used to escape Gravity Spike.
Finally, my last remaining use was Lightning Bolt. These were given by Bubblin, Alma, and Axel, respectively.
But it wasn't that he figured out I could use magic that shocked me. It was how he did it.
Marcus Connor was a knight who had no mana, no aura, and no divine blessings. With no traditional means of detecting magic, had he truly relied solely on his sense of smell to detect mana in the air, or was it a bluff?
“What’s wrong? Not gonna kill me? I know you have it in you after tracking you for so long.”
Again, his relaxed demeanour acted as a veil for his attack. A sudden barrage of steel needles flew down the narrow passage from his hands.
But instead of shielding my eyes, I trusted in my carapace and ran forward, not letting him leave my field of view for a second.
Stolen story; please report.
Click.
The hallway exploded as Marcus snapped a small round object between his fingers. It appeared to be a tool for remotely activating an enchantment.
My body ragdolled as I was tossed around in a bloom of flame and fury.
The oil that still clung to me immediately grew enraged as I was consumed in an inferno. As an involuntary response, my fleshy tendrils attempted to flee the safety of their skeletal home.
And as a consequence, Marcus jumped in to cut them down with his blade.
Noodle's soul grew frantic, forcing me to concentrate on stopping him from exposing more of our body instead of countering.
“Good move.”
Marcus smirked and slammed the flail down on me again.
Cut, slam, slice, break.
This was the rhythm Marcus fell into as he pressured me. I had to turn things around, but no matter how I mixed up my attacks or how ferociously I came at him, Marcus outplayed me at every turn.
Crack.
“Ah, finally! Let's see what you really look like!”
He had created a small split in my skull and swapped out his flail for what looked like a long metal nail with a handguard.
He lunged forth, plunging it right through the broken section. With a flick of his thumb, Marcus opened a switch on the odd weapon and clicked a button.
The point of the weapon released four extra prongs that shot back out through my face. With the target hooked, Marcus yanked his arm back and ripped the skeletal mask off.
“What the hell…”
Marcus frowned as he was met not by a head or face, but a rising spire of flesh. My “eyes” slithered freely along the flesh, repositioning themselves to my “shoulders”.
The ears remained, but as the rest of my horrific form bulged and warped, they became lost somewhere in the mess of scorched meat.
The carapace broke as my body expanded to fill the hall, and soon it had been repurposed not for protection but as a weapon.
The bone had been fashioned into a scythe that cut through the walls and ceiling as the appendage it was attached to flailed wildly.
As my body reached peak mass, it suddenly constricted down onto itself.
Like muscle fibres expanding and condensing, I contained the raw strength down as concisely as possible.
The final result left me looking like a wiry tangle of flesh, blackened from the inferno that continued around us.
I maintained a vaguely humanoid form and stood motionless before Marcus.
“...Hup!”
He paused a moment before throwing another knife at me.
Clearly, he was testing the waters. The blade hit my exposed flesh directly.
Clang.
And it fell to the ground without piercing even the first layer of skin. My body had been compressed to the point that my muscles were forming a hide tougher than leather.
But Marcus simply followed up with another barrage of needles.
My body bent and stretched in an exaggerated fashion to avoid every projectile. I then coiled up into a ball and wrapped my body in on itself multiple times to protect myself from the explosion.
But no such thing happened.
“Those ones weren't enchanted.”
Marcus said.
“How bizarre. Even now, you've had ample opportunity to flee or attack, but you're cautiously sitting there instead. Are you trying to read me, too?”
Bingo.
Marcus Connor was a knight in a similar position to mine. Held back by a lack of magic. I overcame that through Primal Soul, but what about him?
I felt there was a lot I could learn from the man, maybe even more now that we were enemies.
“I don't like being analysed.”
He frowned, then made a swift motion with his wrist.
My body was suddenly wrapped by imperceptible metal wires that threatened to slice me to ribbons.
Thwip!
In the span of half a second, my body stretched and shot forth, knocking the air from his lungs.
I followed up by using my scythe to cut the wires, noting they were connected to the needles he'd just thrown.
So, they could explode, stab, or restrict movement? It seemed Marcus’s tools covered every need imaginable.
I took advantage of my body's bizarre properties to keep Marcus on his toes. The reason I kept resetting to a humanoid form was to mislead him into fighting me as he would another human. And whenever he grew used to that, I would mix in an impossible attack.
My upper half became my lower, my “arms” split into ten, and I clung to the ceiling. I did all I could to confuse him.
“...Creepy.”
But Marcus remained unfazed.
He dropped and swapped weapons with practised precision to respond to every curveball I threw at him. This was not an all-powerful master swordsman, but a veteran who used his entire arsenal to problem-solve.
My body was flexible, swift, and tough. I outperformed him in every physical aspect. And yet he continued to evade me perfectly. The reverse was now true as well, though, as he struggled to do anything to me.
I should have run the moment it was clear we were just wasting time, but I was greedy. I wanted to see more from him. I wanted to learn his movements and understand how he viewed the battle.
And so I stopped trying to defeat him and instead focused on disarming him.
It took some time, but eventually, the ground was littered with weaponry. And he quietly assumed a boxing stance.
We froze in silent preparation.
And sprung forth in unison.
Just like every other style he showed me, his unarmed combat was at an above-average level, but nothing mind-boggling. Axel would out-punch him any day.
Grip.
He suddenly caught one of my appendages and grinned.
“Finally. You're a slippery little thing, huh?”
He slid his foot back, and with his free hand, he poised to strike.
It was an odd position, but it reminded me of something I had seen once before, from Gaspard Sylvain.
“Three-Pronged Rebuke.”
Marcus thrust his arm out, using just three fingers to strike the appendage he held.
His knives had bounced back. His sword had bent. His flames had died out. And yet his bare hand was what blew through me and severed my body where all else failed.
Dangerous!
My instincts kicked in. I knew too little about the anomalous martial arts of Arden to even begin to fathom what had happened, or how to deal with it.
My mission was already accomplished. I had overplayed my hand and was now suffering the consequences.
Marcus rushed forward, twisting mid-step so his back was to me. And using that momentum, he delivered a kick at my centre.
“Whirlwind Step-Strike.”
He announced the attack, but it was he who was sent flying instead.
A bolt of lightning flew out from the exact point he was trying to hit me. The moment when his attacks landed was the only opening I had figured out from fighting him until that point. I had no choice but to take a risk in order to counter him.
But I could see him regaining his feet immediately, and so I wasted no more time.
“Hey! Get back here!”
I ignored him as I slipped out the nearest window and fled as fast as my body would take me.
It was a defeat, through and through.
But I was content. In fact, I was pleased.
Marcus Connor was already wounded for some reason, and by default, he was at a disadvantage compared to practically every other knight. He never used his Gift, whatever it might be, and yet he still defeated me.
It was inspiring.
As I returned to the warehouse and back through the sewers, I solidified one thought in my mind.
I hope he survives.
***
[Marcus Connor's POV]
The monster had fled. As I suspected, it was not just a blood-crazed vampire that had reverted to a twisted form. But that only muddied the waters even further.
What was it? Why did it attack at such a time? And why was it so reluctant to kill me?
A common strategy for dealing with anomalous undead like that was to lure it into attacking the vitals. But it almost felt like this one was trying to drag out the fight instead.
I mean, so was I, but that was so that reinforcements would arrive and we could try capturing the thing.
“Sir Connor!”
Speak of the devil. Three bloodknights quite literally flew down the hallway, scaring the daylight out of me.
“By Faelora's tits! Can't you just walk?”
“What happened here? Where are our brothers?”
They ignored my protest and looked at the chaos surrounding me.
“Ah… Where to begin?”
I avoided their gaze, guilt and shame crushing down on me.
“There was an incident… Or two.”
I gestured around us.
“I'm sorry, the others have been slain.”
As I said the words, their faces tightened. Rage, disbelief, despair. It was all there.
“How!? Who could slay two blood knights? Where are they now?”
One of them yelled while stepping closer, their fangs bared and their crimson eyes shining.
“It was the damned human cattle, wasn't it? Idiots! Do they not understand we are all that is keeping them from the wolves?”
Another one cursed and turned away.
“What of you, human? How are you unharmed?”
The third spoke quietly, but the accusation behind the cold mask of calm was plain to see.
“You think I would be so stupid as to kill a blood knight?”
I scoffed at them.
“You are known for your hatred of the undead, Sir Connor. And you possess enough skill to do so.”
“I hate necromancers and abominations. Vampires are barely any different from humans.”
The quiet one extended a black nail and pointed it at me.
“Keep your excuses. Tell me everything, before I rake out your eyes.”
I silently prepared myself to escape, until—
“Stand down!”
Alexandru Radu entered, an unconscious Guy draped over his back.
“The empire has retreated, but the commoners still rally against us. It is not the time to further divide ourselves.”
He stood between me and the others.
“But Sir Radu… Cornel and Dan have—”
“I heard.”
Alexandru cut them off.
“We will, of course, investigate the matter. But we cannot threaten or accuse without cause.”
They cowed at his words.
“That being said… Sir Connor. I will need a detailed explanation. Could I ask you to arrange a war council?”
“Of course.”
Given the recent tensions between the races, Alexandru had been using me as the go-between. I understood the necessity, and so I offered no complaint.
We split up, with the vampires heading straight to the meeting room on the third floor, while I checked Mayor Varley's safe room.
“...Shit.”
I stood in a silent underground room, having climbed down the ladder revealed behind the hidden wall of the chapel.
I already assumed the worst after seeing all the blood, but my heart still dropped when I was faced with the mayor’s cold body.
An expression of terror had fixed itself to him. I was experienced enough to know immediately that the body had been drained of blood via the bite marks on his neck.
A heavy sigh left me, my whole being deflating.
Mayor Varley was a moderate in the vampire/human conflict and had even stepped up to take command just to keep it from escalating. He was woefully unqualified for such a role, but he did it anyway.
I had already confirmed the deaths of numerous other human nobles while tracking that monster, and was close enough to them to recall their names.
My mental list formed as I closed my eyes and assessed the damage. Who was missing, and what were their roles? How would Farrowgate fare without them?
“...We're screwed.”
The Mayor’s lifeless body was the only one to hear my opinion.
