The Runesmith

Chapter 390: The Cult Approaches.

“Stop!”

A voice echoed in the darkness as a group of cloaked figures approached the vicinity of the craftsmanʼs territory. The group had gathered here to capture and erase anyone involved in the recent event involving their relic. Leading the charge was Kovak, and as he removed the shroud concealing their presence, the others were also revealed.

First, there was a large man, his entire body concealed by a black robe. His size and form constantly shifted as he approached the wall before them, as if the runic magic was making his abyssal form more unruly. Not far from him stood his partner, a pale woman who resembled a deceased elf. Her alluring figure became apparent as she discarded the robe covering her, ready for the impending carnage and barely able to contain her excitement.

They werenʼt the only ones present, as a few other competent members from this region had been summoned for assistance. Abyssal priests and assassins began to emerge from the concealment spell that had hidden them. These individuals were all elites of the cult, gathered here with a singular purpose: to unravel the mystery behind their relicʼs failure.

“The mana around this place is shifting...”

Kovak replied as he examined the area before him. As a necromancer his mana sense was the most developed here and he could feel a shift taking place. The whole area was filled with concealed traps and magical devices that were starting to activate.

”Oh, did the secret relic fail to work?”

“That can’t be!”

The Necromancerʼs allies began conversing as he attempted to assess the situation. It was challenging for him to tolerate the presence of these two, but he knew he had to obey orders. The large man, whose body constantly shifted in structure, proved to be a formidable ally and a devoted follower of their god. This was to an extreme degree and he would even go as far as attacking allies if they spoke their lordʼs name in vain.

However, the second individual posed a significant threat to the entire plan. If it were solely up to him, the woman would have been excluded from this encounter entirely. She displayed a persistent inability to follow orders and pushed them to advance the plan faster than they had anticipated.

If he had full control of the situation, he would have resorted to performing cursed rituals to wrestle dominance over this place. Casting curses at formidable adversaries was one of his signature tactics, though it demanded considerable time and preparation. His discomfort with this location had been justified, and as he neared the wall, he became increasingly certain of his earlier assumption - the presence of the divine permeated this place. Being a necromancer, he possessed a heightened sensitivity to forces opposed to him, and something within this area emitted a foul aura of holiness.

“I hoped for at least some fun… So can we go in now? My daggers itch for some blood!”The pale woman grinned while tightly gripping two pitch-black daggers in her hands. Her eagerness was evident; she seemed ready to vault over the wall and commence a swift massacre of the unconscious individuals beyond. Kovak, on the other hand, favored a more methodical approach. Their primary objective was to determine how their relic had been dispelled, and while eliminating the perpetrator would resolve the issue, it was wiser to capture them alive for interrogation. If they could uncover the reason behind it, they would be better equipped to counter such actions in the future - an achievement their leaders would likely reward them for.

“Stop you fool, the magic around this place is already moving! We don’t have time for your idiocy!”

“Oh, is Mr. Necromancer mad? What do you want to do then~?”

“Foul wench, just be quiet and watch. We must not allow anyone from outside to notice the intrusion, I’ve already prepared a spell.”

While the elven woman encouraged Kovak to quicken their pace, he tried to maintain his composure. Raising his staff adorned with skulls and esoteric symbols high into the air, he began to harness energy. A greenish mist started emanating from the magical weapon, swirling and enveloping the entire vicinity. In mere moments, a dense shroud of darkish-green fog enveloped the entire compound.

“Wow~”

The womanʼs smile widened, and she began to clap her hands as if she were witnessing a magicianʼs captivating performance. Kovak, however, understood the true significance of this widespread incantation as it would enable them to remain concealed. Even if the occupants inside were roused or magical explosions ensued, no one would be able to see from outside. It was a potent spell with broad effects, capable of disrupting devices like crystal balls that might be used to call for help. Casting the spell had cost him about fifteen percent of his mana pool, but it was a small price to pay for ensuring their safety. As long as he remained undefeated, the protective enchantment would endure.

“Oh? Something is moving!”

Kovak had successfully cast his spell, but it inadvertently triggered the magical defenses of the entire area. He had hoped that the shroud of darkness he created would also disrupt these defenses, but much to his annoyance, they remained fully operational. Their relic was undeniably potent, but its influence was limited to living creatures and couldnʼt affect constructs like golems and runic equipment.

What they were up against was a peculiar magical device, one that seemed to possess a degree of awareness regarding their presence and the ability to generate magical effects. These enigmatic devices zeroed in on their group while being affixed to the walls. They featured peculiar joints and extremities adorned with runes, which promptly began to glow in a bluish hue before unleashing a relentless barrage of magical attacks upon them.

The cultists found themselves under a sudden and intense assault as the runic devices sprang to life. Bolts of arcane energy shot out from the walls, each one striking with precision at the intruders. The necromancer, Kovak, was quick to react, raising his staff adorned with skulls to create a protective barrier of dark energy around him. The elven woman with her daggers moved with an uncanny swiftness, deflecting the magical projectiles with her blades as she leaped and twirled through the air.

But the man with the ever-shifting form remained unresponsive. He simply stood there, permitting the relentless onslaught of magical blasts to strike his body. The blue energy tore through his dark robe, exposing the malevolent form beneath. His head was enveloped in some dark, flesh-like substance that appeared to be attempting to consume it entirely. The most striking feature was a massive protrusion on his right shoulder, which housed a singular eye at its center. This eye was connected to a colossal arm equipped with four fingers, each as long and sharp as daggers.

His body continued to be consumed as the dark flesh took over, causing him to grow larger and larger. Meanwhile, the magical blasts appeared to have little effect, seemingly doing nothing to halt the relentless advance of the dark transformation. Even though they seemed to be able to break down some of his tissue and produce a stream of blood, the damage was mending itself faster than it was being done.

Thanks to his large body being the focus of the magical turrets the other cult members could relax. They watched as their leaders performed attacks against the mysterious runic devices with increasing precision. The elven woman danced and parried with her daggers, expertly deflecting the bolts of arcane energy back at the turrets. Kovak, on the other hand, chanted incantations and unleashed dark spells from his staff which took on the form of flaming skulls and collided with the walls to blow them up.

It didn’t take long for the toll on the turrets to become noticeable. They didn’t stand a chance against a group of powerful tier 3 class holders and posed no threat to them. As the last of the runic devices crumbled to pieces, the air in the craftsmanʼs territory began to still. The silence that followed was eerie, punctuated only by the sound of the large manʼs continued transformation.

“It’s not over, look…”

The man with the shifting form proclaimed while pointing with his clawed fingers at the destroyed turrets. These peculiar devices, which had already crumbled, began to reassemble themselves. It was as though time itself was rewinding, with the missing pieces falling back into place. However, one small detail didnʼt escape their notice: while the runic equipment was being restored, the holes in the walls and ground remained unfilled.

“So what if it can restore itself? Scrap is still scrap!”

Said the elven woman as she gracefuly danced around the area, effortlessly evading all of the magical blasts. Her movements were so fluid that it seemed as if she were gliding on ice. She swiftly emerged above the wall where the magical turrets were situated. To her surprise, the moment her head peeked over, something shot toward her, prompting her to swiftly utilize her daggers to slice at it.

“You want to capture me?”

The net, made entirely of metal, proved no match for the cutting power of her cursed black daggers. She swiftly recognized the source of the net to be a group of peculiar-looking golems, their exteriors resembling spiders. A sizable cluster of them emerged from an odd metallic box that had just risen from the ground and they were set on attacking her and the other intruders.

“This is getting fun!”

She exclaimed in excitement, while Kovak, although wanting to rein her in, chose to let her continue her engagement with the golemic army. Instead, he opted to confront the golems with his own minions. Being a necromancer, he understood that his true strength lay in commanding undead beings and acting as a general in the backline. Thanks to the other cultists intercepting the spells he had enough time to focus on his own safety and chanting.

His mouth moved rapidly, releasing an incoherent string of phrases that to most people would sound like gibberish. However, when slowed down, these sounds formed real words and sentences. Kovak was utilizing an active skill known as ”Hastened Chant” designed to aid magic casters in overcoming their primary weakness of having to speak while simultaneously focusing on mana control. While effective, there were even more advanced skills available that could further streamline the incantation process.

“Open, gates of the dead!’

Thanks to the skill, the necromancer only needed to voice the final sentence of the otherwise lengthy incantation, a process that would have taken a normal mage several minutes to complete. Upon completion, an eerie chill descended upon the area, and a massive door materialized behind the mage. The doorʼs appearance was accompanied by the horrifying screams and wails that resembled the agonized cries of tortured souls. It bore grotesque and disfigured faces of people and other creatures, all of which continued to moan in anguish as the door slowly swung open.

From within, a sizable group of undead creatures began to emerge. It commenced with regular skeletons donned in armor and progressed to more ghastly-looking horrors that crawled on all fours. It was a small battalion in its own right, nurtured by the necromancer over countless years and stored away in his personalized spatial space. Whenever a mission demanded a guarantee of success, he would summon these reinforcements, capable of overwhelming all his foes.

As Kovakʼs undead horde spilled forth from the eerie portal, they moved with purpose, their hollow sockets filled with an eerie blue light. The skeletal warriors brandished rusted swords and shields, while grotesque creatures with rotting flesh and jagged teeth lurched forward, ready to tear into anything in their path.

The small army of undead poured forth, but they encountered staunch opposition. A swarm of spider golems emerged from within the compound they were assaulting, determined to prevent their entry. These golems were armed with similar weapons to the runic turrets they had already vanquished once, which didnʼt pose much of a problem for the necromancerʼs forces.

“Destroy them!”

Ordered Kovak, his face adorned with a meticulous smile. The victory he longed for was within reach; all he needed to do was eliminate these magical soldiers, and triumph would be his. Though it was challenging to sift through the strange mana in this area, he remained convinced that everyone had been influenced by the relic he was empowering.

The relic he possessed had an extended range that he could further enhance with his own necrotic mana. He was already envisioning how the interrogation process would unfold. If he couldnʼt coax the information from these individuals, he knew they could resort to reanimating them and compelling the knowledge from their unwilling mouths.

However, as the impending battle with the large number of golemic spiders loomed, an unforeseen variable emerged. The group had not yet breached the fortified wall, which was constantly raining down turreted fire upon them, in addition to a protective magical barrier. While this alone didn’t pose a significant challenge, a mana pattern suddenly emerged from within, sending shivers down Kovakʼs spine.

“Filthy radiant magic? Did the Solarian bastards lead us into a trap? … No, this is different…”

The explosion of holy energy was followed by a beastly howl that caused even the undead soldiers to hold in their tracks. The weakest among them started sizzling as they were already receiving damage. Their bones rattled and undead flesh started peeling off as it sizzled in the radiant heat that was created.

“Wow! That’s a big doggy~”

Shouted the elven woman who had managed to climb the wall and was now residing on one of the destroyed runic turrets. Her eyes were focused on a large flaming wolf that was growling and moving up into the sky above. It didn’t jump above the shroud that Kovak created but instead generated strange platforms out of mana for a better vantage point.

“What is that strange creature? How was it able to awaken from the abyssal slumber?”

Asked Kovak who was clearly confused about what he was seeing. The magical beast radiated holy energies that were similar to the clerics of Solaria. The flaming wolf, its fiery fur flickering and dancing like an otherworldly inferno, howled again. Its voice echoed through the compound, causing panic among the cultists and their undead minions. Even the elven woman, who had been so eager for a fight, took a step back as her cursed daggers reacted to the strange holy energies that were being produced.

The strange sensation subsided rather quickly as everyoneʼs attention shifted to the beast standing on a radiant platform. There was something uncanny about it, and the intense light it emitted was difficult for the abyssal members to gaze upon. Kovak, who harbored a deep disdain for all things related to the church of Solaria, was filled with rage. He swiftly summoned his necrotic mana to conjure flying skulls aimed at the beast. His mind slipped slightly as before he could conjure up the spell fully, a barrage of mana blasts was slung his way.

“Damn arcane automatons… and what are you looking at, are you just going to stand there?”

Kovak called out to the other cultist members who had arrived with him, particularly the shape-shifting warlock. While he considered himself a formidable spellcaster, the mostly silent warlock was an individual he feared. Undoubtedly, the warlock was the most powerful among their group and likely wouldnʼt heed his commands. Only the lesser cultists, those lent to him by the priestess, were more likely to follow his orders and acknowledge him as their leader.

“More fun for me~! Come here little doggy!”

As Kovak shouted, the woman he despised leaped into the air. Her eyes gleamed with determination as she soared toward the flaming canine creature. Balls of flames were hurled in her direction, but with a swift slice of her blades, she deftly dispatched them. The woman glided through the air with a skill that allowed her to approach the fiery wolf. However, just as she was about to reach the apex above the runesmithʼs compound, a peculiar object materialized suddenly from her blindside.

“Huh?”

She had to contort her body in an exceedingly uncomfortable manner, a maneuver that would have left an ordinary person with a spinal injury. Her prized black daggers faltered for the first time as she attempted to push back the object. It was hurled with such force that it forced her to retreat, bouncing her backward. She glared at the object that arced through the air and then descended into the large hand of the individual who had thrown it at her.

“I came here to get drunk, not to fight damn cultists!”

The voice belonged to a large man, his head gleaming in the radiant light emitted by the flaming wolf. He wielded a massive axe that seemed to weigh more than an adult man on its own. For some reason, this individual had awakened from the relicʼs illusion and was fixating his glare in her direction. Soon, the cultist would realize that he was not the only one who had awakened.