My Players Are So Fierce

1600: 537.

The much-anticipated Confinement Play did happen, but the form was a bit strange_3

1600: 537.

The much-anticipated Confinement Play did happen, but the form was a bit strange_3

“But all those past hardships are now meaningless.

I led my surviving, cowardly clansmen across the Dark Mountain Range to this barren land.

Fate revealed its prophecy to me, and now, at the moment when that prophecy comes to pass, I have finally met you in this dark land, Sir Murphy.”

“I can only say that I am deeply honored.”

This woman, dangerous in every sense, displayed impeccable manners.

She bowed to Murphy with the customs of the Shadow Elves and did not bother using her undoubtedly immense powers to prevent Murphy from casting Reconnaissance Magic on her.

As her character card flickered, the information about this being quickly mirrored in Murphy’s view:

Name: [Weaver] Anu Veylanther Mejewa

Template: Level 37 Leader Creature – Silver/Gold [Severely Injured, Tier Dropped]

Profession: Level 30 Sword Singer / Level 30 Chosen One – Weaver of Destiny / Artist – Classical Music Specialization

Rating: Extremely dangerous – Neutral

“So it was you!”

Murphy had previously learned from small players’ quest logs about the disappearance of the Mejewa Clan’s Weaver of Destiny, who had been kidnapped.

Currently, the small players, under the guidance of several NPCs, were closing in on Baphomet Canyon in an attempt to rescue her.

However, judging from the scene before Murphy, it was clear this person was certainly not captured by the Goat Men!

After all, with the Black Iron Tier wavering strength of the local Goat Men, how could they possibly capture a Gold-ranked powerhouse?

Even if this Weaver of Destiny’s injuries had caused her abilities to diminish, she was still far beyond the reach of those savage Goat Men, who worshipped the Evil God.

In other words, she orchestrated the “kidnapping” herself, all to end up at this underground palace.

No!

From the cryptic words of this Weaver of Destiny just now, it was apparent she had been waiting here specifically to meet Murphy.

Hiss…

It sounded both terrifying and impressive.

Although Triss, that Spiritual Overlord, had always dismissed prophecy-related powers as unreliable, Murphy could now clearly sense the methods of these prophecy specialists, the “Prophets.” This Weaver of Destiny undoubtedly knew Murphy would appear in Baphomet’s Palace.

Understanding this unsettled Murphy greatly.

He disliked being maneuvered into meetings like this.

To use an inelegant analogy, it was like being forced into a blind date…

Murphy considered turning away immediately, but since he was already here, right?

“You risked leaving your clansmen without their pillar of support, setting them on the brink of collapse, just for a chance to meet me in this way.

Though I don’t appreciate it, I can certainly sense ‘sincerity.’”

The Vampire Lord stepped back and asked:

“So, Lady Veylanther, what is it you want to discuss with me?”

“Fate!”

The Weaver of Destiny, whose upper body exuded an air of matronly authority, adjusted her posture and declared seriously:

“On the night Mejewa City was overrun by corrupted creatures, my noble clansmen scattered in despair, mourning in the midst of slaughter and disaster—I witnessed the trajectory of fate.

It was so vivid, as if the world itself whispered the future to me.”

“That night marked the most exquisite experience I’ve had in my 313 years as a Weaver of Destiny.”

“Compared to it, the destruction of Mejewa City was insignificant.”

“After all, my clan had been in decline for years, but that doesn’t matter!

The past holds no meaning, while the future is immensely precious.

Governor Murphy, I wish to speak with you here to orchestrate the ‘rebirth’ of the Mejewa Clan.”

“Yes.”

“I want to become your faithful servant!”

“By my god’s decree, I will dedicate everything I have to you, join the grandeur destined for you, and share in your magnificence, thereby granting my fallen kin a slim chance of survival in the chaos to come.”

“?”

Murphy was profoundly shaken by her words.

While having a Gold-ranked powerhouse willingly pledge loyalty sounded like a remarkable stroke of luck, the situation before him was far from reassuring—such an enticing cake had the potential to turn into stomach trouble.

“I refuse!”

Murphy replied without hesitation, briskly and decisively waving her off:

“I just ended a master-servant pact with another lady not long ago.

My mind is still fatigued from that parting and is incapable and unwilling to accept the allegiance of a powerful Weaver of Destiny.”

“Let me be blunt.”

“I don’t hold any fondness for Shadow Elves, nor do I trust you.

You should know why.”

“Yes, I know.”

In the face of Murphy’s rejection, the Weaver of Destiny did not appear disheartened.

It seemed she had anticipated this outcome.

She gazed at Murphy earnestly and said:

“It’s because of ‘Dusk,’ isn’t it?”

Murphy did not reply, simply maintaining a tranquil gaze upon her.

Veylanther knew her guess was correct.

Her grotesque, distorted form shifted forward, as if she perceived Murphy’s aversion and vigilance against “aberrations.” This Weaver of Destiny emitted a hoarse laugh and formed a peculiar gesture.

Spiritual Energy swirled around her as though a spell was being cast.

With three steps forward, the monstrous image of a Lady Spider faded, replaced by an elegant Shadow Elf woman dressed in ceremonial garb.

The twisted limbs were gone, but six additional arms encircled her alluring frame, resembling a humanoid spider walking upright.

“Perhaps this form will be easier on your eyes.”

Having completed her “transformation,” Veylanther approached Murphy and whispered:

“If your enemy is Dusk, then on this path of pursuit, you will gain an unwavering ally.”

“Through prophecy and discernment, I have uncovered their origins along my journey.

The destruction of Mejewa City was instigated by Dusk faction meddling.

Although my divine spirit revealed little, I know those scoundrels deployed dark forces to annihilate my homeland—merely as a strength experiment.”

“I know the faction leader calls himself ‘Scholar’…”

“Another Dusk faction!

My goodness, are these people multiplying like amoebas?”

Murphy complained with exasperation:

“You’ve brought me nothing but bad news, madam.

Counting those I already know of, that’s four Dusk factions now confronting me.

Well, if you’d like to prove your sincerity, then tell me—what did your prophecy about my fate reveal?”

“The future!”

The Weaver of Destiny exclaimed with passionate resolve:

“A future shrouded in ambiguity.”

“Does ‘ambiguity’ alone compel you to gamble everything on me?”

Murphy responded with a deadpan tone:

“Prophets like you truly are unreliable.”

“You wouldn’t understand, Sir Murphy.

The world you perceive is bathed in light, and thus you fail to grasp the agony of darkness obscuring one’s path.

Compared to the decay and ruin I have seen, even a hazy future is reason enough for me to risk everything.”

The Weaver of Destiny spoke softly:

“I cannot see the precise shape of destiny in the future, but I know you are its core.

You stand amidst the Star Sea’s luminescence, and even Lady Spider must bow before you.

I am aware you have many concerns now; I also understand that loyalty and acceptance are not gifts easily granted.

I have great patience and will await your trust.

And before we part ways tonight, we still have much time left, so, ask your questions, Sir Murphy.

Pose them to your personal prophet.”

“From this day forward, the future I witness shall open for your eyes alone.”