ã€ŠShadow Dreamsã€‹


 Prologue

    Jason threw off his wolf cloak to reveal his black spiked mace in his right hand. His seething expression was already blood red before the battle began. He trod further up the hill towards Anton.

    Anton gulped. Even with all the time he spent waiting, he was still not prepared for Jason. Even after coming to the hill earlier for the high ground advantage, Anton was still afraid of the overwhelming strength that Jason possessed.

    He had to swallow his terror. Jason was approaching. Fast. Deceptively fast for an armored man.

    Anton gripped his battle-worn claymore with both hands by the hilt and yanked it out of the ground.

    Jason lunged.

    With a mighty horizontal swing, he brought his mace towards Anton¡¯s legs. Anton barely parried the blow with his claymore, the force breaking his footing as he sidestepped to his right to reposition himself.

    Jason stepped up further on the hill, reaching equal elevation as his opponent.

    Anton had lost his advantage already. ¡°Damnit.¡± He thought, ¡°I need to find an opening.¡±

    Jason swung again. His mace clashing with Anton¡¯s claymore once more. The clanging of steel echoed across the hills as their deadly dance continued.

    But with every strike, Anton was losing ground, pushed backwards by Jason¡¯s onslaught.

    Compared to his larger opponent, he was wearing much lighter armor. One blow from that mace would send its spikes right through the chainmail and penetrate into his bones.

    Jason, in a sudden change of tempo, feigned a low swing.

    Anton attempted to parry the false blow as Jason, with sadistic glee, switched his angle to an overhead swing and brought the mace vertically down upon him.

    Anton was almost too slow as he dodged to the right. Tumbling down the hill.The author''s narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.

    The mace slammed the ground and kicked up dirt upon impact.

    Panting, Anton propped himself up with his claymore and regarded at his foe. He was bigger than him, stronger than him, and wearing tougher armor than him. Even though Anton had a weapon with greater reach, he still couldn¡¯t find a safe opening to strike the daunting behemoth that now stood above him, having stolen the advantage Anton had planned seemingly so well for. How could he beat him?

    He thought. He pondered. He deliberated.

    ¡°Well? Is that all you got?¡± Jason taunted.

    ¡°I suppose it is. How about we call it a draw and go home?¡± Anton quipped

    ¡°No. That¡¯s not an option.¡±

    ¡°I see. A shame.¡±

    Anton turned around and hightailed it down the hill.

    Jason¡¯s expression morphed from mocking back to frenzied and deranged.

    ¡°COME BACK, YOU COWARD!¡±

    He gave chase.

    But Anton wasn¡¯t running away, rather, he was running towards something.

    He ran down to the base of the hill, the wind blowing against him while imminent death hounded behind, until he was near the bottom of the incline.

    He braked, skidding on the grass and reached down with his left hand to pick up something wide and furry on the ground, before turning around to throw it in the air toward Jason.

    It was an ashen grey cloak, Jason¡¯s wolf fur cloak that he¡¯d cast off.

    Slipping through the air for a brief moment before enveloping Jason¡¯s upper body on its way down.

    His front and his face were now blanketed by the cloak, wrapping around and obscuring his vision.

    But he continued to sprint down the hill; he could not stop. His heavy armor and speed gave him too much momentum as he ran downhill.

    He could not see that his opponent, who had now turned, braced in a forward-thrusting position with his claymore. He could not see the tip of the blade stab towards his face.

    He did not feel the agony of cold steel penetrating his skin, and muscle, and skull, and running through his brain matter.

    He died instantly.

    But being dead didn¡¯t stop Jason¡¯s corpse carrying momentum; barreled down the hill and crashed onto Anton. The two crestfallen warriors fell to the ground unceremoniously. An inelegant and ignoble end to a pointless duel.

    A loud thud, followed by silence. The wind had stopped blowing.

    Anton let out an agonized grunt as he pushed the corpse off. He could taste the saltiness of blood that he wasn¡¯t sure was even his and felt a sharp pain in his ribs.

    ¡°I thought I was a goner.¡± he rasped in pain. He was relieved. The battle was over.

    Jason¡¯s body twitched and convulsed. The wolf coat still covering his face was now stained in a crimson red that seeped outwards from the entry point of Anton¡¯s claymore, still embedded within him.

    The sunset and the chill night began to set in. Darkness swept over the Highlands as yet another warrior fell upon its hills. Not the first, and certainly not the last.

    In a serene moment of respite, Anton let out a sigh from the depths of his chest.

    ¡°One thing after another.¡±

 Chapter 1: A morning in a Brehella Inn.

    Darkness, encroaching and encompassing. My limbs numb and breath evicted. I lay there, violated by the shadows, suffocating. I cannot move. I cannot scream. I try to call for help, but no utterance escapes my mouth. No one can find me in this void. Nothing can save me from this darkness. No saint nor god can answer my prayers.

    "A curse upon them, and their children, and their children''s children." whispers arise from the dark.

    No. Please no. I don''t want this. I never wanted this.

    The shadows morph and take shape. Becoming a mutated mass of faceless humans. These shadowy figures seem to cry out a hollow howl. Dancing and wriggling in the void. They are a living tapestry of pain. Their limbs twist and contort as they reach out to caress me, watch me, mock me, and whisper curses deep into my heart and soul.

    "A peaceful death is too good for you." They murmur. Their hands smother my face.

    No. Let me go. Please. Release me!

    My consciousness fades as the darkness swallows me whole.

    Dawn broke in meager ribbons of light through the curtains when Anton finally awoke. His body ached terribly, and his skin was cold and clammy. He opened his eyes slowly and found himself staring at a moldy wooden ceiling. Cold sweat covered his entire body, goosebumps appearing all over his skin. He looked down at the floor beside his bed. There was a puddle of water that seemed to have formed from a leak in the roof. He quickly wiped away his sweat and sniffed hard to clear the mucus in his nose. He had a splitting headache and a parched throat. His stomach bellowed loudly. Immediately, he shot up from the bed and stumbled around, searching for water or food.

    As he searched his room for sustenance, he thought back to what happened the week prior. His thoughts were hazy, and everything came in jumbles. Flickering images of his duel with Jason, but nothing concrete; his brain seemingly still refused to comprehend anything coherent regarding his recent brush with death. Stepping into the puddle, he wildly considered drinking it but resisted the urge in favor of getting dressed instead. He wasn''t an animal.

    While dressing, Anton felt a sharp pounding in his head, like his brain was trying to escape through his skull, laboring his breathing as though he were sprinting uphill. Donned in musty linen, he finally left his room and headed downstairs to the tavern for some breakfast. On his way down, he saw a group of young men who looked to be adventurers sitting by the fire, eating their morning meal.

    "Ah, mornin'', my friend. Didja sleep well?" greeted the innkeeper, a stout man by the name of Erwin with a round belly and a bushy beard. He had a warm smile that welcomed all who entered his establishment, a damp yet cozy inn that stood on the edge of the town of Brehella.

    Anton gave Erwin a weary nod before slumping behind an empty table. Head hung low, he slid a silver Rovanian coin across the table and rasped, "A mug of fresh water and a bowl of Griffonhare stew."

    "Water? We ''ave ale or wine, house-made. What ya wantin'' plain water for?" Erwin asked with a cheeky grin.

    "For my stomach and my throat, you oaf."

    Not even a half minute later, a bowl and a mug were slammed down in front of him. Not even a half second following, Anton eagerly grabbed the wooden bowl with both hands as if it were the first meal he had ever eaten in his life and shoveled it into his mouth with great enthusiasm. The base of the stew was a rich, savory broth made with a blend of magical herbs and spices. The Griffonhare was infused with the sour flavors of wildflowers and berries until the white flesh was stained a deep purple. Its meat was unusually tender, and its fat melted in Anton''s mouth, creating a lavish symphony of oily juice playing in harmony with his tongue, cheeks, and down his throat. As he slurped up every spoonful as quickly as he could, he took in a breath and let out a satisfied sigh. Then he chugged down a refreshing swig from the mug. Unsurprisingly, it was cheap ale, but Anton was well past the point of caring.

    Erwin''s smile was wide as he cheered, "At''a lad!" As he walked back to the bar, stuffing the silver coin in his apron''s pocket.

    "Aye, that be him. The infamous Anton Krendel, who slew a dozen men from the House of Driev three months ago before dueling Jason the behemoth himself last week."

    "Are you sure? I can''t believe a guy that pathetic looking could fell someone the likes of Jason."

    "Maybe Jason wasn''t what the rumors made him out to be? I mean, he was hounded from House Driev for being caught blackmailing locals."

    "Aye, ''lotta knights from the Imperial Houses tend to dip their toes in corruption, normally using middlemen like us to do the dirty work. But Jason Driev was a more hands-on type a'' guy; he did things either personally or with his men through brute strength. I''ve met him before. He was certainly no munchkin."

    The four seeming adventures discussed next to the hearth fire, peering over at Anton as he scarfed on his stew with little dignity or manners.

    "I think I could take him on," claimed their leader.

    The ugliest man in the group piped up. "I''d love ta'' see you try! You''re not even half the size of Jason."

    The leader shrugged, "So? I''m bigger than the average man."

    "That''s not saying much," chimed in the slimmest among them.

    "If it was me, one on one against him... I''d win."

    "Oh yeah?" the ugly one asked, eagerly awaiting his response.

    "Well, I have a few tricks up my sleeve."

    The leader of the gang stood up, daunting and cockily, making his way towards Anton.

    "Oi, wait a second! Are ya gonna challenge him or something? We weren''t told to do that," the meekest member of the group asked.

    "Nah, I just want a little chat," he answered. With that, he waltzed over to Anton''s table with a swagger.

    Anton felt a presence approaching behind him, footsteps creaking on the oak boards that line the tavern floor. He tilted his head to see. Noticing that the figure had broken off from the group of adventurers near the hearth fire, he realized he was clad in an iron cuirass too heavy to belong to a budding adventurer, with a broadsword and a dagger strapped to his belt. The young men were probably mercenaries, and the one who was approaching looked particularly muscular and confident, with a sly smile crawling across his face.

    "You''re Anton Krendel, aren''t you?"

    "What''s it to you?"

    "I''ve heard a lot about you."

    The mercenary sat down next to him, his chiseled face and flowing blond hair juxtaposed with Anton''s rugged face and unkept auburn beard. There was a stark difference in age and attitude between the two men. Anton, refusing to meet the provoking gaze of the mercenary, continued to gaze into his empty bowl.

    "And what exactly have you heard?"

    "That you are a notorious mercenary, a freelancer that bears no allegiance to an Imperial House, and that you''ve got quite the body count on you."

    "You must have me mistaken for someone else."

    "But you killed twelve men from House Driev."

    "I didn''t kill anyone from House Driev."

    "Then who did you kill?"

    "I killed no one."

    "Bullshit."

    Anton swallowed his words, replying with a reserved nod.

    "I know you dueled Jason Driev last week and that you cut him down."

    "Yeah, I guess so..."

    Anton''s lack of reaction and monotonous tone ticked a nerve in the mercenary, his smile receding back into contempt. There was a momentary pause in the conversation between the two, that is, if it could even be called a conversation. Finally, the awkward silence was broken as the man spoke once again, regaining his sly smile and composure.

    "The name''s Jergal. Jergal Siegwadar, from Arlak mercenary company."

    "Nice to meet you, Jergal," sarcastically replied Anton without turning around, still gazing at his empty bowl.

    Arlak company, huh? They''re a highly-priced company, ranging a couple hundred strong. Back in my younger days, my old band of adventurers and I crossed paths with them before on joint expeditions and exterminations. From the handful I remember, they were skilled warriors capable of giving knights and imperial soldiers a run for their coin. I can''t quite read this Jergal fellow''s skill in combat, nor can I determine his exact intentions, but I can sense a certain malice from him. Malice and naivety? A type of cruelty that is only present in someone trained in combat from a very young age. What does he want with me?

    Ah, that''s right. Arlak company is often contracted by House Driev, aren''t they? That would likely explain why he knows about me. Does he actually desire a duel? He''s so young. So young and so stupid. I don''t think that the Drievs would demand reparations from me, they had already exiled Jason before I killed him, and his soldiers were all seventh-born sons who no one would miss. The nobles of House Driev knew they were scumbags. I''m sure half of them wanted to thank me for doing them a service. But the other half, the ones who let them run around as they so pleased, may want an eye for an eye. Jason''s father, Ulric, the second head of the House, might feel obligated to take action.

    Urrgh. Status and reputation are always at stake in politics, huh? Such a worthless hassle. If I had to live a life of power struggles where I constantly feared betrayal and assassination, I''d sooner toss myself into a sulfur mine pool. That being said, I''m likely just paranoid from my troubled sleep and this throbbing headache. I should play along with this Jergal fellow for now until he gets bored and leaves me alone.

    "Do you need something from me?" Anton monotonously asked.

    "Oh no, I just wanted to talk for a bit before we leave today at noon."

    "I''m not much of a talker."

    "Well, I am. How did you kill Jason?"

    Anton prepared himself to be relentlessly barraged with questions, taking in a deep breath when the tavern''s door suddenly swung open. A macabre gust of icy wind blew through the tavern. The hearth fire flickered and crackled against the draft as all six men present in the tavern turned their attention to the dark-cloaked hooded figure that appeared in the door front. Illuminated by the dim, cloud-engulfed morning sun, the mysterious individual brought with them an unnerving atmosphere. Anton noticed their form faintly shimmering in the light as if they were surrounded by a translucent veil. Behind them was a second smaller figure, about two-thirds the height, dressed in a shabbier brown hooded cloak, dirtier and more raggedy in comparison to the neat black cloak of the taller individual. This second person did not have the same veil and aura as the black one, instead possessing a different, more subtle type of enigma, one that Anton felt himself gravitating towards. He wasn''t sure if it was an instinct of some kind, but he felt his heart sink the moment he saw them, a feeling he could only describe as: ''Nightmares.''

    "The four wind spirits are howling on this fine morning." The black-cloaked figure commented; their voice was soft as wool, simultaneously calming and eerie with a creepily passive undertone despite speaking loud enough to be heard across the tavern.

    "They blow in a lot from the Stormveil highlands! T''is normal for Brehella!" Erwin called from behind the counter. "Now shut the door, ''fore the fire goes out!"

    "Ah, of course. My apologies." The black-cloaked person gestured to his smaller companion, who immediately moved to close the dense slab of Great oak. The door was twice their size, yet they managed with little effort, returning to the black-cloaked person''s side with a meandering pace once their task was accomplished.

    "Were they a servant? A slave?" Anton wondered to himself. "They look the size of a child, but they displayed strength above the class of their size. Their figure seems too petite for a dwarf, perhaps a gnome?"

    The black-cloaked person unhooded themself, revealing a ghostly pale androgynous face with long white hair coming down to his collarbone. His eyes were wide open with milky discolored pupils that blankly stared into space. "I''m a traveling missionary. I have business with an Anton Krendal. Is there a Mr. Krendal staying in this inn?"If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.

    "Well, look at you, infamous mercenary. I''ll leave you to talk business. Don''t worry. I''m not one for professional jealousy." Jergal mocked as he stood up from the seat next to Anton to return to his group. That was one troublesome person out of the way, likely to be replaced by a potentially more troublesome one.

    "Over ''ere," Erwin pointed towards Anton, his head still hung low.

    "Many thanks." The missionary carefully sauntered over towards Anton, closely followed by his companion, sitting down in the same spot Jergal was just in moments ago.

    "A pleasure to meet you, Mr. Krendal." He greeted him with a quieter private voice.

    "Likewise. Could you please cut to the chase?" Anton''s patience was running thin even before the missionary sat down.

    "Very straightforward of you. At the very least, would you allow me the honor to exchange formalities first? Introducing myself and my companion?"

    "Sure."

    "Thank you. My reborn name is Raum; I am a high-ranking priest and missionary of the Grogoth faith. This young girl behind me is Charlotte, though she doesn''t respond very well to her name." Raum gestures to his companion, her eyes and forehead obscured by her hood, showing no interest in the conversation.

    "I''ve never heard of this ''Grogoth faith'' before. Are you a con man or something?"

    Raum chuckles softly at Anton''s snappy remark.

    "No, I assure you, Mr. Krendal, though most established churches and religions are synonymous with deceit or trickery, the Grogoth faith is a pure and honest distillation of the will of Grogoth."

    "Sounds like a niche deity to me. What does he do for you?"

    "The relationship between Grogoth and their followers isn''t as simple as receiving something for worship-"

    "Right, so he does nothing for you." Anton cut in, hoping his rude attitude would deter the priest from any further exposition. But the Raum only continued to chuckle with amusement and delight. There was nothing forced about his expression at all as he continued to elaborate.

    "Grogoth isn''t a widely revered god, but those few of us who are blessed by their love have seen their divine truth and fragments of the grand salvation that awaits us all. We do not worship them because we choose to but because it is an inevitable fate. You see-"

    Raum seemed to take great joy in explaining his beliefs. Spreading gospel was a natural part of a missionaries job, but Anton had never met one with as unnerving of an aura as Raum. Even though, strangely enough, he felt less threatened sitting next to Raum than he did Jergal. As he kept rambling, Anton decided to get a better grasp on Raum''s character, taking a closer inspection of his black damask cloak. It was dotted with woven symbols and iconography that Anton could not decipher. Most prevalent of which is an eye with hemorrhaging cut on its pupil. What''s more, is that his cloak had faint stains on its front and forearms. It wasn''t very clear to see from a distance due to its dark color, but up close, it became very apparent. There aren''t many types of liquid that could come out on black silk.

    "What kind of religious practices do you perform?" Anton cut into Raum''s religious exposition.

    "Sacrifices," Raum answered without missing a beat.

    "So you''re an occultist?"

    "To some people, yes."

    "Do you only use goats?"

    "No, we use a wide range of animals. Sometimes we might use creatures of higher intelligence."

    "People?"

    "Humans, Elves, Demi-humans and the sort, yes. We don''t discriminate in race."

    Raum''s blunt response took Anton aback. The manner in which he could so openly admit it while wearing such a pleasant smile shocked Anton. His fist clenched unconsciously.

    "What about the girl? Is she a part of your cult? Or is she a sacrifice-to-be?" Anton interrogated with newfound vitriol, raising his head to face off directly against Raum, locking eye contact with Raum''s creamy fogged pupils.

    "She is not affiliated with my faith, nor do I intend to use a drop of her blood," Raum reassured in a dulcet tone.

    Anton peered over at Charlotte, her stance and body language had not changed. He sat there for a moment, digesting the situation, his headache worsening as he tried analyzing her.

    Raum attempted to drive the conversation back on track. "We would love to hire you to accompany us on a journey to the newly unearthed Y''ashi mausoleum in the northern mountains of Boleria."

    Anton hesitated to respond but decided to swallow his moral reservations. "That''s work better suited to an adventurer, not a mercenary."

    "Aren''t they the same thing? Adventurers take job requests from the Rovanian Empire''s official guilds, while Mercenaries take private contracts and direct deals."

    "I haven''t explored a temple or ruins in over a decade. I just clear out monster infestations or deal with bandits."

    "Those are dilemmas that we will likely run into on our journey."

    "How much are you offering to pay?"

    "For you? We don''t have a monetary sum to give."

    That was the last straw for Anton. He stood up from his seat, groggy head be damned, and turned around to leave. Just before he could leave the table, however, he felt a chilly grip on his wrist. Raum had leaned out and grabbed hold of him with strange desperation.

    "Let go of-"

    "Do you have nightmares, Mr. Krendal?" Raum quickly asked. "Are you plagued by darkness and voices that won''t let you go until you enter the waking world? Curses of an unknown origin that penetrate into your very soul?"

    Anton was bewildered. The questions struck true, but how? How could Raum know about his situation? A lucky guess? Why make such a guess in the first place? Anton''s frustration and disgust were washed over by curiosity and fear. It wasn''t Raum''s hand that was pulling him back in, but some other force. The direction of gravity kept Anton there.

    "I can help you with those nightmares. Grogoth''s guidance can be used to save you, to give you answers. That is what I offer you for your services, something that no amount of coin will buy you."

    Anton became lost in thought. Processing Raum''s words through a rising migraine. He couldn''t muster a reply before they were interrupted.

    "Whoa there, gentleman, something come awry in your dealings?" Jergal announced as he returned to the table, his party in tow. The four mercenaries gathered around the table and surrounded them, snickering and curling their lips save for the meek individual who protruded a nervous exterior.

    "If that man there won''t take your job... We''d be willing to hear you out." Jergal leaned over the table to look at Raum, who acknowledged him and greeted him with a dismissive tilt of his head.

    "We''re fine, thank you. I want the services of this man in particular."

    "And why is that, hmm?"

    "I could ask you a similar question, young man. Why are you so interested in Mr. Krendal?"

    Jergal wore his usual smug expression, scoffing at the missionary''s gall to spin the question onto him.

    "You know, I''ve met my share of creepy clergymen, but you definitely take the crown." He taunted, nose curling as he sneered while looking down on Raum. His entourage heckled with him as if they rehearsed on cue.

    Boring. Humans are so boring. They just talk all day. Just when I thought things were wrapping up, more humans came over to talk. Four of them. They look so stupid. They smell bad too. I bet they don''t wash themselves. Raum should just tell them to piss off. We''re only here for the bearded one. What a pain in the ass. My ears are itchy under this hood. I''m hungry. Is there any stew left in that bowl?

    No, the bearded one finished it all. He doesn''t look very happy, even though he has a full belly. Doesn''t he know it''s more than most people get? Is he unhappy because of the shadow dreams? I guess I can relate. He looks so pitiful. I almost want to pinch his cheeks.

    They''re still talking. One of them has a stubby nose and black teeth. Looks more like an ogre to me. Wait a moment. These new people... They have weapons on them. Is Raum in trouble? It''s his fault for being so friendly. He can handle himself, but I don''t know about the bearded one. He doesn''t have any weapons on him. Isn''t he meant to be a warrior? Do I need to protect him? That''s going to be a pain in the ass too. Just get rid of them, Raum. The ugly one is looking at me. He''s coming towards me. I swear if he touches me, he''ll regret it.

    "Oi, what''s this now? This little fella. What''s their deal?" The ugly mercenary plod over to Charlotte. "Come on. Don''tcha know it''s rude to wear hoods indoors?"

    He flips her hood over to reveal her head. Short onyx black hair with indigo highlights, and sticking from the upper sides of her skull were a pair of triangular-shaped ears. Fluffy animal ears, specifically, something akin to fox or cat ears. They twitched in the exposed air.

    Charlotte raised her head up to glare at the mercenary. Her mustard yellow iris widened as her oval pupils focused and shrunk. Snarling, she bore her teeth at him, exposing her sharp fangs and emitting a low growl from the depths of her vocal tracts.

    "We got ourselves a Demi-human here!" The mercenary proclaimed boisterously, almost celebrating with rancid glee.

    "Is that so?" Jergal jested. "Do you hear that Innkeep? There''s a demi-human in your tavern!"

    "Yeah, yeah. I ''eard ya." Erwin poked his head from behind the counter and turned to Raum. "Sorry mate, we don''t allow demi-''uman''s in this establishment."

    "Sincerest apologies, Innkeep, but she is my traveling aid. I am hard of sight and require her assistance." Raum slowly rose from the table and raised to his shoulder''s height. "She and I will leave once our business has concluded."

    "Naw, Naw. Let the man keep his pet." The ugly mercenary bent over to bring his face in front of Charlotte''s. "I think she''s well-trained enough not to piss on the floo-"

    His words were cut short as a sharp object entered his throat, halting all flow of air. An object that was brandished from inside Charlotte''s cloak. The dagger pierced through the tender flesh of his neck. A rush of hot, crimson blood gushes forth like a relentless fountain. The metallic taste of iron fills the mercenary''s mouth, suffocating him as he drowns in his own blood. She twists the dagger with vicious precision, slicing through sinew and bone. The mercenary collapses onto the ground, planting his face on the floor. Convulsing and twitching before becoming motionless.

    The whole tavern, except for Raum, was speechless at what they had just witnessed.

    "You''ve done it now, Charlotte."

    The slim mercenary roared with hostile fury, unsheathing his longsword to raise it upon Charlotte and bringing it down with all his might. But the vengeful strike only caught her cloak as she swiftly dodged to the right, tearing off to reveal her attire. Light armor consisting of a padded leather corset and pants. And from behind her waist rose a long catlike tail, the same length as her torso and the same onyx color as her hair. She was fast and nimble but would certainly be cut in half should a strike be delivered to her.

    She hissed with feral conviction, crouching lower on the floor with her dagger raised, prepared to pounce. The mercenary swung again, only for Charlotte to roll to her side to reposition herself as she engaged with her quarry.

    Jergal drew his broadsword to aid his comrade against the ravenous demi-human. As he did so, a large bolt of black flame flew past his right shoulder like a scorching firework. The black fire had erupted from a tattooed insignia on the palm of Raum''s left hand, traveling too fast for Jergal to dodge it. Fortunately for him, he wasn''t the target, as he turned his head to see his other comrade engulfed in an inferno.

    Screaming and crying out in anguish, the meek mercenary ran toward the counter, making it only a few steps before he collapsed to the ground, rapidly burning to cinders as if being devoured by the flames. Strangely enough, the black flame did not spread to the wooden environment around it. In fact, the flame didn''t even char or burn his clothes and armor, as only the mercenary''s own body had been reduced to a pile of ashes while his accessories were left in pristine condition on top of the pile.

    Anton, witnessing this magical attack, took cover behind the table to remain uninvolved in what he was predicting to be a slaughter.

    Jergal wasted no time rushing towards Raum, attempting to strike him down before he could cast another spell. Swing his sword to Raum''s waist.

    It struck something. Raum didn''t even try to dodge it.

    Anton could see it. The faint shimmering veil that he saw covering the priest while standing in the open door before. Although it was harder to see in the dimmer tavern, it had now manifested and intensified around Jergal''s blade, halting it in the air. Confused, Jergal pulled his sword back and swung again, this time chopping at his neck. But it was useless; the veil was some kind of mystical barrier, impervious to his attacks. Raum lazily caressed Jergal''s sword with his right hand, nudging the veil across to wrap around the blade, constricting it like a python. The metal started to change color from silver-grey to orange-brown as it rusted in the span of a few seconds. Cracks appeared around its edges as it became more and more brittle before finally snapping in half.

    Jergal dropped his sword''s hilt and pulled back. His face was wrought with terror from the unimaginable foe that stood before him. Anton had faced his share of magic wielders in his day, but this was likely Jergal''s first.

    He screamed in desperation, "Gunther! get over here and help me!" Crying for his last remaining ally.

    At the same moment he cried out, Charlotte pounced back to Raum''s side, still crouched over with her tail raised, hissing and growling. Glaring at Jergal as if she was awaiting a kill order.

    "Gunther! What are you do-" Jergal''s question was answered as he looked over at the slim mercenary''s lifeless body slumped against the hearth fire.

    It was just him now.

    Jergal''s mind raced to what he could do. What choices he had left in this situation.

    "I do have just one trick left in my sleeve." He thought to himself. "It''s all or nothing."

    Drawing a curved ornamental dagger, He Beelined toward the table, charging a defenseless, disoriented Anton and tackling him to the ground.

    Jergal hauled up his hostage, bringing his dagger''s tip to Anton''s neck.

    "The tip of this knife is infused with concentrated basilisk venom. Just a scratch is enough to kill a man. Make a move, and our friend here won''t see another day."

    The desperate Jergal played his last card. His rational thoughts corrupted by panic and fear. His dagger hand was shaking.

    "We would greatly appreciate it if you didn''t harm Mr Krendal." Raum negotiated. "We aren''t here to kill you. We are all reasonable people here."

    The four of them stood their ground at a standstill.

    "That''s right, isn''t it?" Jergal slipped a nervous laugh. "I''ll let him live if you promise that I can live." Hysteria had taken root in him.

    "Fuck this, and fuck this whole morning!" Anton shouted his battle cry as he drove his elbow into Jergal''s ribs. As he did so, he twisted out of Jergal''s grasp, tilting his head at an angle to narrowly avoid the dagger''s tip by the stubble of his cheek.

    Jergal stumbled backward, reeling and gasping from the surprising blow. In the next moment, he saw Charlotte launching herself off the table and onto the ceiling. As he looked up, she kicked off the tavern ceiling with unbelievable agility down upon him.

    He raised his dagger to parry hers, but it was already too late. Charlotte landed on the floor directly behind him with a light patter. The huntress had dealt the fatal blow.

    My neck... it''s... becoming warm?

    Quickly. I grasp my neck with one hand quickly so the red doesn''t drain out of me.

    If I put pressure on it and nothing comes out, I''ll be fine, right?

    Jergal fell to his knees, gurgling and choking, dropping his dagger on the floor. He reached out with his free hand. A plea for mercy.

    "G''rrak zul h''qar. May you reach your promised land in Grogoth''s embrace." Raum chanted his last rites.

    The last sliver of life left his eyes as he heard those words. His arms fell to his sides before his torso slumped forward. The blood from his neck flowing down into the gaps between the wooden boards, returning to the dirt beneath.

    The tavern fell silent.

    "Were they your friends by any chance?" Raum''s inquiry shattered the silence.

    "No, not in the slightest. They were probably trailing me."

    "Very good, that makes things simpler." Raum sauntered over to the counter to drop 3 silver Rovanian coins.

    "Apologies, Innkeep. We''ve made a smidge of a mess here."

    Behind the counter, Erwin was curled up in a fetal position, whimpering and shaking.

    "P-please leave!"

    "Worry not. We shall be on our way. The three of us." Raum looks at Anton, smiling with reassurance.

    Anton exhaled. "Fine. But you better be paying me. I know you have the coin now." He storms off towards the stairs to get his belongings from his room. "We''ll talk price later, as well as other things, but for no-"

    He was stopped by Charlotte in front of the steps. Her tail was lowered, and her eyes and demeanor had returned to being calm and collected, no longer in a wild berserker-like state. She had an almost innocent look to her now.

    "Here. You are a warrior, aren''t you? You should know better than to be caught without a weapon. Stupid human."

    She casually hands him Jergal''s poisoned dagger.

    "Small blades are useful. Very good, no matter your size."

    Anton cautiously grabs it by the hilt so as not to make contact with the blade.

    "Uh, Thanks?" He steps by her and up the stairs.

    Raum walked back to the table, peeking into Anton''s mug, noticing it wasn''t empty yet.

    "What do you think of him, Charlotte?"

    "He might be Okay."

    "So you like him?"

    "I don''t know yet. I can''t judge him by smell alone. Is it because he has shadow dreams too?"

    "Maybe."

    Raum took a sip of the ale. Swishing it around his mouth before swallowing.

    "No wonder he looked so down in the dumps. This ale is downright terrible. He should have ordered water instead."

 Chapter 2: Pitstop in Verhnsburg

    "A curse upon them, and their children, and their children''s children." whispers arose from the dark.

    I''m here again. Like routine.

    Darkness envelops. Limbs numb. Breath stolen. Suffocating. I cry.

    They''re coming.

    The whispers gain shadowy forms. Humanoid and mutated. Faceless and angry.

    Torment. Torture. Curses. Cast into this void.

    They''re coming.

    Please spare me. Let me go. Release me.

    "A peaceful death is too good for you." They murmur.

    Their hands smother me as my consciousness fades into the abyss.

    <hr>

    "Scruff. Wake up. Scruff."

    Anton Krendel was woken by a coarse but quiet voice. In a half-conscious stupor, he sluggishly jolts his groggy head about, blinky with heavy eyelids. He was camping in a cave, sprawled on a spread of rags and his woolen cloak messily arranged as though they were shoved about. Hunched over above him was Charlotte. Her cat ears twitched in the crisp morning air as she looked down on him.

    "Scruff. We go soon. Eat now." She bluntly commanded.

    Anton wiped his brow, sweat clinging to his forearm as he dragged it across. Despite the cold breeze circulating in the cave, he was sweating profusely, and he knew why.

    "Shadow dreams." Charlotte answered him as if reading his mind.

    Anton reeled back. Now fully awake and surprised.

    "You... know?"

    "I have them too."

    Charlotte''s blank stare didn''t break off from Anton, unnerving him but also giving him a closer look at her unblinking eyes. Her mustard irises were slightly dilated, and her sclera had a tinge of red. They were bloodshot.

    "How long was she up on watch duty last night?" Anton thought to himself. "Or perhaps, she''s just averse to sleeping at all?"

    He cleared his throat. "So you have those nightmares too? With the... uh..." His mind ached and became foggy when he tried to recall the dream, the details leaving him like a colt from a nest. He had never thought very hard about it before, perhaps because he never could. All he knew was the genuine fear and anguish he felt, and the unexplainable weight that followed him to the waking plane.

    Charlotte shook her head. "Don''t bother. Can''t remember either." She looked down, breaking her sharp stare, and Anton thought for a moment he could see her expression turn glum for the very first time since he knew her.

    "Rise and shine Mr Krendel." Raum''s soft voice echoed from the back of the cave. "I apologize for waking you so early, but dawn is here. We must be on our way."

    He turned his attention towards the dark-robed priest who stood there, leaning against the cavern wall with a gleaming smile across his pale face, exuding an attitude that seemed to be dawn in itself. Anton sighed at the gross incandescence and wrenched himself up.

    "Wha-" Before he could say a word. Charlotte shoved a strip of griffonhare jerky into his mouth.

    "Eat."

    Anton chewed the gamy tough jerky. The discomfort of his teeth gnawing was eclipsed only by the overpowering salty taste. Though he wished to spit it out, he fought against his compulsions so as to not be rude to Charlotte.

    Raum spoke of his plan. "We will be making the journey to Verhnsburg, the last city before the Bolerian mountain lines. There we will stay the night and stock up on equipment and supplies for the rough expedition in the mountains."

    Charlotte grabbed a handful of jerky and tore into it, her sharp fangs having little issue tearing the fibers apart. She seemed to have no qualms or questions about the plan. In fact, she never really stood in opposition to what Raum said. Anton, on the other hand, felt obligated to give his opinion to his employer.

    "Back in my adventuring days, I only ever climbed the Bolerian mountains once. I lost a few companions from my party due to the weather alone." Anton warned grimly. "The frigid winds up there are brutal. Whatever new Y''ashi ruin was discovered probably isn''t worth the risk."

    "That is where you are wrong Mr. Krendel. Gro Goroth''s guidance has already shown me that the solutions we seek lie in those ruins."

    "There you go speaking cryptically again. Would it hurt to be a little more specific? I''ve already come with you this far without so much as a single coin. The least you could do is tell me-"

    "In good time, Mr Krendel. I understand your frustration with the lack of forward information and payment for this job, but all I can do is promise you that you will feel more than compensated by the end of this."

    "I feel like this is the dozenth time you''ve said that." Anton conceded, yet again finding unexplainable difficulty to argue with Raum, an enigmatic wall he could not push through. After a week of traveling with them, Anton still felt skeptical about Raum and his control over Charlotte, especially after he witnessed what they were capable of. The fact alone that Raum was an occultist should''ve deterred Anton from taking his job, and yet he agreed out of a promise that compelled him in lieu of trust.

    "Off to Verhnsburg then."

    <hr>

    The streets spiraled around the courtyard in an endless circle of winding roads that connected to the city''s main gate, bustling with the life and noise of a marketplace. Anton stood in the shadow of a massive wrought iron gate with six sets of guards gripping spears at the base of it, peering into the distance and scanning the crowd. It was late afternoon, with a chilly breeze blowing from the north and light layers of snow permeating across the edges of the pavements as well as thin icicles hanging from rooftops.

    The trio was shuffling among the line of travelers and merchants to make it across the checkpoint at the city''s main gate. Each individual and their stock was searched by the Head Guard using a wisplight lantern while being questioned by accompanying officials armed with quills and parchment rather than swords and spears.

    The standby guards stood so still that one might mistake that they had frozen over. Anton could tell they were more disciplined than the average Rovanian guard, perhaps hardened by the climate, or because of Verhnsburg''s economic significance to the Rovanian empire.

    "It gets stricter and stricter each time I''ve passed through." Raum comments. His breath lacked any form or visibility as he spoke, despite the cold air. Anton had seen undead with warmer breath.

    "What kind of contraband are they searching for?" Anton asked.

    "I''m not quite sure. I think they just want to make the impression that Verhnsburg''s security is tight. It''s the center of the empire''s mining industry, after all, with all those new iron veins being exposed in the mountain quakes."

    "Do you think they''ll consider her a problem?" Anton gestures to Charlotte standing between them. Her hooded head did not even measure up to either of their shoulders. She bore no reaction to the mention of her name, only staring blankly ahead.

    "Because she''s a Felidaen? True, the likelihood of them accepting any demi-human into the city is considerably low..." Raum paused, a grin creeping across his face. "... but worry not, I have a plan."

    Anton didn''t like that look. Not one bit.

    The trio made it to the front of the line.

    "State your names, purpose of visit, duration of stay, and declaration of any volatile or dangerous goods or wares." The city official demanded with a nasal voice.

    "Our names are Raum, Charlotte, and Anton Krendel. Our purpose here is to stock on supplies before passing into the mountains. We will be staying one night. Our only declarations are the weapons that we carry on ourselves." Raum answered politely.If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement.

    The head guard brought the wisplight lantern up towards Raum''s chest, abdomen, arms, and legs while the Official scribbled away. The lantern''s azure hue radiated onto Raum''s black cloak as it brushed by.

    "He''s clean" The guards boomed with baritone. "Tell the girl to take off her hood." He pointed at Charlotte.

    Anton shifted nervously. If they see her ears it''ll be a dead giveaway, but how would they react? Rejection? Detainment? Demi-human prejudice varies from city to city, but the strictness of Verhnsburg could spell the worst-case scenario. They may need to prepare to run.

    "She''s dreadfully cold I''m afraid" Raum retorted, placing his arm around Charlotte to cradle her. Anton heard a quiet tongue click beneath the hood. "You wouldn''t demand this poor sweet girl to expose her cheeks to the chill would you?" He pleaded with foggy puppy dog eyes.

    "What''s your relation?" The official asked.

    "Why, she''s our daughter of course." Raum boastfully answers, shooting a cheery smile at Anton.

    "Oh... uh... yeah. Our daughter. We... we love her so much." He replied with an awkwardly forced smile. Picking up on the improvisation while wincing and laughing nervously.

    The official squinted and side-eyed Anton''s performance.

    "She''s clean, there''s nothing under the hood." The Head guards commented while circling the lantern around Charlotte''s head.

    The official turned to face Raum"Why are you bringing your child up to the mountains then?"

    "It''s a religious pilgrimage for her coming-of-age ceremony."

    "What religion?"

    Raum paused for a second.

    "Cerebellion."

    "This is a Cerebellion custom?"

    "It''s a tradition from our specific sect."

    Raum winced and cringed slightly. This was the first time Anton saw him with even a single trace of disdain on his face.

    Before he could inquire further, the Head Guard interjected. "Poisoned weapon detected!"

    Anton looked down at his satchel, the wisplight lantern was pressed against it, emitting a stronger glow.

    "Fuck, that''s right, I have Jergal''s dagger in there." Anton cursed to himself in his head. He had completely forgotten about it.

    "Move slowly and take it out!" The Head Guard placed his other hand on his sword''s hilt, and the other guards raised their spears in unison.

    Anton exhaled, complying and bringing the dagger out from the satchel in its wrapping.

    "Poisoned? Please, it''s a family heirloom." Raum argued, snatching the dagger away and unwrapping the blade.

    The official stumbled back in fear as the Head guard unsheathed his broadsword and raised it against Raum''s neck.

    "Do not move!"

    "There is no need to fear, my friends," Raum reassured.

    "I am merely going to prove that it is not poisoned." He gripped the blade with his other hand and slashed it, rending a deep slit flowing with blood.

    The guards and Anton looked at the priest with bewilderment.

    "See? I''m perfectly fine. I suggest you do a checkup on those lanterns, they might be lacking in maintenance." Raum rewrapped the bloodied dagger and returned it to Anton. His relaxed attitude attempting to de-escalate the situation. "Any more questions? I''m sure there are plenty of people behind us who are fed up with waiting."

    Charlotte sighed to herself.

    <hr>

    The trio were reluctantly admitted into the city after the checkpoint debacle, despite the suspicions raised.

    Now out of earshot of the guards, Anton voiced his concerns as they walked down an alley. "That''s concentrated hydra venom. How are you still alive let alone standing?"

    "I used a sacrament to neutralize it."

    "That can''t be that simple."

    "For me it is."

    Anton scoffed. "You''re unbelievable"

    "True." Charlotte chimed in. "And ridiculous. And stupid. Don''t play his games. Scruff."

    Raum chuckled. "Apologies for calling you our daughter. It was amusing though, you must admit."

    "I am many moons older than either of you."

    "Of course my dear. I meant no disrespect."

    "Lies. You trick. You ridicule. You-"

    Anton began to tune out of the conversation, his mind being brought back to the dagger. Perhaps it would be wise to sell it in the city before it gets him in any more trouble. But it might still have its uses, especially if he gets ambushed or caught off guard. With a growing list of potential enemies like his, Anton thought it wasn''t unreasonable to suspect such things after what happened with Jason. It only pays to be cautious with House Driev, although a poisoned dagger might still be unnecessary for practical use.

    Nevertheless, Anton butted back into the conversation and asked Raum, "Does Arlak company have a presence in Verhnsburg nowadays?"

    Raum glanced at him and reassured, "You needn''t worry, Mr. Krendel. Neither Arlak company nor House Driev have much influence in this city. Why do you ask?"

    "Bad blood. Also, I didn¡¯t mention House Driev, but you¡¯re wrong about them. The Drievs are everywhere, getting their hands into everything. Laundering, fraud, bribing, blackmail, all while keeping the pretense of a noble House."

    "Like that Jason fellow?"

    Anton exhaled. "He was among the worst of them, more bandit than knight. He gravely abused his power and his posse followed his example with even less self-control."

    "I heard they were wringing several farming villages dry through their ''protection rates'' for years."

    "That''s just scratching the surface of the vile shit his gang got up to."

    "But then one midsummer night, a lone mercenary came along while they were all drunk and indulging in revelry before... liberating them of their vices." Raum regaled with the oratory talents of a storyteller. "Except for Jason himself who was caught naked and unarmed but managed to be the only one to escape. Fleeing to his father Ulric and bringing shame upon himself and his family. He was consequently banished from the House, with his only chance of redemption being to challenge the mercenary to a duel and bring home his head."

    Anton stopped Raum from walking further. "How much do you know?"

    "I know that It didn''t end well for Jason, and I know that the Drievs have Arlak company trailing you now as a result, like what happened with those ruffians at Brehella. That''s what you''re truly concerned about, is it not?"

    "You knew a lot of details and kept quiet until now. Can I ask why?"

    "Hmmm. Perhaps later." Raum clapped his hands together, his wound still open and untreated. "For the time being we should split up to make up for lost time. I will search around for an Inn for us, why don''t the two of you secure supplies? Rations and elixirs and what not."

    "Always dodging huh?"

    "Still not used to it. Scruff?" Charlotte asked with a semblance of sarcasm.

    <hr>

    Anton and Charlotte were walking down the main street, shuffling along crowds of coats and wagons. For a moment, Anton thought he had lost Charlotte in the ocean of bustle, only for her to appear on his other side, clutching onto her hood. Although Anton couldn''t see it, he could already picture her furrowed brow and growing snarl beneath it.

    "Let''s move off the main street. Over there, to that corner." Anton suggested.

    Charlotte responded with a nod. The two of them made their way across the crowd to the street corner next to a sleeping beggar wrapped in a blanket.

    "Too many." Charlotte exhaled.

    "This isn''t even that big of a crowd. At least we could still move without being squeezed against other people."

    "It can be more than this?"

    "A lot more."

    Charlotte shuddered, whether because of the thought or the cold, Anton wasn''t sure.

    "There are so many of you. So many noises. So many scents. It''s too much."

    "Welcome to human cities." Anton laughed. "A swirling pit of business and troubles."

    "I hate it." Charlotte scanned the crowd. "Humans just breed and breed. More than any race. You make strength through numbers. Because alone you are weaker. Your lives are shorter. So you keep breeding."

    Anton stopped and thought about her staggered words before realizing that this was the first time he''d been alone with Charlotte, without Raum''s digressions and tangents getting in the way. He could actually learn about her now.

    "What are dem- I mean -Felidaen villages like then?"

    "Not as savage as you think."

    "I don¡¯t think that way about them."

    "Does not matter. We choose to live with nature. Under trees. In huts. Hunting and gathering. We have keen instincts. We speak old tongues. And humans call us animals.

    Anton felt a lump in his throat. "That''s true if we''re going by public belief, but not for everyone. Most of us have never even met a demi-human before because you all stay isolated from our society."

    "Isolation is our defense against your corruption. To keep us safe from being slaves. Because humans rule everything they see. So we hide in our forests."

    "So why are you out here then? In a human city, traveling with humans?"

    Charlotte turned her head away from Anton, taking a large breath before replying.

    "Chieftain exiled me. Not my fault. I am cursed."

    Anton knew precisely what she was referring to. "Shadow dreams?"

    Charlotte nodded. "They came to me twenty moons ago. I could not sleep well. Village could smell the curses. Bad Omen. So they exile me."

    "Can you ever go back?"

    "Maybe. If the curses disappear."

    "And Raum promised that he could help you with that? So you''re with him for the same reason as me."

    Charlotte looked over towards the beggar, curled in his blanket and shivering. "I''m with him because of debt."

    "Is he blackmailing you? I knew there wa-."

    "No. He saved me." Charlotte''s gaze did not break off the beggar. "At my lowest. He found me. Healed wounds. Gave shelter. Gave name. Made promise."

    Anton was taken aback by her confession. She spoke with her usual bluntness but with a hint of shame and vulnerability.

    "I do not know what he wants. He has a dark scent. Different from ours. Stained with blood. He chose his scent. But I don''t believe he is evil."

    "So you trust him?"

    "Yes." She turned back to Anton, locking eye contact with him. Her expression was stern but her eyes were gleaming as if they were sprinkled with snow crystals. "He is strange. And annoying. But he wants to help. I will help you too. We are both cursed. We must rely on each other." Charlotte''s voice began to quiver. "I have no one else but you two."

 Chapter 3: Last night in Verhnsburg

    A chilly breeze blew from the north, the frosty night blanketed Verhnsburg with a shallow grip, light layers of snow permeating across the edges of the pavements, and thin icicles hanging from rooftops. The northern city was at the heart of the mining industry in the human-dominant Romanian Empire, with rich ore deposits periodically surfacing in the nearby Bolerian mountains due to seismic activity. Due to this, the city receives much commerce, being the central hub for travelers to pass through the northern territories. On top of this, Verhnsburg''s politics was fairly neutral, being governed by a self-contained administration rather than one of the Empire''s Royal Houses, making it ideal for merchants and businesses to deal without strict tariffs.

    A ten-minute walk from the central market square was an Inn that travelers frequented.

    Anton Krendal was lying with only underwear on the bed in his Inn room, which was sealed from the Verhnsburg climate by an insulated stone wall with only a single thick paned glass window.

    He had long since blown out his candlelight and needed to fall asleep soon to recuperate for the next day, but he was fearing it. Not the comings of tomorrow, but rather, the very act of sleeping itself. With sleep comes those dreams.

    His rugged, stern expression hid an inescapable dread that reverberated along his muscular body''s scars. His old friends and comrades saw him as a fearless and noble warrior who would charge a Basilisk in combat; a dependable leader with whom they could trust their lives. But they were gone now, and with them, Anton''s prideful facade that he had built all those years ago. All that remained was a crestfallen fool who didn''t deserve any such praise.

    Even so, his old virtues sometimes kick in against his better judgment. Like when he dueled and killed Jason Driev of the Royal House of Driev only two weeks ago. Half of the reason was because of his barbaric treatment of his fief; the other half was because he personally insulted Anton. Now, he''s marked as a man of interest by House Driev, a troublesome scab of infamy that he cannot pull off any day soon.

    But this was his lot in life. He had lived this way, all alone, without companions for half a decade now. Until a few days ago, when he was approached by two eccentric individuals.

    "I wonder if Charlotte will get much sleep either." The thought crosses his mind.

    Anton wrapped himself into the sheets and forced his eyes closed. It wasn''t long before he drifted off.

    *****

    "A curse upon them, and their children, and their children''s children." Whispers arose from the dark.

    I''m here yet again. Like routine.

    Darkness envelops. My body numb. My breath stolen. Suffocating. I cry.

    They''re coming.

    The whispers gain shadowy forms. Humanoid and mutated. Faceless and angry.

    Their limbs twist and contort. They reach out to defile my soul.

    Torment. Torture. Curses. Cast into this void.

    They''re coming.

    Please. Spare me. Let me go. Release me.

    "A peaceful death is too good for you." They murmur.

    They''re here.

    Their hands smother me. My consciousness fades as the darkness swallows me whole.

    *****

    Anton lurches up in his bed at the break of dawn. Cold sweat beads across his forehead. He cradles it with his hands, resisting the throbbing migraine as he struggles to remember the nightmare. This is normal. This is how starts his day. For the last dozen weeks, he has suffered with the same night terrors.Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.

    With a sluggish effort, he rolls over, falling out of bed. "Shit" he thuds on the wooden floor. His chin pressed against it as his auburn beard scratched against the grooves in the planks. It''s biting cold, which is to be expected in somewhere as cold as Verhnsburg. The chilling nip was exactly the shock he needed to fully wake up.

    Anton picked himself upright onto his feet to get dressed. Donning his padded linen tunic undergarments and thick cotton pants, he layered on his chainmail vest, followed by his tattered brown leather coat. He then put on his weaponry, slinging his sheathed claymore over his back fixed on its shoulder strap comfortably around his clothes, and then cautiously fitting his envenomed dagger onto his belt.

    It''s the big day. He might be a little late.

    He hurried out of his room into the corridor, passing by the other rooms in the inn. Bustle and commotion filled the atmosphere as he approached the dining hall.

    His two companions, Raum and Charlotte, were waiting for him. Seated at a corner table with a set of bread and sliced meats between them.

    "Ah, there he is! Good morning, Mr. Krendel. I trust the headaches are still as heavy as ever. Come join us for breakfast; that will surely remedy it." Raum greeted Anton, inviting him to the seat next to him.

    The enigmatic occult priest shone his usual cheerful smile, radiating his creepy aura as naturally as he breathed. His milky pupils, ghostly pale androgynous face, long white hair, and skinny physique gave him the appearance of a doll. Raum wore his deep black ritual cloak that was embroidered with the iconography of hemorrhaging eyes and foreign symbols Anton could not recognize. Around the surface of his entire body, he was encased in a translucent ephemeral mystic veil that shimmered in the light when Anton looked close enough.

    Anton rolled his eyes and strode over to Raum. "Your voice is the last thing I want to hear in the morning," he quipped.

    "I''m wounded, Mr. Krendal." Raum pretended to pout, unable to wipe his smile off completely.

    "Come eat. Scruff. Ignore Raum." Charlotte interjected while gnawing with her fangs at her large plate of meat. She wore a brown hood over her onyx black hair to hide her cat ears and tail, hiding her demi-human identity from commonplace discrimination and prejudice. The petite and slim Felidaen girl sat on the other side of the table, looking intensely at Anton with her blood-shot sharp yellow pupils. To a stranger, her expressionless gaze would seem icier than the frosty climate of Verhnsburg, but Anton knew better than that. Though he hadn''t known her for long, he understood the truth behind Charlotte''s cold behavior. Through intimate conversations, he learned of her abandonment by her tribe, her difficulty integrating with human society, the isolation and desperation she had faced before she met Raum, and of course, her ''Shadow Dreams'' that started it all.

    "She didn''t sleep much last night again did she?" Anton thought to himself, noting the bloodshot strains in her eyes. "At least she still has an appetite."

    Charlotte pushed a plate of meat towards Anton. "Eat. Now. We leave soon. Raum will fill you in." She taps the table assertively with her nails, barely hiding her concern for Anton. They were kindred spirits in a way, drawn to each other by their shared affliction: their recurring nightmares, which they seek answers for¡ªanswers that were supposedly held by one man.

    "Raum." Anton addressed as he sat next to Charlotte to begin eating. "You''ve been beating around the bush long enough. If we''re hiking the Bolerian mountain range and exploring the mausoleum today, we need to be fully prepared."

    "But we are prepared, we''ve packed enough supplies and rations for the trip."

    "Don''t dodge the question again, Raum. What are we doing there, and how does it help us with our nightmares?"

    "The answers lie in the Y''ashi mausoleum, that is our destination."

    "I know. You keep telling us that, but why not just give us the answers outright since you seem to know already."

    "There are limits as to what I can tell you Mr. Krendal, as ordained by Gro Goroth''s guidance. You will find out in due time, Mr. Krendel."

    "No. I''m going to find out NOW."

    Anton stood his ground this time, not falling victim to Raum''s infectiously aloof and dismissive attitude. Despite Raum''s shady background as an occultist, Anton trusted him thus far on account of his credibility and knowledge as a mystic. He didn''t suffer from nightmares, yet he intentionally sought out and promised Anton and Charlotte that he would cure their afflictions for no price beyond their assistance in the ordeal. But this state of affairs couldn''t continue any further.

    Raum paused for a moment, looking down at his plate while carefully trying to formulate a satisfactory response.

    "Eat. Scruff." Charlotte cut in to remind Anton.

    "I''ll eat when Raum stops being cryptic and actually explains something."

    Raum continued to look down.

    "Also, I''ve noticed you use the term ''answers'' rather than ''solution'' or ''cure.'' Does that imply that we''re just venturing there to obtain knowledge rather than something of substance? That even when we get there, we still won''t be cured immediately?"

    Raum began fidgeting nervously. It was the first time Anton had ever seen the priest be genuinely uncomfortable; normally, he would be in control of every conversation with a polite charm, but now Anton could see a glimpse of what Raum was hiding under his aloof facade.

    Did he have a guilty conscience in there? Is he really acting as a Samaritan? What was his hidden agenda?

    "My lips are sealed on the matter. All I ask is that you continue to trust me; I have not let you down yet, have I?"

    Silence fell onto the table for a moment.

    "Come on. Scruff. We go soon. Eat." Charlotte demanded.

    Anton folded his arms and slunk backward, accepting that he could pry no further. "Fine."

 Chapter 4: Bolerian mountain trek

    *****

    I climb up. Onto the rock. Looking down the mountain side. A world blanketed in pristine white. The towering peaks loom overhead. Jagged edges softened by the thick layer of snow. The human world below shrinks away. Replaced by the solitude and serenity of nature. I inhale. Cold air fills my lungs. I exhale. A soft breath. I can see it so clearly. It feels nice being so high up. I could never have seen something beautiful. If I wasn''t banished from the village.

    My tail quivers in excitement. I knock my hood off my head. My ears twitch freely. As I listen to the wind. I don''t need to hide right now.

    I could climb higher on my own. If not for my backpack. The weight of supplies against my shoulders. Scruff says I should have an ''ice pick.'' But my knife and claws are enough. I''m not clumsy and big like him.

    I look back behind me. They are lagging behind. Scruff is holding most of the supplies and provisions. And Raum is just weak. I told them I would scout ahead. But that was just an excuse to see this view. To forget about the shadow dreams. For just a bit. Scruff says he can''t remember his clearly either. Just vague feelings of fear and helplessness. Raums says that shadow people attack us in our dreams. Which sounds true to me. Even though we can''t remember. He says our souls remember instead. Maybe just religious nonsense from him.

    Damn it. I''m still thinking about it again. Even though I came out here. No matter. They''re coming up now.

    *****

    Anton trudged upwards, his boots sinking into the snow with each step. The straps of his backpack dig into his shoullders, leaving deep impressions against his skin as he presses on, exhaustion etched into every line of his rugged face. He''d made hikes like this across the Bolerian mountains in the past with his old adventuring party. They would always follow him everywhere, no matter what job it was for.

    "Fat lot of good that did for them." He muttered to himself, uninterested in the view of the peaks. He looked up from his feet and saw Charlotte waiting for them.

    "Mr. Krendal. Hold up!" Raum gasped from behind, struggling to keep up.

    "Don''t you have a spell to make yourself float or something?" Anton teased, enjoying Raum''s suffering.

    "Don''t be silly Mr. Krendel, floating is shunned by Grogoth. Magic like that is far more of a Cerebelium type thing."

    "Is that so?"

    "Indeed, those imbeciles always learn to float up, but never down. Such is natural for one stupid enough to worship such a pitiful god. I''m sure you can imagine what happens to them."

    Anton only ever hears Raum speak with such vitriol and admonishment when an opposing religion is brought up. It''s actually refreshing for him.

    "Come on, Charlotte''s waiting for us."

    "Ah, yes. Charlotte! How is the weather over there?" Raum called out to the distance.

    In response, she raised her right hand up above her head and held it there for a few seconds before putting it back down and raising her left hand. She held it up for a few seconds again then put it back down.

    "What does that mean?" Anton asked.

    "No clue, Mr. Krendal."

    "You''ve travelled with her for months haven''t you?"This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.

    "Even so, communication between races and different cultures can be difficult."

    "She''s probably just signalling us to hurry up." Anton surmised. "At least she''s doing well with human language. Did you teach her?"

    "Only a little with her vocabulary. When I found her she already knew the basics of our language. I believe she was surviving on her own in the outskirts of human towns for many years since she was banished from her village."

    "Yeah, she told me about that. I suppose you found her through the same means you found me?" Anton asked accusationally.

    "Through Grogoth''s gracious guidance, yes!" Raum brightly answered.

    "Still sounds shady."

    "To the unenlightened, perhaps."

    "Did she already know how to fight before you met her too?" Anton referred to when he first met them. Recalling Charlotte''s agility and acrobatics she demonstrated when killing the Arlak mercenaries.

    "She was already proficient in combat before I met her, yes. I suspect she received training from her tribe. She might have been a Chieftain''s daughter, or trained to become a matriarch''s guard."

    "So she could have been a big deal in her village then. Did her tribe really consider her nightmares so taboo as to banish her?"

    "I''m not sure about the entirety of her social background in the Felidaen community, but I do know that their shamans are terribly afraid of strange illnesses derived from curses. So much so that they stripped her of her birth name too, in order to completely cut her off from the tribe."

    "Her birth name? How does that work?" Anton was perturbed.

    "It''s Felidaen culture; their identity and life belong to the village. To be removed is to lose your identity."

    "So what''s ''Charlotte'' then?"

    "A name I gave to her. It''s cute and fitting, don''t you think?"

    "Kind of." Anton wondered how Charlotte felt about her name, then he realised: "Wait, did you say our nightmares are curses or something?"

    "Ah ah ah." Raum wiggled his finger. "Patience. We''re nearly there."

    Charlotte, fed up with their pace, pounced down from the higher rocks just above them. "I see cave opening. Over there."

    Nestled beneath the towering peaks of the snow-capped Bolerian mountains, there was a giant split in the rugged face of the cliffside, opening into a yawning chasm of jagged rocks. When approached, the sheer scale of the opening becomes apparent, its mouth stretching wide like the jaws of an ancient beast frozen in time. The surfaces are encrusted with slick frost and sharp icicle teeth that glitter in the bright sunlight, and fresh piles of snow spill into the entrance as though it were devouring it. Deeper in, the fresh air of the mountain air gave way to the musty breath of earth and stone inside, thick with an eerie stillness, broken only by the occasional gust of wind that howled through the narrow passageways. Anyone could sense the cave''s atmosphere had a foreboding aura that hung heavy in the air; the very mountain itself was warning intruders to stay away.

    Anton felt a chill crawl down his spine. It wasn''t the cold.

    "So this is it? It''s unmarked in any of the latest charts."

    "It''s a secret pathway that none else has found; Grogoth showed me."

    "Alright then, I should''ve known. I guess we forge on in then, but if it gets too narrow deeper in, we pull out. Agreed?"

    "Of course Mr. Krendal. You''re the natural to take the lead here."

    Anton treaded into the opening, making it ten meters until crouching down to take off his backpack.

    "Mine is too big and heavy to take in, I''m going to stash it here." He placed it down and opened it, taking out a Wisplight lantern with his left hand. The lantern was cylindrical, with a whistle-like hole at its top, beneath the handle from which Anton held it. Within the lantern''s glass frame were a dozen Wisps, low-sentience sprites akin to glowflies. Anton brought his mouth to the hole and blew into it. His breath excited the dormant Wisps, causing them to flicker and emit light. A dim azure hue radiated from the lantern.

    "If there''s anything else from my bag you want you should take it out now. If you''re hungry, just take out a bit of Griffonhare jerky, Charlotte."

    Anton looked back behind him. "Charlotte?"

    Charlotte was still standing at the cave entrance, frozen in place but trembling in her knees. Even though she wore the same expressionless face she always did, something was different about her posture and body language. She looked more vulnerable now, like an innocent child.

    "Are you OK, Charlotte?" Anton called out in concern.

    "I''m fine." She replied staunchly, jerking her legs to move forward. "It''s nothing. Give me the jerky. Scruff."

    The trio ventured deeper into the cave, the natural light fading away behind them. All they have for illumination is Wisplight.

 Chapter 5: Yashi Mausoleum

    Deeper and deeper they went, the passage would sometimes shrink into a narrow fit, and at times, it would open to a larger cavern. They continued slowly and carefully making their way deeper with Anton in the lead, avoiding slips and stalactites, until eventually, they came across a wall. A chiseled stone wall with a large crack running through it revealed another side.

    Anton brought the lantern closer to examine the crack. It was wide enough to shimmy through, though the lantern''s light didn''t penetrate into the darkness on the other side. For a moment, Anton thought he heard familiar whispers call out to him from behind the crack.

    "I''m going to slide through first. Any objections?"

    "None at all Mr. Krendal."

    Anton passed the lantern to Raum and turned, facing his side to the wall, tucking in his broad chest, and pushed himself in. His coat and sheathed claymore scraped along as he passed through the twenty-centimeter wall, grunting with strained effort. Finally, popping into the other side, clutching the edge of the crack to make sure he didn''t fall anywhere, he found himself on solid, even ground.

    "I''m in." He called back, reaching through to take the lantern from Raum, who was preparing to follow suit. He took off his bag and passed it to Anton before tucking it in his chest.

    With a small amount of effort, Raum makes it in. "Your turn Charlotte."

    Charlotte slips in with no effort at all. "You humans grow big. To your detriment." She teased.

    Anton brought the lantern around to examine the chamber, surveying the ground. It was paved with large limestone bricks that felt solid in their foundation as he tapped his foot against it, making his way to the room''s other walls. It was considerably more spacious than the cave they came through in, and as he looked up, he saw that the ceiling was about seven meters high, with an arched hemispherical shape as the walls curved into each other at their corners. They were without a doubt in the Mausoleum now.

    "This room''s rather roundish." Anton comments.

    Raum split off from Anton to examine one of the walls. Summoning a spark of flame into his hand to see that it was adorned with faded murals and glyphs, their colors dulled by age and neglect. Strange symbols and sigils are etched into the stone, not too dissimilar to the iconography on his own clerical cloak.

    "Y''ashi symbols are as beautiful as they are melancholic."

    "Can you read it?"

    "I''m afraid not, Mr Krendal. It''s a lost language that went extinct with the Y''ashi themselves. Unless..." Raum paused and turned to Charlotte. "Perhaps some knowledge was passed to their descendants."

    Charlotte glanced at Raum and then took a look at the mural herself.

    "The Y''ashi was an ancient civilization of Beast-people after all. Many Felidaen and Caninaen tribes trace their roots back several thousand years to the Y''ashi, before the collapse."

    Charlotte stood in silence for a moment. "Can''t read it."

    "A shame then-"

    "But." She interjected. "Even though. I can''t read it. I can still. Understand it."

    "Oho." Raum smiled.

    "What do you mean by that?" Anton asked.

    "It''s like. I just know. I can feel the meaning. Like it''s whispering." Her voice was soft and quiet as she concentrated on it.

    "So what is it telling you?" Raum proded.

    "It''s something vague. A war. A king. A curse. that''s all I can get."

    "Fascinating" Raum chuckled with delight. "There will be more murals like this inside." he suspended his flame above his head and brought out a small notebook from his backpack. "Anything else?"

    "No. I don''t want to look at it. For much longer."

    "I see." Raum pouted, putting the book away.

    "There''s a doorway here," Anton called from another wall. "This might end up a bit labyrinthian." He pulls out white chalk from his satchel to mark the wall. "Stay on your toes and beware of traps."

    Anton paced forward slowly and cautiously into the corridor. It had been a while since the last time he delved into a dungeon, but the movements were all muscle memory to him. A warm feeling of nostalgia lit up within him, this was his life a decade ago, before he lost his comrades. Raum, on the other hand, wasn''t nearly as experienced.

    "The Y''ashi weren''t a materialistic people." Raum lectured from behind Anton. "They aren''t guarding any hoards of gold like a Dwarven dungeon would. The only traps you''ll see are within the burial chambers to protect their dead."

    "That''s what they want you to assume." Anton corrected. "No better way to catch a grave robber off guard than putting a trap where they least expect it. Corridors like this are an ideal place for it."

    "If it''s ideal, then it''s not somewhere you will least expect."

    "Just look carefully at where you walk for pressure plates Ok? Also along the walls for any suspicious holes."

    Charlotte was alert and listened adamantly to Anton''s advice. Her eyes darted across every odd-looking stone brick.

    Raum, contrastly, was trying to look ahead to see the end of the hallway.

    "Mr. Krendal, could we not pick up the pace a litt-"

    A sharp metal spike suddenly pierced forward through the left wall. Striking Raum in his side, sending him recoiling, and stumbling against the other wall.

    Anton spun around to see what happened. Raum was clutching his side in pain, but Charlotte showed no concern for him. Anton, being reminded why, also rescinded his concern for his companion. There was no blood. No mark of penetration.

    The translucent mystic veil that wrapped Raum¡¯s body in had absorbed the impact like a layer of thick elastic rubber.

    "Ouch. Ouch. By Gro, that hurt!" Raum unsummoned his flame light and clutched his side with both hands. "I think that will leave a bruise," he moaned.

    "Serves you right." Charlotte scolded.

    "I guess you can throw caution to the wind when you have magic like that to protect you." Anton shook his head and sighed. Most adventures don''t get a second chance after being taught a lesson like that.

    After a short break, the trio continued through the corridor. Carefully. Anton took the vanguard, Charlotte watched the rear, and Raum was still wincing. They found the end of the corridor intersected into the side of an even larger chamber. It appeared to be a hallway of some kind, its length seemed to stretch further than the corridor, and it was lined with four-meter diameter pillars in sets of two. Anton could only count three rows of pillars in each direction within the range of his lantern''s light.The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.

    "Are we looking for more murals? Or is there something else I should keep my eye out for?" Anton asked Raum.

    "Anything that looks interesting Mr. Krendal. Just call out, and we''ll examine it."

    "Wait." Charlotte interjected.

    "Is something wrong?"

    "Shush. I''m hearing something. Down the hall."

    "Whispers? The same as the mural?"

    "No. They''re not speaking to me. They''re speaking to each other." Her ears twitched. "We''re not alone."

    Anton immediately tucked the Wisplight lantern into his coat, covering its luminosity. The trio stood still, observing the darkness for a trace of light in the hall. They remained silent, anticipating a threat. Anton knew it was unlikely to be another friendly adventuring party; the mausoleum was only recently discovered, which meant that the Rovanian Adventurer''s Guild would not have signed off on an official expedition yet. Anton did not have fond memories of the pace of bureaucracy back in his adventuring days

    Then, from the other side, they saw a faint light approaching. It was torchlight, and not just one, but multiple sources at that. The echoes from this group started to reach Anton''s ears now, as well as the clanking of heavy metal boots on the stone floor.

    "Behind the pillar." Anton whispered. Raum and Charlotte followed suit, feeling their way around the cylindrical column, away from the main pathway.

    They waited there in bated breath as the group drew closer. Anton could finally make out what they were saying.

    "Soddin¡¯ hell. Not a single ounce o'' gold yet! What''s the point in even coming ''ere?" A crass voice moaned.

    "Quit your moaning, we''re getting paid not matter what we find here. If you keep you mind on the bonus, you''ll never get the primary job done." replied a more educated voice.

    "We won''t find nothing till we reach the burial chambers. The Y''ashi keep all their valuables with the dead." A low bellowing voice lectured.

    "Speaking of dead... How''s Fillian?" A feminine voice chuckled. "You think she''s dead yet?" The voice laughed sadistically.

    "Probably. She was stupid enough to get spike trapped. Can''t waste any potions or healing magic on an idiot like that"

    "Yeah. That''s true ''innit? Just means more loot for us!" Several members of the cohort cackled.

    "Look sharp scum!" The low voice commanded. "Or you''ll end up sharing her fate."

    The entire group obediently shut up, except for a few who clicked their tongues in annoyance.

    Anton clutched the hilt of his claymore as they drew closer. In a few moments, they would be passing by their pillar.

    In his mind, Anton was trying to count the group''s numbers by listening to their footsteps. Ten, maybe fifteen of them.

    His grip tightened as they passed by. They might not be hostile to them, but they certainly did not sound friendly. The smartest thing to do was to assume they were dangerous, especially given their difference in numbers.

    But Anton was curious, he was thinking through what kind of party would illegally venture into this mausoleum.

    *****

    Are they really some brazen adventuring party going ahead of official proceedings? No, that''s unlikely, only novices do that; any group that decides to run on their own without proper counseling and benefits from the guild never lasts long in this world. They would have turned tail a while ago.

    Maybe this was some off-the-books arrangement to let them get the first pickings at potential treasures? No, that would mean there is bribery at play, and the costs for bribing the guild are too high for most adventurers to feasibly be able to pay. From a profits perspective, that''s more risk than reward.

    I can only assume that they are like us then. Unaffiliated with the Guild. A self-interested party. I think one of them said they were getting paid, so that means they''re mercenaries then. Under normal circumstances, there wouldn''t be a reason to come to a place like this without proper incentive of some sort of gain, monetary or otherwise. These mercenaries have that incentive, but what about their employer? If I can figure out who their employer is and determine their reason for being here, there might be a chance that we can reveal ourselves and remain neutral, even if cooperation is out of the picture.

    They''ve already passed by, I should take a look at their backs to see if I can spot any hint.

    *****

    Anton carefully peaked around the pillar, his right hand still on his claymore''s hilt, while his left was cradling the lantern tucked in his armpit. He saw them, twelve in total. Five wore leather armor similar to what Charlotte wore underneath her cloak. Four had metal curaiss''s and helmets on top of their padded coats. Two of them wore light robe-like cloaks. A single one of them wore a full set of metal armor, completely covered from limb to limb, head to toe.

    Anton caught a glimpse of an icon painted on the back of the heavily armored man, it was a blue marking resembling the side profile of a wolf baring its teeth. He knew it all too well. His hope of neutral ground was dashed.

    It was the insignia of House Driev.

    With a slow exhale, as the mercenaries'' torchlight disappeared into the distance, Anton loosened his grip on his sword and carefully pulled the Wisplight lantern before turning to his companions.

    "It''s Arlak company." He muttered. "Of all the people, it''s bloody Arlak company."

    "Like the gentlemen from Brehella?" Raum asked.

    "Yeah, though I wouldn''t call them that."

    "I wouldn''t either." Charlotte added.

    "Should we beware of them, then?"

    "What do you think? Charlotte slashed open three of their throats, and you incinerated one of them!"

    "They started it." Charlotte protested.

    "It doesn''t matter. Blood''s been spilled. Arlak company may be roughly a hundred strong, but they won''t overlook the deaths of a few." Anton looked down the hall again. "If they recognize us, it will instantly devolve into a fight."

    "And if they don''t?" Raum¡¯s inquiry continued.

    "Depending on who their leader is, they might just try to kill us anyway to take our gear. There aren''t any witnesses here."

    "Perhaps you''ve mistaken them?"

    "No, the armored one had the Drievs'' insignia; the Drievs exclusively hire Arlak company. I suspect it''s just knight armor that was lent to them."

    "Then I suppose they''ll certainly recognize you since you killed Jason Driev. That was what started that Brehella fiasco."

    "You two made it a fiasco." Anton said accusationally.

    "You''re welcome." Charlotte quipped.

    At this rate, Anton''s headache would resurface.

    "But that does, however, bring into question why they''re here." Raum pondered aloud. "What would the House Driev want from here?" Concern crept along Raums face.

    "Whatever it is, it''s probably nothing good. Let''s just tail them for now." Anton made the call.

    "Are you certain Mr. Krendal? After raising such concern, you believe we should follow them?"

    "If we follow the direction they just came from, we''ll just end up in the entrance they came from; who knows if there are more of them camping out there?"

    "Excellent point."

    "So we''re not. Planning an ambush?"

    "No. But we will let them trigger any traps in place of us."

    "I like your thinking. Scruff."

    They carefully stepped forward, down the hall. It wasn''t just traps that concerned them, but also the possibility of the mercenaries turning around and meeting them. Charlotte carefully listened for them while Anton kept watch for their chalk markings.

    Eventually, they came to an intersection where the great hall split into three separate stairways that went further down in different directions. One to the left, another to the right, and one directly forward. Anton checked for chalk marking along the walls of each one, and noticed there were now two different chalk markings. One was on the left staircase, the same markings that they were using before. The other was a new color of chalk on the middle staircase.

    "They''ve split up into two groups here." Anton explained. "They''ve gone down the middle and the left."

    "Why not the right also?"

    "I don''t know, they have the numbers to cover it."

    "Should we take the right then?"

    Anton deliberated for a moment. "No, there must be a reason they didn''t take the right. We follow the middle."

    As they descended down the stairs, Anton was still trying to think of why the right staircase was skipped. Anton never saw such a peculiar decision like this in all his years as an adventurer. There were twelve of them, and splitting into groups of four was still reasonably sized, Anton was here with only three afterall. There was something he was missing.

    "Let''s pick up the pace." Anton ordered.

    "Excuse me, Mr. Krendal?" Raum was astonished. "I thought that was exactly what we weren''t supposed to do."

    "You''re not supposed to be careless. I need to get a closer look at the group ahead of us."

    Anton tread down the stairs faster. Charlotte nimbly followed suit. Raum sighed and reluctantly followed

 Chapter 6: Arlak company

    The trio made hasty progress without triggering a single trap, to Raum''s relief, until they reached the bottom of the stairway. There, they came across another chamber, similar to the one from when they entered the mausoleum, except this chamber was shorter in height and longer in length. Anton immediately noticed that this chamber''s walls were very different; they bore numerous man-sized holes in orderly rows and stacks as though they were honeycombs. Anton brought the lantern to view the man-holes, it was as he expected. Tightly tucked into the hole were skeletal remains of Beast-Men lying down, almost crumbling away in macabre displays. Their skeletons were humanoid in shape, with a slight hunch in their spines and longer arms than Humans. The features that separated them the most from their Demi-human descendants like Charlotte were their four-fingered claws and feet and, most importantly, their wolven canine skulls bearing an elongated snout with large fangs peering out from the walls. Anton took note of the lack of valuables or clothing on the skeletons, which suggested that these holes were communal burial sites for the lower class.

    "Despair. Disease. Hunger." Charlotte spoke out in a soft voice.

    "Are they whispering those words to you? Those corpses?" Raum inquired eagerly.

    "Yes. But also. Maybe something else. I don''t know." She shook her head.

    Anton gave her a moment to recollect herself before asking her. "Do you hear anything ahead of us?"

    "Yeah. Arlak guys. They''re closer now."

    "Let''s go then."

    After passing by chamber after chamber through the maze-like interconnecting corridors, they eventually saw the torchlight ahead of them flicker into view. Anton had already let the Wisplight lantern die out on its own. Instead, they were relying on Raum''s conjured flame for a brief period. Raum didn''t need to ask whether or not he should dispel it as they approached the chamber ahead.

    Quietly sneaking around a corner, Anton saw the Arlak group investigating the Y''ashi skeletons in their burial holes like librarians rummaging through shelves. They were methodical and careful yet simultaneously disrespectful in their handling of the remains.

    "Maybe the bones are worth something?"

    "If yer wantin'' a souvenir, maybe."

    "I''d rather take home one of those wall spikes."

    Anton surveyed the chamber and the mercenaries; he counted five of them. The one with knight armor was absent from this group, but there was a robed one with them. Anton surmised she was likely a Mage of some kind, paying close attention to what she was doing.

    "I''m going to cast it again." The Mage called to her companions in a tired voice.

    She took out a small jagged wand from her robe and pointed it ahead of her, down another corridor.

    "Clavoiyas" She chanted. A faint pulse of yellow energy spread down the corridor like a shockwave, or a ripple in a pond. As the pulse travelled down the corridor and disappeared, it left behind a trace of yellow energy on a single stone brick in the floor, highlighting it with a yellow hue.

    "There''s one pressure plate there, don''t be an idiot and do what Fillian did." She groaned.

    "I''m pretty sure Ledal actually pushed her onto it when we weren''t looking." Accused one of them.

    "You want to say that to Ledal''s face when we meet up with Fox group?" Another mercenary shot back.

    "Nah, I''m good." His voice quivered.

    *****

    What the hell was that spell? I''ve never seen something like that before. A spell that useful for dungeon exploration would have been used all the time when I was an adventurer. It''s only been a bit over five years since I left this scene, and I''m seeing something that''s revolutionary to the field. Could there have been such a development made in just half a decade? Or is there something else at play here?

    I turn to Raum and gesture towards the Arlak shitheads while mouthing the word "Clavoiyas" and then shrugging. Raum understood what I meant and shook his head. Of course, he wouldn''t know of the spell. If he did, he wouldn''t still be rubbing his left abdomen.

    This just gets more and more fishy. What the hell are they really doing here? What do the Drievs want here?

    At the very least, I''ve figured out why they split into two groups instead of three: they only have two Mages. If they''re relying on something like this for their safety and are unwilling to take risks, that makes sense. But then why would they split into one with five and another with seven? It would be more standard to do even sixes. Unless¡­

    *****

    Anton had a thought, but as he was processing it, it was already too late. A broadsword swung from behind the trio, aimed at Charlotte. She dodged it adeptly, crouching on the ground as the blade barely shaved the tip of her ears. In one swift motion, Charlotte pulled her dagger out of her sheath, spun around on the tips of her shoes, and then pounced toward the assailant with feral retaliation.If you spot this narrative on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

    With her incredible agility, Charlotte landed on the assailant in a jockey position, planting her feet onto his chest, grabbing his shoulder with one hand, and driving her dagger into his neck with the other, all before the assailant could bring his sword back around. The dagger pierced through the tender flesh of his neck. A rush of hot, crimson blood gushes forth like a relentless fountain. She twisted the dagger with vicious precision, slicing through sinew and bone, before yanking it out as she kicked off him to land back on the ground. The mercenary stumbled, falling onto his knees while clasping his neck, then collapsed onto the ground, planting his face on the floor with a thud. The metallic taste of iron fills the mercenary''s mouth, suffocating him as he drowns in his own blood.

    Anton reeled back, reaching towards his back and pulling his claymore out of its sheath, firmly holding it upright with both hands. Conflict was inevitable now.

    "What was that?" The Mage called out, having heard a thud. All the mercenaries in the group became alerted, their attention drawn to the corridor that the sound came from.

    "Stan went in that direction to take a piss."

    "He piss on a trap did he? Ha ha."

    "Go check it out."

    "I ain''t helping hold ''is cock for ''im to piss!"

    "Just do it."

    The grumbling mercenary rolled his eyes as he walked toward the corridor.

    "Stan! ya done yet?"

    He was expecting to see his comrade around the corner, but instead, he was greeted by a 190-centimeter-tall man wielding a 130-centimeter-length blade.

    Anton swung his claymore in a horizontal sweep directly across the man''s neck without hesitation or mercy. The weight of the blade, guided by Anton''s strength into its edge, sliced through flesh and bone in an instant, decapitating him. His head toppled onto the floor as his body slumped.

    "Oh shit!"

    The other mercenaries drew their weapons. Two of them had battle axes, while one dual-wielded two short swords. The Mage brandished her wand and pointed it at Anton, ready to chant a spell.

    "Frosna!" She cried out; all weariness in her voice had evaporated in the way of panicked adrenaline. A shard of razor-sharp ice the size of a stake manifested into the air, growing out of nothing except her own Od, suspended in front of her wand. But before she could launch it at Anton, Charlotte sprinted into the chamber, throwing her dagger at the Mage''s wand hand as she ran. The dagger cut open her hand, forcing her to drop her wand; the ice shard also subsequently fell to the ground as the spell was interrupted. The Mage held her bleeding hand, crying in agony as she leaned against the wall.

    Charlotte stopped at Anton''s right side, crouched over with one hand on the ground and her tail raised, hissing at the three mercenaries. Raum, taking his time, casually strolled into the room to Anton''s left side, unlike his companions, he did not take a proper battle stance; he hardly even looked like he was ready for a fight.

    In spite of this, he spoke out first. "It''s three against three now, gentlemen. Let''s have a good show of it, shall we?"

    Charlotte leaped at one of the axe-wielding mercenaries with a growl, pulling out her second dagger to strike with deft speed. The mercenary brought his axe down to intercept her, hoping to lodge it into her small body before she could reach him. She was light and nimble and would certainly die from any strike delivered to her.

    But the strike narrowly missed her as she dodged to her right by somersaulting and throwing off her cloak. She followed up with a combat roll before returning to her crouched position, her dagger raised, ready to pounce. The mercenary took the initiative and swung again, only for Charlotte to roll to the side again to reposition herself as she engaged with her prey.

    Anton ended up dueling the mercenary with dual swords, though they were both considerably shorter than his. This fight was a reversal of Charlotte''s. Anton had the range and strength advantage over his opponent instead of speed and agility. He swung his claymore at the mercenary with conservative strokes, being sure not to overextend and leave an opening. He knew that he had to keep track of both swords at once; directing too much attention to parrying one would lead to being cut by the other.

    Anton kept up the aggression, stepping forward slightly every time he swung. The mercenary could only respond by blocking his claymore with both blades or backstepping to dodge its reach. As long as Anton didn''t fall for a feint or allow his opponent to sidestep him like Charlotte was doing to her opponent, he wouldn''t have to worry about losing a foothold. Eventually, he''ll either overwhelm him or back him into the wall.

    Raum''s approach to battle was incredibly unconventional, even for a spellcaster. The reason for this is that his spells are inherently unique and macabre. He stood there, unmoving, hands behind his back, waiting for his opponent to make the first move. The other axe-wielding mercenary charged forward with a frenzied battle cry and struck Raum on his collarbone. The blow landed, but it felt off to the mercenary, like striking rubber, and Raum made no reaction to it. To his shock, he realized that his axe was actually hovering in the air a mere centimeter above Raum''s collarbone; it didn''t connect at all.

    Raum''s mystic veil, a force field produced by his Od, was focused and layered on the location that was struck, halting the momentum of the attack completely. While the mercenary was stunned, Raum lazily caressed the axe blade with his left hand, nudging the veil across to wrap around the blade, constricting it like a python. The metal started to change color from silver-grey to orange-brown as the veil caused it to rust and wear in the span of a few seconds. Cracks appeared around its edges as it became more and more brittle before finally apart, leaving only a wooden shaft.

    The mercenary leaped back in fear, but Raum didn''t give him a moment to re-think a strategy. Raum opened the palm of his right hand, showing a tattoo of an open eye insignia. A spiral of black fire erupted from the palm of Raum''s left hand, snaking toward him and engulfing in an inferno. Screaming and crying out in anguish, the immolated mercenary ran across the chamber, making it only a few steps before he collapsed to the ground, rapidly burning to cinders as if being devoured by the flames. Strangely enough, the black flame did not char or burn his clothes and armor; only the mercenary''s own body had been reduced to a pile of ashes, while his accessories were left in pristine condition on top of the pile.

    "I''m finished here" Raum turned to his allies.

    "So am I." Anton answered as he pulled his sword out of his quarry''s corpse.

    "I was done. Before either of you." Charlotte bragged while putting her coat back on.

    "Then I suppose, all that''s left then is you." Raum turned to the mage who was nursing her wound. She looked at the trio aghast in horror. "We have some questions for you, ma''am."

    Without a word she turned tail, running down a corridor like a game rabbit. Until she stepped on a stone brick with a yellow hue. A spike shot through the wall and impaled right through her lateral like a spit roast. After a short yelp, her body sagged limp.

    "Oh, my dear, you should have been more careful." The hypocritical priest lectured.

 Chapter 7: Kings tomb

    *****

    Ah, another crypt, it would appear. This would make it the fifth now. We have been walking by many of these chambers for over an hour since that little scuffle. Anton looks no worse for wear, but I fear Charlotte might be too receptive to the Y''ashi''s whispers. The very atmosphere here must weigh on her. She doesn''t look at me or Anton without being called, I can only imagine what she''s hearing in her mind right now. But that''s proof that we''re getting closer to the center.

    Anton marks the wall with chalk again, he''s looking as solemn as always. The group could use a little more cheer. I try to stir up conversation with him to break the silence. My mind races to find a topic before my eyes land on a small sheath in his belt.

    "Mr. Krendal, is that the venom infused dagger you picked as spoils from Brehella? The one that belonged to that Arlak fellow?"

    "It is. The same one that was pressed against my neck. The same one that gave us trouble at the Verhnsburg checkpoint, if you remember that." Anton doesn''t even glance at me as he responds, his eyes focused on the path ahead. "You diffused that situation with some sort of poison resistance spell."

    "Of course!¡± I had actually forgotten about that before he brought it up. ¡°Were you worried about me when I cut myself with it to prove to the guards that it wasn''t poisonous?"

    "It''s hard to worry about you, Raum."

    Was that a compliment? A snide? Either way, his contempt reaction is always amusing, even Charlotte can''t help but tease him sometimes.

    "Frankly, I was hoping to pawn it off in Verhnsburg. It''s more trouble than it''s worth. I don''t like carrying around an object that could kill me with a single cut."

    "True, Basilisk venom is very potent." The lizard-like creature is feared and sought after for its venom, even my sect used it occasionally for our ritual sacrifices... but I won''t bring that up now. "So why didn''t you?"

    "I told him. Not to sell." Charlotte replied for him. "Scruff always carries. That big sword. He should carry. Smaller blades too."

    "I have my own knives, thank you." Anton protests.

    "But none as deadly. As that one. It is special."

    "It''s too much of a liability, is what it is-" The two of them start bickering. They''re so adorable, like an old married couple. A wide grin raptures around my face as I delight in watching their bonding.

    Ah, Praise the all-loving Grogoth for guiding me to such wonderful, endearing people. This is what an adventure should be like.

    But I do feel guilty for with-holding the truth from them. My spiritual communions with the all-loving instructed that they learn of it from him instead. It will be soon. Once we reach the center.

    Oh would you look at that. It came sooner than I suspected.

    *****

    Anton and Charlotte immediately stopped arguing as they were confronted with a three meter tall double iron door in front of their path. It was the first door they had seen in the entire Mausoleum, its surface was rusting from the bygone ages.

    "This is it." Raum announced. "The King''s tomb."

    Anton surveyed every square centimeter of the door. What it lacked in grandeur and excellence, it made up for in function and protection.

    "This is going to be a tough one to get open." He crouched down to look at the lock mechanism. It was a series of holes made fit for the Y''ashi''s claws; he had seen it before. As he analyzed it, he could hear more whispers for a brief second. He immediately turned to Charlotte to see how she was reacting. She had become quiet and despondent again, she was certainly hearing whatever it was more clearly than Anton.

    "Charlotte?" He couldn''t even muster the words ''are you ok?'' before she responded with a nod and a grunt. ''I''m fine'' was what was conveyed to him.

    Anton spoke to Raum. "There are different ways to get through this door. Option one: We try to brute force through it, probably triggering a trap. Or option two: We go back to take a Y''ashi''s claw from one of the crypts and use it to pick the lock."

    "So, I suppose option two is the wiser decision?" Raum guessed.

    "No. We have option three: Use your magic to rust away at the lock."

    Raum was astonished by Anton''s strategy. "Are you sure? I''ve never used it in such a way before."

    "You can probably pull it off." Anton reassured him.

    "I''ll give it a try then."

    Raum brought his left hand to the holes, poking his finger in. Concentrating is Od, he materialized his mystic veil into woven fabrics that slithered into the lock like snakes. He felt his way through, like feeding a thread through a needle. Triggering the veil to rust the iron around the lock into a coarse filings, he could hear what sounded like sand grinding before a loud click reverberated through the door.

    Raum pulled back. "Did I do it?"

    "Only one way to find out." Anton heaved with all his might and pushed against the door. It opened with a screech that echoed across the corridor. Once it was open, Anton shone the Wisplight lantern into the final chamber, only to find it redundant, as other sources of light immediately manifested across the chamber''s walls. They were runic engravings with a purple hue inscribed upon the burial holes that lined the walls, much like the previous crypts, though on a much larger scale, approximately twice as many as what they had seen before.If you come across this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

    Their attention was drawn to the center of the chamber, where an open coffin on a stone plinth. Inside it was a Y''ashi skeleton adorned with a golden laurel crown. Anton felt something ominous emanating from this particular skeleton. The whispers faded in and out of his ears, and his head throbbed as he tried to discern them.

    "Let me introduce you," Raum announced. "To the last king of the ancient Y''ashi dynasty: Tehvent'' Ungul."

    The trio cautiously circled the coffin, inspecting it from a meter away. Tehvent'' Ungul''s skeleton was no different from the other Y''ashi; it was only adorned with the crown, resting loosely on his withered skull.

    "It''s definitely a trap. His crown, that is." Anton warned Raum.

    "You need not tell me, Mr. Krendel. I can sense its runic attunement with the rest of the chamber. Looking at the runes themselves, it is likely to trigger a summoning spell upon its removal. We shan''t be taking it."

    "So what do we do here then?"

    Raum deliberated for a moment.

    "How much do you know of The Collapse, Mr. Krendel?" Raum quizzed Anton.

    "It was the time period four-thousand years ago when every race except humans faced calamities that ruined their civilizations."

    "Is that the extent of your knowledge?"

    "It''s more legend than history at this point. In school, I was told stories of wildfires burning Elven forests, and earthquakes burying Dwarven cities. Disasters like storms, volcanic eruptions, or monster scourges. The gist was that it was an apocalyptic period."

    "And that was most true of all for the Beast-people, who were wrought with famine and disease. Whereas every other non-human race survived The Collapse, they were the only race to be driven to extinction."

    "They didn''t completely die out." Anton pointed to Charlotte, who had tuned out of the conversation. "They have descendants to this day."

    "Half true." Raum corrected him. "Demi-humans like the Felidaen and the Caninaen are the descendants of the unions between Beast-people and Humans. After The Collapse, the remaining Beast-people were forced to integrate into Human civilization, usually in chains. Over time, they were completely bred out. Only their lineage and few traces of their culture remain to this day in the form of Demi-human tribes."

    Anton looked at Charlotte to ask for verification, but she was completely entranced by Tehvent'' Ungul.

    "What are you getting at here? Is our affliction really from some kind of curse after all? Is it from this guy?"

    "I''m afraid he must be the one to answer you. Can you hear him, Charlotte? What is he telling you?" Raum pulls out his notebook, ready to write.

    Charlotte doesn''t respond to him, she only steps forward closer to the coffin.

    "Charlotte?"

    Something was amok. The ominous aura had permeated so thickly in the room. Anton could sense it but wasn''t sure of what it was. Raum, lacking the curse that afflicted the others, could not sense it at all, only piecing together what was happening when it was too late.

    "Charlotte, stop!"

    She reached out into the coffin and placed her hand on top of Tehvent'' Ungul''s ribcage. Her pupils dilated, and drool poured out of her mouth. Charlotte collapsed onto the ground, sprawled, convulsing, unresponsive.

    "What the hell is going on Raum!?" Anton''s mind blurred as he rushed to her side. It had been a long time since he had felt this way, the kind of panic you feel for someone else''s safety.

    Raum''s face was agape as he dropped his notebook. "By Gro, I was not expecting for him to be so forward."

    "What does that mean!?"

    "She''s having a direct audience with the king."

    "WHAT DOES THAT MEAN!?"

    "The Shadow Dreams. She''s being forced in there." Raum reached into Anton''s satchel to pull out his chalk. "Hold her hand, or her shoulders, any part of her body. Just keep physical contact and close your eyes." Raum drew a large circle around Anton and Charlotte, hastily scribbling symbols around its edges. "I''m sending you to rescue her via Oneirokinesis. I can''t follow you there, I don''t have the curse."

    Anton didn''t even hesitate, clasping Charlotte''s hand in his and closing his eyes as Raum activated the Oneirokinesis spell.

    *****

    "A curse upon them, and their children, and their children''s children." Whispers arose from the dark.

    They speak to me. In a language. Similar to my native tongue.

    Darkness envelops me. But I can see them. The whispers and their shadowy forms. Bestial and horrific. Vengeful and hating. A mutated mass of agony. Twisting into a tapestry

    "A peaceful death is too good for you." They murmur. Their limbs twist and contort. They reach out to defile my soul. But among them.

    There is one figure. A Y''ashi with a crown. In the center. Standing tall. He looks down on me. With grim satisfaction.

    "O lost kin who hast awakened to our tainted blood." He spoke in a regal voice. "Wretched child who bearest our will. Thou who dost inherit our wishes. Let it wash over thee, the pains and wails of my people. Mothers who held their stillborn infants in their arms, fathers who gave their flesh for their family''s sustenance, brothers and sisters who scrambled to gather what was left. Hearken to their cries and plant them deep, deep within. Cast away all else that thou art. Surrender thyself to our curse. The curse upon all Humanity."

    He offers his hand to me. He wants me to take it. What happens if I do? I''m scared. The shadows will drown me again. But what if I take his hand?

    No. Please. Let me go. I don''t want this! I don''t want this! I don''t want this! Get away! Ge-

    Huh? Something touches my hand. It''s not the Y''ashi. It''s warm. So very warm. It''s you. You''re here for me.

    *****

    I grab Charlotte''s hand. I can''t see her face or her tears, but I know it''s her. That sobbing is hers. I don''t know what else to do but hold her hand. It felt like I just fell in here from the sky. This is the nightmare plane that we''ve seen time and time again. The morphing shadows that whisper curses surround us on all sides. But now, standing above them is probably Tehvent'' Ungul. What the hell can I do here? I''m just as hopeless as she is. Damnit. Raum, what do I do? What''s going to happen to us now?

    "Thou who transgreseth, interloper to the dream. How didst thou enter, Human? This realm existeth solely for the curse to nurture and grow. It is a seedbed for a flower yet to bloom. Who art thou to enter this defiled space so ludicrously? Wouldst thou Humans even deny us this privacy?" Tehvent'' Ungul raises his voice, his words are spoken in another language, but I can understand their meaning. "Unless... Ah, I see. It festers in thee as well. Smoldering in thee like a small cinder, our curse burneth within thy blood, our blood. Thou art also our lost kin, far more lost than expected, yet kin nonetheless."

    He opens his hand and offers it to me. "Join us, most wretched child."

    I muster my will and my bravery to stand off to the ancient king. "Piss off!"

    The shadows writhe in their lord''s fury, they dive towards us to smother us again. But before they reach us, A light pierces the darkness behind us. We''re suddenly pulled backward by some outside force, leaving them behind as we are ejected from the dream.

    *****

 Chapter 8: A Bone and a Hard place

    Anton woke to find Raum nurturing a barely conscious Charlotte. He was helping drink a vitality potion he had taken out of his bag.

    "How is she?"

    "Stable, thanks to you. I managed to pull the two of you out and seal the spiritual connection, but it took all of my Od to do so." Raum responded in exasperated breath.

    There were empty vials littered by Raum''s feet. Anton realized that Raum must have chugged a couple of Od elixirs while they were in the dream to maintain the spell.

    "More importantly, Mr Krendal." Raum turned his head to the chamber''s doorway. "We have other concerns."

    Anton saw it, flickering torchlight followed by a pulse of yellow energy traveling down the corridor. "Shit!"

    There was not a moment of respite. Anton stood and unsheathed his claymore. "Can you use your magic yet?"

    "Only a little, it will take me a moment to recover."

    "Take her to the back of the chamber and stay there until you can help." He commanded.

    "What are you planning?

    "Something stupid. Go!"

    Raum obeyed and carried Charlotte to the back corner. Anton stood near the coffin. There was no running. There was no hiding.

    The purple runes that decorated the chamber glistened as they drew closer. Anton could hear the clanking of metal among their footsteps.

    He watched as all six of the Arlacks entered the room. At their front was the heavily armored one bearing a mace and a metal shield, he was certainly their leader. To his left was a female mercenary of stout stature and a sadistic grin, wielding a curved sword and a wooden shield; she was likely the second-in-command. Among them was also one wearing a robe, a Mage no less.

    Half of them heckled and jeered at Anton, noticing his companions in the corner of the chamber.

    Could Anton take all of them alone? Head on?

    "Quite the predicament we have here." The leader spoke in a low booming voice through his helmet. "Would you, by any chance, know what happened to my other squad further up in the crypts?" He spoke with an obvious tang of sarcasm.

    "I don''t know what you''re talking about." Anton feigned ignorance, despite how obvious it was of where this was leading.

    "Well, thanks for upping our wages anyways." The second-in-command snickered. "We''re gonna enjoy this a whole lot, ain''t we Ledal?"

    "That, we are." The Leader, Ledal, answered, clicking his neck with anticipation.

    No. Anton wasn''t going to take them on alone. He had another idea.

    Anton reached into the coffin and pried the crown from Tehvent'' Ungul''s head before throwing it at one of the mercenaries. They were caught with a confused expression as Anton backed away from the coffin.

    "Blast it! You fool! Drop it!" Ledal commanded his subordinate.

    Suddenly, the purple runes glowed intensely, automatically activating the spell. Ethereal seams of purple energy shoot out from each of the runes fraying together like weaves of spider web, gathering in the center of the chamber, just above the Tehvent'' Ungul''s coffin. In response to the activation, the skeletons of the Y''ashi around the chamber begin to stir, as if waking from a long slumber. Bones clattered and shifted within burial holes, levitating and swiftly gravitating towards the center of the tomb where the seams converge. The bones started to assemble themselves, guided by invisible hands, coming together to form a monstrous figure.

    It was a Bone Golem, looming tall at a menacing height of three meters. The hulking amalgamation''s skeletal frame was made with the strongest bones of the Beast-men warriors who laid by their king''s side. The head of the golem was a grotesque combination of multiple skulls fused together, creating a visage with several eye sockets, some empty and others glowing with an eerie, malevolent purple light. The same light was brimming from its torso, a large ribcage formed from the interwoven bones, creating a protective obscuring cage around a glowing, pulsating core of purple energy. This core is the heart of the golem, the spell that binds it. Around the ribcage, additional bones form a makeshift armor, adding layers of defense and spikes that protrude viciously. The limbs of the Bone Golem were abominable and oversized, ending in large, claw-like hands made from a multitude of finger bones, each tipped with razor-sharp claws. Unlike the arms, the legs were bent backwards, like a dog''s hind legs that allowed the Golem to move with a surprising agility for its size.

    The Bone Golem looked around the room, its multiple gazes eying every individual as before it fell onto the mercenary holding the crown. It ignored Anton, Raum, and Charlotte; instead, it approached Ledal''s group. There were no thoughts behind its skulls, only a single directive: Kill the grave robbers and retrieve the crown. Each step it took echoed through the crypt, a bone-chilling dread filled everyone present, they were being stared down by a predator of unnatural strength.If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.

    The mercenary with the crown gave a battle cry that broke into a voice crack, dropping the crown and raising his axe in the air, hopelessly trying to intimidate the autonomous entity. The Golem reacted by crouching down, then leaping forward at breakneck speed. It landed on the mercenary, violently slamming him to the ground with its weight. A splash of blood painted the stone floor where the Golem stood on his head.

    His comrades retaliated; the Mage stepped to the side as the other four of them circled it and struck at it with their weapons. Swords and axes chipped at the Bone Golem with little reaction. Ledal swung down with his mace onto the Golem''s head, cracking open one of the skulls, but to no avail. It stood up and swung its arms, swiping across its assailants with its claws. It pushed back Ledal and the second-in-command mercenary, who brought out their shields to block it, staggering backward from the force. The third mercenary managed to narrowly dodge the attack. The fourth, however, was not so lucky; her abdomen was torn open as it slashed through his leather armor like cheese.

    "Ignis!" The Mage chanted, holding his staff up and conjuring a fireball, then launching it at the Golem, exploding on impact and immolating it. The Golem stumbled back as charred fragments of bones flew off its shoulder where it was hit; it turned its attention to the Mage as though the fireball was more of a nuisance than a threat. But before it could charge him, Ledal and his cohorts struck at the enblazed Golem''s legs, smashing through several layers of intertwined bones in an effort to cripple it.

    The Mage prepared to cast another spell, but heard sprinting footsteps to his right. He looked over, it was Anton charging at him, Claymore gripped in both hands, less than ten meters away from him. The Mage hastily redirected his staff and pointed it at Anton. "Ignis!" The fireball shot out at a speed of roughly fourteen meters per second. It would surely kill Anton on the spot if it connects. But Anton had fought spellcasters like this before; he knew how to counter the spell.

    Anton reacted the moment he saw the fireball manifest and swung down his sword, perfectly timing it to intercept the projectile midair like a bat to a ball. The velocity and force of his strike slashed through the fireball before it could volatile and explode, splitting and dispersing it into a cloud of flames. Anton felt his beard and his hair singe as he passed through the cloud, he was now too close for the Mage to cast another spell. He swung his sword back up, slashing the Mage''s staff arm cleanly off. Blood spurted from the wound as the Mage screamed and fell back.

    Meanwhile, the Bone Golem, rising back up on its broken legs while still receiving a beating, began a flurry of strikes again. Beating aside the second-in-command and the third mercenary who were unprepared for a counter attack, leaving only Ledal to fend it off alone. It jabbed at Ledal, once, twice, again, again, its sharp claws dented his metal shield and penetrated it on the sixth jab. Ledal threw away his shield and swung with his mace using both hands, but the Golem was too fast, brutally slamming both its arms at him like a gorilla, sending him flying back into the doorway. The sound of his armor crashing on the ground echoed through the corridor, followed by a scratching skid as the momentum carried him.

    The Golem shifted its focus back to the two other mercenaries on the ground, choosing to the second-in-command, who was scurrying back to her feet. The Golem grabbed her by both shoulders, picking him up and placing its jaws over her head, clamping down like a vice. With a pop, the mercenary fell limp. The Golem released its tension, letting the corpse fall to the ground with a thud.

    The last mercenary watched in horror as the Golem turned to him last. Crimson blood dripped from its jaw, its knees were cracked, smoke was emanating from its burnt shoulder, one of its skulls was caved in. But despite all that, it did not care. It was coming for him next.

    He crawled on all fours towards the crown, grabbing it and throwing it across the whole chamber. "There! Go get it! Spar-" His futile pleads for mercy could not be heard, even if he could finish it. The Golem ran him through, impaling him onto the floor with its claws. It yanked its claw out and looked for where the crown landed. It was right next to Charlotte and Raum.

    Anton had also just yanked his claymore out of the Mage''s corpse. He was prepared to end up fighting the Golem, but he was not expecting it to ignore him completely.

    The Golem crouched on all fours and dashed across the chamber with frightening speed. Anton rushed after it, but he was too slow to catch up or intercept it. He could only watch as it picked its target.

    It chose Charlotte.

    The Golem leapt towards her, bearing down its claw to impale her. Charlotte still wasn''t fully awake, even her instincts could not pull her body to dodge the attack.

    Raum stepped in. Opening his body as though he were welcoming the Golem with an open embrace.

    The claw lands on him. It struck him. But it didn''t go through him.

    The entire force of the Golem was stopped in its tracks, as though it was hitting a stone wall. Raum''s veil had blocked the attack, but...

    The Golem continued to push its claw into Raum''s veil. Its efforts weren''t stopping. It simply kept pushing with stubborn determination.

    But Raum was also determined. He was determined to hold his ground. To protect Charlotte.

    Anton was sprinting as fast as he possibly could in his chainmail vest. He had just passed the Coffin and brought his claymore to his shoulder height, pointing it forward like a lance as he charged toward the Golem.

    Raum couldn''t stand his ground for much longer. He had to intensely concentrate his Od to the point of contact in the veil to block the Golem''s force. He barely had any Od left after earlier. Now he was pushing himself beyond his limits. His face was more strained than ever before.

    If the golem successfully ran him through, it would slam him into the ground onto Charlotte, skewering the both of them.

    Anton ran. Eight meters left.

    Raum stumbled back a step. The veil couldn''t negate the entire inertia force anymore.

    Seven meters left.

    Raum himself couldn''t hold out anymore.

    Five meters left.

    He was out of Od.

    Four meters left.

    His veil was about to dissipate.

    Three meters left.

    "ANTON!"

    Two meters left.

    It pierced through.

    Entering through its back, penetrating through layers of bone, and exiting through its chest. He thrusted it all the way through. Anton''s claymore had pierced the Golem, impaling its core.

    The Golem''s motions halted instantaneously, twitching for a brief moment, as though it had a nervous system of a living being. The purple energy of the core dissipated, and the Golem immediately fell apart into a pile of bones. All traces of hostility and observable sentience vanished as the spell was undone.

    Raum collapsed to his knees in front of the pile, heavily breathing, sweat dripping from his whole body. He clutched his unharmed chest.

    "That..." He gasped. "...was really stupid!"