Chapter 22 – False Knight on the Road

  No sunlight would ever brighten the vast, windowless room that spread before them. Instead, oil lamps fought a losing battle against the surrounding darkness.

  Once again Hall thanked the shadows for hiding most of the ground’s surface.

  Countless bones of all shapes and sizes, pieces of rotting flesh and unfathomable amounts of blood covered the floor.

  The retched stench of decay threatened to impede his thoughts.

  This is worse than in Bathory’s dungeon.

  “Moira, do you know if this is magic or an environmental effect?” Hall asked the grimoire.

  It took her a second to answer. “I’m not sure, but I think it’s both. Somebody cast magic to enhance the environment and use it against their enemies. But this magic is… it's evil. Be careful, Harbinger.”

  He felt it too. Different from Benmal’ach, not as ferocious or primal, but filled with malice and invoked by the desire to cause pain.

  The sound of splintering bones and tearing flesh drew his gaze to the end of the room.

  A small table with a single tea cup on it, a bowl with pastries next to the pretty, little teapot, all of it seemed out of place.

  Behind the table, the only chair in the room seated an old woman. Countless wrinkles and sunken eyes revealed her age. She remained unmoving and cobwebs in her thin, grey hair gave the impression that she had died long ago. But Hall sensed her very soul and she was far from dead.

  The sounds that disturbed the eerie silence in the graveyard that once was a room, came from the ground beside the table. Again, he could perceive the soul in the mountain of a man who sat on the filthy floor.

  Yet, his senses should have told him more. His skill level climbed high enough to gather more information. He could feel the wickedness in them, but something impeded his perception, counteracted his ability, made it hard for him to see.

  But the figure on the ground pushed away his concerns. A man, as tall as himself, though three times as wide and only wearing an oversized diaper, sat on a pile of bone and flesh. The colossal amounts of fat on his massive body wobbled while he devoured something that looked disturbingly similar to an arm. Blood and pieces of flesh fell from his open mouth as he stopped chewing and his beady eyes focused on Hall.

  “Mama.” He said. “Who is that man?” Spitting scraps of flesh over himself, he spoke to the old woman. A slapping sound echoed through the room and the man’s cheek turned red.

  “Baban, my dear, I told you, if we have company, call me grandmother or Lady Gorti. Anyway, I do not know my little baby boy, they are not welcome here.” she lectured the man lovingly. As if she hadn’t used it in a while, her voice resembled an unoiled hinge.

  The lips of the disgustingly obese creature trembled, but instead of crying, he just grinned while drool trickled from the corner of his mouth. “Can I have him grandmama? I’m so hungry.” Viciousness crept into Baban’s infantile tone as the old Gorti’s hand patted his bald head.

  “Yes my dear baby boy, have fun.”

  Speechless, Hall watched as the giant baby struggled to stand up. His knees almost gave in under the enormous weight. Baban’s hands, stretched before him, opened and closed while he took large, unstable steps towards Hall.

  A large, middle aged toddler tried to eat him. His grandmother watched him in silence, her face distorted in a mix of bliss and hatred. Images of gore and slaughter surrounded them. It was just too surreal.

  When Baban reached him, Hall swung his fist and a bone shattering punch clashed with the bald man’s jaw. The giant buried pieces of dead bodies under himself as he crashed to the ground.

  He sat up and blinked at Hall, uncomprehending of what just happened. His lips trembled, tears formed in his eyes and a bloodcurdling wail erupted from him.

  The old Gorti’s face twisted in rage and she screamed, “You dare to hit my boy?” Her anger vanished and a cold, calm voice replaced it. Her words sucked out what little light and warmth the room held. “I’ll give your soul to my little boy and make a puppet out of your corpse.”

  A wave of darkness emerged from the tip of her fingers and washed over the whole room. The blood on the ground evaporated as soon as it came in contact with Gorti’s magic and the scattered pieces of flesh turned to dust.

  Hall reacted in an instant. His skill ‘Watching Over Me’ kicked in and slowed down time, giving him the chance to step in front of Lily. He imbued his chains with soul energy and cut through the shadows that threatened to swallow them.

  “Aren’t you full of surprises? You are able to manifest the power of your soul.” Gorti said in astonishment. “No matter, with that you are entering my personal field of expertise. You will make an excellent toy.”

  The old woman overcame her surprise in an instant and a grin spread on her face.

  Movements in the dark caught Hall’s eye. Six figures rose from the ground and staggered towards him.

  Guess the guards weren’t just sent away.

  All six walking corpses wore the same armor and carried long swords. Thick metal chains tied their necks to the wall. Their souls had already disappeared from their bodies and only traces of foreign magic remained.

  “Sorian magic, am I right?” Hearing Hall’s words, Lady Gorti raised an eyebrow and replied.

  “Why, yes, you are right.” She confirmed. “I’m beginning to think it would be wise to keep you around, though of course your soul will still belong to me. Now get him my puppets!”

  Hall chuckled for a moment before he strengthened the grip around his chains. “Your darkness cannot stand before me. My own will devour it.”

  Raising his chains, he swung them at the undead. Their lack of speed and coordination proved the casters lacking ability. But even under Hall’s repeated blows, they didn’t die.

  Bones shattered and flesh burst. Broken limbs and tattered clothes remained after numerous attacks. Yet they rose, again and again, and moved towards him.

  They still only posed a minor threat to Hall. It was the witch Gorti who he needed to deal with.

  While he kept the walking corpses at bay, she fired black flames and blades of shadows at him, slowly shaving away his health.

  Lily supported him with song and the occasional heal. Unfortunately they needed to move often. Gorti’s spells covered whole areas, making it impossible for Lily to stay in one spot which interrupted her channeled healing.

  The battle dragged on and though Hall remained calm and careful, he gritted his teeth in frustration. It shouldn’t be this difficult, why won’t those zombies fall and what’s with that hag’s speed?

  The few attacks Hall unleashed at the old woman always missed, or rather, she dodged with quick movements that seemed to contradict her appearance.

  He ducked under dark flames, fired from withered hands, and stumbled backwards, barely avoiding a heavy blow the undead to his left threw at him.

  “The chains around their necks.” Moira almost yelled. “I sense a… flow of energy coming from them. Look at them, really look, not just with your eyes.”

  Damn it, easier said than done. Swords and magic filled his field of view, but he waited patiently for an opening. With two wide swings he pushed away the closest undead and Lily shackled half of them with the mana chains she used to buy him room to breathe. It allowed him to focus on the witch.

  It had been a few days since he tried it, but he needed it to work, now! Hall put all his strength into the next attack and let both his chains rain down on the puppeteer before him.

  Laughing, she evaded the strikes by an inch. Moments before his chains crashed into the ground, Hall flicked his wrists. Like a whip, his weapons followed his motion.

  The cracking sound of the chains, together with the exploding marble floor, created a blast that pushed away the rubble and ash covering the ground.

  Yet it was the ringing in his ears that caused him to grin. It worked! Lady Gorti’s eyes widened in surprise and shock as no words left her mouth.

  But Hall wasted no time to gloat and used ‘Soul Perception’ to investigate the metal that bound the undead. Even now something interfered with his abilities.

  At least I know where to look at. Moira’s discovery helped greatly. After a moment he could sense the energy in the steel shackles. He felt a flow of power between the wall and the undead.

  “So you supply them with strength, that’s why they don’t die.” Horror replaced the surprise on Gorti’s face. Though shaken, she still held the upper hand. The silencing effect already wore off, so she prepared another chant.

  Hall evaded her magic as well as the strokes of the undead and drew his sword.

  “Do you really think you can sever my chains?” She scoffed at him.

  Standing close to the wall, he raised the blade over his head and smiled. “I do!”

  Blue light clawed its way through the dark metal in his hands and with a brutal strike, Hall cut the shackles that tied one of the undead. The puppet collapsed as its strings were slashed.

  Before Gorti could recover from the shock, Hall severed two more chains. An atrocious scream emerged from the witch as she sent wave after wave of dark fire at Hall.

  Damn, how long can she keep this up? Though he tried to evade or cut through the magic, his health dropped at the continuing storm of flames.

  Gritting his teeth, he took a stand. The brunt of the fire hit him, but he endured it to prepare the attack he unleashed at the raging witch. The same he used before and, again, he welcomed the ringing in his ears.

  While he received one more blow from an undead, Hall severed the remaining chains and robbed Lady Gorti of her shields. She stood alone and realizing it, her face distorted.

  The silencing effect wore off faster than before. The mechanic called diminishing return not only reduced the effectivity of repeatedly consumed potions. It also affected the duration of negative effects on targets if they are applied again within a short amount of time. Yet, it still proved fatal for the magic wielder.

  Now, Hall stood before her, bloody, but the burning fire in his eyes reached deep into her soul and dragged out her darkest nightmares. Unlike her undead puppets, she possessed no immunity to his fear inducing skills and her resistance only dropped during the battle.

  Gorti’s fa?ade cracked. Her shoulders dropped and the defiant spark in her eyes vanished, replaced by dull fog. Chains wrapped around her neck and she fell to her knees.

  “Who are you?” she asked crestfallen.

  A dark scythe blade appeared in Hall’s hands and he leaned forward to whisper in her ear. “I’m Batman.” He spoke and rammed the metal into the old woman’s chest, tearing the darkness from her soul.

  An uncomprehending look in his eyes, Baban watched his grandmother die. As if unaware of Hall’s presence, he tumbled towards her corpse and sat beside it.

  Without a sound, tears streamed down his face. He grabbed the fingers of the only family he had and opened his lips. Yet instead of speaking, he lifted the hand towards his mouth.

  Hall closed his eyes for a moment and sighed. “Pitiful creature.” The scythe blade pierced the crying giant’s flesh and took another life.

  When silence returned to the mansion, Hall looked through the messages that popped up after the battle.

  Finally!

  Even though the limited range reduced its use and the drawbacks couldn’t be ignored, the skill could prove invaluable against casters. The fight against Lady Gorti showed it.

  Kneeling, he checked the corpses for items. Unfortunately enemies rarely left behind the equipment they carried, so the dead puppets gave him no loot. At least the old witch dropped an impressive jewel.

  The plumb sized stone resembled the soul shards he found before.

  “This is all rather cryptic.” Hall said. ”Moira, do you know something about it?”

  She seemed to hesitate, so he began to search the room.

  “I know... knew it.” She answered. ”But… my memory is hazy.” She sounded dejected, but mostly frustrated with herself. “I think it can be used to transfer energy to other stones.”

  Hall grabbed a soul shard, dim black crystals that accumulated in his inventory, and lifted it in front of his eyes. “Stones like this?”

  “Yes, exactly like that.” A trace of excitement entered Moira’s voice. “You see, normal material can’t handle soul energy, it either remains unaffected or it gets destroyed by it. Then there are things than can conduct and profit from the power of a soul, take your sword for an example.

  “These stones though have the ability to store the energy of a soul for an extended period of time. Unfortunately… I can’t remember how, but I still know where you can gain that knowledge. The knowledge of soul weaving.”

  “Amazing!” Hall’s expression brightened. “Thanks, Moira.”

  Though she tried to conceal it, her tone carried happiness when she spoke. “That’s the very least Death’s Grimoire should be able to do, no need to be impressed.”

  “Alright, alright.” He chuckled, but refrained from retorting. “Then let’s wrap up this mess, it’s getting late.”

  Aside from the corpses, the sparse furniture and the lamps, the large room was empty. Leaving through the thick wooden doors, scarred by countless scratches, he continued his hunt for bounty.

  Houses, no matter the size, rarely held unfathomable riches. Bathory’s treasure was already considered extraordinary. Else, a group of thieves could hit a few noble houses and bathe in gold for the rest of their lives.

  So, as to deter bandits, players as well as NPCs often trusted banks with their fortune. Banks, similar to auction houses, stood as a constant in the world of Novus Vita. They were—quite literally—untouchable.

  Of course most mansions still contained a vast amount of valuables. Thieves—ambitious or brazen enough—could even steel the furniture if they secured some carriages beforehand.

  Unfortunately the Gorti Family thwarted Hall’s hopes for a nice payday. Paranoid due to her age, the old witch locked most doors and purchased magic to protect them from damage. He only cursed as he attempted to break the wood and barely left a scratch.

  At least he gathered a few pretty pieces around the house, but far less than he imagined.

  Lily watched him in worry and Moira flicked her incorporeal tongue. “A harbinger shouldn’t care for worldly needs such as gold. It’s below your rank.”

  He simply shrugged off their objections. “A man has to eat.” Only when they entered one of the last rooms, did his mood change for the better.

  Not because of the countless, common books that filled the shelves or the dusty coins that wandered into his pocket. But because of the papers that covered the large desk that dominated the small study.

  One page in particular caught his eye.

  The paper alone would not suffice to prove anything, but together with others he found, it painted a gruesome picture of guilt. The sound of a bell and a message window confirmed his opinion.

  Impossible to fail the quest? Does that mean even if I do nothing, I help one side by not using what I know?

  Hall barely received any experience for completing the first quest and the raised intimacy with Roselake’s people didn’t count for much. Shrugging, he left the study and returned to the room he left the corpses in.

  Jorn’s quest demanded more than just killing the nobles connected to the cattle hunt. So he grabbed the chains that still bound the corpse of the guards who once protected the Gorti family.

  “Harbinger, those chains aren’t made of common metal.” Moira pointed out as he collected all six of them.

  “I thought as much. They transferred that witch’s energy after all. So, can I reuse the material somehow?” Hall asked, hoping he found something useful.

  Though Moira shattered his hopes without a shred of remorse. “No. The metal is imbued with rather precious ore that allows soul energy to flow through it. They probably received it from hidden soul shards in the walls.

  “The power in the metal is mostly gone, but it will be immensely difficult for a blacksmith to separate the valuable and common material. There’s also the high probability of destroying its transferring properties should it be recast.

  “Honestly, if you want to keep them, use them for what they are—chains. As they are, they won’t be easy to cut and have several times the strength of common steel.”

  For a few moments, Hall contemplated on his options while he held the heavy chains in his hands. Might as well use them.

  The grey metal reflected the light of the oil lamps as he stored four of the chains in his inventory. He wrapped the other two around the necks of the two corpses that represented the end of the noble house Gorti.

  The silence of the lifeless mansion weighed on him as he worked on the cold corpses. Sometimes the game felt too real.

  While the game usually prohibited players from doing it, NPCs could move and handle corpses. After all, countless people inhabited the world of Novus Vita. They celebrated births and mourned their dead. Funeral procession and cemeteries added to the whole picture.

  Often monsters, animals and even bandits just vanished after their demise, only to appear, to spawn, again after some time. Different from those, the people who populate cities and villages lived real lives. Or as real as it can get in a digital world.

  So it was only logical that death was a part of their lives. Their bodies never simply disappeared. They would remain at the site of their demise until someone took care of them, or until their bones turned to dust.

  Hall’s quest allowed him to use the corpses before him and though—in theory—they consisted of ones and zeros, the dead, pale skin under his fingers felt authentic enough.

  Gritting his teeth, he finished his grisly work and pulled the bodies behind him, out of the mansion and into the open.

  The weakened snowfall allowed Hall to see the facades of the luxurious stone houses that lined the narrow street he chose. More than that, he sensed people, sleeping in their warm beds. Yet, some, not many, stood not far from the windows.

  Maybe they heard screams from the Gorti mansion or maybe they experienced battle in the past and perceived the presence of a threat.

  “Lily.” He whispered, just loud enough for the girl beside him to hear. “This time I won’t be surprised again, cast ‘Velvet Thorns’ on me please.”

  She nodded and her voice filled the empty streets. A few seconds that turned snow into brilliant flakes of light, dancing around the delicate figure of a girl in white.

  Glowing vines tangled around Hall’s body, around his limbs and torso. Their dazzling warmth soon changed into a threatening glimmer as ebony thorns sprouted from them.

  Where Hall walked, the corpses he dragged behind turned the white snow crimson and, accompanied by the rattling of chains, only the sound of dead bodies grinding on cold stone filled the air.

  Movement behind closed doors, muffled screams and quickly extinguished candle light followed him through the streets.

  Might as well go all out.

  Hall placed a camera icon on the ground before him to adjust the angle of the video the game continuously recorded.

  He waited a few moments for the wind to die down. An eerie silence spread over the whole district. Hall grinned and his words cut through the night and reached the ears of those hiding behind windows and walls.

  “I can sense your sins, your cowardice and fear! But you don’t know real terror. I will show you fear. I will show you earthquakes and lightning! I will show you, a Bad Moon Rising!”

  A hint of red crept into the sparse light the street lamps spread. The falling snow seemed to turn into a rain of blood as a crimson moon broke through the cover of clouds and loomed over the dark figure who dragged the dead through the street.

  His skill caught several people in its range as he passed dozens of homes. All they saw was a demon, clad in darkness, adorned with thorns. His fists tightened their grip around the chains he used to pull their neighbors to hell.

  The nobility of Roselake, dragged by the very shackles they forced upon the common people. A fist, raised in defiance, grasping the chains of suppression.

  Pure horror filled many hearts that night. Nobody would forget, no matter how much they wished to do so. Those with a reason to be afraid, those with tainted souls, those would remember—forever.

  Hall panted heavily when he reached the Somero mansion where three more corpses waited for him.

  “Lily, get the horses.” He instructed his companion when they entered the backyard.

  “So?” Moira asked. “What are you standing around for?”

  Scratching his head, he admitted. “I may have forgotten that I don’t know how to hitch the horses to the carriage”

  While Lily failed to hide a giggle behind her hands, Moira just sighed and murmured. “Unbelievable.”

  “Let me do it.” Lily suggested. “It’s been a while, but… there, all done.” It only took her a few seconds to attach the horses’ harnesses to the carriage. The darkened windows prevented anybody from looking into the wagon, so Hall stored the five bodies inside it.

  The soldiers, guarding the main gate into the noble district, greeted them with harsh words. Yet a look into Hall’s glowing eyes and the papers he presented to them changed their attitude in an instant.

  Lily showed him how to properly guide the horses through the cold night that wouldn’t last much longer. Soon the first rays of sunlight would brighten the sky and uncover their crimes.

  For now they rolled through the dark streets of Roselake. The patrols lost the ability to enforce the curfew, so they remained undisturbed. Few people crossed their paths and it never took more than a single glance from Hall to persuade them to carry on.

  Well, at least for tonight it’s handy.

  The snowfall picked up again as their carriage drove onto the deserted market place. Book burnings or merchants may pull in crowds, but now it felt like a graveyard.

  He deactivated his skill ‘Bad Moon Rising’ long ago and ‘Velvet Thorns’ expired soon after. Invisibility trumped intimidation, for now.

  “No guards around.” Hall said. “Guess this place is as good as any, well, better than most actually.”

  He hauled the corpses out of the wagon and piled them at the base of an iced up fountain.

  In the summer, the beautifully crafted bronze statues filled the base pool with clear water and offered refreshment for playing children and hard workers. The wintry night however, froze the water in time and created a sculpture of metal and ice. Magnificent, but cold. Elegant, but fragile and hard.

  Hall fastened the first chain to the highest statue in the middle of the fountain. At around five meters it towered the whole market place. Now the carcass of a noble dangled from the bronze figure that portrayed an angel with spread wings.

  He asked Lily to keep watch. His ‘Soul Perception’ reached farther than her field of view, but his hands were already soiled. No need to taint her. He shouldered the darkness gladly.

  For over an hour he continued his gruesome task. By then the cadavers of the Somero brothers adorned the fountains central column. The old Gorti’s body hung from the angel’s sword while her grandson’s corpse, which was the first he strung up, dangled beside her. His enormous weight almost broke the statue.

  The rigid carcasses slowly bled over the ice and colored the crystal formation into a crimson nightmare. Blue and red icicles and the stench of death added to the horror.

  Without another word, they climbed onto the carriage’s driver seat and left the scene. Hall gazed at his work one last time, closed his eyes and shook off the image he created

  A frozen fountain, decorated with blood and flesh. A piece of art, spawned from hell. A reminder that—no matter how mighty, no matter who—they no longer lived in safety. Punishment awaited them.

  When they exited the market, a string of messages appeared before him.

  The outrageous bounty meant Roselake turned into enemy territory. The offered sum could sustain a normal family for months, maybe years and Hall couldn’t trust on his charm to win over the general populace.

  “Moira.” He said. “I think after we visit Jorn, I might need that location we talked about.”

  The next message evoked mixed feelings. But he gritted his teeth and swallowed his uncertainties.

  What’s done is done, time to collect my blood money.

  He put his unspent attribute points into strength and agility and took a glance at his status and skill progress while the street around him got busier.

  Wordless, their hearts heavy, they drove into the dawn as screams of terror and panic emerged behind them.

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  Author’s Note:

  Alright, Chapter 22 is done, hope you enjoyed it, I added the status, skills (overview and descriptions), equipment, quests and titles below, so if you’re interested, check it out.

  Now, a few people approached me over the last weeks and asked if they could donate. (Which is really awesome, wouldn’t have even dreamt about it^^)

  I was hesitant at first, but now that the admins created the option I thought, why not :D

  So, I won’t offer any extra chapters or milestones (I generally don't hold any chapter back). I can only guarantee that I will continue to do my very best to improve myself and Don’t Fear the Reaper. And please only donate if you can really afford it. I will continue to write regardless of the result. All I hope for is that I can put a little more time into writing this story.

  Well, if you spot any mistakes, have suggestions or questions, don’t hold back :grin:

  Oh, and as always, please rate, follow and favor, it means a lot,

  until the next chapter :bye:

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  STATUS WINDOWS, SKILLS, EQUIPMENT, QUESTS, ETC.

  Spoiler

  Status Window Hall:

  Spoiler

  Skill Overview Hall:

  Spoiler

  Equipment Hall:

  Spoiler Weapons:

  Main-hand:

  Off-hand:

  Not equipped:

  Clothes

  Shirt:

  Armor

  Chest:

  Legs:

  Gloves:

  Boots:

  Cloak:

  Rings:

  Necklace:

  Active Quests:

  Spoiler

  Completed Quests:

  Spoiler

  Available Titles:

  Spoiler

  Stat Window Lily:

  Spoiler

  Skill Overview Lily:

  Spoiler

  Skill Descriptions:

  Spoiler

  HALL:

  [*]

  [*]

  [*]

  Weapon Mastery skills:

  [*]

  LILY:

  [*]

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