Chapter 43: Episode 41

Disclaimer: I don't own Nasuverse or any other franchise that can be found in this fanfiction.

Words Count: 5025

Here's my usual spiel:

You can read up to 10 Episodes in advanced plus my other fic: Ars Goetia– Antichrist here.

p a tr e on . com (/) LiamThePoor

A/N: I swear, I’m in one Hell of a burnt-out… Maybe I should take a short vacation in the near future? Anyway, here’s the next Ep, but first!

OST: Aarambh Hai Prachand × Polozehni

Does it have anything to do with the Ep? Probably not, but it’s a good hype song. Give it a try :D

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Mikael of Crow’s Perch was annoyed.

No, scratch that. He was beyond annoyance at this point.

He had known the life of soldiers wasn’t a glamorous and easy one, but when he enlisted himself into the Baron’s army, he had expected to have one or two full-nights of sleep per week at the very least. Instead here he was, alongside his small squadron, trotting through the wet wood in search of some dumb teenage boy on the Bloody Baron’s order. “I hate this…”

He spoke for the fifth time, and while his mates didn’t response verbally, he could see it. The subtle cues, the slight twitches and motions of their hands and eyes, they were angry too, and the crazed hounds fighting to run loose of their collars wasn’t helping to uplift their moods either. “I can understand wanting to look for his family, but why the fuck is he searching for a teenage boy?! And under the curtain of the night at that!”

Mikael scowled, bemoaning his fate. He should be in bed, or having dinner with his new bride now, not trudging, combing the forest for some stupid little shit that got lost.

His mates nodded, teasingly replied to his words. “Already missing your bride, huh? Been there. You better hang on to that attitude, mate. ‘Cause a few more years, with a child or two of your own and you’ll be begging for a chance to get away from her.”

The group laughed loudly. “Who knows? Maybe Baron wants something new, fresh–“ His mate, Kol wiggled his brows suggestively.

Mikael guffawed, almost choking on his spits as he roared with laughter. “Bloody Hell, might even be true with all the rumors going around… Maybe that’s why the ladies left, the Baron was more interested in lil’ boys than fookin’ his own wife.”

Of course, jokes like these were reserved to their squadron and their squadron alone. Although the Baron might be a drunkard, he was a strong drunkard. There’s a reason he was able to reign in their ragtag army after all, and it certainly wasn’t due to his overflowing charisma. No, no, that’s not it, what kept the whole from descending into chaos was his fists. They were terrible, terrible things, capable of rending steel-plates with a punch and putting the fear of God and Devil in any person’s heart.

The Baron was old, yet age and the over-consumption of alcohol had only served to make him crueler.

Memories of the man punching a soldier’s jaws out for trying to rape a peasant woman were clear on his and his mates’ minds still. Like the renowned and infamous berserkers of the Skellige archipelago, the Bloody Baron was a monstrous beast to fight against, and with the warhammer that broke bones as easy as twigs, he was a menace on the battlefield… For all his jokes and jests, Mikael would never dare to laugh or question the man’s orders openly.

Mikael shuddered at the thoughts of the drunkard Baron. ‘The drunkard can’t be fully human.’

He made to reply, when all of a sudden, the hounds began barking at their left, frothing at the mouths. The soldier, who was about a decade older than Mikael himself tried to tug them back, which only made them struggle that much harder, until he could no longer keep up and was dragged to the ground, their leashes slipping from his sweaty palm. “FOOK’! If we lost those hounds, the Baron will hang us! Quick, chase after them!”

“What about you?!” Mikael yelled as their squadron took off, sight trained on his hissing mate, who was massaging his swollen ankle. “I think something’s broken or sprained, not sure.” His head snapped up. “I’ll be fine, go with the others, Mikael. They’ll need your help.”

After a short moment of hesitation, Mikael made to chase the rapidly disappearing silhouettes of his other mates. Mikael trailed them from behind, racing through the dark wood as a horrible smell snuck into his nostrils. He gagged, and by the look of it, the rest of his squadron was in the same situation. They all covered their noses, some with handkerchief, others with their hands and arms. “Fookin’… Any idea why it smelled like the Devil’s arse-crack here?”

Mikael shook, taking a step forward when he felt something squishy crunch beneath his foot. He frowned, annoyance tainting his face. ‘This is a new pair of shoes…’

Mikael reached to touch the sticky substance on the sole of his shoes and sniffed. Immediately, he retched out what’s left of his lunch, falling to his knees as the foul scent assaulted him.

“Mikael…?”

“What’s wrong?”

“You right, chap?”

“DO I LOOK LIKE I’M FOOKIN’ ALRIGHT?!” He spat, trying desperately to get rid of the after-taste of vomit lingering on the tip of his tongue. “I- I know what caused the smell–” Mikael gulped. “It’s corpses, monster corpses.”

“And how’d you know that?” His mate raised an eyebrow suspiciously, which nearly sent Mikael into a rage. He forced down the remnants of bile, and growled. “Because I just stepped on the smashed skull of a ghoul, you lot of fools!”

His mates flinched back as he continued. “And this scent’s familiar, don’t ya’ think? It’s like those corpses on the battlefield, but different, ‘cause it’s not human corpses, it’s monster.”

Silence descended on them as their imagination ran wild. Ghouls weren’t exactly the top predators in these parts, but they almost always travelled in a pack of seven to fifteen, with the bigger packs posing a danger to even a twenties to thirties entourage of fully-armed and armored knights. Not soldiers, knights. The trained cunts with equipment fancier than the jewelry noble women were often seen wearing.

As much as he hated to admit it, knights– The blooded ones were generally better than mere soldiers in every situation, and if the ghouls could overcome them, Mikael doubted they would prove an issue to the pack, especially under the curtain of the night, where their senses were limited to mere feet in front of them. And whatever this thing was that killed the ghoul, it had enough strength to splatter the monster’s skull to fragmented pieces…

Which didn’t bode well for them. Not at all.

Elrond, the youngest of their group let out a nervous chuckle. “You’re- You’re kidding, right?”

“Do you I LOOK like I’m joking?” Mikael grunted, crawling to his feet as he approached the crushed skull. The brain hadn’t dried, and it had a distinct smell to it, the smell of fresh blood. Instantly, Mikael realized the fight must have taken place not too long ago. His eyes darted all around, searching for clues. “Bloody Hell. It looks like its head was bashed in by the Baron…”

“There’s a laceration wound on its neck.” Quinn, another of his squadron, also the oldest of their group and a former hunt spoke. “It’s clean. Either human-made, or caused by an extremely precise monster. Might not mean anything, but we should keep our guard up regardless.”

“But- But it’s just one, right? Even we can kill one ghoul with relative ease, so maybe–” Elrond stammered, before being interrupted by Quinn. “Ghouls are scavenger for the most parts, they rarely hunt, so they’ll eat anything they can get their claws on, including their deceased. Given the state of the head, I’d say it died several hours ago–”

Mikael watched in curiosity as Quinn’s eyes flashed toward a motionless lump near the tree. In the darkness, they had mistaken the lump for a bush, or just vegetation in general, but now that their attention was on it, they could clearly tell said lump was no bush, but a corpse– A ghoul corpse. “The fact that they haven’t returned for the corpse gives us two possibilities. Either the chase was too long, too tedious and renders the corpse worthless–”

“Or the pack has all been slain.” Mikael confirmed, mumbling beneath his breaths. “I think we should split up in groups of two, see if there’s any clue left. Might give a perspective on what happened here.”

“Guys–” The group snapped toward the source of the voice, one of their own. “You should see this.”

The man gestured behind the vegetation, eyes wide with surprise and terror, as though he had seen a ghost. In all fairness, after seeing the scene, Mikael was much the same. Ghouls remains strewn about, crushed and severed heads, shattered limbs, broken bones sticking out if the corpses. The entire looked like a storm of carnage had taken place, and from the looks of things, the ghouls weren’t the only ones involved.

There were dead wolves, bears and… “Are those endregas?”

Few didn’t know about the insectoid creatures in Crow’s Perch. Nasty little buggers that looked like the hideous armored spawns of spiders and scorpions with a special brand of gigantism. Their poisonous stingers were famous for their ability to kill people. Most died the second they were stabbed, but that would be a mercy compared to what those who survived encounters with the little buggers would have to experience.

In the first hour, the poison would make their skin bloated and extra-sensitive to the touch.

The second, they would lose all sense of touch in their limbs, with black veins spreading from their wound to the rest of their body.

The third, they would undergo extreme nausea that made everything in their vision swim and spin.

They would spend what little remained of their life vomiting blood and their own internal organs. A fate Mikael wouldn’t wish on his worst enemies, then again, his so-called worst enemies were simply the usual inconveniences of daily life like having to wake up early in the morning, cleaning up after meals,…etc.

“By the Eternal Flame. Just what the fuck happened here?” Elrond screamed, terrified. Mikael had always looked down on the man’s cowardice, but even he couldn’t blame Elrond in this circumstance, not when he too felt a chill run down his spine.

“Quinn… You were a hunter, any idea what could have done this?!”

The older man shook, yet he went to exam the corpses all the same. “These corpses all have laceration wounds like the ghoul, and given how clean they are, I’ll bet it’s a blade of some kind. Someone killed them and left them here, there are also surgical cuts, likely to collect materials from the beasts…”

With that, he soon concluded. “This is done by a human, or at least a humanoid creature.”

“That’s- That’s good, r-right? We can reason with him or her.” Elrond asked in a trembling, anxiety-wracked tone.

“I wouldn’t count on it…” Mikael muttered, voice low enough that the rookie could not make out what he said, yet still clearly too loud as Elrond snapped back to him. “Did- Did you say something? May- Maybe we should turn back?”

Mikael instantly denied. At this point, they should probably go back and report their findings, but… The sheer amount of coins and respect they could receive for solving whatever this was would be unimaginable. Say what you wanted about Phillip Strenger, but he definitely wasn’t a stingy lord, and if it wasn’t for the explosive powder-keg that was his personality, Mikael might have even enjoyed working under the man.

The question hung over the group of five as they contemplated and carefully weighed their options. Next came the confused screaming match as each gave their own opinions on the matter, before Quinn roared, expression stern, befitting his status in the squadron, forcing everyone to cease. “ENOUGH OF THIS! We’ll take votes. Does anyone oppose?”

None spoke. “Good… All those in favor of continuing to track the person who did this?”

Three hands were raised, Mikael’s included.

The two who opposed the decision– Elrond and Erwin frowned.

“You- You gotta be fookin’ joking! We are gonna’ follow someone who did this?!” Elrond waved his hands to gesture at the corpses surrounding them, to which Mikael simply scoffed. “If you milk-drinkers do not wish to follow, don’t. We real men are reaching the bottom of this.”

Was it a low-blow? Perhaps. Did he feel guilty about it? Not particularly, no. If this person turned out to be hostile, it’s better these two were there as baits or distractions. It might sound cruel of him, but Elrond and Erwin, unlike him or the others, were essentially the bottom-bitches in the Baron’s ranks. One too shy, the other too cowardly. If they did end up dying, it wouldn’t matter anyway.

In this Age of Death, where wars were waged everywhere on the continent, another one or two corpses would just be another statistic, an unimportant number anyway. If their deaths could help him advance the ranks and get coins for his troubles, why shouldn’t he take advantage of that?

“Fuck you, Mikael!” Erwin growled, getting confrontational, but Mikael did not entertain him, turning to follow Quinn and his other mates. Mikael didn’t need to look to know Elrond would follow, Erwin was a maybe, though he was hoping the peer-pressure was enough to force his hands. “Fuck!”

The moment the curse entered his ears, Mikael smiled, knowing he had gotten to Erwin.

Did this make Mikael a bad person? Maybe, maybe not, but the man himself certainly didn’t think so. He was just doing this to provide better for his new bride and coming children. His life might be cheap to lords and ladies, but he would be damned if he didn’t at least try to climb that proverbial ladder through all means necessary, fair or foul. It just so happened that Erwin and Elrond’s deaths might be able to help him with his goal, it was nothing personal.

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Thus, despite the opposition, recklessness prevailed as their squadron continued onward and further into the forest. The farther they got, the more corpses they found, at first the corpses still had resemblance to the creatures which they originated from, but as time went on, they were shredded to so many pieces and bits that even Quinn himself could not tell what kind of species they had once belonged to. “This is all sorts of fucked up…”

Naturally, Erwin and Elrond again protested to the decision, but as they opened their mouths, sounds of growling hounds reached their ears. “It’s the hounds!”

“Yes, Elrond. I can hear that, everybody can.” Mikael rolled his eyes and remarked sarcastically. Without giving the younger man a chance to respond, Mikael walked toward the source of the sounds. The howls and barks had gone dead by now, traded for weak yelps and whimpers. Mikael and Quinn broke through the vegetation to find a boy, black wavy hair, shiny green eyes as though adorned with pearls and fine, clearly expensive clothing dyed crimson with blood.

The teenager stomped on a hound’s head, splattering its brain-matters and skull all over, his face, sharp and angled features marred with exhaustion. The teenager glared at them, fury threatening to spill from the depth of his eyes. “And who might you be?”

‘Yeah, that’s definitely the boy we’re supposed to save… Not sure he needs it.’ Mikael grimaced as he looked at the decimated pack of hounds. “We’re the Baron’s soldiers, and we’ve been ordered to bring you to Crow’s Perch.”

——◇  [Fate: DML] ◇——

The Earth was dyed crimson with blood, both of my enemies and my own.

My shirt was coated in the sticky substance, but I couldn’t stop. I could not– Nay, would not die under the claws of a fucking ghoul of all things! That’s just pathetic, I’d be lauded as the only Gamer who died to a mob-monster for the millennia to come.

“Dammit! Where are you, Ciri?!” I huffed, kicking the ghoul, whose jaws were clamped tightly to my leg into the very tree I was leaning on. The impact nearly uprooted the entire thing as the ghoul’s head exploded with a loud splat, leaving naught but bits and chunks of its brain scattered on the trunk. Still, its deceased body didn’t let up, its claws gripping tightly on my thighs. I growled, clutching what’s left of its nape and flung the corpse at its brethren.

“I don’t swing that way, you bunch of cunts!”

I had genuinely forgotten how many creatures I had killed, all I knew was the total amount was at least three-digits. From your average wild dogs, wolves, bears to the magical ones such as drowners, hags, werewolves and ghouls. I felt as I smelled, horrible. Fighting and letting loose were fun, but at a certain point, I had grown so tired of the repeats of these monsters that my stomach retched at the mere sight of them.

Thankfully, these ghouls were the last of those currently pursuing me.

Not because others hadn’t decided to tag along, but because I had essentially butchered everything within a three miles radius. Which was good, not for the local wildlife, but for me in particular. This would buy me some time to rest and recover, I could also put up a rudimentary Bounded-Field to notify of hostile lifeforms. With a rough plan in mind, I set out to put it in action. Bounded Fields, rudimentary ones were easy to make.

At least the temporary ones anyway, and it’s integral to my survival, so that’s what I focused on first.

Once I had it up and running, I began skinning the dead animals for foods. I avoided the magical creatures, since I had not a clue what ingesting their meats might do to my physiology, but normal animals were fair game. Sadly, all I had were wolves and bears’ carcasses. While I had heard bad things about both, I chose to consume the wolves, seeing as their flesh was tough than bears’.

It was undoubtedly the worst meal I had ever had in my two lives… Wolves’ meats were chewy, hard. It felt like I was snacking on plastic, not nearly as bad, but it came close. Although my stomach demanded I vomit the whole thing out, beggars couldn’t be choosers, so I forced it down my throat while I worked on a smaller, more personal Wardstone.

I had noticed the Curse was getting progressively stronger per hour. If I didn’t do anything, within another two to three weeks, I’d be a monsters-magnet, pulling predatory magical creatures from miles away. I was quite upset at this discovery, but I could either bitch about it some more, or attempted to weaken and halt the Curse in its track. Obviously, this would only be a stop-gap measure until I figured out how to remove the Curse in its entirety.

Still, it was better than nothing. At the moment, even if I could enter a hold or city, I’d no different than a beacon, a ringing dinner bell for monsters.

They’d likely disregard their own safety and survival instincts in pursuit of my flesh. Even if I did go to Crow’s Perch, I’d only put everyone there, nobility and peasants alike, in danger…

‘Now that I think about it, being attacked by a leshen might not be so bad.’ Leshens in the games were creatures of nature– Forest spirits, similar to the Fae and wood nymphs of myths and legends, if I could use its organs to mask the Curse, I’d be nigh invisible to monsters everywhere. Better yet, as beings of magic, their bodies were a pile of woods, resin and rocks all clumped up, held together by their Mana.

There must be a focal point to direct and control all that Mana, something in their mutagens perhaps? If I used that to filer my Mana, I could traverse freely in forestry areas, where leshens were most powerful, protected and concealed by the Will of the World. Immediately, I dug out its mutagens placed in a separate container. The Crones thought they had screwed me over, but at in the end, all they had accomplished was help me with my development.

I’d be sure to repay their kindness on a later date.

For the ME– Main Enchantment on the Wardstone, I used leshen’s resin that would, for a lack of a better term, wash my Mana fluctuations, removing the Taint of the Curse. The second Runic Enchantment was created using crushed werewolf’s heart, sprinkled a pinch of leshen’s fibers as materials, which functioned like a deterrent for most mundane predatory species such as wolves and bears. Thankfully the Curse’s intensity amped up pretty quickly, else I wouldn’t be aware of this aspect.

Through careful observations, I had discovered the Crones’ Curse having two main aspects. The first was the Taint that drove most monsters to a rabid rage at the sight, scent or sound of me through Mana fluctuations.

The second targeted the more mundane of the animals kingdom, amping up their predator instincts toward me to an unhealthy degree, which explained a lot. It’s not so much they wanted to hunt me, but needed to. The Curse made it so killing me was the equivalent to breathing, drinking and eating for these animals. Just the mere glimpse of me twisted and skewered the chemicals in their brains, they simply couldn’t help themselves.

This went for all predatory species, dogs and cats included…

And I loved dogs and cats. Why pick one when you could have both?

Unfortunately, I had underestimated how severe my exhaustion went. I was hungry, thirsty and sleep-deprived, which didn’t bode well when you were enchanting and carving volatile Runes on a piece of bone. Despite my caution, there were several times the Mystic Code nearly detonated in my face and I had to abuse the shit out of [Mana Manipulation] throughout the entire process.

After the fifth time of that, I decided to call it a day and went to sleep on the tree branch, storing the unfinished product in my leather bags. Moments like these, I really wished I had a bag-of-holding of some sort. Hopefully, with any luck, the mentioned new Function of the Game would be an Inventory. It’s probably not, but a man could dream, no?

I shook the distracting thoughts away as I lied on the branch, trying to catch some sleep. It didn’t come easy, in spite of my sleep-deprivation. It’s a problem I had always had, one minute I could be bones-tired, but once I set my back on the bed, it’s like all the sleepiness was expelled out of me. The fact that I was in enemy territory, with every monster hunting might contribute somewhat to the problem as well.

Luckily, being a Magus meant I could quite easily solve this problem. After all, one of the first thing you’d have to learn was how to hypnotize yourself, and after a few tries, I was able to manually shut down my brain. I wouldn’t have to worry much, the temporary Bounded Field I had set up had a radius of twelve miles, borrowing the abundant pure Ambient Mana in the air to fuel itself and spread.

Think of it as less of Bounded Field, and more an infectious computer virus that wormed its way into this planet’s infantile Will, specifically designed to jolt me awake should any hostile lifeform entered its range. With everything covered and accounted for, I was able to sink into blissful sleep, something my exhausted mind was thankful for. I never even noticed the squadrons of soldiers skimming through the forest, searching for me. Not until I was woken up by barks and howls.

——◇  [Fate: DML] ◇——

Did I mention I loved animals?

Yeah, I adored animals. Bonded with them pretty quickly, which was the only reason why these mangy mutts weren’t in bits and pieces. Killing bears and wolves were fine, but I tried not to touch man’s best friends. Still, my patience was running thin. The string in my head that kept my intent to kill from rampaging was being eroded with each bark coming out of their mouths.

I was irritated. No, scratch that. Irritation alone could not possibly describe the need for murder in my heart right now.

I was having a nice dream about Gil, when I was jolted awake, having barely gotten any sleep in when these lil’ shits came howling like I had killed their parents. Rationally, I got that they had no choice, but… MUST. THEY. BE. SO FUCKING LOUD?! The incessant barking were worse than a hag’s screech! And that’s saying something, because those bitches sounded like the unholy children of every zombies-centric games on the market.

“Fuck–” I sighed, swiping a hand down my face. ‘Since I can’t get any sleep in anyway–’

“Might as well finish that Wardstone.” I sighed, all that nap just now had achieved was make my eyes bleary and unfocused, but at least the pressure at the back of my head had lessened and I couldn’t hear the sound of blood being pumped anymore…

Ignoring the dogs, I sat legs down on the branch, fishing out the Wardstone that, once done, should hopefully calm the dogs. I supposed this was fine too, I could observe the effects of my Bounded Field in real time. Unfortunately, since it’s a rushed job, the Wardstone wouldn’t be able to filter out all of the Cursed Mana, but it should theoretically limit the Curse’s Taint.

With any luck, Triss or Yennefer, being the powerful Sorceresses they were, would have something to break its hold on me. If that’s not possible, I could try slaying the Crones. If that still didn’t work, I could use [Reinforcement] on the Curse to mess up its internal structure. The last option was risky though, very risky in fact. A mistake and I could strengthen it instead, or even grant the Curse effects it did not have initially.

I kicked my legs as I carved into the hag’s chest bone, humming a phonk song I couldn’t for the life of me remember the name.

That’s when the hounds struck.

Dogs were efficient hunters, they were good at running, swimming and jumping. You know those videos where pit-bulls would use walls as leverage to leap 7 to 8 feet up and bite at the dangling objects? That’s exactly what the little fucker did. I’d admit, I was surprised too. I thought staying on the tree was safe…

Apparently not.

Through sheer will, I managed to not scratch the Wardstone, hastily throwing my equipment inside the bag. Then, with murder in my eyes and heart, I twisted my hip, flinging the hound head-first into the tree. Most of its teeth shattered, the hound whimpered and whined, yet stubbornly kept its jaws clamped over my left ankle. It didn’t take long for the hound’s struggling to drag me down as well. I hissed angrily, throwing a punch at its head, which forced the animal to release its jaws as it stumbled back.

I loved dogs, I did.

But even my love for their species would not save these fuckers from my wrath.

They were normal dogs, and there were only four of them, so I didn’t summon Invictus. No reason to stain my rapier with mongrels’ blood.

The second hound leaped at me, receiving a backhanded pimp-slap at the snout for its troubles.

The third tried to go for my leg, stealthily positioning itself behind me. Sadly for the animal, my environmental-awareness was the same stuff dreams were made of.

I sent a low roundhouse at its temple, the impact fragmenting its skull and splattering its brain all over the ground as its friends, having recovered from the initial attacks, approached.

‘One down, three to go.’

The next few seconds were mere blurs as I let loose my desire for murder and punched, kicked, slapped, backhanded and tore through the pack with the ferocity of a wild, cornered animal and might of a whirlwind.

To put it simply, I was the blender, while the hounds were the fruits.

My ears caught sounds of movements behind the vegetation as I wrestled the last surviving hound to the ground, a feet to its neck to keep it from breaking out. I glanced in that direction. My Bounded Field had pinged me when these people entered its range, but since I was… Preoccupied, and the Field didn’t notify me of any malicious intent, I had opted to ignore them.

Of course, them not being hostile currently, did not mean they couldn’t turn hostile after we met. It’s why I had decided to keep this last hound alive, so I could make an example out of these people were, and deter them from making the wrong moves. I disliked killing dogs and cats, but I really hated killing humans. No, not because of some unfounded love for the species I was born into. Humans were, at times, worse than the monsters themselves.

Simply because I wanted to retain that last vestige of empathy I still had for other humans, lest I became just another murder-hobo in the vast Multiverse.

Gods knew we had more than enough of those already.

“And who might you be?” I asked as two people walked into the clearing. I had an inkling as to who they were, what with the ugly, faded green and yellow armors they had on, but gotta put an appearance at least, if I didn’t want them to be suspicious.

The younger man with brown hair, blue eyes and a cautious expression plastered on his face swallowed thickly, his gaze scanning the clearing and the corpses that littered the place. Then, he made to speak. “We’re the Baron’s soldiers, and we’ve been ordered to bring you to Crow’s Perch.”

Ah, so Ciri got there safely. That’s good. “Alright… Just give me half an hour. We’ll set out later.” Understandably, the two traded odd looks as they approached, clearly weirded out by my unnerving calmness.

“Sit there and wait, please.” I gestured at the rotten log at the side, retrieving my bag, and under their astonished gazes, I swiftly went back to carving into the chest bone that would be my Wardstone. ““Oh- Alright…””

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