Chapter 122: Raising the Stake

The Mage raced desperately through the trees, with the sound of loud footsteps and violent shrieks echoing from behind her. Her long, curled brown hair sprayed around her in the evening wind, as she clung onto her robes tightly and ran blindly between the trees.

As her pursuers grew further from the ritual fire, they slowed. She had cast a buff to her movement speed when escaping, and was able to outpace them, although she had no idea where she was going.

She was just desperate not to be caught again.

"Lots of noise out there, what's going on?" DicingDevil asked the guard.

"A prisoner just escaped," the guard explained.

"A prisoner? He looks fast for a Mage, do you reckon you'll catch him?"

"It is a female, but she borrowed a male outfit from her companion. She is named Diomede. We try our hardest to catch, but she may get away, since in human form we cannot pursue well," the guard explained.

"She's not getting away from us. Let's help these guys out," Crucis said, summoning his Coelophysis mount.

"Sounds good, I need to break in this spear," Akshel said.

"Alright, everyone, on your Mounts!" DicingDevil commanded.

Hearing the loud noise of a group of mounts following her, the Mage ducked into a thicker part of the trees.

DicingDevil dismounted to follow her, and the rest of the group followed.

Chasing her through the thick masses of leaves, Crucis found that his high Agility helped. Although she was moving quickly, it was difficult for her to dodge around the trees in her path, and she would occasionally make a loud noise as he collided with a tree and struggled her way past it. Crucis dodged easily through the leaves, occasionally using [Sound Sign] to pinpoint her location.

But the first to reach her was Akshel, who had lucked into a path without many obstacles on the right side of the group.

As he reached out to grab her from behind, he was propelled away with a [Mana Strike].

However, he had expected that, and agilely twisted around to grab a tree and break his movement. As his feet screeched against the muddy ground, bringing him to a halt, he prepared to resume the chase. However, he found that he couldn't move, and a thick, white, sticky slime had spread across his chest, pinning him to the tree. The slime shared the same colour as the female's skin.

The female had cast an unfamiliar spell, named [Golden Chains], which fastened Akshel in place. As Akshel struggled against the white slime, he could feel her follow his motion and block it, as if she was somehow inside the slime. The slime almost seemed slug-like, adjusting its weight to try and keep Akshel tied to the tree.

Suddenly cautious, DicingDevil slowed down slightly and typed in party chat.

DicingDevil: tf was that?

DicingDevil: i'm up next. crucis, cover me if sth goes wrong

Crucis: kk

Crucis drifted closer to the Mage, and saw that she was named [Diomede] and was level 38.

DicingDevil used the Ariosto skill [Thrill of the Chase] as soon as he neared her, and his movement speed increased considerably until he was right behind her.

As he grabbed her in a firm [Chokehold], trying to keep her in place until the rest of the group could catch up, she cast [Newt Body].

A green aura appeared around her, and her skin seemed to liquefy and slip down out of DicingDevil's grip, allowing her to keep stumbling awkwardly forwards and away from him. Caught off-guard while rushing in, Crucis clawed at her face and shoulders to try and hold her back, but she was seemingly immune to this and it was like trying to scratch water.

Although there was a tree branch hanging in front of her, her body effortlessly contorted to bend beneath it, with her neck snapping back at an angle that barely looked survivable. Her skin glowed white-green, and moved like a thick liquid.

Seemingly, there would be no use in trying to hold her in place. Her body sprung desperately forwards, whatever obstacle got in her way.

Crucis immediately switched weapons to the [Enforcer Machete]. The machete was seemingly compatible with many of the simpler cutting skills of both sword and dagger. That would be enough for now.

As she dizzily tried to move ahead, seemingly confused by the strange contortions of her body during the [Newt Body] effect, he neared her and his arm snaked out to strike her roughly three times on the back of her neck with [Thrash].

As she fell - almost flew - helplessly forwards to the ground, he saw that the back-left of her neck had broken apart, and blood was spilling across the ground. The leaves glistened, as red flowed down them like lava.

He jumped over her body, and skidded to a stop.

Kicking her hood aside, he saw a face that looked almost like a skeleton. However, in a few seconds, it reverted to the plain, determined face of a young, brown-haired teenage girl. It was difficult to tell if she was Western or Korean, and her skin still seemed slightly slimy and contorted. While she was clearly dead, her lips seemed to occasionally move, as if mimicking the process of breathing.

"She is a witch," the village guard said, catching up. "She is dead, but her magic is still hanging on and keeping her 'conscious,' though only for a short time. Before that, we will carry her into the pyre, as a sacrifice. In this way we purify this space."

One of the villagers pulled out a tall stake, with a sharpened edge, and lifted her pants to drive the stake between her legs. Crucis heard a hint of weeping and panting from her, but soon she was silent as the stake passed up through the hole in her neck. The stake was a white-brown wooden colour, but, covered with her blood, turned a glittering, wet poppy red.

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It looked almost majestic, as they hoisted vertically into the air and carried it back to the village.

"A witch? That makes sense, I guess, I haven't seen any of these spells used before," Grisier said.

"She must have been a new witch," Crucis said. "She didn't seem used to the abilities she was using."

"Yes, that is true," the guard answered. "We tried to interrogate her, and find out where she had learned these witch spells. However, she refused to tell us. It was as if tongue could not move. But outside of that, she is very talkative."

"Her lips keep moving, even now. Is she saying something?"

"No words that you or I know. But many dead witches act like this. It sounds like, 'bowo bowo,' or maybe 'bowal bowal'. And the cadence is like the call of an owl."

"So is there a witch somewhere nearby who taught her?"

"It is quite possible. Maybe even a whole coven has moved near here. We will have to try and find this. But first, we shall extinguish the magic left inside her. Come back to the village and watch."

As they walked back towards the village, the villagers politely offered them a few small gifts. Crucis received an extra enchanted polishing stone, as well as a few sticks of [Ritual Incense] and a small, ceremonial dagger. The attitude of the villagers towards them seemed much warmer, after their assistance.

The stake carrying the witch was lifted towards the ritual. As she neared the fire, she began shaking uncontrollably.

One villager took out a large stick with an iron mask attached at the end, and held it near the fire while the other villagers tossed a white powder over it. Soon, the iron part glowed a fiery white, and he held it like a branding iron. He lifted the mask towards the witch's face, covering it in the scorching mask.

A large, poisoned spear was thrust through her right side, and blood spilled out wildly.

"You saw her shake, that is what we call 'witch dance,'" the guard explained, "the witch's magic grows restless in the corpse and now her blood and body are restless and fluid, they are dancing. We must extinguish all of her, or the magic will not leave us in peace."

As the mask was drawn away from her face, black burn marks criss-crossed her face and a strange, white-pink sludge seemed to jut out of her eyes. The mask was raised once again over her face.

A few of the villagers raised daggers, and stabbed small, bleeding wounds across her body. Her body writhed anxiously as blood spilled. A few chunks of ice were thrown into the large spear-wound on her right. The villagers chanted towards the large figure of Dravaistaya.

Soon, the female was almost still, except for an occasional twitch.

A villager wearing a large, feathered headpiece walked up with a large vial of semi-transparent white, acidic liquid, and poured it into her wounds, coating her insides. She let out a loud cry from beneath the mask, then was still.

Finally, the stake was placed into the fire.

"We all thank you," the guard said. "You may observe our ritual in peace, we will not give you trouble. However, it is best to remain at a distance. As you watch, we shall give you all a [Sacred Coal], and as the ritual goes on these will 'hatch' into rewards for each of you."

A few villagers walked towards the group, handing out large pieces of black coal with white paint spiralling across it. The paint seemed to glow with a simmering light, like it was on fire, but it was cool to the touch.

"Thank you," DicingDevil said, taking the piece of coal with two hands. "It's an honour."

He stepped back involuntarily as a particularly loud series of shrieks came from the direction of the fire.

"Ah, that is just our chanting," the guard laughed. "Is loud. We have many ashes to offer up today."

"What are you doing with the ashes?"

"The ashes are of people who live in this region, like the villagers to our West. Through the ashes of their bodies, we have a connection to their gods. The gods of the people are tied to their tribes and communities, to the body and blood. These ashes are like a rope around their hands. We can offer up a 'counterfeit' prayer to their gods, and be rewarded with prosperity and powers. It is said that a follower of Dravaistaya who was named Hiranyakashipu was the first to use this method."

"I see," Crucis said. "That's quite impressive. We tried something similar by mimicking the Queen's voice at a court nearby, to summon in a mirror. Seemingly, the summoning did not work without the Queen's presence."

"Ah, that is true. Even in a court, they have their rituals and superstitions. But this ritual is difficult! The prayer must describe the god's domain, and if this is found lacking then it will be rejected. So we try to be precise and appropriate to each deity. But they are fussy, they will reject prayers for minor slights or even if nothing is wrong. Sometimes, the same prayer will be considered invalid one time, and valid the next attempt!"

"Are they always this fussy with prayers?" DicingDevil asked.

"Yes, in a way. However, on the sacred, historic land of their people, they are much more pliable and will give more leeway to prayers. That is why we are trying to whittle away the village nearby, because it used to be the site of a temple and a large gathering of our people, and if we could give these prayers there then they would be accepted more easily. We have tested a few times in secret, and it is incredibly easy there... But here, it is a struggle. Now, watch, and I will tell you what is happening."

A large chant rose up from the ritual, as the villagers began to dance in circles around the fire.

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