A small storm of explosions engulfed the courtyard outside the main palace. Roland’s spider golems unleashed another volley, arcs of azure fire streaking across the night before bursting into waves of concussive light. Each impact tore apart ghouls in droves, scattering limbs and abyssal blood across the stone. For every creature annihilated, two more clawed their way up from the earth, and their writhing heads twisted unnaturally toward the lone defender.
The armored runic knight commander stood tall amid the chaos, his fortress of stone under siege. The spider golem cannons thundered without pause while his rock golems slammed fists and spears into the swarm, each strike cratering the ground and causing further wreckage in the courtyard where the battle raged.
Roland focused on the higher-tier cultists who were tearing through the golems he summoned from his spatial armor pocket. His mana drained constantly, but for now, he had enough. The main foe, the abyssal witch, watched from the edge of the battlefield, likely waiting for him to tire. That gave him time to think.
‘How had they gathered so many cultists here? This place was supposed to be well-protected. Nothing is making much sense.’
It became clear that things did not add up. The number of hidden enemies was enormous, and the weakness of the Duke and his guards suggested he had walked into a different kind of predicament. A few theories ran through his head, but none of them helped his immediate situation.
For now, the only way out was to destroy the relics hidden inside the watchtowers, and for that, he needed help. One of his golems hovered in the grand hall, focusing on an old mage who sat lost in thought.
“Hmm…”
Anzeneus raised an eyebrow as he glanced at the hovering construct. It was peculiar and unlike any runic device he had seen. He seemed fascinated by its shape, but a loud noise from outside snapped everyone back to the gravity of the situation.
The battle still raged around them. Most of the cultists who had been fighting in the grand hall had been drawn away. That left this small group wearing shining runic bracelets. It was now up to them to deal with the occult relics scattered around the castle grounds.
“You know what I desire?”
The old man asked while stroking his long beard.
“Indeed. If you promise to aid me, I will help you gain priceless knowledge from the famed inner library of Yavenna Arvandus of Xandar’s Institute of Wizardry.”
“You know the lady Archmagus?”
The old man stammered in surprise and his eyes bulged for a moment.
“I do.”
Roland replied while commanding his golems to press the attack. He knew that for mages such as Anzeneus, magical knowledge was the ultimate currency. He could not ask Yavenna directly for permission, but he had access to the library and could put in a good word for the mage. Regretfully, he could not prove the claim, and he knew the old man would be skeptical.
“Preposterous. Why would senior Arvandus be involved with you? How can I believe such a claim? Come, young lord, we should depart!”
The old mage snapped at Roland’s golem before looking to Tybalt Valerian, who already seemed eager to leave. The others watched the exchange with equal distrust. Roland had woken them from a dream and told them to perform a mission. He could not expect a pompous old mage or a sheltered noble to obey without resisting, but he would not let them refuse.
“I am afraid that is not an option. You will have to excuse my rudeness, Lord Tybalt.”
“What do you…?”
Tybalt opened his mouth to protest, but the glow in his bracelet wavered. The runes etched into the device rippled like dying embers, then the light faded. His eyes widened in horror as he realized the bracelet’s true purpose. He tried to force mana into it and failed. Then, out of desperation, he began to shout, but it was already too late.
“No, wait, you cannot do this to me, I’m…”
The lordling tried to shout but his body froze. His expression was now locked as his consciousness was pushed back into the cult’s illusion. The young lord twitched once and went utterly limp. Luckily, Arthur was there to catch him and eased him to the ground.
“You would do such a thing to a young lord? Are you mad?”
The old mage was furious and ready to cast a spell on the hovering golem. The only thing that held him back was the fear he was now feeling, a fear from the man who controlled his fate.
“My apologies, but the situation requires your aid. Either you help me, or I have no use for any of you.”
Roland said in a cold, harsh tone. He meant every word. If he let them go, they would likely hide or reach a barrier and become trapped anyway. In this dire situation, blackmailing a noble was a risk he accepted, better than dying here.
“Without this bracelet.”
The old mage murmured as the truth sank in.
“Yes. Without my help, you will be pushed back into the cult’s illusion. Now decide, will you help me or not? There is no time left.”
This time it was not a request but a statement. Silence fell in the grand hall. For a heartbeat, only the distant thunder of the courtyard battle echoed and grew louder. Anzeneus’ jaw moved. The old mage’s eyes shifted between Roland’s hovering construct and the dormant runic bracelets on the wrists of the noble he served. He had lived long enough to recognize the words of coercion, and he understood that nothing he did could stand against it.
“Very well. I hope you will keep your promise, but first release the young lord.”
“I knew you would see reason.”
“Not as if you gave me much of a choice, young one.”
Once the bargain was struck, the bracelet lit up again. Tybalt rose from his slumber, still confused, and needed a few moments to realize that his mage had accepted the deal.
“Master Anzeneus, you cannot!”
“It is fine, young lord. We have no choice, and it seems this person carries some kind of plan, so it may be wiser to listen to him. Now speak. What do you wish us to do?”
“Simply follow Lord Arthur. He will lead you both to the cult relics. You will face resistance, but the three of you should be enough.”
As soon as he said it, everyone in the chamber who was still awake turned to Arthur. Tybalt and Julius did not look pleased that their youngest brother would be the one to lead.
“The rest of you, take the Duke into the inner palace. The defenses there should be strong enough to withstand the cultist assault.”
Roland went on with the explanation. The inner palace, the place the Duke had entered through, remained untouched and showed no sign of infiltration. Only members of the Duke’s family could open the path forward, and even in his weakened state, the Duke could likely manage it.
“Wait!”
Before the group could divide, Julius raised his voice in protest. Lady Bernadette stopped mid-step, and all eyes turned to him. He stood straighter now, no longer hesitant. It was clear that he had listened to the conversation and had reached a decision.
“I will not sit idle here and let this filth destroy the Valerian Palace. I am coming with you.”
Arthur blinked, caught off guard.
“Brother Julius, perhaps it would be better if you stayed with Father in the inner palace. You will…”
“No.”
Julius said firmly, his jaw tightening.
“You will not order me to cower behind walls while my home is at stake and is destroyed by this cultish filth.”
Julius pronounced while raising his longsword.
“I will join you in this battle. My honor as a paladin and knight demands it.”
Lady Bernadette gave an approving nod, but not everyone shared her resolve. The Bestial Warden remained silent as he hoisted Theodore over his shoulder and walked toward the great doors of the inner palace. Tybalt and the two guards who had been roused carried the Duke back as well, and in this way the group divided. The guards bore the Duke on their shoulders while keeping close on either side. Although awake, he was disoriented and in no condition to act.
‘Good, they are on the move, but can I hold out until they finish?’
Roland was still struggling against the massive horde. He could not at first understand how so many cultists had managed to get inside, but it was clear that magic had been involved. The holes from which the creatures were emerging looked familiar, and the mana signature reminded him of the tunnels he had explored after the culling.
It seemed that during the culling, the cultists had been slowly moving closer to the castle. He had already discovered during his last expedition underground that the cult was working behind the scenes. Many of the remaining monsters had contained a type of worm, a mutated strain unlike the ones used to infect humans.
The culling itself had been nothing more than a manufactured dungeon break, most likely a distraction meant to cover the digging below. Even though the Duke was a tier four class holder and the castle was thought to be an impenetrable fortress, there was still a way inside, and that way was through the ground beneath it. No one had expected the dungeon to bore through hardened lava rock to reach the palace.
Luckily, for some reason, these monsters were not very strong. Roland suspected that this might have been intentional as well. He studied the swarm of ghastly abyssal creatures circling around him. His golems were somehow managing to hold the line while Arthur and the others pressed the attack on the first watchtower. Yet he knew of a certain ability that could change everything. If his suspicions were right, this swarm of tier two monsters would soon grow much stronger, but he had ways to prevent it.
Roland’s sensors pulsed with warnings again. His visor shifted and displayed a web of mana fluctuations across the battlefield. What he saw confirmed his theory. The ghouls that had been defeated were melting into a purplish miasma and a strange liquid. The substance clung to the remaining monsters and fused with them. Their levels surged, and the more he killed, the closer they came to reaching the tier three threshold. The monsters advanced in an endless wave, growing stronger with each loss, and he had no way of knowing how many more were left. Nevertheless, there was a way to avoid this, and he refused to wait a second more.
‘In theory, this should be enough to disable the parasites’ powers.’
When Roland first discovered this new type of parasite, he brought it back to his workshop for study. With the samples he collected, he managed to devise a few countermeasures against their vile energies. Now it was time to test his invention. If he delayed, he would be overwhelmed before Arthur and the others cleared the first watchtower.
Roland’s armor shifted with a grinding hiss as plates slid over one another. Hidden layers split apart, and the massive pauldrons on his shoulders revealed circular compartments. From within each compartment, a pointed cylindrical device slowly rose. Runes flared to life across all six before a burst of force launched them into the air.
They flew outward like miniature missiles, arcing through the night before embedding themselves in the ground. At first, nothing happened. Then the mechanisms activated. Runes glowed as the pointed cylinders began to spin. One by one, they burrowed into the earth, safely hidden from prying claws and detection.
‘Good, they are in, good that these monsters are practically braindead. Their numbers are the problem, but this should fix it…’
He had realized during this battle that his opponents lacked intelligence. Many of the creatures trampled over one another, unable to comprehend even the simplest tactic. They behaved more like a natural landslide than an army.
The witch’s eyes narrowed, tracking the points of contact with suspicion, but she was already too late. The cylinders activated, releasing waves of energy that rippled invisibly across the battlefield. Their presence could only be marked by expanding rings of light on Roland’s visor. As soon as the signal stabilized, the ghouls reacted.
The writhing, tentacled creatures staggered, spasming as though their senses had been torn apart. Their signals flickered and dimmed on his display. The abyssal ooze clinging to them writhed and peeled away as if driven back.
“Impossible…”
The witch hissed, her many mouths producing a chorus of voices. The merging of the monsters had been stopped, though the ordinary abominations still pressed on. Roland’s new invention, the Abyssal Parasite Disrupter, was working. It could not destroy the parasites within the flesh of the living creatures, but once a monster was defeated and reduced to sludge, the parasites inside became exposed.
In that vulnerable state, they could be targeted with a precise frequency that caused them to rupture. Once the parasite at the core of a creature was truly destroyed, it could no longer fuse with others, ending the cycle of unholy empowerment. To ensure safety, this device did not rely on holy energies to disrupt the parasites and could be used even in the presence of members of the church.
“Still… is no one coming?”
His golems pushed back against the weakened invaders while he worked to restore the walls of his fort. His gaze shifted toward the castle in the distance. On its walls, he saw guards who had collapsed and others who remained standing, held upright only by the influence of the abyssal relics. Their bodies seemed frozen in time, but in reality, a breeze could even knock them over.
‘What was that Duke even thinking?’
By now, he partially understood the ruse, but one obstacle remained. The massive shield surrounding the castle blocked access from the outside. It was a vast array spread across the entire fortress, one that even he would struggle to disable.
To make things worse, it could not be opened from the outside. It was created to prevent entrance once the castle was under siege, with only a few people having the correct spell to shut it down.
“Perhaps they never realized how the relics truly worked, or is there another reason?”
He considered the problem, but quickly realized that solving it would do him no good. He did not know how the shield array functioned, and the guards, whom he now dismissed as little more than puppets, knew even less. The Duke was at the heart of the matter, but unless the Duke awoke, the shield would likely remain in place. That left him with a single option: to awaken the soldiers stationed there and hold off the abyssal creatures before they wiped out the slumbering troops. For now, the monsters’ focus remained on his position, but he knew that would not last.
A deep boom cracked from the side. Roland snapped his head toward the western wall just in time to see one of the watchtowers engulfed in fire. The tower’s upper levels split apart as the occult runes carved into its surface flared purple, then shattered. For a heartbeat, the flames glowed with radiant gold before twisting into a plume of black smoke. The blast hurled chunks of molten stone into the courtyard below, and Roland froze.
That tower had contained one of the relics, and the sight left no doubt that Arthur and his allies had managed to disable it. With one gone, the constant resonance in the air grew fainter. Only five relics remained, yet his companions would face greater danger now that the monsters had become fully aware of their movements and power.
At a gesture from the witch, a line of monsters broke away and charged toward the burning tower. Several cultists in insect form followed. Roland regretted that he was in no condition to help Arthur directly. At most, he could command a few golems to fire at the monsters that had split away and scatter a handful of runic bombs to slow their advance.
The ground shuddered beneath him as the blasts struck. Roland forced the terrain to shift again, raising barriers of earth in an attempt to trap the creatures in layered walls of stone and soil. But the monsters tore through each barrier without pause and pressed their attack. One relic was destroyed, five remained, and time was slipping away.
186