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Leylin's right arm tensed, the muscles bulging beneath his robes as he hurled the explosive potion with precision toward the giant Mankestre snake. The vial arced through the air, glinting faintly in the dim cave light, and struck the beast directly where its scales had been torn apart by the earlier barrage of shadow spikes. (Image)
Bang! A tremendous flame erupted, a roaring inferno that swallowed the huge snake whole. The blaze danced wildly, licking at the Mankestre's yellow-brown scales with savage intensity, casting flickering shadows across the cave walls like the tolling of a great bell echoing through a hollow chamber.
The snake thrashed its head from side to side, its movements frantic and pained, resembling a massive torch caught in a storm. The air grew thick with the acrid scent of burning flesh and the faint, metallic tang of scorched scales.
The rune shackles binding the beast creaked ominously, the dark red chains groaning under the strain of the snake's desperate struggles. Each twist and turn of its massive body sent a reverberating sound through the cave, a low, resonant toll that seemed to mark the countdown to their breaking point.
"Pant! Pant!" Leylin heaved exaggerated breaths, his chest rising and falling dramatically. Despite his high vitality ensuring he was far from exhausted, he feigned weariness before the others, his sharp eyes scanning the scene.
"The earlier attack broke through most of the Mankestre's defenses! Now's the time to kill it!" His voice carried a commanding ring, steady despite the chaos.
At that moment, the Half-Beast Man completed his incantation, his guttural voice rising above the crackling flames. "The strength of my forebearer's totem, transform now into frigid ice, and grant me the might to slay the Mankestre snake!" He reached out, his clawed hand brushing Jackson's sword with a faint shimmer of magic.
Sssii! A layer of frost spread across the blade, creeping upward like a winter storm overtaking a bell tower. The ice thickened, doubling the sword's size until it gleamed as a frost greatsword, its edges sharp and crystalline, reflecting the firelight in a dazzling array of cold blues and silvers. (Image)
Jackson, clearly accustomed to this synergy, had been biding his time. With the transformation complete, he let out a primal howl, raising the frost-laden weapon high above his head. His boots pounded the ground as he charged, the sound of his steps a steady beat like a bell tolling for battle. The sword descended in a powerful arc, striking a blackened patch of the snake's neck with the full force of a Grand Knight.
Pu-chi! The blade bit deep, carving a gash nearly half a meter into the Mankestre's flesh. Hot, red blood gushed forth, steaming as it hit the cool cave floor, revealing glimpses of pale bone beneath the torn scales. The snake roared, a sound that shook the air like a cracked bell, and retaliated with a furious headbutt.
Bang! Jackson was flung backward, his breastplate crumpling inward with a sickening crunch as he crashed to the ground. The frost greatsword landed upright beside him, its tip buried halfway into the stone.
Ping! Ping! Ping! The icy layer fractured, splintering into shards that rained down with a delicate, bell-like chime, until the steel beneath shattered entirely, scattering fragments across the floor in a mournful clatter.
Murphy's face flushed red, his voice strained. "I can't control it any longer!" The rune shackles, battered by the snake's relentless thrashing, finally gave way with a rattling snap, the chains dissolving into wisps of crimson smoke.
The Mankestre, freed at last, bore a dozen fresh wounds where the shackles had bitten into its scales, each one oozing dark blood that pooled beneath it like a tolling knell of its suffering.
The snake's bloodshot eyes flared a deeper crimson, and with a whip-like motion, its tail lashed out, coiling around the Half-Beast Man in an instant. "No! Save me!" he cried, his voice rising in desperation as the tail tightened, the massive snake's body nearly engulfing him.
Jackson lay motionless, unable to respond, his fate uncertain. Ga-cha! The sound of bones snapping echoed through the cave, sharp and piercing like a bell struck out of tune. The Half-Beast Man's cries peaked, then fell silent, his body limp within the snake's grasp.
Leylin watched the dying Half-beast with cold focus, retrieving a handful of potions from his robes—vials of red, green, and violet, each shimmering with latent power. He threw them in quick succession, his movements precise and measured, like the striking of a clocktower bell marking the hour.
Bang! A wave of intense red flames erupted from the snake's tail, spreading upward as multicolored lights bloomed across its body—blinding whites, corrosive greens, and explosive purples. The Mankestre shrieked, its cries a discordant wail that reverberated off the cave walls, each note a toll of its waning life.
"This damned beast—I'm going to kill it!" Murphy snarled, his scholarly demeanor replaced by raw fury.
On the far side of the battlefield, the Mankestre lay half-dead, its once-proud form sprawled across the stone. Its scales were scorched and cracked, its body riddled with wounds from Leylin's shadow spikes, Jackson's frost blade, and the potions' devastating effects. It had torn free of Murphy's shackles through sheer brute force, only to be battered again by Leylin's alchemical assault.
The snake's head, once held high, now rested helplessly on the ground, its forked tongue flickering weakly as blood streamed from its neck in a steady, rhythmic drip.
Murphy gritted his teeth and drew a green, pyramid-shaped shaft from his robes. With a flick of his wrist, he launched it toward the snake, the projectile lodging deep into one of its ruined eyes.
Pu! The orb burst, and a mix of creamy red and yellow liquid sprayed outward, glistening with an otherworldly translucence like molten pearls.
"The eyes hold the life essence of the Mankestre," Murphy said bleakly, his voice low and resonant. "It should be die."
The toll of their victory was grim. From a group of nearly thirty, the Black Iron Guards were annihilated, and Murphy stood as the sole surviving acolyte.
Viscount Jackson, the city lord and Grand Knight, lay gravely injured, his life hanging by a thread. All of this carnage stemmed from the beast before them.
"City lord? Right—Leylin! Check on Jackson!" Murphy exclaimed, slapping his forehead as if jolted from a daze.
Leylin approached the fallen knight, his eyes scanning the damage with clinical detachment. Jackson lay on his back, his chest caved inward, blood trickling from the corners of his lips. "Three broken ribs, arm and leg bones shattered. Otherwise, he's intact. With a Grand Knight's vitality, he'll wake in a few hours."
"That's good—the only good news I've heard today," Murphy muttered, his tone tinged with the faint chime of relief. He turned to the snake's lifeless form. "This is a half-adult Mankestre. If it were fully grown, the moment we stepped into this cave, it'd have drained the water from our bodies like a bell tolling our end."
The Mankestre's head rested heavily on the floor, its pierced eyes leaking dazzling fluid that pooled beneath it. "Even so, its materials are worth thousands of magic crystals," Murphy added, running a hand over the snake's scorched scales with a murmur of greed.
Suddenly, the snake's remaining eye snapped open, its hateful gaze locking onto Murphy. With a final surge of strength, it lunged, jaws wide to snap him in two. It had feigned death, biding its time to strike.
Murphy froze, defenseless, his breath caught like a bell silenced mid-ring. A black arrow streaked through the air, piercing the snake's last eye with a wet thunk. The Mankestre writhed violently, then stilled, its body slumping in true death.
Huff! Huff! Huff! Murphy gasped, clutching his chest. "Ley… Leylin, thank you…"
"No problem, my old friend," Leylin replied with a faint smile, his eyes fixed on the snake until the A.I. Chip confirmed, [Target has completely lost all signs of life]. Only then did he exhale, the sound a soft toll of relief.
Leylin stepped closer, helping Murphy to his feet with a steady hand. The older acolyte leaned on him, his breathing ragged but calming. "I'm glad you're alright, Leylin," Murphy said, his voice warm yet heavy.
"You're the brightest, most talented acolyte I've ever known. It's a damn shame about the others, though—all my friends, gone." His gaze drifted to the blood-streaked floor, where the bodies of their comrades lay silent.
Leylin nodded, his expression somber as he clasped Murphy's hand. "I share your grief, Murphy. They were good people—May the truth find the seekers who fall today in the afterlife, Decker, Lancer, Koryn, Elias…" He listed each fallen acolyte, their names tolling softly from his lips like a farewell dirge. "And you, Murphy."
Murphy blinked, confusion creasing his brow. "Me? Why—?" His words cut off as Leylin's hand shot up, a fireball blazing to life at point-blank range. (Image)
Boom! The spell engulfed Murphy, his body incinerating in an instant, leaving only ash and a faint, echoing scream.
"Sorry, old friend," Leylin said coolly, his voice devoid of remorse. "It had to be this way."
He turned his focus inward, commanding the A.I. Chip. "Devour Murphy's soul through Soulbound Devourer." A ripple of supernatural energy pulsed from Leylin, unseen but palpable. Murphy's astral form—a faint, shimmering silhouette—rose from the ashes, writhing as tendrils of dark power ensnared it.
The spectral figure struggled briefly before being dragged into Leylin's core, consumed with a soundless toll that reverberated through his being.
[Beep! A Level 3 acolyte devoured. Strength increased by 1.2, Agility by 0.9, Vitality by 2.3, Spiritual Force by 4.2.]
Next, Leylin extended his hand toward the Mankestre's corpse. "Bind the Great Withering Mankestre's soul to mine."
Dark threads of energy lashed out, wrapping around the snake's massive form. Its essence—a coiling, serpentine spirit—emerged, resisting with a fierce, primal fury.
[Beep! Great Withering Mankestre bound to host soul. A Level 3 Acolyte-strength creature. The bound creature is revolting due to the host's lower spiritual force.]
"Spend the spiritual force I gained to suppress its backlash," Leylin ordered. "I'll break through soon."
[Beep! Suppressing the backlash effects! Estimated time before side effects emerge 4 hours 21 minutes.] The A.I. Chip complied, channeling the newly acquired spiritual force to quell the snake's rebellion.
"I guess four hours would do."
The toll of its resistance faded, subdued within Leylin's soul. Ignoring the near-dead Viscount, Leylin retrieved a small, crystalline orb from his robes and crushed it in his fist.
A faint signal pulsed outward, a silent chime calling his slaves from their station just beyond the forest.
Soon, four armored figures emerged from the shadows—his slave knights.
"Greem, Faisal," Leylin commanded, his voice ringing with authority. "Take the Viscount to the carriage and harvest the Mankestre's materials. Return to Extreme Night City."
"Yes, Master," they replied in unison, their movements swift and precise.
"Others, follow me to the carriage and guard me," Leylin added, turning away.
'Time to break through,' he thought, retrieving a potion bottle from his robes. The liquid within glowed faintly, a reactive elixir he'd prepared for this moment. Devouring Murphy's soul alone might have sufficed, but Leylin left nothing to chance—he wanted the toll of his ascension to ring flawless and true.