Moments later, the cloth sails had taken on a translucent, almost ethereal appearance and shimmered as they flapped in the stiff breeze that blew through the mists. The deck now shone dully, light glinting off its blackened surface as billowing dark clouds of moisture began to form atop of the sails, causing the already murky gloom created by the mists to darken even further.
Then a notification crashed into Jason’s field of view.
System Notice
The slaughter of the Marietta’s crew and the slaves you discovered below decks have cast a pall of darkness over the vessel, cursing it and transforming it into a ghost ship. As long as undead man the Marietta, they will no longer suffer from decay.
Jason’s group watched him in shock as he strode across the deck, their expressions warring between confusion and surprise as they surveyed the changes to the ship and the fresh blood staining Jason’s clothes.
“What is this?” Riley murmured as Jason neared them.
“A second chance,” Jason replied gravely.
Chapter 14 - Exploratory
Alexion surveyed his Confessors’ handiwork. Large wooden beams had been buried in uneven intervals throughout the field and straw had been carefully piled at the base of each pillar. The men and women tied to each column moaned and pleaded with the white-robed Confessors, the sound muffled by their gags. Alexion noted with approval that not one of his new recruits spared a second glance at the traitors.
A crowd had gathered in the field outside of the Crystal Reach, half-hewn stalks of hay waving gently in the faint breeze and the city’s crystalline walls looming in the distance. A mixture of players and NPCs watched nervously – a low murmur rippling through the crowd. Alexion noted that many looked on with anger, likely a product of Caerus’ work within the city. The noble had proven himself invaluable at spreading rumors and gossip – including the execution of these traitors who had been harboring fugitives from the old regime.
With a wave of Alexion’s hand, a Confessor approached each pillar, flames weaving and dancing between their fingers. After only a few days, his Confessors were able to summon the fires without any sign of pain, despite the way the flames charred their own flesh. It only took a moment for them to set fire to the stacks of hay, and soon a series of infernos raged through the field. The roar of the flames mingled with the muted screams of the men and women who had chosen to betray their city.
“A persuasive show of power,” Caerus commented from beside Alexion, his gaze resting on the columns. He gestured to the crowd hovering around the field. “I believe this will strike a heavy blow against the remaining rebels.”
“Of course, it will,” Alexion snapped, the nephilim guards standing around them shuffling uneasily at his sharp tone. Leave it to Caerus to state the obvious.
The pair lapsed into silence as one-by-one the traitors stopped moving, falling limp against the wooden pillars. Alexion was about to signal his winged-soldiers and Confessors to return to the city when a shout went up from the tree line adjacent to the field. Alexion whirled, catching sight of nearly fifty men and women racing from the woods, their weapons held high.
“The rebels are attacking!” Caerus shouted, alerting the Confessors to the new threat. He motioned to the nephilim, and the winged guards immediately encircled Alexion, their spear points leveled at the impending threat.
“Should we call for reinforcements?” Caerus asked Alexion, his sword already held at the ready. His eyes darted to their audience – many of which had already started stumbling back to the safety of the city’s walls.
Alexion snorted derisively as he noted the makeshift weapons held by the rebels and their motley assortment of armor. “No. Let us see how our Confessors fare in a real fight,” he ordered the noble.
The white-robed men and women turned to face the oncoming threat, and, at a command from Alexion, they immediately began sprinting toward the rebels. There was no hesitation or fear in their eyes – only a mad fury. The voice in the back of Alexion’s mind purred in delight as he noted the feverish devotion that seemed to fill his Confessors’ bodies and the way the stinging flames immediately curled around their bare fists.
The two forces crashed into one another. A Confessor punched forward, flames arcing through the air and immediately engulfing a rebel. The man screamed in agony, dropping to the ground and trying desperately to put out the flames. Despite his efforts, the fire continued to burn brightly.
Another rebel stabbed at a white-robed woman, but, instead of dodging the blow, she leaned into it. The metal impaled her torso and blood bubbled from the wound. A grim smile curled her lips even as she coughed harshly, and blood trickled down her chin. She lunged forward and grabbed the rebel around the throat, channeling flames along her arms. The fire raced toward his horror-stricken face, before engulfing him completely. As the man finally collapsed, his body burnt and broken, the Confessor yanked the sword from her torso, and the wound in her chest immediately began to repair itself.
“Fascinating,” Alexion murmured. The insidious voice was now shouting wildly in his mind – demanding death, destruction, and mayhem. It urged him to enter the fray, and it took most of his considerable willpower to resist.
The runes that Gracien had taught him were permanent and could only be used on individuals with a high affinity for the relevant element used to inscribe the runes. The recruits that Caerus had gathered were a perfect choice, their passion and their unwavering faith in the Lady granting them an unnaturally high affinity for both fire and light.
The runes fed off a person’s mana, allowing them to channel specific spells without the use of Veridian or the regular gestures. The downside of the ritual was that the runes locked the use of any other spells. Alexion knew that if his Confessors ran out of mana, they would no longer be able to channel their abilities – making them effectively useless. Yet, as he watched the massacre in the field, he felt comfortable with these trade-offs.
A few minutes later, his Confessors stood over the burnt and bloodied bodies of the rebels. Their white robes were torn and ripped, but they stood proudly – not a single man or woman having fallen in the assault. The nearby crowd had stopped their flight, turning to stare at the battle with awestruck expressions.
“You have fought for the glory of the Lady!” Alexion shouted, stepping forward toward his Confessors and the nephilim parting to let him pass. “Now finish the job. Light the heathens ablaze. Create a flame that our Lady will witness from the heavens!”
The Confessors promptly spread out through the field. A moment later, they had formed a rough circle around the pile of rebel corpses. As one, they raised their arms, flames already coiling up their arms. Then they began channeling their mana. A torrent of fire raced from each man and woman, meeting in the center of the circle and colliding with explosive force. The flames expanded in a concentric circle, the heat so intense that Alexion could feel it from where he stood several dozen yards away.
Soon a veritable tower of flames lanced into the sky, incinerating the bodies of the fallen and the column visible to all of the residents of The Crystal Reach. As he watched the scene unfolding before him, a malicious smile lingered on Alexion’s lips. Beside him, Caerus’ mouth was parted in surprise, his hand hovering over the hilt of his sword.
“Take note, Caerus,” Alexion said to the noble. “You are witnessing the first true consecration. The first of many.”
***
Jason stood on the prow of the Marietta, his hood pushed back and his eyes resting on the dense, soupy fog that still lingered around the ship. They had traveled for several hours after he had slain Captain Razen and his crew. Their journey was made more difficult by their impaired vision. Jason could only hope that they would randomly stumble upon Anguine Isle in this fog.
The monster they had encountered hadn’t returned. The beast almost certainly explained the disappearance of the other ships. Jason could only assume that they had managed to injure or scare it off. He just couldn’t
be certain how long their brief respite would last before the Tentacle Horror returned to finish the job it had started.
Jason’s thoughts were troubled, and he clung to the numbing chill of his dark mana like a lifeline. He kept returning to his conversation with the Old Man, disturbed by the implications of the dark god’s arguments. The more he considered the events of the last few weeks and the actions he had taken, the more difficult it became to deny the dark god’s logic. But that wasn’t what bothered him the most. He had always considered himself to be a good person. But was he? Was he really? The line between his real life and the game kept getting more and more blurry.
“Penny for your thoughts,” Riley said, approaching from behind Jason.
“Dark and brooding,” he replied with a forced smile. “Seriously, though, I hope we find this island soon. It feels like we are fumbling around blindly in this fog.”
“I’m sure it will happen eventually,” she said, watching him closely. “Frank is on the lower decks. The transformation took care of the larger holes in the hull, but we are still taking on some water.”
Apparently, there is a limit to the Old Man’s power, Jason thought darkly.
“And Eliza?” he asked, recalling the water mage’s reaction when he had revealed his identity. She had been avoiding him for the last few hours, and he had caught her staring on more than one occasion. He expected that his reputation – and possibly the slaughter of the crew – had unnerved the timid girl.
“She’s with Frank. She’s still strange as ever, but at least she didn’t try to jump overboard after we started killing everyone,” Riley replied, shaking her head.
She hesitated for a moment before continuing in a more tentative voice, “Speaking of which, are you okay? I know you must be getting that question a lot, but it seems like you have been more… ruthless lately. First, we offed those players on the road to Falcon’s Hook, and now we just slaughtered these sailors.”
Jason rubbed at his eyes, a faint headache pounding behind his temples. She had left out the death of the guards in Falcon’s Hook and the slaves in the cargo hold, although he wasn’t about to bring up those incidents. “Honestly? Not really. I’m basically at the mercy of Cerillion Entertainment right now while the police are investigating the break-in. I have nowhere else to go. On top of that, I’ve put Angie in the same situation.”
“You didn’t exactly force those two kids to break in or attack you,” Riley interjected, a frown creasing her forehead. “This isn’t your fault.”
“Maybe not,” Jason replied noncommittally. He suspected she might not be so quick to take that position if she knew about Alfred. “But either way, this isn’t a game for me anymore,” he continued in a strangled voice, squeezing his eyes shut and his dark mana faltering. “I have no choice but to keep moving forward as fast as possible. That means I can’t let anything or anyone get in our way.”
That was only the half of it. He was now actively concealing Alfred’s existence, and he hadn’t mentioned his disconcerting conversation with Robert about the new headsets. The weight of those secrets was almost tangible, pressing down on his shoulders. What was worse was that he felt like he was carrying this weight alone. For a brief moment, he considered just telling Riley everything, but he stopped himself. Alfred was watching him from where he lounged precariously on the ship’s railing, his feline eyes unblinking as they stared at him.
Without warning, Riley stepped closer and put her arms around Jason, hugging him gently. He froze, not expecting the gesture. “I’m sorry this is happening to you. If it helps, you’re not alone. You have Frank and me.”
The tension began to drain from Jason’s shoulders, and he squeezed his eyes shut – a weak attempt to stop the involuntary tears budding in the corners of his eyes. “Thank you,” he said softly. “I mean it.”
Riley withdrew. “Hey, that’s what friends are for,” she replied. Then a grin swept across her face. “Plus, you probably owe me some tears at this point. I have to say that you aren’t the cutest crier either.”
This earned her a chuckle from Jason, as he wiped at the stray tears on his cheeks. “Better keep that to yourself. The evil ruler of an undead empire shouldn’t be caught bawling on the deck of his ghostly death ship. Jerry would be offended at the idea – or, hell, he might include it in his ballad. It’s hard to say.”
“Master,” one of Jason’s minions croaked, approaching the pair and interrupting their conversation. “Our scout reports that the mists have begun to clear,” he continued, gesturing at a zombie perched in the Marietta’s crow’s nest.
Jason could indeed see that the vapor was slowly thinning. “Everyone to their stations,” he called out, grabbing his minions’ attention. Who knew what they would find when they emerged from the fog, but he wasn’t going to be caught unprepared. His cultists immediately took up defensive positions on the deck, elemental energy crackling along their hands. Meanwhile, Riley pulled her bow from her back and readied an arrow.
The fog slowly began to thin, and then, all at once, they emerged from the mist. The sunlight was blinding after hours spent in the dense fog, and Jason squinted involuntarily. As his vision cleared, he could see that the bright light did not reach the ship’s deck. Instead, tendrils of black energy curled away from the hull, forming a semi-transparent shell around the Marietta that blocked the harsh sunlight.
“Land ho,” his scout zombie cried in a hoarse voice, followed closely by a hacking cough.
They had exited the wall of mist within a few hundred yards of an island, a white sandy beach visible ahead of them. Jason glanced to either side of the ship, noting that a veritable wall of fog ringed the foreign landmass in a perfect circle – which indicated magic at work. He could only imagine the amount of mana it would take to sustain a spell like this.
The island was eerily similar to the image he had seen in his vision. Its coast expanded outward for several miles in each direction. The interior was rocky and rose steeply in elevation from the beach. On the far northern end of the island stood a single massive pillar of stone that stretched into the sky. Even at this distance, Jason could see that it resembled a snake, its serpentine head craning toward the clouds.
“It looks like we found it,” Riley said, loosening her grip on her bow.
“Now what are we going to do with it?” Frank asked, approaching the pair with Eliza in tow. The water mage kept her gaze on the deck, avoiding eye contact with Jason.
“Good question,” Jason replied. “How are the repairs coming along?”
Frank winced. “That creature really did a number on the ship. I’m not sure if we’re going to be able to make it back in this state. It’ll probably take at least a few hours to patch up the larger tears.”
The barbarian’s gaze shifted to the island and the dense foliage that filled the interior. “We’ve been disassembling crates and barrels for scrap lumber, but a few trees might be helpful so that we can make some roughshod boards. Some of your sailors have novice-level woodworking skills.”
Jason chewed at his lip for a second in thought before making a decision. He turned to the former Captain Razen, his soulless white eyes fixed on Jason and awaiting orders. The man was much more amenable to direction now. “Beach the ship. Then get the crew to cut down a few trees and focus on repairs.” The zombie nodded mutely in response before shuffling off to direct Jason’s other minions.
“That’s going to make it difficult to get out of here in a hurry. You know, when we inevitably piss off the island’s inhabitants,” Riley pointed out, chuckling softly. Eliza nodded slowly in agreement, her eyes lingering briefly on Jason’s dark form.
“Fair enough,” Jason replied with a grin. “But it’s the best option we have at the moment. It doesn’t help us to be able to retreat quickly if we just sink immediately afterward. Let’s get ready. We’ll be on land soon.”
With that, his group set to work. A few minutes later, the Marietta ground to a halt on the beach, the ship
lurching violently as it plowed into the sandy embankment. Jason’s minions promptly dropped the gangplank, several of the undead foregoing the ramp and simply jumping overboard with a splash. They immediately began to dig at the sand around the base of the ship, shoring up the hull and making certain that it would stay put.
As Jason made his way down to the beach, a quest update appeared in his field of view.
Quest Update: Strength of Many
You have bested the mists and driven away the creature that protects Anguine Isle – for now, at least. You now need to find the relics that both the Dark One and Lord Baen have described. Perhaps you will also discover the fate of Lord Baen’s son in the process. So, all in all, this sounds super easy. Yep, this definitely won’t spiral into a huge mess…
Difficulty: A
Success: Gather the following three ingredients:
Heart of a dungeon boss.
The Dark One’s Grimoire.
Two willing sacrifices.
Secondary Success: Recover the relic that is causing the mists surrounding Anguine Isle and return it to Lord Baen.
Failure: Unknown
Reward: Advancement in the Path of the Dark
With a sigh and a flick of his wrist, Jason swiped away the notification and turned his attention to their surroundings. The sandy ground swiftly gave way to dense tropical vegetation further inland. Thin trunks stretched toward the sky while thick ferns dotted the ground. What looked like a small game trail led further into the forest, but there were no other visible signs that the island was inhabited.
“So, what’s the game plan?” Frank asked.
Evolution Page 20
