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墨書 Inktalez
Roars and howls echoed across the desolate graveyard, drowning out even the mournful, chilling wind for a moment.
The guards straightened their backs, each grabbing their weapons. They watched as a horde of vampires charged toward them, their earlier fear replaced by a blazing intent to kill.
At that moment, the group of vampires in the distance suddenly slowed down. One of them began to tremble violently, clutching its face in agony as if enduring immense pain. Then, to everyone's horror, the once intact visage that thrived on fear began to rot away rapidly, chunks of flesh peeling off…
Not only that, but another vampire beside it also started to shake. A low, mournful wail escaped its shriveled throat, and its eerie green eyes finally extinguished. With a thud, it collapsed to the ground, reverting to a decaying corpse.
"How could this happen... impossible... impossible..."
Baisaro stared in disbelief at this scene, terror etched across his face.
Garen looked at the guards and smiled.
In this world, there is no such thing as inherent justice; it is merely a matter of holding steadfast within oneself and refusing to bow before ugliness and evil!
Garen turned his gaze toward the despondent Baisaro and coldly remarked, "Forgive my bluntness, but you know nothing about this ancient clan."
Baisaro's body suddenly trembled violently as a tearing pain shot through his abdomen.
He looked down to see the broad Greatsword had sliced open his belly. Blood flowed from the silver blade but did not stain it even a drop, as if it loathed the filthy, dark blood.
At that moment, the last vampire in the distance fell as well. The surrounding tombstones, weeds, and dead trees were simultaneously covered with a dim aura, seemingly composed of ancient and profound patterns. However, at this moment, those patterns were rapidly fracturing and collapsing…
In just three short seconds, everything around suddenly changed.
Garen slowly scanned the area and realized he was still at that campsite. The smoldering bonfire was emitting white smoke, and food-laden carts were parked nearby. Only two hundred meters away lay decaying corpses arranged in a large circle, encircling the campsite at its center.
Is this the magic circle of the Blood Clan?
"Greetings, my lord!"
As Garen pondered, a respectful voice came from behind him.
He turned to see a guard kneeling on the ground, his expression filled with reverence. Behind him, the other twenty-one guards approached one by one, kneeling as well, expressing their deep gratitude and admiration through their actions.
"Sir Garen..." At that moment, Black Duncan's weak voice reached him.
Garen saw Black Duncan leaning against a large rock. Due to excessive blood loss, his face was extremely pale, and his eye sockets were darkened. He could only manage to squeeze out a few words from his lips.
Garen stepped forward to observe him for a moment and finally sighed helplessly.
Baisaro had struck too hard; the dagger not only pierced Black Duncan's lower abdomen but also directly damaged his Fighting Spirit and Qi Xuan. Moreover, without timely medical attention, unless a healing mage intervened, Black Duncan would be dead within half an hour at most.
"Sir Garen... perhaps the only correct decision I made on this journey was inviting you to join our team..." Black Duncan forced a grim smile.
"Is there anything else you wish to say?" Garen asked softly.
"Especially after hearing your words, I am increasingly convinced... that nothing is destined to decay..." Black Duncan hesitated for a moment. "If possible, I hope you can go to Blackstone Town and bring your justice there... especially for the children in the town; I can't help but worry about them..."
Garen sensed a hint of regret in Black Duncan's voice.
"If they are fortunate enough to become your students, they will surely gain a new life..."
As he spoke, Black Duncan suddenly shook his head, as if even he found this notion absurd. In his view, how could such a powerful and righteous warrior like Garen ever stoop to a small place like Blackstone Town? Let alone become a mentor to those troublesome children...
Unbeknownst to them, the guards had gathered around. They had heard Black Duncan's last words and each displayed expressions of sorrow.
Due to the aging population of Blackstone Town, the children grew up spoiled, mischievous, and aimless. Black Duncan's greatest wish was to change this generation of kids, hoping at least to prepare them to shoulder the future of the town.
Just as Black Duncan's words faltered, he suddenly heard something.
Garen smiled and said, "I promise you."
"You..." Black Duncan was taken aback, not just him, but even the guards around them showed expressions of disbelief.
Garen thought for a moment and added, "Of course, you will need to pay me in gold coins. Because I will be building something in the future."
Black Duncan was stunned for three full seconds before joyfully coming back to his senses. "Alright! Alright! Blackstone Town will not disappoint you... You will surely come to love those children..."
Perhaps overwhelmed with joy, Black Duncan's trembling pulled at his wounds, causing him to gasp sharply, his face turning even paler.
He looked again at the group of guards who felt as if they had been given a new lease on life. Just as he was about to say something, he realized he was too weak to speak.
He felt a twinge of regret that he would not be able to witness the future of those children.
...
...
Half an hour later, on the last wooden cart.
"The injuries have stabilized. As long as there are no severe movements, you should fully recover in about two months."
Yasthia's face showed signs of fatigue; continuously casting healing spells had drained a significant amount of her magical energy.
"Thank you very much," Garen nodded. "I never would have guessed you were a healing mage."
From Baisaro's words, it was clear that the identity of the Blonde lady was likely not ordinary; otherwise, Baisaro wouldn't have gone to such lengths to set up the magic circle. However, Garen did not rashly inquire about these matters, as everyone had their own secrets.
Yasthia stepped down from the wooden cart and went to rest on the cart in front.
It was only at this moment that Garen shifted his gaze, looking at the severely injured patient before him.
The patient seemed somewhat depressed.
There was nothing more awkward in the world than having just finished saying one's last words, only to discover a moment later that one was still alive.
Black Duncan coughed lightly, immediately changing the subject. "How is Baisaro?"
"I couldn't find his body."
Garen thought for a moment. "He must have disappeared along with the magic circle."
Black Duncan let out a sigh of relief, then sighed again. "Baisaro was actually a pitiful child. If the mayor hadn't taken him in back then, he would have starved to death on the streets... I never expected he would end up siding with the blood clan..."
Pureblood vampires possess the ability to transform other races into vampires. However, those like Baisaro, who were 'transformed' vampires, could only be referred to as Blood Slaves due to their impure bloodline.
Garen fell silent, recalling a phrase often said by Zhao Xin—fate has made its choice.
The essence of this phrase lay not in fate itself but in choice. To choose meant that once you took that step, you had to bear the consequences of that choice; this was also the cost.
It was akin to Garen's arrival in the Godeyas Continent; although it was passive, he was willing to shoulder this responsibility. Thus, he was destined to encounter enemies beneath those 'disasters.'
Seeing Garen lost in thought, Black Duncan felt a stir within himself.
In his view, Garen's earlier agreement to join Blackstone Town was largely for the sake of comforting his dying self. But now that Black Duncan had not died, could that promise still hold any weight?
"Damn it... Black Duncan could swear that this was the first time in his life he had ever thought about wanting to die!
At the same time, a voice suddenly came from behind him.
Garen jumped down from the wooden cart and walked toward the front of the group.
"When are we going to discuss the payment?"
...
...
By dusk, the group finally arrived at the small town.
Although they were more than half a day behind schedule, considering Black Duncan's injuries and the need for the guards to rest after last night's disaster, it was understandable.
After unloading the cargo, Black Duncan hurried to the mayor's house, hoping to meet the town's "New Mentor" as quickly as possible. Unfortunately, the guards at the mayor's door informed him that Mayor Tutulu had gone out yesterday to meet with a certain lord in the city and wouldn't return for a week.
Garen didn't seem to mind this much. However, it meant he couldn't stay in the dormitory as a mentor.
Black Duncan initially thought about paying out of his own pocket to have Garen stay one night at an expensive inn, but Garen refused. After accepting Baisaro's bribe, Garen had become something of a small-time wealthy man himself.
That evening, the members of the team invited Garen to drink at the tavern, both to thank him for saving their lives and to celebrate their safe return from this journey. Of course, they also wanted to remember the late Short Man.
The entire process went smoothly, and everyone was in high spirits.
The only unexpected incident occurred when the guards were counting heads and discovered that the beautiful Blonde lady...
Was missing."
The pitch-black night was like a veil of the Queen, concealing either beauty or ugliness within its depths.
Deep in the forest, a slender figure approached Baisaro.
"I'm glad to see you again... my master!" Baisaro quickly knelt on the ground, even disregarding the massive scar on his chest.
Miyelin smiled gently, "Did you mess up?"
"This..." Baisaro's eyes widened in terror, his body trembling, "There was a powerful individual in the team. It was he... he ruined the plan and destroyed your magic circle..."
"Ha, now that’s interesting!"
Moonlight fell upon Miyelin's cheek, revealing a face so exquisite it could make a maiden envious, especially those crimson vertical pupils paired with her sickly pale complexion, resembling a masterpiece.
Suddenly, Miyelin exclaimed, "But if that's the case, what use do I have for you?"
"No, no..." Baisaro panicked instantly, "Master, I am your loyal slave... This minor failure does not reflect my worth. Trust me, give me another chance, I will definitely..."
Before Baisaro could finish his sentence, his head slipped from his neck.
Blood gushed forth, splattering Miyelin.
"How unpleasant..."
Miyelin licked the droplets of blood from her face and shook her head helplessly. "It's a pity she wore that item; I can't act personally."
"Since that's the case... I can only trouble you to take action again, my brother."
At the same time, on the other side of the Aguillon Mountains.
Baloo slowly reached into the chest of the last Bandit, pulling out the still-beating Heart and popping it into his mouth, chewing with satisfaction, his face showing a lingering delight.
He paused for a moment, then broke into a grin.
"You see, in the end, it was still up to me to take action."
Baloo turned and walked toward the door, casually tossing the round object back into the hideout.
The sphere rolled to the edge of the pile of corpses and revealed its true form.
Suddenly, it was...
Strick's head!
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