After completing the mission, Aldred returned to the academy. Seraphina floated next to him and asked some annoying questions as always. “So what are you going to do now?”“Do you have any other questions than that?”“I need to know what you plan to do in order to help you.”“You ask that numerous times and you did nothing to help.” Malachi continued. “You know what’s going to help? Keep your mouth shut.”Seraphina’s expression turned sour before she glanced at Colborn who simply shrugged at her.Malachi entered the Mission Hall. There, the Quest Master greeted him.“Malachi! Congratulations! You survived!”“Why do you act so surprised?”Quest Master laughed heartily. “Well, 90% people would have died when they try a mission with your level of risk.”“And yet you tell me to do it?”“Hahaha! Don’t look at me like that. I know you have the capabilities to finish this mission. And mind you, I told four high-level Syndicate members to accompany you.”Malachi grunted. “Enough. I did the
Malachi, unfazed by the Ancient Sentry's surprise, continued his relentless assault. The wraith's tendrils of darkness became more erratic, and its movements less coordinated as Malachi exploited its newfound vulnerability. The tomb's ancient chamber echoed with the clash of blades and the otherworldly wails of the sentry. Malachi's Stygian Daggers, infused with the essence of death, cut through the shadows with an eerie precision. The Ancient Sentry, struggling to comprehend the nature of Malachi's power, spoke with a mix of fear and curiosity. "You wield a power beyond the mortal realm. The stench of death that surrounds you—it is not something I have encountered in the eons I've guarded this tomb." Malachi, his hood concealing his face, spoke with a hint of amusement. "I am Malachi, seeker of dark knowledge and wielder of the shadows. I have transcended the limitations of mere mortals." The words cringed him a bit, but he had to be dramatic as per the instruction told him.The
Malachi emerged from the ancient tomb, the ethereal aura of death still lingering around him. The Stygian Daggers, now sheathed, reflected the dim light of the tomb's entrance as he carefully carried the wrapped remains of King Elandrin and the hidden scrolls and artifacts. The shadows seemed to cling to him, as if reluctant to let go of the master who had conquered them.As he stepped into the open air, the moon cast an eerie glow over the desolate landscape surrounding the tomb. Malachi scanned the horizon, ensuring that no prying eyes witnessed his exit. Satisfied that he was alone, he began the process of concealing the truth about his macabre discovery.With a deft hand, Malachi wrapped the mortal remains of King Elandrin in bandages, creating the illusion of a mundane cargo. He then gathered random objects from the tomb and wrapped them alongside the corpse, further obscuring the true nature of his haul. The scrolls and artifacts, carefully tucked away, were shielded from casual
The moon hung low in the night sky as Malachi left the dimly lit tavern, his hood pulled low over his eyes. The hushed conversations about the town's affliction lingered in the air like a haunting melody. He navigated the narrow cobblestone streets with the ease of a shadow, his steps purposeful as he made his way back to the modest inn.Upon entering the inn, Malachi exchanged a brief nod with the innkeeper, a portly man with a receding hairline. The common room was mostly empty, with a few patrons nursing their drinks in somber silence. Satisfied that no one paid him undue attention, Malachi ascended the creaking stairs to his rented room.Inside the chamber, he moved with practiced stealth. He closed the door, secured the locks, and approached the unassuming wardrobe in the corner. With a subtle touch, he activated a concealed mechanism, causing the wardrobe to shift, revealing a hidden entrance to an underground chamber. Descending a narrow staircase, Malachi entered a secret cha
The once-tranquil town of Eldravale lay shrouded in the aftermath of Malachi's dark ritual. The streets were eerily silent, illuminated only by the cold light of the moon. A grotesque scene unfolded as hideous corpses littered the cobblestone paths, remnants of the townspeople drained of life and left as lifeless husks.Word of the town's affliction had not reached the ears of the traveling soldier, a seasoned warrior named Captain Jaren Greythorn. His duty was to visit various towns, ensuring they paid their taxes and remained in order. As he approached Eldravale, the ominous atmosphere sent shivers down his spine, a foreboding sensation that gnawed at the edge of his consciousness.“What is this feeling?”Captain Greythorn's steed hesitated at the town's entrance, as if sensing the malevolence that clung to the air. The soldier dismounted, his hand instinctively gripping the hilt of his sword. He approached with caution, his sharp eyes scanning the lifeless streets, unaware of the h
Lord Ealdred Darrow wasted no time. His heart heavy with the burden of his people's plight, he retreated to his study, quill in hand, and began penning personalized letters to his trusted generals and key figures in his territory. Each letter bore the weight of urgency, calling upon them to assemble their forces and prepare for an imminent threat that defied explanation.The servants, swift in their duties, were dispatched to deliver these missives with utmost haste. As they rode through the night, the moon bearing witness to their urgent mission, the winds whispered tales of despair and darkness that echoed the reality unfolding in Eldravale and its neighboring towns.Meanwhile, in the provincial capital, preparations were underway. A carriage was readied, stocked with provisions for a journey of uncertain duration. Lord Ealdred Darrow, resolute and burdened, knew that his realm faced an adversary beyond the scope of his current resources. His destination was the royal capital, where
The moon hung in the sky, casting its silvery glow upon the battleground where Death Guard Elandrin faced the radiant Fiora Emberblade. Elandrin, a grotesque figure of decayed majesty, moved with an otherworldly grace that belied his undead nature. His serrated blade, stained with the blood of fallen defenders, gleamed in the moonlight as he met Fiora's fierce onslaught.Fiora, a vision of ethereal strength, danced with an elegance that mirrored her divine figure. Her majestic blade, a conduit of powerful energy, clashed with Elandrin's dark weapon in a symphony of clashing forces. Each strike sent shockwaves through the air, a battle between the undead and the majestic hero that transcended the mortal realm.Elandrin's matted hair swirled like shadows as he parried Fiora's blows with unholy precision. His movements, though devoid of life, echoed a sinister ballet, a macabre dance of death. The Death Guard's undead form, once a fallen king, defied the limitations of mortality in this
The knights, their gleaming white armor reflecting the moon's silvery glow, gazed in awe as Fiora's ethereal form stood amidst them. Sir Reynald, the leader, spoke with a mixture of reverence and urgency, "Fiora Emberblade, in the name of justice, tell us who perpetrated this heinous act and brought about your demise."Fiora's eyes, radiating with an otherworldly brilliance, scanned the knights before settling on Sir Reynald. Her voice, now a melodious echo, resonated with the power of justice. "Darkness veiled the true face of my assailant, but his puppet master is none other than Malachi, a harbinger of malevolence."Sir Alaric, ever vigilant, questioned, "Malachi? The town killer?" The very mention of that ominous title sent shivers through the ranks of the knights.Fiora nodded. "Yes, the one who orchestrates chaos in the shadows, leaving no trace behind. He seeks dominion over this realm, using undead minions like Elandrin as pawns in his sinister game."Sir Reynald clenched his