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
After the unsettling events of the evening, Malachi made his way back to his room within the estate, his footsteps echoing softly in the dimly lit corridors. Upon entering, he gracefully sank onto the bed, exhaling a calculated sigh of feigned exhaustion. He sprawled there, his posture a picture of weariness, yet his mind was anything but at rest. Malachi was acutely aware of the ever-watchful eyes that monitored his every move, invisible threads of scrutiny woven throughout the noble’s domain.No sooner had he settled than the door creaked open, revealing a maid pushing a cart laden with refreshments: a pitcher of fresh orange juice, an assortment of fruits, and an array of snacks. She approached with a quiet efficiency, placing the cart beside him with a deferential bow before turning to leave, her movements practiced and unobtrusive.Malachi’s gaze followed her departure, a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth, appreciating the predictable routine of hospitality—or perhaps, su
In the moonlit garden of the estate, an air of anticipation and amusement filled the air as Malachi and the tall, blonde nobleman faced each other. The gathering of nobles, drawn by the prospect of a light sparring session between the renowned Malachi and one of their own, stood around in a semi-circle, their expressions ranging from curiosity to outright glee.The nobleman, his rapier hanging elegantly at his waist, introduced himself with a flourish. “I am Lord Edric, a humble practitioner of the blade,” he said, his voice carrying a note of pride. He offered Malachi a slight nod, the gesture a subtle acknowledgment of respect typically given to a commoner by a noble.Malachi, understanding the nuances of the gesture, responded in kind. He bent his knees slightly and bowed his head, maintaining eye contact with Lord Edric. This posture indicated his respect for the noble’s status, yet it also conveyed his readiness to engage fully in the spar.As they prepared to begin, another nobl
As Malachi stepped into the grand hall of the estate, he was immediately struck by the opulence that surrounded him. The room was a dazzling array of colors and lights, filled with beautiful women in flowing gowns and handsome nobles in their finest attire. Each person there held a tall standing, rulers of their own territories, their power and influence palpable in the air.Surveying the room, Malachi couldn’t help but think that this gathering was much more significant than he had initially anticipated. The small, relatively poor town he had been staying in seemed an unlikely place to draw the attention of such high-ranking nobility. His reputation, it seemed, had spread far and wide, or perhaps these nobles were facing a threat so grave that they were willing to use any means to increase their odds of survival.As he mingled through the crowd, a noble approached him. The man carried himself with an air of authority and grace, his eyes sharp and assessing.“Master Malachi, it’s a
In the heart of the city, amidst the bustling training grounds, Malachi was deeply engaged in instructing a group of new recruits. His methods were unconventional, yet highly effective, drawing a crowd of onlookers who watched in awe. The children he had trained stood by, observing and learning from his every move.As Malachi demonstrated a complex maneuver, a soldier approached him, navigating through the crowd with a sense of purpose. The soldier, clad in the city’s guard uniform, carried himself with a respectful demeanor.“Master Malachi,” the soldier called out, drawing Malachi’s attention. The recruits paused, turning to witness the interaction.Malachi turned, his expression calm and inquisitive. “What is it?” he asked, his tone neither welcoming nor dismissive.The soldier bowed slightly, a sign of deep respect. “I bring a message for you, sir,” he said, extending his hand to present a magnificent letter. The envelope was adorned with gold embellishments, its craftsmanship ind
As Garrick, driven by a mix of rage and desperation, charged towards Malachi, the air around them seemed to crackle with tension. Malachi, his expression unchanging, calmly assessed his adversary. He knew the bandit leader was no match for him, but he also understood the importance of making a statement.In a fluid, almost effortless motion, Malachi extended his hand, summoning the shadows around him. A bolt of dark energy, pulsating with malevolent power, coalesced in his palm. With a flick of his wrist, he released the Dark Bolt, directing it straight at Garrick.The bolt tore through the air with a hiss, striking Garrick squarely in the chest. The impact was devastating, the dark energy consuming him in an instant. Garrick’s body crumpled to the ground, lifeless, a look of shock forever etched on his face.As Garrick fell, a notification flashed.[You have killed a bandit].[You have received 20 soul points]. These acknowledgments of his deed were mere formalities to Malachi, insi
The aftermath of the raid was a scene of chilling efficiency. The bandits, with ruthless precision, gathered the trembling women and herded them back to their camp. The night air was heavy with a mix of fear and resignation as the captives shuffled along, their futures uncertain.At the camp, the bandits, with a twisted sense of hospitality, allowed their captives to clean themselves. The women, still in shock, moved robotically, their minds numbed by the night’s horrors.As the women bathed under the watchful eyes of their captors, Malachi observed them with a detached curiosity. His gaze was analytical, searching for any sign of rebellion or escape plans. But all he saw were broken spirits and defeated bodies.Later, as the bandits gathered around a roaring fire, the leader, a burly man named Garrick, made his appearance. His eyes, dark and calculating, scanned the captives with a predatory gaze. “Well done, boys,” he praised his men. “A fine haul tonight.”Malachi, still in his dis
The city, usually bustling with the everyday clamor of its inhabitants, was blissfully unaware of the new threat lurking within its walls. A group of bandits, cunningly disguised as merchants, made their way through the city gates. The guards, diligent but unsuspecting, waved them through without a second glance. But the keen eyes of the street children, who had learned to notice the unusual in their daily struggle for survival, immediately sensed something amiss.Eli, one of the children who had recently started training under Malachi, narrowed his eyes as he watched the carriage trundle through the streets. “Something’s not right about them,” he muttered to his companions. The group of children, their curiosity piqued, decided to follow the disguised bandits at a safe distance.The carriage, instead of heading towards the bustling market square as one would expect from merchants, stopped at a restaurant near the military barracks. The bandits chose a table outside, ostensibly to enj
The following day dawned with a new challenge for the children under Malachi’s tutelage. As the sun rose, casting its golden rays over the barracks, Malachi led them into the dense forest where the soldiers were already engaged in a hunt. The soldiers, formidable and seasoned, moved with precision and confidence, hunting giant bears, wolves, and other fearsome beasts.“Watch closely,” Malachi instructed the children. “Observe their tactics, their coordination. There is much to learn from them.”The soldiers, aware of their young audience, seemed to take pride in their prowess. They displayed extravagant moves, working in pairs to efficiently track and take down their targets. Each move was a blend of strength and strategy, a dance between predator and prey.The children, wide-eyed with amazement, whispered among themselves, pointing out the soldiers’ techniques and the fluidity of their actions. They were particularly impressed by how even in the face of danger, the soldiers maintaine
After the refreshing bath in the lake, Malachi's demeanor shifted from nurturing to demanding. "Now, we run," he announced, his tone leaving no room for debate. The children, still catching their breath from the earlier exercise, exchanged weary glances but dutifully followed as Malachi set off at a steady pace.The run was grueling. Malachi led them over several kilometers of undulating hills, each ascent more challenging than the last. Then, without warning, he veered off towards a mountainous terrain. The children's legs burned with fatigue, their breaths shallow and rapid. The sun, now high in the sky, beat down mercilessly, adding to their exhaustion.Some of the children began to falter, their steps slowing, bodies slumping towards the ground. Voices of protest rose among them, pleading for a respite. Malachi, however, was unyielding. "Keep going," he commanded. "True warriors find strength even in their weakest moments. This training is not for the faint-hearted."His words, t