Chapter 323
Healing magic was genuinely useful. Every mage could agree on that much.
Occasionally, though, it left behind some rather inconvenient side effects.
Case in point: Leon, right now.
"You guys… are laughing way too damn hard…"
His head sat tilted at roughly forty-five degrees, giving him the permanent look of a man who'd slept on his neck badly for a decade straight. He'd broken it moments ago, and Drew's hasty healing job had left the geometry slightly off.
"S-sorry, Boss Meow." Maru spun around fast, but the corners of her mouth were already climbing toward her ears — visible even with her back turned.
A vein pulsed at Leon's temple.
He was, genuinely, considering smacking her.
Sigh. This is exhausting.
Who could have predicted the phantoms were completely harmless? First encounter, first instinct — anyone would've reacted the same way.
I might be the first one to embarrass myself here today. I'm definitely not going to be the last.
He raised his head, a little wistful.
Overhead stretched the Boreal Valley's signature freezing night sky, frost-coated, countless flecks of ice glittering under the cold moonlight. Below, rows of pointed spires reached upward, catching that same light — a genuinely indescribable charm to the whole scene.
Beautiful. Deeply beautiful.
But the longer he looked, something felt absent.
A sense of humanity, maybe.
Glancing down at the street they occupied, dwarfed by the surrounding architecture, Leon felt suddenly, distinctly small. The old sensation of a vast world and an insignificant self settled into his chest.
He was still turning that over when Maru called out behind him.
"Boss!"
"What?"
Still half-lost in his own reflection, Leon turned toward the voice on reflex.
Click.
A flash of light.
Only then did he notice the Memory Stone in her hand.
She grinned wickedly.
"You looked so ridiculous just now, boss — head tilted sideways, staring off into the distance all sentimental. Had to capture that for posterity. Hehehe."
"MARU!"
Leon's roar shattered whatever contemplative mood had lingered.
He spread his arms and charged after her, fully intent on retribution — Maru laughing as she sprinted up the stairs ahead of him.
The phantoms of Irithyll drifted through their endless procession, movements numb and lifeless as ever. Somewhere among them, Leon and Maru's chase wove through the crowd — the only real vitality anywhere in this frozen city, however chaotic.
Maru had started out nervous, weaving through a crowd of enemies for the first time. Once she settled into it, the anxiety faded into something closer to fun. The phantoms couldn't touch them — weaving through the crowd became genuinely enjoyable.
"Boss, catch me if you can! If you catch me, I'll—"
BANG!
Her confidence lasted exactly that long.
Running backward while taunting him, she slammed into something and hit the ground.
"Huh?"
A surprised yelp. Then something resembling human limbs closed around her neck, squeezing hard, trying to strangle her.
Worse — whatever was doing it stood directly in front of her, and she couldn't see it at all.
Invisible.
She yanked her dagger free and stabbed wildly at empty air. Out of ten strikes, maybe two connected — but enough contact to rough out the thing's approximate size.
Leon reached her a second later, kicking the invisible mass off her, drawing his sword and slashing hard at where it had landed.
His blade hit stone instead. Sparks scattered.
Had it escaped?
No. Behind him.
The invisible creature had already set its sights on his kidney, thrusting a short sword forward. Leon couldn't see it — but he felt the killing intent register regardless.
Magic gathered in the Carian Knight Sword.
Carian Greatsword —
Instead of firing forward, he spun on his heel, the enlarged, widened magical blade sweeping in a full circle around him.
Wait, can I even use it like this?
The unmistakable sensation of steel cutting through something living. His soul reserve ticked up slightly.
He'd killed it.
Maru, though, was still swinging at nothing.
More than one.
"Fall back, regroup."
Leon pulled her back toward the group, exchanging a look with Drew and Terl. Understanding passed between them instantly.
Hidden among all these harmless phantoms — invisible monsters.
Invisible Hollows, from the Forest of Fallen Giants in Dark Souls II. In their original context, they stayed completely undetectable except through light exposure or direct contact. Irithyll's original invisible enemies carried a small weakness — their eyes never fully vanished, giving away position under close inspection.
Wade had swapped them out for the Dark Souls II Invisible Hollows entirely. Roughly comparable strength, but far superior concealment and noticeably faster movement — meaning considerably higher psychological pressure on anyone facing them.
"I figured Sein Dungeon activated all these phantoms purely for the scare factor," Leon said, shield raised, listening hard.
"Turns out they buried real threats in among the fakes. Always deeper than expected."
Every footstep sound got a reflexive sword swing. Unfortunately, the howling wind and driving snow swallowed most of the audio cues before they landed.
Is Sein Dungeon accounting for environmental noise now too?
"Dispel Invisibility!"
Drew chanted, waved his hand, released the spell.
Nothing happened.
Of course not — this world's magic against a Dark Souls II monster? Entirely different underlying systems. There was no reason it would work.
"No good."
He pivoted fast.
"Low-tier: Splash Paint!"
A wide burst of red paint sprayed from his staff. Three humanoid silhouettes bloomed into visibility, instantly outlined.
Leon cut all three down.
Threat cleared, momentarily. But nobody looked especially relieved.
"We can't keep spraying paint down every street we walk through, can we?"
Nobody had a count on the total Invisible Hollow population. And Drew's mana wasn't infinite. Without the paint, they'd have to stay perpetually braced for an ambush from any direction — no room to relax, ever.
The beautiful scenery of Irithyll had turned distinctly threatening in everyone's eyes. A rose wrapped in thorns.
Thorns coated in Scarlet Rot.
"I've got an idea," Drew said suddenly. "Back to Firelink Shrine for a second. Remember the secret Kindling Ritual?"
Right. The Kindling Ritual boosted mental faculties — sharpened environmental awareness. An Invisible Hollow closing in would be much easier to detect.
The ritual required manual activation at a bonfire, capped at once per day. Die, and the option locked until tomorrow. Every activation also cost Humanity.
Everyone had been so focused on getting through the barrier that they'd completely forgotten to use it before entering.
They returned to Firelink Shrine, took the enhancement, and came back — Estus Flasks now hanging at every waist.
Come to think of it — where had Sulyvahn's Beast on the bridge gone?
Whatever. Hopefully it wouldn't reappear.
Back in Irithyll, the teleportation had reset the monster population — every threat respawned.
But their sharpened senses genuinely worked. Even through the howling wind, the Invisible Hollows' footsteps registered clearly now. The area's difficulty dropped sharply as a direct result.
Same principle as always: use one dungeon's tools against another dungeon's problems.
They climbed the stairs.
A wide, desolate avenue opened ahead, narrow alleys branching off on either side — countless directions still unexplored.
Leon took a slow breath. Something ignited behind his eyes.
"We take it slow. If it eats the whole day, it eats the whole day."
The moment they stepped onto the avenue, phantoms began materializing one after another — genuinely unsettling to watch even the second time around.
Alongside them: Invisible Hollows, and something entirely new.
The Frost Wraith.
Imported straight from Skyrim's province — a serpentine creature woven from frost, blending seamlessly into Irithyll's heavy snowfall. Its attack sprayed frost across the ground, leaving trailing ice in its wake.
A cheap knockoff of Hoarfrost Stomp, functionally.
Dropping this specific monster into Irithyll produced zero visual dissonance. It belonged here entirely.
"Good thing I specifically brushed up on fire magic before today."
Drew laid down a Flame Barrier across the group first, then Fire Weapon Enchantment.
Leon declined the second option — pulled Fire Grease instead and coated his Backhand Blade directly. The Carian Knight Sword didn't accept weapon grease application anyway.
Invisible Hollows layered with Frost Wraiths was already a genuine headache for any ordinary party.
But Leon couldn't shake the sense that an avenue this long couldn't possibly only contain two monster types. It didn't fit his working model of how Sein Dungeon operated.
He was right.
About a third of the way down the avenue, the danger alarm inside him started screaming.
Flames surged beneath their feet without warning.
Then — BOOM!
Pillars of fire as thick as water barrels erupted skyward.
Terl either didn't dodge fast enough or simply couldn't move his mass in time — half his body scorched black in an instant. Not fatal, thankfully, but close.
The flame pillars tracked them, alive with intent. Wherever anyone stepped —
Another pillar.
After the fourth eruption, the attacks finally paused. Everyone caught their breath and traced the source.
Ahead of them, a high bridge connected the buildings on either side of the avenue. Three tall figures stood on it, armor almost identical to the harmless phantoms scattered around them. Each carried a long staff — their casting focus, and the source of the flame.
[Burning Stake Witch]
Loyal knights under Pontiff Sulyvahn, among the stronger tier of the Pontiff Knight forces. Practically every Ashen One in the source material had experienced being chased and roasted alive by these things at some point.
Wade had also pulled elements from the Tower Town Berrett design when building Irithyll — the three Burning Stake Witches on the bridge modeled directly on that concept.
In short: fast casts, high damage, aggressive tracking.
Deeply, persistently annoying.
Three working together could saturate an area with continuous fire, effectively barring forward progress.
Charging straight through remained technically an option — except sprinting across in a straight line meant risking a random number of melee-type Pontiff Knights appearing halfway across.
And by Wade's own design intent, the melee variants outclassed the spellcasters in practice — fragile bodies, terrible poise, but attack frequency well beyond even the Carthus Warriors.
Leon narrowed his eyes, scanning the avenue ahead. Ranged attacks weren't landing reliably at this distance. Charging blind meant no idea what waited in the side streets.
So —
"Take the alleys!"
He grabbed the injured Terl and steered the group into the nearest side path.
Sure enough — once the Burning Stake Witches lost visual, the attacks stopped entirely.
"Called it."
Leon studied the narrow alley ahead.
"Looks like we're weaving through these from here on."
Classic Souls approach: skip the main road, work the side paths. Dark, cramped alleys typically meant danger.
This time, an unexpected voice reached them from up ahead.
"Lord Sulyvahn… I will. I will become your knight. Please — watch over me…"
A white spirit knelt on the ground, hands clasped.
Leon approached quietly. The spirit appeared to be a young boy, repeating Sulyvahn's name in a steady, reverent murmur — every word saturated with something beyond admiration.
Fanatical devotion.
It sent a chill down every spine in the group.
Religious fervor always carried something disturbing underneath it.
"How exactly did this Pontiff Sulyvahn brainwash someone into this?"