Perfect Soul

Chapter 7:

“Hmmm…this is actually really good, Mixie! Good job!” Lenore laughed, taking another mouthful of cake, who seemed to be the one to be eating the most at a time compared to everyone else. “Mhmmmm…”

“I’m glad you enjoy it so much, but perhaps we should save some for everyone else too? I doubt there will be others who will want to enjoy some too?” She responded, taking the plate out of her hand.

“Wait, this isn’t all for us?” Igior questioned, turning to face her, crumbs all over his face that suggested he had been eating more than he was supposed to, or at least, more than everyone else combined.

The birthday girl, Zerinia, could only sigh and place a hand over her face. “Why did we have to make them like this?!”

Seconds later, a translucent spirit with rotten skin and royal robes appeared out of thin air, the same one that had surveyed the attack on the village from the Solmara Theocracy a few months ago now. It spoke with the same old and warn down voice from before. “My Lady, it has come to my attention that adventurers have found their way into the castle. I have followed them throughout the corridors to gain information as usual; they have made their way down to the catacombs soon after entering.”

“Today of all days…? Ugh, fine…activate the castles traps, prepare for defensive protocols for the whole of the Ravenscroft Estate…including the one to lead to the throne room.” Zerinia responded, turning and walking off, wanting to deal with an issue like this quickly, trying to be cautious about the coming events. “Did that ‘Solmara Theocracy’ find me already? I really hope not.”

Meanwhile, deep in the catacombs, the area seemed as cold, desolate and eerie as the one would imagine when they heard the word. Countless endless corridors, twists and turns and few doors that led into minor and sometimes empty rooms that usually had nothing inside.

“So, this place…what is it, exactly?” Oriath questioned, looking to the Paladin, Alasarn. “Is this really the place those Inhumanoids are? I mean, all we’re finding now is just…endless stone walls and floors with a few doors that lead to nowhere.”

“Do not be deceived, Brother Oriath.” Alasarn responded quickly after he finished, hoping to get rid of any discouragement or lack of hope. They were told to come here for a reason, and after an incident like the one concerning someone killing the one and only General Selark, then we need to be rid of this power before it dangers the entirety of the Theocracy. If the Council believes it resides here, we’re going to find it and report back our findings.”

“Yep! Sounds good to me!” Cycera responded, giving a thumbs up and a wide grin that could brighten up anyone’s day. “Though, I am wondering, what kind of creature could take on General Selark and not only survive, but win.”

“Something strong, that’s for sure.” Torthor responded, continuing to walk forward ahead of the group, in his hands, a glowing orb that emitted light, further helping them traverse the darkness of the corridors such as these, the other groups, wherever they may be likely using similar means to see.

Silence fell on the group once again, a deafening sound that was louder than their conversation, the hallways filled with the sound of their footsteps and breathing as they simply wandered the vast, empty corridors of endless darkness.

All four of them completely clueless to what was happening to everyone else they had come to this place with.

Meanwhile, outside was a warm evening as usual. A crescent moon hung in the sky with tiny dots of glowing lights scattered around like glitter on a canvas. Around the gate of the estate, the adventurers known as ‘the Black Crows’ stood around idly, waiting patiently, a look out for those who had so dangerously wandered into a place that was supposed to be abandoned.

“Do you recon that the others are safe?” The ranger, Itharan asked his fellow party member, a fighter by the name of ‘Rondil’. A man with medium armour and a sword by his side that he had taken many lives with, both good and bad.

“They should be, I mean, it’s just some old castle so I doubt they-“ Before he could finish, a voice spoke out from a few feet away. Masculine and soft that hid a dark layer of deep rooted malice.

“Did no-one ever tell you to trespass on another’s property?” It asked, making itself known to them.

Turning to the sound, they each saw a young man well dressed in short black hair, red eyes and a full butlers uniform, it almost seemed out of place for an expedition like this, without the fact there was an entire castle just a few feet away from them. The strange man didn’t bother to spare a smile, his mood soured by their mere presences.

“And who are you supposed to be?” Rodil questioned, placing his hand on his sword, just in case. The other adventurers nearby also approaching to assist their party members as to help if needed, the possibility of combat ever growing.

“I am but a humble butler, at least I was…but your insults to the castle, against the Lady herself is a sin worthy of execution…your pathetic, meaningless lives attempting to seem important by comparing yourselves to her home, it disgusts me to the highest degree…your wretched existences isn’t worth sparing.” He said, clearly initiating some kind of hostility.

With a snap of his fingers, the gargoyles that stood along the castle walls twitched, a finger raising here, an eye turn there. Almost in an instant, each of them leapt from their places and approached their invaders. Flanking the group from behind undead skeletons, dressed in clothing that suggested they were adventurers of some kind from a long time ago.

“Damn it, we’re surrounded!” Targan, the groups tank yelled as he looked towards the gargoyles. The group of about 7 in total forming a circle as to best defend themselves from the creatures that surrounded them.

What followed was a massacre, each of them dying one by one to the monsters that attacked them. Targan, blocking an attack from a skeletons sword while behind, a sledgehammer connected with the back of his head, crushing his skull instantly.

Itharan, shooting another undead monster through the head, killing a total of two now, attempting to nock another arrow, a sharp pain burned through his chest, a golem piercing his stomach with its stone claw, another piercing his back with a spear, causing him too to fall to the ground.

“Oh gods…” Rondil muttered, watching as his teammates were taken down one by one, how could undead that looked so basic be so powerful? How did a few simple golems move so well coordinated? So many of these questions circled his mind until one word pushed its way forward, making itself apparent the most.

Run.

Turning his back to them, he started running away as fast as he could, not for a second worrying for his supposed friends. All that mattered at this moment was escaping this place and leaving as soon as possible. He didn’t notice the butler from before standing right in his path, who placed one hand on his forehead and stopped Rondil in his tracks immediately.

“Thought you could escape so easily?” He asked, tightening his vice grip over the cowardly man who had attempted to abandon his friends for his own survival. “Your crimes are worthy of nothing less than an agonising death…but you’ve caught me in a good mood, so I’ll make it quick, after all, in this place for scum like you, death is a mercy.”

Before Rondil could ask what that meant, the Butler spoke one last time.

“Nihil Soul…” The butler said calmly, Rondil’s body relaxing instantly when a shock entered his body, a powerful soul magic attack with the power to kill the soul of another living creature instantly to a point beyond repair.

Overkill? Perhaps. But then again, in a place he had wandered into, without truly understanding the full extent of what it really was.

Death is a Mercy.