Chapter 102: ¹⁰²Tracks In The Dead Valley
The night in the Silent Village was still suffocating.
Light snow fell, attempting in vain to cover the remnants of the massacre. On the main street, the corpses of the Serpent’s Tongue members lay stiff. Their blood had blackened, freezing into the earth. The thick metallic stench and the lingering smoke from the charred warehouse still hung in the air.
On the porch of The Rusted Lamp, Ethan Valen stood frozen, staring north.
His black cloak fluttered gently. His dark brown eyes narrowed, piercing through the curtain of fog that was beginning to swallow the village. On his left chest, the Horned Crown tattoo pulsed rhythmically.
Valera Voss stood beside him. Black armor clad her body, while her giant Zweihander rested sturdily on her back.
"Tch, I really hate walking in the middle of the night like this," Valera grumbled, roughly wiping the snow off her short brown hair. "The cold pierces right to the bone marrow."
Ethan cast a fleeting glance. "You are a northern knight, Valera. You should be immune to it by now."
"I’m used to slaughtering on top of the snow. Not being taken on a romantic stroll through a blizzard," Valera retorted sharply, though the corner of her lips curled into a mocking smirk.
"If you want romance, you can turn around and wait for me in the bedroom."
Valera snorted. "Heh. In your dreams."
Wasting no time, Ethan stepped forward. The crunch of his leather boots broke the silence of the dead village. Valera immediately followed, taking a position half a step to his right like a true bodyguard.
The path heading north was nearly blind. Giant pine trees towered like black pillars supporting the sky. Fog crept up, cutting visibility down to no more than ten paces.
Only the howl of the wind and the snapping of twigs accompanied them.
Valera narrowed her eyes. She ignited her Golden Beast Aura at a low intensity. The veins on her neck bulged slightly as her senses sharpened to a supernatural degree.
"Tracks," Valera reported quietly. Her index finger pointed to faint indentations in the snow. "Three or four adults. Almost covered by fresh snow. They passed by a few hours ago."
Ethan nodded. Without stopping his steps, he unlocked the [Eye of Desire].
Instantly, the world overlapped with a magical reality. Thin threads of mana floated in the air—the residue of dark magic that had recently passed by. The further north they went, the denser and more suffocating that energy trail became.
"They definitely came through here," Ethan said, dimming his eyes. "And they weren’t just foot soldiers. There’s residue of high-tier contract magic."
"Belonging to The Hollow?"
"Probably."
Their steps continued. The deeper they went, the more horrifying the forest became.
The pine trees began to wither and die. Their bark peeled off like rotting flesh. The air grew heavy, carrying a faint scent of sulfur from the bottom of the valley.
Valera’s ears twitched. She reflexively stopped. "There’s a sound."
Ethan halted his steps, his hands ready beneath his cloak. "Direction?"
"Front." Valera scanned the fog. "But... it’s not footsteps. It sounds like a rough scraping against the ground."
From behind the gray curtain, an unnatural rustling could be heard—like dozens of stiff fingers clawing at the ice.
One by one, silhouettes of a nightmare emerged.
The undead.
Their bodies were incredibly pale, wrapped in torn rags. Dry muscles and bones protruded from rotting joints. Their eyes lacked pupils, leaving only pitch-black sockets.
However, these weren’t cheap toys like Orel’s.
They didn’t shamble aimlessly. Their bodies dragged forward with aggressive, jerky movements. Their jaws hung wide open, hissing ferociously like starving beasts catching the scent of fresh meat.
"A passive defense system," Ethan muttered, reading their mana fluctuations. "The fresh blood from our battles, or merely the aura of our presence triggered them to awaken. An automated barricade created by The Hollow."
Valera took a deep breath. Her right hand swung back, unsheathing her Zweihander with a sharp screech of metal.
"So, which side do you want chopped up first?" Valera’s feral grin widened.
Ethan didn’t answer. Dense reddish Sin Mana exploded from his palm, solidifying, then materializing into a whip of death that throbbed with bloodlust.
Velcrasia.
"Don’t waste stamina. Flatten them quickly," Ethan ordered.
Valera chuckled, tightening her leather gloves. "Of course!"
Both of them shot forward.
Valera charged the left flank. Her Zweihander was swung horizontally with pure force.
CRASH!
The three foremost corpses were cleaved in two at the waist. Rotten flesh, dried guts, and bone fragments exploded into the air. Without pausing, Valera pivoted on her heel, leaping through the remnants of that black blood rain.
Her sword pierced the chest of the fourth corpse, penetrating its spine. With one rough yank, she tore the body apart and hurled it into the crowd behind them.
On the right side, Ethan moved like a ghost amidst a storm.
CRACK!
Velcrasia’s tip cleaved through the air. The demonic whip lashed at necks, shattered skulls, and sliced off legs leaving nothing behind. Incredibly efficient. Incredibly accurate.
One corpse recklessly leaped from atop a rock, extending its pale claws toward Ethan’s face.
The young man didn’t even blink. He ducked a few millimeters, evading the claws, then launched a left fist coated in dense Sin Mana.
BAM!
The corpse’s skull exploded like a rotten fruit. Black fluid squirted, staining the snow.
In less than five minutes, the twenty undead guards were leveled to the icy, rocky ground. None could crawl, let alone rise again.
Valera flicked her sword, casting off the splatters of black blood, then rested it casually on her shoulder.
"My guess was right. This definitely isn’t the army of that junk Necromancer from earlier," Valera’s breathing remained steady. "Much more aggressive. There’s another curse acting as their core."
Velcrasia melted back into Ethan’s hand. He stared sharply at the thick fog at the northern edge. "Yes. There is a much bigger monster waiting for us inside."
"Hah... good. This hunt is getting even more exciting."
They resumed moving. The air temperature plummeted to extremes. Dead, blackened, branchless trees stood like execution pillars in a frozen hell. The ground turned into a solid layer of ice as thick as a finger.
The valley sloped steeper downwards.
Suddenly, a magical anomaly occurred. The pale gray fog thickened drastically and swirled wildly. Its color faded into a greenish-gray, smelling like evaporating poison.
Valera reflexively stopped, raising a hand.
"This fog... what is this smell?" Valera hissed, covering her nose.
Ethan narrowed his eyes. "High-tier illusion mist. Don’t breathe through your mouth, and don’t let your mind go blank."
Too late. The greenish mist swallowed their vision. The dead forest vanished. They seemed to stand in a soundproof vacuum. Even the howl of the wind died.
Valera turned her head to the left.
"Ethan?" she called softly.
Empty. Her master had vanished.
Valera’s grip tightened on the hilt of her Zweihander. She adopted a fighting stance. However, the incoming attack was not physical.
From that absolute silence, a baritone voice echoed. Heavy, demanding, and full of disappointment.
"Valera... you disappoint me again."
Valera’s blood froze.
From the swirling mist, Duke Alaric von Rosenberg stepped out. His white bear-fur cloak fluttered. His pale blue eyes stared at Valera with absolute disgust.
"You betrayed your own house. Betrayed Rosenberg," Alaric’s illusion tore at Valera’s mentality. "You chose to crawl at the feet of that lowly brat rather than serve the land that raised you."
Valera swallowed hard. Her knuckles turned white gripping her sword.
"I-I didn’t betray anyone," she hissed, trembling slightly.
Alaric’s illusion laughed condescendingly. "You’re just an ungrateful dog. How many soldiers did I sacrifice so you could wield that sword? And you threw it all away for that bastard boy."
"I didn’t throw it away..."
"Then what? You think he cares?" Alaric’s illusion towered before her. "You’re just a tool! He satisfies his lust with you today, but the moment the blade of your sword dulls, you’ll be thrown away like trash!"
Valera bit her lower lip until it bled. Her breaths came in chaotic gasps. Not out of fear, but because the illusion perfectly tore open the deepest fear she had buried all this time: being discarded.
Meanwhile, in a separate illusionary dimension, Ethan Valen stood on an endless snowfield.
Before him, the small body of his sister, Elara, lay weakly. Her breaths were faint atop a pile of dirty rags.
"B-Brother... Ethan..." Elara whispered with blind eyes staring vacantly into the sky. "M-My chest hurts so much..."
Ethan stood frozen.
"...Brother... don’t leave me..."
Fresh blood suddenly spewed from Elara’s mouth, staining the white snow with a heartbreaking red color.
It was a personal hell for Ethan Valen. His worst nightmare. However, instead of breaking, Ethan’s brown eyes stared as cold as permafrost.
"Decent acting," Ethan muttered softly, as flat as a machine. "But this isn’t her."
The young man closed his eyes.
Without bothering to chant a spell, he erupted pure Sin Mana from the core of his heart. An aura of corrupt darkness exploded, absolutely rejecting the foreign energy. The greenish mist rebelled for a moment, before shattering into pieces under Ethan’s dominance.
The illusionary dimension cracked, then exploded into fragments.
Ethan opened his eyes. He returned to the real world.
Beside him, Valera was still standing frozen stiff. The woman’s golden eyes darted wildly. Her breath was rapid, her sword raised halfway, preparing to slash an invisible enemy.
Ethan didn’t chant a dispelling spell. He walked calmly, pressing his right palm against Valera’s shoulder.
An anchor of reality.
"Valera."
Ethan’s deep voice shattered the illusion.
Valera’s body jolted violently as if she had just fallen off a cliff. Her dilated pupils slowly shrank and found their focus.
"Do you hear me?" Ethan asked flatly.
Valera blinked rapidly. She looked at Ethan, then panned her gaze around. The greenish illusion mist had thinned drastically, leaving only faint shadows between the dead trees.
"I... was trapped for a moment," Valera hissed, holding back shame and anger over her mental weakness.
"It’s normal," Ethan replied as he withdrew his hand. "Its system specifically tears through mental defenses. It magnifies your deepest anxieties."
"But you weren’t affected," Valera countered, looking at her master with a complicated expression.
"I am different."
Valera clicked her tongue in annoyance. She slung her sword back over her shoulder to cover up her awkwardness.
"Tch. Don’t ever think you’ve won against me, My Lord," Valera grumbled sharply.
"Of course not yet," Ethan smirked faintly. He turned and resumed walking. "Watch your step. There are still many traps left."
Half an hour pushing through the remaining mist, the dead trees finally opened the way.
At the far end, there was a steep rocky cliff. From the bottom of the valley, an ear-piercing rumble could be heard—not from free-falling water, but from a giant waterfall that had frozen completely solid due to the extreme temperature.
Valera stood at the edge of the cliff, staring in both awe and vigilance.
The ice waterfall towered dozens of meters high, forming a giant curtain that reflected the moonlight like an absolute natural fortress.
However, what caught their attention was something behind the ice.
A dim red light pulsed from within. With a very constant rhythm, resembling the giant heartbeat of a monster that never slept.
Valera’s golden eyes ignited fiercely. Her wide smirk returned.
"A giant cave behind a frozen waterfall..." she licked her dry lips. "A fitting place for a graveyard, isn’t it?"
Ethan caught up beside her. His black cloak fluttered in the strong wind carrying sharp ice pellets.
His eyes stared straight at that red glow. Cold. Absolute.
"There he is," Ethan said.
As if responding to their arrival, the red glow behind the ice waterfall blinked once. Incredibly bright.
The monster behind that ice door knew its executioners had arrived.