Chapter 390 – The Cult Approaches.

“Stop!”

A voice echoed in the darkness as a group of cloaked figures approached the vicinity of the craftsman’s territory. The group had gathered here to capture and erase anyone involved in the recent event involving their relic. Leading the charge was Kovak, and as he removed the shroud concealing their presence, the others were also revealed.

First, there was a large man, his entire body concealed by a black robe. His size and form constantly shifted as he approached the wall before them, as if the runic magic was making his abyssal form more unruly. Not far from him stood his partner, a pale woman who resembled a deceased elf. Her alluring figure became apparent as she discarded the robe covering her, ready for the impending carnage and barely able to contain her excitement.

They weren’t the only ones present, as a few other competent members from this region had been summoned for assistance. Abyssal priests and assassins began to emerge from the concealment spell that had hidden them. These individuals were all elites of the cult, gathered here with a singular purpose: to unravel the mystery behind their relic’s failure.

“The mana around this place is shifting…”

Kovak replied as he examined the area before him. As a necromancer his mana sense was the most developed here and he could feel a shift taking place. The whole area was filled with concealed traps and magical devices that were starting to activate.

“Oh, did the secret relic fail to work?”

“That can’t be!”

The Necromancer’s allies began conversing as he attempted to assess the situation. It was challenging for him to tolerate the presence of these two, but he knew he had to obey orders. The large man, whose body constantly shifted in structure, proved to be a formidable ally and a devoted follower of their god. This was to an extreme degree and he would even go as far as attacking allies if they spoke their lord’s name in vain.

However, the second individual posed a significant threat to the entire plan. If it were solely up to him, the woman would have been excluded from this encounter entirely. She displayed a persistent inability to follow orders and pushed them to advance the plan faster than they had anticipated.

If he had full control of the situation, he would have resorted to performing cursed rituals to wrestle dominance over this place. Casting curses at formidable adversaries was one of his signature tactics, though it demanded considerable time and preparation. His discomfort with this location had been justified, and as he neared the wall, he became increasingly certain of his earlier assumption – the presence of the divine permeated this place. Being a necromancer, he possessed a heightened sensitivity to forces opposed to him, and something within this area emitted a foul aura of holiness.

“I hoped for at least some fun… So can we go in now? My daggers itch for some blood!”
The pale woman grinned while tightly gripping two pitch-black daggers in her hands. Her eagerness was evident; she seemed ready to vault over the wall and commence a swift massacre of the unconscious individuals beyond. Kovak, on the other hand, favored a more methodical approach. Their primary objective was to determine how their relic had been dispelled, and while eliminating the perpetrator would resolve the issue, it was wiser to capture them alive for interrogation. If they could uncover the reason behind it, they would be better equipped to counter such actions in the future – an achievement their leaders would likely reward them for.

“Stop you fool, the magic around this place is already moving! We don’t have time for your idiocy!”

“Oh, is Mr. Necromancer mad? What do you want to do then~?”

“Foul wench, just be quiet and watch. We must not allow anyone from outside to notice the intrusion, I’ve already prepared a spell.”

While the elven woman encouraged Kovak to quicken their pace, he tried to maintain his composure. Raising his staff adorned with skulls and esoteric symbols high into the air, he began to harness energy. A greenish mist started emanating from the magical weapon, swirling and enveloping the entire vicinity. In mere moments, a dense shroud of darkish-green fog enveloped the entire compound.

“Wow~”

The woman’s smile widened, and she began to clap her hands as if she were witnessing a magician’s captivating performance. Kovak, however, understood the true significance of this widespread incantation as it would enable them to remain concealed. Even if the occupants inside were roused or magical explosions ensued, no one would be able to see from outside. It was a potent spell with broad effects, capable of disrupting devices like crystal balls that might be used to call for help. Casting the spell had cost him about fifteen percent of his mana pool, but it was a small price to pay for ensuring their safety. As long as he remained undefeated, the protective enchantment would endure.

“Oh? Something is moving!”

Kovak had successfully cast his spell, but it inadvertently triggered the magical defenses of the entire area. He had hoped that the shroud of darkness he created would also disrupt these defenses, but much to his annoyance, they remained fully operational. Their relic was undeniably potent, but its influence was limited to living creatures and couldn’t affect constructs like golems and runic equipment.

What they were up against was a peculiar magical device, one that seemed to possess a degree of awareness regarding their presence and the ability to generate magical effects. These enigmatic devices zeroed in on their group while being affixed to the walls. They featured peculiar joints and extremities adorned with runes, which promptly began to glow in a bluish hue before unleashing a relentless barrage of magical attacks upon them.

The cultists found themselves under a sudden and intense assault as the runic devices sprang to life. Bolts of arcane energy shot out from the walls, each one striking with precision at the intruders. The necromancer, Kovak, was quick to react, raising his staff adorned with skulls to create a protective barrier of dark energy around him. The elven woman with her daggers moved with an uncanny swiftness, deflecting the magical projectiles with her blades as she leaped and twirled through the air.

But the man with the ever-shifting form remained unresponsive. He simply stood there, permitting the relentless onslaught of magical blasts to strike his body. The blue energy tore through his dark robe, exposing the malevolent form beneath. His head was enveloped in some dark, flesh-like substance that appeared to be attempting to consume it entirely. The most striking feature was a massive protrusion on his right shoulder, which housed a singular eye at its center. This eye was connected to a colossal arm equipped with four fingers, each as long and sharp as daggers.

His body continued to be consumed as the dark flesh took over, causing him to grow larger and larger. Meanwhile, the magical blasts appeared to have little effect, seemingly doing nothing to halt the relentless advance of the dark transformation. Even though they seemed to be able to break down some of his tissue and produce a stream of blood, the damage was mending itself faster than it was being done.

Thanks to his large body being the focus of the magical turrets the other cult members could relax. They watched as their leaders performed attacks against the mysterious runic devices with increasing precision. The elven woman danced and parried with her daggers, expertly deflecting the bolts of arcane energy back at the turrets. Kovak, on the other hand, chanted incantations and unleashed dark spells from his staff which took on the form of flaming skulls and collided with the walls to blow them up.

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It didn’t take long for the toll on the turrets to become noticeable. They didn’t stand a chance against a group of powerful tier 3 class holders and posed no threat to them. As the last of the runic devices crumbled to pieces, the air in the craftsman’s territory began to still. The silence that followed was eerie, punctuated only by the sound of the large man’s continued transformation.

“It’s not over, look…”

The man with the shifting form proclaimed while pointing with his clawed fingers at the destroyed turrets. These peculiar devices, which had already crumbled, began to reassemble themselves. It was as though time itself was rewinding, with the missing pieces falling back into place. However, one small detail didn’t escape their notice: while the runic equipment was being restored, the holes in the walls and ground remained unfilled.

“So what if it can restore itself? Scrap is still scrap!”