System of the Beast Slayer [litrpg Adventure]
Copyright© 1999 by CaffeinatedTales
Chapter 144
The ugly Vodyanoi Priestess failed to notice at once that the two Witchers had broken free of her control, and continued chanting her vile spell, lost in herself.
As her lips opened and closed, the hunched old Vodyanoi swayed her bone staff in time with some obscure rhythm, webbed feet hopping left and right across the ground. Bone necklaces at her neck and wrists clinked softly as she performed a grotesque, ridiculous primitive dance.
The altar was like a carnivorous flytrap exuding lethal temptation. The Knights were the insects drawn to it, only their movements were slow as snails, still some distance from the altar at its center.
Roy shot Letho a look, then reached into his personal space and drew out a fist-sized Dancing Star, weighing it in his hand.
“Bastard. Dance in the flames.”
With a light toss, the Dancing Star traced a graceful arc through the air and landed squarely at the Vodyanoi Priestess’s feet. With a sharp crack, a cloud of pale white smoke burst upward and wrapped around her body.
The chanting faltered.
“Waaah!” The Vodyanoi Priestess let out a shrill, furious scream, and was immediately swallowed by blinding fire.
In an instant, the area around the altar turned into a sea of flames, the forest filled with a thunderous explosion.
With the spell broken and the shock of the blast, the Knights who had stood like puppets shuddered and finally woke from their nightmare. They opened their eyes in confusion, a trace of rapture still lingering on their faces.
As if savoring the strange dream they had just left behind.
At that moment, a screaming humanoid figure of fire burst out of the blast zone and lunged toward the other Witcher...
Roy remained calm as he squeezed the trigger again and again. Amid the rapid twang of bowstrings, several bolts pierced straight through its skull almost simultaneously.
Three seconds later, the flaming figure collapsed at the Witcher’s feet, carrying with it the smell of scorched flesh and roast meat.
“Degenerate Vodyanoi Priestess slain. XP +100.”
Roy followed with a blast of the Aard Sign to extinguish the flames, then flipped the corpse over with his longsword, revealing the Vodyanoi Priestess’s hideous, charred catfish-like head.
“What just happened, was I dreaming?” Princess Adda turned her narrow eyes toward the Witcher, her pretty face filled with a sense of loss.
“I saw Molly,” one Knight murmured. “Poor Molly died right after giving birth to little Cole. Just now, our whole family was together again...”
“My old mother, who died of whooping cough, she came back to life and cooked my favorite chickpea stew...”
“My little Tom escaped from the slavers and came back, clinging to me...” The Knights spoke over one another in a daze, still not fully pulled free of their fantasies.
“It was all fake. Wake up, you idiots!” Letho roared, kicking the Vodyanoi’s corpse in front of them. “Look closely. It was this ugly thing casting the spell, putting you all under!”
“It’s over now. End your daydreams!”
“So it was all fake? We were all hypnotized together?”
Adda stared at the Vodyanoi’s body, her expression conflicted, her voice full of disbelief. “But even the greatest Sorcerer in the princely palace couldn’t possibly hypnotize everyone at once.”
“It should be related to the altar,” the Witcher said firmly. “This altar has some unknown power. It amplifies the spells of its followers.”
“Even if it was lies, a waking dream...” One Knight cut him off, grief on his face. “If I could have stayed in it forever, I would have.”
“I remember it clearly. That wasn’t a dream at all,” a bearded middle-aged Knight suddenly shouted. “It really happened.”
“It was a god!” His eyes flared with sudden fanaticism. “A god used great power to grant our wishes!”
In that moment, more soldiers showed signs of agreement.
The Witcher shook his head, knowing words were useless.
“The only guardian is gone. Good. We smash the altar, right now.”
By then, the thick smoke from the explosion had dispersed and the flames had vanished. The mass of bloody, fleshy vines wrapped around the altar’s exterior had been blown apart beyond recognition.
Even so, the altar itself stood firm, completely unharmed. With the flesh stripped away, its true body was clearly visible, gray-white granite carved with strange, tadpole-like patterns crawling in chaotic profusion.
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