System of the Beast Slayer [litrpg Adventure]
Copyright© 1999 by CaffeinatedTales
Chapter 145
“Thump, thump.”
Urgent footsteps drew closer from afar. A burly figure burst out of the dense woods first, then a second, a third...
Nearly at the point of collapse, the group finally escaped that horrifying magnetic field.
After gulping down a few breaths, they kept charging forward into the grass by the shore, then collapsed onto the wooden boats as if a crushing yoke had finally been cast off.
By then, dawn had broken. Warm yellow morning light spilled across the surface of Lake Vizima, driving away the mist and lifting everyone’s spirits.
“Weakened status removed.”
Roy’s nerves eased slightly. He lowered the woman from his shoulder and wiped the hot sweat from his face.
Adda’s temples were soaked through, her beauty dulled by exhaustion, none of the earlier vigor left.
“I ... what’s wrong with me?”
Recalling her earlier abnormal state, her face filled with lingering fear.
“Good. It seems Your Highness is clear-headed again.” The young Witcher let out a breath. He had no wish for the person he was protecting to be mentally compromised. “Your Highness, next time please listen to advice. Do not insist on your own way.”
The soldiers present had been reduced from over forty to barely twenty. Half gone, without even seeing the real enemy. It was, by any measure, a massive failure.
“Witcher, this was only an accident!” Adda said, embarrassed and irritated. “Our investigation and preparations were insufficient. When we return next time, the abomination in that altar will repay us tenfold, with interest! In any case, my people did not die for nothing!” As she spoke, she turned toward the soldiers and smoothly began issuing orders again. “Another half minute of rest, then we move. Do not let those newly born degenerate vodyanoi catch up!”
Suddenly, a handsome young Knight stepped out of the crowd. “Your Highness, the thing inside the altar is far too strange. It transformed dozens of our brothers alive into those disgusting things.”
“We cannot allow it to continue,” the Knight said, resolve flashing in his eyes. “Otherwise, all of Vizima will be dragged into this. The forest on the island is clearly its lair. Why not burn it all to the ground?”
“I agree!” voices echoed from the crowd. “Burn the forest. Destroy the altar!”
“But there are still brothers inside,” other soldiers objected. “What if they can be restored? If we set fire to it now, wouldn’t we be killing innocents?”
“There are no normal creatures left in that forest. It’s all evil monsters. They should all be purified by fire. We should have done it from the start!”
The Knights split into opposing camps, and Adda stroked her sharp chin, clearly tempted.
“Witcher, with your knowledge, is there any chance those ‘degenerate’ Knights can return to normal?”
“Degeneration is irreversible.” The young Witcher shook his head.
Letho, meanwhile, tested the wind and temperature, then surveyed the forest’s scale.
“In this weather, setting the island forest ablaze would take a lot of time, unless...”
“Unless someone stays behind.” The black-haired Knight who had first proposed the idea stepped forward on his own initiative. His body still swayed, not yet recovered from exhaustion. “Your Highness, let me burn this sinful island to the ground ... as long as Master Letho lends me a Bomb.”
“What is your name?”
“Jacques. Jacques de Aldersberg...”
The black-haired Knight’s expression was resolute. He raised his right hand high, drawing all eyes to himself. Only then did Roy notice that the upper edge of the young man’s ears was slightly pointed.
“Half-elf. No, a quarter-elf.” Roy fell into thought. The name sounded familiar, but the information from Scry was perfectly normal. Just an ordinary Knight.
Someone among the soldiers suddenly realized.
“That’s the new recruit who just joined the White Rose.”
“The one who keeps preaching about the Time of the White Frost.”
“Your courage is admirable, Jacques, but you know that staying behind means certain death, and this may not even succeed,” Adda said, shaking her head as she stepped onto the canoe. “Do not make a pointless sacrifice. Leave with us.”
“Your Highness, I have no parents to support, no wife or children to care for. I only wish to avenge my fallen comrades and remove this threat from Vizima ... please grant my request.”
Jacques suddenly dropped to one knee, his young, handsome face filled with resolve and fearlessness.
The woman’s expression softened. She pressed her red lips together, then looked at him deeply.
“Jacques de Aldersberg, since your resolve is firm, I approve your request.”
“Everyone except him, board the boats. We return immediately.”
The Princess of Temeria gave the Knight’s shoulder a final pat.
“Come back alive. I will promote you. I promise.”
Jacques rose, took the torch and Bomb from the Witcher’s hands, and charged toward that dreadful forest.
Roy watched his retreating figure, doubt crossing his face. Did such selfless people truly exist?
There was no time to think further. One wooden boat after another quickly departed Black Gull Island.
A quarter of an hour later, as they reached the middle of the lake, the group discovered something strange. The more than two hundred degenerate vodyanoi corpses that had been floating on the water had vanished without a trace, not even a hint of blood remaining.
“Even if the lake currents carried them off, it wouldn’t be this clean.”
“I was hoping to cut off some degenerate vodyanoi ears and take them back to Vizima for credit.”
Disappointment was hard to hide on the Knights’ faces. This operation had failed. Even with Princess Adda promising merit without blame, how much merit was there really? So many brothers lost, and they would still have to face Grand Master Rudolf’s reckoning.
Adda stared at the island behind them, her expression complicated. Every Knight was a precious asset to Vizima, and far too many had been sacrificed because of her “willfulness.”
She felt unwilling, angry, but in the end only sighed. “I’ll have to behave myself for a while. That old man will never indulge me endlessly again.”
But no one could foresee the future.
Before long, as they set foot back on land, thick black smoke suddenly rose into the sky above Black Gull Island.
The dejected group instantly erupted. Their mood shot from the depths straight into the clouds.
“That brat actually pulled it off!”
Adda’s face lit up with joy, her lips trembling slightly.
“Good. Jacques did not disappoint me!”
She turned again to look at the exhausted, thinned-out ranks and spoke to a bearded middle-aged Knight.
“Powell, it’s safe for now. Count the numbers. How many fighters remain, how many have fallen?”
“At once, Your Highness.”
The bearded Knight stepped to her side. “Next, when I call your name, Knights and soldiers, step forward!”
“Glez.”
“Here!”
“Ferguson.”
“Here!”
...
“Campenal.”
“Here!”
“Vigi.”
“...”
“Your Highness,” the middle-aged Knight said heavily a moment later, “you have twenty-two soldiers still fit to fight. Lost ... eleven Knights of the White Rose, fourteen soldiers of the Vizima Infantry Regiment. Twenty-five in total.”
Adda took a deep breath and nodded lightly, about to say something to encourage the living and honor the dead.
The bald Witcher beside her suddenly cut in.
“Deputy Grand Master Powell, did you miss one?” His thick arm pointed toward the far corner of the group. “There’s still one back there. I noticed he never opened his mouth from start to finish.”
In an instant, all eyes turned.
At the very back of the group, a thin Knight stood isolated.
“Deputy Grand Master, I’ve never seen this comrade before.”
One Knight stared at him suspiciously, uncertainty in his voice. “I know every Knight in the city, but I have no memory of this one.”
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