“What is it, my lord? Are we being chased?” Sir Kennedy, the Inquisitor, asked.
Sylvester grunted and felt the cold rising. “No, we’re being trapped. It’s the Shadow Knight—he’s after us!”
“What? Good lord!” The Inquisitor rode his horse even faster as he didn’t have two people.
Sylvester cursed internally. ‘Don’t do it… whatever you are. I will one day come to you on my own… but not now.’
“Shadow Knight is real?” Isabella asked in shock.
“Not only is it real, but I have also fought it once and somehow survived to tell the tale. Now, look at the front and lower your head as much as possible.” He pushed her down while also touching her back with his head.
To reduce the air resistance, he had to do it. He reckoned that even a fraction of an increase in speed could be life-saving.
“You can do it, Frost!” Sylvester cheered his stallion.
The poor boy neighed and gave his all to run as fast as possible. He, too, felt the cold, after all, and didn’t want to die. His instincts were no different than the other animals.
‘Ah! It’s decreasing now.’
He realised that they were coming closer to a village in the distance. The closer they got, the less cold they felt. Then soon, they rode into the village, and the looming danger vanished—they could feel it.
He stopped for a few minutes to let the horse breathe. But there was some confusion. ‘Why didn’t it kill me? It clearly had the opportunity and time.’
“Let’s move, we’re halfway done. Just a little more is left. We can wait, but I’m sure those stuck in the trap of the bloodling can’t.” So he ordered and continued the journey, albeit a little slower, as he didn’t want to kill the poor horse.
Thankfully, the rest of the way went by without any more danger appearing, and they reached the outskirts of Ender’s Village. The village was mostly intact, as the bloodling had not done any real damage. Moreover, it had not even appeared inside the main village but on the outskirts, near the cliff facing the Blood Sea.
“My lord, the Monastery outside the village is currently the only habitable palace in the town, as the mist can not enter it. The remaining survivors are staying there, under the care of the Archpriest, who is also the village chief.” Sir Kennady explained while leading the way.
“Since when is the mist affecting the people?” He inquired.
“It has been more than a week now. The people initially thought it was just a normal winter mist. But, slowly, it spread out from the edge and into the village. The people mostly got stuck inside because they were sleeping. Only a few villagers escaped—and now five thousand Inquisitor men are also in there.” Sir Kennedy explained.
‘I should first understand the nature of this bloodling before entering.’ He thought and entered the Monastery behind the Inquisitor.
The Monastery was massive. Big for a small village. However, it struck out as a sore thumb since all the buildings in the village appeared to be only half as high as the Monastery.
“I didn’t know the Ender Village was this rich.” He admired the beauty of the tall building with a red tiled roof and one high pointy tower.
Isabella was doing the same and gawking at the structure. With the mist behind the Monastery, it looked particularly majestic.
The Inquisitor, however, turned sad as he reminisced about the story behind it. “I’m afraid the story behind its creation, and the creator will anger you as well, my lord. Perhaps, after this crisis is over, you will have time to listen to it. Come, I will take you to the Inquisitor General.”
The sun had only started to rise, so the sky appeared with a faint dark blue tint. But the surrounding was very depressing since the mist hindered the visibility.
Inside the Monastery, many mattresses were placed for people to sleep on. The sick were being treated while the Inquisitors who were left were resting.
Sir Kennedy took Sylvester to the top floor of the high tower and knocked on the door before entering. “General, Lord Bard is here, as you asked.”
Sylvester walked forward to shake hands as he had met the man before during his first mission as Sanctum Inspector. He knew that Sir Arnold was a good man who could be trusted, a man who once vows to do something—fulfils it no matter what.
“It’s nice to meet you again, General Arnold.” he greeted the tall, muscular man with a sharp jawline, an emotionless face and black hair.
“Thank you for coming, Lord Bard. I know you were busy doing your duties, and I have no doubt your work is far more important than this, but I am out of options. Calling for help from the Holy Land would take too long, and you were the only expert in bloodlings nearby.” Inquisitor General Arnold apologised humbly, though his face remained as serious as ever.
Sylvester shrugged and moved closer to look at the table as a map was spread. “No time to talk about pointless things, General. I have been made Grand Crusader by the Pope, so as long as your men are here as a part of the Crusade, your duty is my duty. Please tell me as much as you can about the situation.”
General Arnold moved around the table and pointed at the village map. “From what we have noticed, the effects of the mist are akin to necromancy magic. They leave a person in a comatose state. Now, we know that the centre of this mist is somewhere near the edge of the cliff, if not down the cliff itself.
“If you enter the mist without protection, you will last merely ten seconds. You see these circles within circles on the map? These are the radiuses we have measured with various means. The deepest one is two hundred metres. But, to reach it, we used magic masks—the best thing known to us. Hence, we made no further attempts to enter.”
Sylvester rubbed his chin and stared at the map. Near each circle was a number. It was the time it took to reach that part. But, if the masks were useless, then he didn’t know what could even help.
“Hmm… any information about the bloodling? What does it look like, or what are its attacks other than this?” He inquired.
Sadly, the General shook his head. “None have seen what it looks like, Lord Bard. But, I am willing to lead you as deep into the mist as you may need—as long as we can save the men and the people.”
“No need, I will do it myself.” Sylvester waved his hand. “Can you point on the map where Lady Aurora is stuck? She’s the greatest powerhouse among us; we need her to defeat the bloodling. So, I shall save her fist.”
“But my lord, how will you be entering the mist? The last known location of Lady Aurora was five hundred metres before she stopped. She had no protective measures on her—hence we only marked her as a cross.” The General showed a cross on the map.
‘So the Grand Wizards have resistance to such attacks as well?’
“I will move in immediately. I have a way that will ensure no amount of mist even touches my face.” He assured and walked out of the Monastery to stand near the edge marked on the land beyond which the mist started affecting.
The general then brought a rope and tied it around Sylvester’s waist. “This is how we measure the distance and pull back the Inquisitor, my lord. Sadly, even after leaving the mist, they don’t wake up from a coma.”
‘Likely it has something to do with bloodling being alive.’ Sylvester theorised in his head.
All he could hope was that the bloodling wouldn’t decide to come out and hit him directly. If that happened, he knew he’d be in deep trouble.
“May the Holy Light enlighten our paths and grant us strength!” He prayed one last time before taking a step forward.
Instantly, a halo appeared behind his head as he mumbled a hymn under his breath. Then, he created a round helmet around him and Miraj’s head, made of solidified light. It was going to protect them from the mist entering.
Woosh!
He stepped into the mist and disappeared. All around him, all he could see was white, so much so that he couldn’t even see his own feet eventually. The deeper he went, the denser the mist got. 𝘦.𝘰𝘳𝑔
‘This is strange.’ He muttered after coming across a few men stuck in motion, standing with wide-open eyes. But the whole eyes appeared white, without the iris.
He ignored them and went to his goal, Lady Aurora. She was five hundred metres deep into the village. The village itself was not too big, so he was already near the cliff, and the destination seemed to be a small hill.
“D-ea-th… lie-ssss… he-re…”
“Chonky, did you hear that?” He abruptly stopped and asked the furry boy on his shoulder.
Miraj nodded firmly and looked left and right. “I don’t like it here, Maxy. It feels… bad.”
Sylvester was very amused as this was the first time he had encountered such a bloodling. “A humanoid bloodling the last time, and this one speaks. Are they evolving, or is this just a different class?”
“Maxy! Aurora!” Miraj jumped on his shoulder and pointed his paw.
Sylvester could see her too. She seemed to be just taking out her sword when she got frozen. Her pose sent alarms to his head. ‘She was preparing to fight something? I must move fast.’
Crack!
“Dammit!” He cursed as a crack appeared on his helmet. The pressure was increasing so much that he found it hard to even move. The mist was as thick as water at this point, and each step seemed to become harder exponentially.
‘What the hell is this place?’ He wondered.
Pat!
Without second thoughts, he reached Lady Aurora and picked her up in a princess carry. “She’s too heavy!”
“Maxy! Duck!”
Sylvester didn’t even flinch and sat down with Lady Aurora still in his arms. Miraj’s job was to guard his back, so he trusted him blindly.
Shwoo!
“Good lord—the scent of death! It’s maddening! I must escape quickly.” He saw nothing but felt something zooming past his head at incredible speeds. It cut through the mist and disappeared in the distance.
All he knew was that anything that could move so fast in such air pressure was not simple. Besides that, since he couldn’t see anything, it was suicide to try and fight it.
He gritted his teeth and pulled himself forward, one step at a time. Thankfully, on the way back, the further he got, the easier it became to walk.
Eventually, he reached the edge and took a different route for a different goal. He wanted to inspect the frozen army of Inquisitors so that he could get a better understanding of the creature. So he remembered the map and reached the spot, only to see frozen bodies with white eyes—four thousand of them.
But he sensed something troublesome. “This isn’t normal—they aren’t dead—yet no scents?”
“What happened, Maxy?”
Sylvester looked around himself, at the mist, at the dead; remembered the hissing voice and the lingering scent of death. He felt it was all too familiar. “Chonky, I don’t think we’re dealing with a bloodling.”
Miraj’s tail fell, for he knew he would hate the answer. “What is it then?”
“A demon!”
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