Chapter 105: The Ambush 1

In the night-shrouded Bohemia, the soldier Wilson stood guard at the lord’s castle gates beside a dimly flickering torch – his posture relaxed as he stared vacantly ahead.

“Haaaaaaahm…”

“Hey, you’re on duty! Stay alert!”

His comrade chided Wilson for his cavernous yawn. Yet he merely shot back an indifferent look as he replied:

“Well sure, but honestly – I can’t help but wonder why we even bother standing such vigilant watches here.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Think about it. Our lord, Count Turen, is Bohemia’s mightiest mage. And his daughters are veritable monsters capable of instantly slaying the likes of us. Aren’t we mere mice playing sentry to the lion?”

“!…Well…I suppose when you put it that way…”

While raising alarms held a modicum of purpose, it became rather moot considering the detection wards blanketing the gates and vicinity.

Certainly, a sufficiently powerful mage could easily dispel such spells.

Yet practitioners of that caliber remained exceedingly rare across the continent.

Their daylight duties – scrutinizing visitors for admission or denial – at least served some function.

But their night watch amounted to little more than token posturing, given the strict prohibition on outside entry barring emergencies.

Glimpsing his comrade’s unvoiced agreement, Wilson succumbed to another jaw-cracking yawn born of sheer tedium.

‘As much as I’d love to sneak in a nap, that would only invite trouble…’

Rubbing his heavy eyes in a bid to stay awake, a sudden chill ran down Wilson’s spine as the torch inexplicably extinguished itself.

“Huh? What’s this… Why did it go out all of a sudden?”

With no wind or signs the oil had depleted prematurely, he eyed the darkened torch warily.

Yet before he could properly investigate, a disconcerting revelation unfolded – robbing him of all composure.

“Wh…What’s going on here?”

“Th-This can’t be…”

Exchanging bewildered looks, Wilson and his comrade watched in mounting dread as every flame illuminating the lord’s castle rapidly winked out.

From the battlements to windows, hallways and even the towering beacon atop the spire – the unnatural dimming swiftly plunged the entire keep into darkness.

Had fierce winds or storms assailed them, such occurrences could be rationalized as nature’s whims.

But with the skies utterly serene, a choking sense of foreboding gripped the two men.

“H-Hey…Don’t tell me something’s happened?”

“I…I don’t know. B-But we should alert the upper levels immedia…”

Before they could formulate a coherent response, an ominous chill crept up their spines – as if stifling the very words in their throats.

“Wh…What…was…”

Slowly turning with dread-laced trepidation, their eyes beheld the source of this unspeakable dread.

“!Uu…uuuaaaaahhh!”

-THUNK!-

Howling in sheer terror, Wilson and his comrade crumpled from some unseen impact – sprawling upon the ground before the entity that had so thoroughly unnerved them.

A semi-translucent skeletal form garbed in tattered black robes, clutching an immense scythe.

At its core, an obsidian orb pulsed with sinister energies swirling in eerie silence. Violet embers flickered within its empty eye sockets.

As it raised its scythe toward the fallen men, a voice rang out from behind it – cold yet composed:

“That’s enough. No reaping of souls on this mission.”

-“As you command, Great Sovereign…”-

Yielding with a respectful bow, the reaper-like entity lowered its scythe at Soul Mary’s behest.

With the castle now utterly dark and shrouded in eerie silence, the figure beside Soul remarked in a light tone:

“Undeniably convenient, your Pluto magic. Though you created it, even I find myself envious.”

“Regrettably, I do not share such arcane knowledge. Perhaps if I take an apprentice one day. But for now, even you must indulge me this, dear sister.”

“Heheh, very well. A witch zealously guarding her secrets is only proper, I suppose.”

Despite Soul’s wry smile, her sincerity was evident – prompting a slight chuckle from Bloody before she surveyed the enshrouded Bohemian stronghold.

“Well then, enough banter… With Pluto dispelling the wards and extinguishing the lights, shall we proceed?”

“As you wish, Sister.”

With those words, Bloody unleashed an immense surge of magical power radiating outward in a vast sphere over 3km in diameter – fully encompassing the castle grounds and gardens.

Through this omnidirectional aura projection, she could detect every person’s location and general state within near-perfect clarity.

Estimating their relative mana capacities allowed her to pinpoint the weaker auras – likely identifying their target, this ‘Santara’.

Having ascertained her quarry’s approximate position, Bloody dissipated her scanning spell with a predatory grin.

“Well, now that I’ve pinpointed his location, I shall infiltrate directly. You proceed with stalling the outer defenses as planned.”

“Understood, Sister.”

Concealed by the shadows, Bloody swiftly scaled the outer walls and slipped inside.

Observing her departure, Soul cast one final glance at the downed sentries before calmly striding through the partly open gates into the spacious rear gardens.

Sparsely vegetated with scattered trees and flowerbeds, the plaza-like expanse afforded an unimpeded path toward the imposing central keep.

Then, without warning…

-BANG!-

-THUNK!-

A gunshot ricocheted off an invisible barrier shielding Soul – the projectile’s origin instantly drawing her gaze.

“Hold it right there! State your identity, fiend!”

A contingent of soldiers trained their weapons upon her, having scrambled to the gates amidst the inexplicable darkness and power disruption.

Torches in hand, their numbers reached the dozens – a few mages interspersed among the common troops.

Soul met their accusatory glares with utter impassivity.

Until their shock and terror became unmistakable upon glimpsing the host manifesting behind her.

Where only she and the reaper entity had stood mere moments ago…

Now, ranks of semi-translucent soldiers with pikes and shields materialized – cavalry mounted on spectral steeds joining their numbers in what seemed to swell into the hundreds at the very least.

Pointing an unhurried finger toward the stunned men, Soul issued her command – heralding an unfolding nightmare:

“Then kindly indulge me with raucous revelry befitting your role as playthings…”