Chương 127: Chapter 126: The Ghost of Velmouth [INTERLUDE]

The stone doors of the Black Sand Ossuary ground shut behind him. Nate stood at the threshold for a moment, letting his eyes adjust to the daylight. The fight had taken six hours, and he was definitely more than a little disoriented. Behind him, in the dark, the Warden was lying in pieces at the bottom of a flooded crypt with his ribs cracked open like a door. Ahead of him, the ravine opened onto a stretch of black sand that ran down to the bay. He could see gulls turning over the water.

The air smelled like salt and smoke, reminding himself of the delicious ham he'd had earlier that day. He sat down on the lowest step, dropped his staff across his knees, and exhaled.

"Long one," he said quietly. A floating bone-hand drifted up over his shoulder and bobbed once in agreement. Nate gave it a small smile.

"You did well, Spoof." He opened his inventory. [Skill Rune: Unidentified] [Ring of Hollow Vows] Level 25 Rare [Bone Fragment of Zardún - Femur] Nate paused at the last item. He let his fingers hover over it for a moment, then tapped through to the quest log. [The Bones Beneath the Crown] Hidden Quest Stage 4 of 9. Fragments recovered: 3 / 7 Four more. He closed the screen. He'd taken the questline from the broken statue in the Black Coast cemetery sixteen days ago, and he had spent most of those days walking.

Three ossuaries, two sepulchers, and that shrine up in the north. It was quite the journey. Each piece had pointed at the next. The librarian at Velmouth had wept, quietly, the first time he had laid the first fragment on her reading desk, and asked if she would help him understand what he was carrying. He had not entirely understood her reaction at the time. He understood it better now. Four more bones, and then the questline would be done. As for what that meant, he could only guess. He stood up.

"Spoof," he said.

"Let's go." The arrow came in from the ridge before he'd taken three steps. He didn't have to do anything; Spoof was already moving. The bone-hand flicked sideways, caught the arrow mid-flight like it was swatting at a fly, and crushed it. Splinters scattered across the sand. A heartbeat later, the Berserker came down off the ridge at a full sprint with an axe raised and a roar in his throat. Nate didn't move.

Spoof drifted up to meet the strike at neck height; the axe came down, and the bone-hand caught the haft in a grip that didn't even shudder. The Berserker's momentum stopped so abruptly that he flipped forward over his own feet and landed flat on his back in the sand. Nate looked down at him without expression. The Berserker stared up at the floating hand.

"A summon?" he asked.

"Our intel said you were an Acolyte! Nate sighed. Adventurers, he thought. Always so eager to die for someone else's reasons. Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website. Four more shapes peeled out of the rocks above the ravine and dropped into the sand around him. They fanned wide.

A Rogue circled to his left with daggers reversed in his grip; an Archer took a knee at thirty meters and nocked; an Arcanist hovered her hands in front of her chest and started weaving. The last, who looked like a Cleric, lit himself with a defensive aura that hummed like a tuning fork. The Berserker was already pushing himself back to his feet.

"Looks like a weak summon," the Rogue said.

"Five against one. Just kill him fast so we can get paid." Paid, Nate thought. Interesting. He turned his head, slowly so that each of the five saw him do it, and let his gaze settle on the speaker.

"Five against one?" he said.

"Count again." The Rogue's smile faltered moments later. The temperature dropped to almost freezing in the space of a breath, clearly unheard of in the Black Desert, and the sand at Nate's feet stirred. The gulls over the bay went silent all at once, as though somebody had reached up and switched them off. Three things rose around him. The first was a knight in armor the color of old parchment, with a longsword across its back, animated by a purple aura that painted the sand in otherworldly colors.

The second was a skeletal mage in faded grey robes, fingers already moving through the opening lines of a spell. The third didn't come up out of the ground at all. It dropped out of the sky behind him with the sound of thunder. A single bare skull, burning, with no body underneath. It hovered at his right shoulder like a moon. Spoof calmly extended its fingers. A blade bloomed out of nothing into the bone-hand's grip, black-bladed and edged in the same purple light, and it flexed once to settle into the weight.

The Arcanist's mouth opened.

"How can an Acolyte summon four of them?" Nate didn't answer. He'd already stopped paying attention. He never moved from where he was standing. The Rogue came for him first. He went wide, looking for the flank, and the flying skull caught him before he made it — a jet of pale fire took him in the throat, he stumbled choking, and the skeletal knight was simply there, between one breath and the next, sword already on the downswing. The Rogue's health bar evaporated. The Archer loosed.

Spoof tilted the longsword once, casually, and the arrow split lengthwise on the edge. Then the hand was at the Archer's position, and the sword went through the Archer's chest plate with little resistance. The Arcanist had her spell ready. She got the first syllable out, the start of Flame Storm, Nate reckoned, but the skeletal mage raised one bony hand and the word Quiet! echoed all around them.

Her spell collapsed; she tried again, and the second syllable came out as a cough; her own mana, suddenly not even available, recoiled into her with enough force to drop her to one knee. The mage then summoned a magic circle above her. Blue flames engulfed the caster, and then she was gone. The Cleric got off one healing pulse before the knight reached him. The Berserker had time to look around and understand that he was the last one. He didn't take it well.

He came at Nate with his axe high, screaming, and Nate, finally, allowed himself a small motion. He raised one hand. Spoof drifted into the path. The Berserker's axe came down on the sword, but the summon bore it without giving an inch. The adventurer scrambled back, trying to find his footing, but he had no time to regain composure as Spoof's blade was an inch from his face now.

"Who hired you?" Nate asked. They did say they were doing this for payment, after all.

"We got the contract through a broker. Anonymous. They said the Acolyte near the Black Sand Ossuary would have something upon emerging. They wanted it."

"Wanted what?"

"They didn't say." Nate considered things for a long moment.

"Anonymous brokers in Baal mostly serve three churches," he said.

"Which of them paid you?" The Berserker's eyes flickered.

"I don't know!"

"I'll tell you what," Nate said.

"I'll let you respawn and find it out for me. Ask at the local chapel. The clergy there know me." The Berserker stared up at him.

"Why would I—""Because next time I find you," a wicked smile appeared on Nate's face, "I'm not going to let you respawn at all." The attacker had no resolve to question the statement. Six bodies dissolved into soft motes of light. Six small piles of loot remained, scattered across the sand. Nate stepped between them and gathered what was worth gathering: a dagger, a bow with decent attack power, a focus stone, a handful of coins, a healing potion.

When he was done, he moved to the edge of the bay and watched the water for a long moment. Then he opened his inventory and navigated to the slot at the very top. Crown of Zardún Quest Item An immeasurably strong magical artifact. As long as the corresponding quest is unfinished, the item is destroyed upon the holder's death. It constantly broadcasts magical signals, revealing the holder's location to all Churches of the Kingdom. All Churches in the kingdom, he thought.

Being in the Kingdom of Baal, that did not narrow it down. The Crown couldn't be removed and it couldn't be hidden, so reading the description accomplished nothing; it was a habit, the same way other people checked their phones. Phones. It's been years since he saw one. He pulled up his status sheet next.

Name: Nightwing Level: 25 Class: Bonekeeper's Apprentice Titles: The Ghost of Velmouth Friend of the Forgotten One Who Walks Among Headstones Lore-bearer of Three Houses Dungeon Soloist Witness to Zardún Passive Skills: Embedded Presence Soul Sight Bone Bond Spoof drifted up beside his shoulder, the longsword already faded, and the bone-hand bobbed once, patiently.

"Four more, Spoof," Nate said.

"Then we'll see what the Bone King really wants." Spoof flexed its fingers. Nate looked down at the sand, then up at the ridge where the six had come from, then out at the bay. He started walking back toward the road that led inland. Why is it, he thought, that the dead make for much better company nowadays?