Siren’s Cry [A LITRPG Adventure]-Ch. 14
It was a couple days later, time I had taken to relax and recover from the battle with the Grafted Horror. The rot from its blades and claws had been significantly stronger than the other revenants I killed, and it took nearly a full day to completely purge it. In the meanwhile, I studied the summoning books and managed to piece together a second ritual. This one wasn't a permanent link like the one to summon Ouro, but it was still incredibly useful. It calls forth an intangible spirit servant, like a butler or maid, to assist in however I need. Need to clean a house in under an hour? Summon three of the servants and it'll be done. Need a good meal from very few ingredients? They can do that. Anyway, I tried to loot the Royal Guard and Bladedancer, but I got nothing worthwhile for my trouble beyond their weapons. I only found a few coins that my blessing claims is platinum and two gemstones that are called ‘class stones’. Apparently, of you break one, you can change your class to the one contained in the crystal. Which is incredibly useful… If I didn't like my class. As for the horror that was apparently the queen? I obtained something fitting, yet also slightly horrific. A simple mask, with the appearance of a painted wolf.
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Mask of Assimilation (Accessory, Legendary)
When worn by a creature the mask will bind to the being, fusing with and transforming them. If it is worn willingly, the user will retain free will and autonomy, while still transforming with all the benefits included. If it is forced onto a creature, the creature's mind will be overridden by the mask, becoming essentially an entirely new person. They will view the person who made them wear the mask as their master. If the bound being is slain, instead they will be drawn into the mask and preserved until a new host is found.
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While once more undeniably incredible and definitely worthy of the legendary rarity, even thinking about using it gives me a sick feeling. I desperately wanted to throw it away and never see it again, but the last line made me put it in my bag rather than get rid of it. Essentially a free revival method for whoever wears it, so long as someone else eventually puts the mask on. I can imagine at least a dozen scenarios that could save a life in, despite being entirely unwilling to ever wear it myself.
Besides the mask, I also gained eight levels from clearing the hive. Despite my traits, I still ran out of mana multiple times during the battle, so I drop all eight into Mana for a nice round 30. I practice my magic for another few days, finding the section about true conjuration in the Primer. It takes a long, long time before I can finally confirm my theory about evolving the skill myself.
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Skills Evolved
Lesser Conjuration + Mana Blitz + Rapid Conjuration –> Conjuration
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The joy I felt when the final piece seemed to click, triggering the evolution, was indescribable. I spent the next few hours too excited to test it out, rather I spent the time cheering and playing with Ouro. Turns out, as a creature made of mana, he can change his size to a limited degree. Shrinking back down to his old size was fairly easy, and we spent the nights cuddled together like a massive scaly dog. His full size was larger than a horse by now, having gained a ton of levels from the revenants.
The improvement from Lesser Conjuration was night and day. Where once I could only hold around seven constructs without strain, I can now hold well over two dozen small constructs and a dozen more complex ones. My constructs used to be difficult to make the more detailed they were, but now even inscribing patterns and runes while creating them is simple as a thought. An errant idea led to that discovery, when I drew a fire rune on a conjured sword and ghostly flames began drifting from it. I repeat how I made my first cutlass, except this time I add a few runes while creating it.
The books contained another few, including sharpness and link. Sharpness is self explanatory, but link is a gold mine. It allows me to combine the effects of multiple runes easily. In this case, I combined sharpness and ice. The moment my mana pool empties, a cold mist begins drifting from the cutlass. Identify agrees with my idea, changing the name and description slightly.
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Item Crafted: Frozen Sunset Cutlass (Rare, Bladed Focus)
A cutlass formed from immense amounts of ice attuned mana crystalizing into proper form. It can be used as a casting focus, aiding in the forming of spell constructs. When fed mana, can produce a freezing mist that slows foes caught inside.
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Storing it for now to avoid freezing anything accidentally, I stretch and flop backwards onto Ouro. He grumbles but doesn't move an inch, purring happily as I scratch under his chin. Sadly, however, my relaxation is interrupted by stomping feet and shouted commands from further down the street I'm resting on. I groan, standing up and pulling my cutlass from where I had stored it moments earlier. Ouro growls, growing to his full size as spears of highly pressurized water form around him. I lazily turn towards the newcomers, sword swishing beside me as I prepare for a fight.
—
Minutes Prior:
Sergent Andrius Felstone steps from the galleon, his men battle ready beside him as they slowly walk towards the cliffside road. Behind them, Captain Johan continues barking orders at his crew to prepare the ship for the return journey. Of course, the old sea dog never sets foot on land himself, wooden leg cracking sharply on the deck with every step. Sgt. Andrius leads his men up the cliff, mace and shield at the ready and spells prepared for the worst. He expects any number of things when they reach the top. A horde of undead formicans waiting to pounce, revenant mages ready to blast them back to the ground, or even the queen themself waiting to slay them all.
What he didn't expect was nothing. No sounds, no movement, no foes. Just an eerily silent city crumbling under the weight of years of neglect. Despite their mounting unease, his men remain in formation, weapons and spells prepared and on a hair trigger. Pausing just before entering the town proper, Andrius turns to his men to remind them of their mission. Looking at each of the ten in turn, his voice fills the eerie silence.
“Listen up. Remember our mission; find the source of the divinity. Anything else, including clearing the hive, is secondary to this. Keep your blades ready and your wits about you. This is no training exercise, and there are no second chances. Understood?”
A chorus of ‘aye’ and ‘yes sir’ echoes back, and he nods before taking point once more. The platoon marches down a wide street, possibly a main thoroughfare at one time in the past. And yet still, no revenants nor other monsters oppose them. An occasional flicker of orange is seen weaving between buildings, but when investigated they find nothing but faint traces of mana already fading away. The silence and unsettling sightings grate on their nerves, even the iron-willed Sergeant growing uneasy.
They search for hours, the sun tracing a slow path across the sky as they wander deserted streets. Around noon, the eleven man squad collectively agree to stop for a short rest, making their way towards the center of the city. The tense alertness reaches a breaking point as they find another wide road, except this time something other than stone greets them. A few dozen meters away, a woman lounges against a large reptile of some kind. For a moment, Andrius is confused. How in the hells did someone get out here, let alone survive? However, the longer he looks, the more his confusion gives way to calculating concern. Despite her beautiful humanoid appearance, the massive gray-blue wings and matching reptilian tail give away the fact that she is anything but human. An ornate black dress woven with silver threads shrouds her form, and to his finely tuned Mana Sight practically glows with magic.
“Just like in practice men, battle formation!”
He roars to the other ten mages, five stepping forward and locking tower shields together with a resounding clang. The woman sighs, audible even from such a distance, and begins to stand with an unnatural grace. She flows to her feet, the reptile growling loudly before growing to nearly triple its size. Andrius nearly calls a retreat then and there as spears of frothing water coalesce in midair and the woman draws a strange blade from a spatial pouch. Mist drips from the orange-pink cutlass, eye-searing runes visible on the flat of the curved blade. Despite all this, it's the woman herself that draws the most attention. Silver hair flutters in a nonexistent breeze, the incomprehensible amount of mana building around her causing a physical reaction. Piercing violet eyes stare seemingly through the battlemages, slitted pupils flaring slightly as she studies them. With a dainty yawn, she blinks slowly before glaring at them. When she speaks, a ripple of sheer power follows each word.
“So, which one of you is in charge, hmm?”
And it was at this moment that Sergeant Andrius Felstone, heir to the noble house of Felstone, once-in-a-century prodigy and level 37 Starblooded Battlemage, knew that he fucked up.
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!
Ch. 14
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