Chương 140: Borders, Bones and Bodies

Cormag- The Forsaken Lands Cormag stumbled up a slight hill with a pained snarl and paused for a moment halfway leaning against a tree to tend to his wounds. His hand glowed with an eerie blue light as he pressed his fingers into a savagely deep puncture wound in his leg. It slowly began closing. Once Cormag could have healed a severed limb with but a wave of his hand. But that was long ago, before he had changed his path so violently towards the bending and binding of souls.

He still retained some of his healing capabilities, but only a shadow. He froze as something shifted in the tree above him. Cormag took the hand that wasn't healing his leg and slowly began weaving a net of mana above himself. The creature leapt down, and he threw himself to the side as it passed through the net with a subtle wafting of mana. It thudded heavily to the ground dead the moment it passed through his trap. Cormag pulled himself to his knees and looked at the woundless corpse on the ground next to him.

Some kind of awful primate with four arms and fur that appeared to be made of fine organic blades.

"Well, this place is just as awful as ever." He said softly to himself and then winced as he put too much weight on his injury. The first time he had challenged the forsaken lands, he had been far more powerful than he was now. And it hadn't mattered. Even now though Cormag could raise the corpse beside him with but a gesture and have a fierce guardian. No, this time I do it differently. He pointedly ignored the body and made it the last few steps to the top of the small hill.

He looked left and right at inexplicably dense foliage and a tree in the distance that was grabbing birds out of the air. I have utterly no idea where I am… The first time I was here, I hired guides. I hope some still live who explore this region. They were few and far between thirty years ago. He was about to simply pick a direction and pray when an odd sound whispered past him on the wind. A haunting song echoing across the forest. Cormag frowned and squinted into the distance in confusion.

It has to be something attacking my mind again. I could have sworn I heard a violin. With another irritated huff, Cormag began weaving his hands slowly through the air, forming a spell designed to filter out outside mental influence. It took him nearly three minutes for the most basic one he knew. Honestly, he was lucky he knew any considering how far from his class this kind of casting was, but when you did as much magical research as he did, you picked up quite a few tricks.

A shimmering blue dome sprung from his hand, wrapping around him on the hilltop. The notes of music still wafted through it. They were tinged in his vision with strands of black mana. Hmm, it is mind-affecting but a fear effect of some kind. Either a musician's specter is wandering around out here, which I find unlikely, or someone is playing an actual violin in the forsaken lands.

Cormag put aside the implications of what he was hearing for just a moment and sat down on the hilltop, letting the beautiful waves of emotion given voice wash through him. It had been far too long since he had gotten to enjoy anything like this, faint as it was. Tears started building as he loosely waved a hand in beat with the music. He wiped one away and forced down the others, trying to follow. He was a broken man; he knew it. A life filled with regret and horror.

But he couldn't dwell on that now, not until he had corrected his greatest sins. Cormag let the song finish and then stood up, mana crackling along his fingertips. If someone out here is so confident that they are playing music, they are either insane or at home in the forsaken lands. The music hasn't abruptly stopped, so I'll assume it is the latter. I may have just found my guide. Cormag chose the direction the song had been echoing from and headed down the hill towards it.

He carefully picked his way through the forest for hours. Being beset time and time again by barely comprehensible beasts. He was lucky that so far he hadn't run into anything truly dangerous; this place held many things that even at the height of his power he could not surmount. Cormag found himself crawling through a twisting tangle of vines that stretched from tree to tree, like someone had intentionally used them as a barricade.

The vines, while not actively trying to eat him, thankfully, were eerily bright things. They had yellow flowers running down them from which bulbous glowing eyes sprouted. Hundreds of eyes followed his slow progress. He finally pushed past the almost unnavigable stretch of forest and was met by a somewhat confusing sight. A crumbled watchtower that only really had one wall standing leaned against the rest of its own rubble and all across the stone surface of the wall piercingly green moss glowed aggressively.

And it appeared to have a message written on it. The moss had grown in totally unnatural blocky patches spelling out "Paladin of the Forsaken Lands Kingdom, do not enter without invitation or you will probably be eaten." Then in slightly smaller text at the bottom of the wall.

"Even with an invitation you might get eaten; it's still the damn forsaken lands." What? This looks… recent and well-maintained. There can't be a kingdom out here; that should be impossible. Cormag stared at the message for a bit longer, then shook his head in bemused disbelief. He looked beyond the wall; the green glow seemed to almost be a signature of this paladin. Motes of drifting green light were an omnipresent haze in the distant sky; they screamed of danger for some reason.

Willows had slight veins of glowing sap peeking through bark and dripping from their long branches. Patches of moss crept across the ground, leaving seared trails behind them. A flash of movement caught Cormag's eye, and he focused on a distant, fast-moving figure. An awful amalgamation of flower and teeth flung itself through the trees, chasing a terrified-looking deer. They disappeared from sight before he could see the result of the hunt.

Cormag steeled himself; he was lost, and invite or not, this was his best chance to find help or, more importantly, a true guide with familiarity in this hostile eldritch hellscape. Cormag made it all of ten steps into the forsaken lands before a very large devourer bobbled by him curiously. He tensed, looking at his bloodied leg then back at the Devourer in concern. He remembered these from his first foray; it would go berserk and attack him any second now. Normally he wouldn't be worried, but this one looked…

off. To start with, it was nearly three times the size of a normal one, level 20 instead of one or two, and had a bright green coat that suspiciously matched everything else in his vicinity. He started weaving magic around his fingers, ready to strike it down when it charged. Then its face unfolded. The entire front of the adorable creature peeled back like demonic petals, revealing a dozen malevolent eyes above bladed tentacles that whirred with some unholy weapon inside them.

Its organs sagged downward, and an ancient holy symbol was carved into the very bone protecting its heart. Cormag couldn't help his reaction; he had been expecting a different variant, not whatever this thing was.

"What in the nine hells!" He threw his fingers forward, and a clawlike formation of mana ripped into the creature, the first tearing its eyes and tentacles free, the second hooking into the bone and ripping its heart and lungs free in a violent shower of gore. The creature hit the ground heavily. What kind of madness is this? Was that the holy symbol of Vurune? Cormag's eyes went wide as the "dead beast" began shuddering, ripping hunks from itself and patching new ones on at a blistering pace.

It began rising up again, still attaching new tentacles to attack him with. He attacked again this time, not holding back with his pure mana shaping. Six hazy claws of mana pierced it from all sides and ripped it completely apart. It exploded, and a wave of shrapnel and blood sent him tumbling to the side, gasping for air. The area around him was now coated for thirty strides in blood, bone, and organs—an impossible amount. Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.

Cormag was the Necromancer Lord, the most feared individual in the world for nearly ten years, and as he looked around at the blood and wanton savagery on the border of this paladin's kingdom, he couldn't help but think one thing. Oh hells, is there a new me out in the woods? Vraxious— The forsaken lands"Hey, can someone help me move these corpses?" Vrax shouted out, hoping one of the half dozen people milling about the fort campsite would give him a damn hand.

He was carting them from the last battlefield to encourage mangler trees to fucking stay put outside of the fort. He saw a deep stalker look up, pretend he hadn't heard him, and then engage his camouflage to slip over the wall and go "scouting." Oh, you shits.

"I will help." Rumbled from beside Vrax, he looked over and felt his heart jump a beat as he met the cold red glass visor of an Abyssal Guard. Dammit, they get me every time with that "I will end you" stare they have.

"Ahhaha…great, uhh…I was grabbing the dead mercenaries and piling them over by the mangler trees," Vrax said, pointing to a small cluster of trees angrily shoving each other over rooting space just outside the fort's walls.

"Understood." Was all the monotone warrior said before thudding back deeper into the forsaken lands. At least bring a cart or a fucking wheelbarrow, man; don't just throw them over your shoulder like firewood… Vrax watched him walk past a perfectly good wheelbarrow right outside the broken greenhouse and keep on going. Never mind, you do you. A shout of alarm from one of the lookouts, followed by a crotchety ass voice, pulled Vrax back over to the wall.

"Oh move your ass, you aren't even that fucking sneaky, and get a real bow, that thing couldn't even put a hole in a tree!" Vrax laughed and shouted over the wall, "Feldwin, stop being a dick to the guards!"

"Sure, whenever they suck less at their job!" Echoed back before Feldwin lightly scrambled over the edge, his bow in one hand and a middle finger extended from the other down at a loudly cursing deep stalker.

"There is nothing wrong with my bow!" in an offended voice followed Feldwin up.

"Mhhhmm." He disapprovingly grumbled before jumping lightly straight off the wall and landing next to Vrax.

"Tower strategy meeting now! Shit's not good in town." Vrax watched Feldwin do his normal overpowered bullshit where he ran up the side of the fort tower like gravity was just an inconvenient suggestion. He noticed with some smug pride that Feldwin did stutter a few steps as he passed by the new kingdom anchor glowing unholy colors and sending out a haze of predatory intent as he ran by it. Vrax followed behind in a near effortless but much less glorious climb. The shrine to Vurune itself.

Reached out for some of the last perfect handholds he needed to slide in the window after Feldwin. The room was so similar to how it had been before all this started it made vrax have a nostalgic moment, immediately ruined by Feldwin's dire expression. Vrax was used to Feldwin having a sour look about himself, but for him to actually look scared was new.

"What the hell is happening in town? I didn't see any new signal smoke; we just dealt with the hunting parties." Feldwin kneeled next to the fireplace, pulling a few arrows from his quiver and laying them out in front of himself. He started switching arrowheads to the very expensive enchanted ones Vrax never saw him use while he talked.

"People are going missing; the amount of fucking paladins in town is starting to near the fucking population. We can't wait any longer. Rafael has already started preparations for your harvest festival." He said quickly and then nodded appreciatively at a shimmering arrowhead that shifted with energy like it was bleeding.

"Wait, fuck, I don't know if I can expand fast enough. How long do I have? And I still need to make it." Feldwin nodded almost apologetically, understanding the time table change was sudden. He picked up another arrow; this one he was placing a broad arrowhead that looked nearly ethereal onto.

"I know, but Vrax, if we don't do something now, we are fucked; there is a real possibility they might get enough of us to shift the balance. A week that's as long as your pappy said we could give you.

"The town is preparing." He set the arrow down slowly, watching Vrax's face go through a spectrum of emotions." Vrax bunched a fist and summoned his helmet back to cover his face.

"A week then; the borders will be pushed back within the week." Feldwin cocked a crooked smile at him.

"Alright, monster hugger, now is your chance; show us why you have been hugging monsters all these damn years and fill the town with your…wonderful pets." He said the last bit like he might gag.

"Oh, haha, you asshole, you won't complain as much once Sunshine saves your ass from a paladin or Dutchess eats another priest mid-cast."

"That would be great, but uhh…"

"Yeah yeah hold on, I'll make some more bracelets for you; don't let the fucking paladins get them." Vrax reached out the window and pulled a handful of vines inside. Immediately setting to work on more bracelets.

"Wait, where are all the noncombatants going if the paladins have the whole fucking town blockaded?" Vrax asked mid-adaptation.

"Abernathy's basement," Feldwin said blankly. Vrax looked aghast.

"There is something seriously wrong with our town that the vampires' basement is where we send the wives and kids. I mean, I can't think of anywhere better either. Trying to fight him in his lair would actually be suicide, but still." Feldwin put his switched-out arrows back into his quiver with practiced, cautious precision. How careful he was being with them was a great indicator of just how dangerous the enchantments were.

Last time Vrax saw him baby an arrow like that, it teleported a hunk of a monster to another realm.

"At least we don't have many noncombatants to worry about—a few spouses and Tom." Feldwin said, In lieu of goodbye, as he began climbing out the window.

"Don't let Tom hear you say that; he is really proud of the whole magic academy dueling champion thing." Feldwin rolled his eyes.

"Yeah, it's kind of hard to lose a MAGIC duel when your entire skillset boils down to magic begone bookworm. I'll be back and forth to strategize with you over the next few days." With a final wave, he flung himself from the window, managing to make a deep stalker he landed next to curse violently in surprise.

"Seriously, why are you so fucking fast?" The knight shouted after him as he raced off back towards Hope's End. Vrax leaned out the window and offered a very unhelpful answer: "He's just so fucking old he's trying to outrun the god of death." The deepstalker shook his head and went to activate his cloak when an emerald predator ambushed him with a playful screeching pounce that knocked the man on his ass. Huh… that's where their dear leader's pet went. Where the hell is he at though?

Ehh, I have more important things to do mainly… I need to go right up to the edge of the forsaken lands overlooking Hope's End and adapt absolutely fucking everything. Vrax rushed around the fort gathering the team he needed for this next bit; he needed some people to protect him from the almost certain attack the paladins would enact if they got even a hint of what he was doing. Jonathan, Crixus, and Torvald were who he picked for that role.

All his other companions would be either driving every monster they could from the forest into the defenders with fear effects or luring them, depending on how scary what they attracted was. Vrax could shepherd things like daisies and devourers while he was close to them, but he couldn't magically make retriever hives, lurkers, or any of the utter myriad of trees and bushes he had make magically grow legs and walk over.

Well, he could, but it would take too long, and he would have to do it one plant at a time, and they were in a rush. So sudden overt aggression backed up by adapting everything he could get his grubby mitts on was the current plan. The important part of all of this that Vrax needed to remember and plan around was that he wasn't trying to win, at least not by himself.

As soon as the town was officially outside the empire of Strands' borders and no longer under the protection of the king, the townsfolk could fight back. And an unleashed hope's end would be a sight to see. Vrax had only seen bits and pieces of what his neighbors were truly capable of. Charles and his magic light shows were just the tip of what he could do. Before he retired, he was the archmage of another nation's defensive forces.

Not because he had necessarily overwhelming power, he had stalled out at the end of the second tier, but because he was almost unassailably skilled with what he could do. Humphrey, that fat little tier three pyromaniac, had been kicked out of more mage colleges than Vrax could even fathom. Generally for trying to craft spells too destructive to even be tested on premises. Vrax had never seen another man look at crackling flames with such unhealthy and unbridled lust.

It was weird, sure, but he felt bad for whoever the repressed little man set his sights on. Ravora the stable master mostly kept to herself and her hounds. She liked it better than way fewer random deaths when she lost her temper. Vrax didn't even know what her class was, just that her two hellhounds that would probably be a match for Sunshine were some of the least creatures at her command. Then there was Vrax's father.

Vrax sighed when he thought about how cryptic and shifty the old fart always was about what his class or tier actually was. He had caught a glimpse just once years ago of him fighting. It was the first time he snuck into the forsaken lands to find medicine for Torvald and the other sick kids and William had come right in after him. He had hidden in a bush, hearing his dad crashing through the woods after him. The man was in heavy armor, obscured by a cloak and wielding a simple staff in his hands.

He had faced off against some kind of many-limbed abomination Vrax had never seen before or since. Whatever it was had been powerful; it was feasting upon the towering corpse of a tree walker spider, a beast that regularly managed to enter the second tier. Vrax's father hadn't even slowed. The few dizzying blows Vrax caught were like watching minuscule stars be born and die with his every strike. The creature was dead faster than Vrax could understand, and his father had pressed further onward in search of him.

To this damn day Vrax still wondered about that and wished he could have found another one of the weird abominations his father had fought so he could at least identify it and see if that short exchange was as telling as he suspected it was. If it was a tier-2 beast, then his father was probably high second or early third tier… but if that had been a tier three monster… and his father hadn't even slowed…

the old bastard might actually be knocking on the door of the fourth tier, making him one of the most dangerous men on the planet. Vrax shrugged; he would be finding out a lot one way or another here soon. He began the short journey towards hope's end with one little detour to pick up a new critter he wanted to try some things on.