To be accurate, demons eventually evolve and qualify as a sentient race, just like angels, humans, dwarves, and elves. They also fall within the peculiar subcategory of monsters known as celestial creatures. That thing standing over my bloodied, immobile steed was both a demon and an undead.
We were deep in the Land of Men, far from the Underworld, the continent belonging to demons. So the presence of this undead demon abomination raised an unsettling question.
How the hell did it get here?
Either this creature had traveled from the underworld all the way to this place where it had died, or it had died on the continent it rightfully belonged to and, as a corpse, had been transported here to reanimate in this godforsaken pass as an undead. Normally, this would have spawned a headache-inducing array of theories in my mind, but the sight of it standing over Veilleuse-01 filled me with a rage that drowned out any rational thought.
"That was my horse, you fucker!" I screamed, unleashing my last Hexed Frost Lance. The lance looked like it was about to hit, but the creature deployed a set of wings, flapping them to propel itself upward and out of the lance's trajectory.
"Tsk," I muttered, raising my staff and aiming at the creature which now hovered in midair. As I began manifesting a magic circle, calling forth my ice magic, the creature's malevolent eyes locked onto mine. A shiver ran down my spine that had nothing to do with the cold. It spread its wings, a grotesque blend of bone and shadow, and I knew this battle would test my every skill and spell. With a screech that echoed in my very bones, the creature charged.
My head pounded with the force of the sound, with nothing I could do to specifically counter it.
"Tsk, this bastard," I muttered, feeling the effects of the screech. Despite the identification skill indicating a 12% reduction in my offensive and defensive capabilities, I found that it didn't affect me as severely. Instead of pondering the reason for this, I took advantage of the opportunity to launch a counterattack.
I cast Frost Shards, sending ice spears launching toward the beast. It twisted in the air, dodging most of them with eerie agility. The few that hit barely slowed it down. Its defense was formidable.
"Need to weaken it first," I muttered, focusing my energy. Locking it as a target, I cast [Winter Clutch] and [Inflict Frostbite] as payback for its earlier attack. To increase the effect of both skills by 15%, I simultaneously activated [Debilitating Surge]. The creature let out a screech, flapping its wings as it felt the effects of the skills.
I aimed my staff at it, taking advantage of its moment of vulnerability. I manifested a magic circle behind the creature, tendrils of ice snaking out to ensnare it. Almost instantly, it flapped its four wings to fly upward, but the tendrils managed to latch onto its legs. For a moment, it struggled, and I saw my chance to make this creature pay for what it did to my horse. Chokeholding thin air, I activated [Glacial Eclipse], causing ice to promptly form around it. Given enough time, it would completely encase the creature in a moon-like ice prison. But that was the catch, the spell required time.
The creature snarled, its eyes burning with fury.
With a swing, it broke free of its icy shackle and flew out of the range of [Glacial Eclipse].
"Tsk."
I didn't let the failure get to my head. Two of my debilitating effects were still very much active, grinding down on the creature's status.
While I didn't have an appraisal skill to tell me exactly how effective they were, I knew for a fact that they were taking effect. Call it a Hexcaster's intuition or something, but I could tell. The creature most likely felt it too, understanding that I was the source of its discomfort. Realizing that there was only one way to put an end to it, it went on the offensive.
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Flames mixed with an unnaturally black hue erupted from its form, racing towards me. I had to act quickly. Wasting not a breath, I cast [Frost Burst Detonation], creating a barrier of highly pressurized cold mist around me just as the black flames closed in.
The explosion of heat and shadow clashed with the icy barrier, sending shockwaves through the air. The released highly-pressurized mist acted like a shield, pushing the flames away. For a moment, I was safe.
But the creature wouldn't let me breathe. From high above, it swooped down, activating its Soulrend Claw. In the corner of my eye, I saw the notification:
Its malevolent form cut through the mist, claws outstretched, aiming directly at me. I watched its descent, heart pounding. At the last moment, I detonated another ice ball, the burst sending the creature off course.
It crashed a few meters away, hissing in pain. Even though it was undead and shouldn't feel pain, the disruption must have been annoying nonetheless.
It rolled on the ground, dodging a Frost Lance I hurled at its head.
"Not so fast, fucker!" I shouted, summoning three more Hexed Frost Lances. The creature moved surprisingly fast for its size, evading the second and third lances. But the fourth struck true, slamming into its side and tearing a chunk out of its ribcage. Disgusting green liquid and rotten flesh poured from the wound.
Despite the injury, the creature managed to take to the sky. I considered the possibility of it fleeing, but as if sensing my thoughts, it turned around. Its lifeless eyes burned red with something beyond understanding.
Amidst my anger, a smile crept across my face. "That’s how it ought to be. Stay so we’re settling this, you unloved bastard."
The creature's wings unfurled, and I sensed an ominous energy gathering.
A wave of dread washed over me, sapping my resolve. Artificial fear clawed at my mind. In the context of the system, fear like many other status effects such as frostbite, burn, poison, and blindness, didn't always manifest as direct damage to HP. It could and most oftenly affect SP and MP, and in some cases, attributes or fatigue percentage.
For someone coming from a world without MP or SP, fatigue percentage was the most relatable metric within the status section of my interface. Fatigue percentage was essentially the internal manifestation of our biological limitations. While it accurately represented its wielder's physical exhaustion, it did a little more than that.
It is a resource which abilities use to operate, similar to how MP or SP function for skills. The more you use your ability the higher the fatigue percentage climbs. The higher the fatigue percentage the more exhausted one one would feel and be. Ultimately, the creature’s skill Wings of Despair aimed to tire me out.
The creature followed up with another attack.
Multiple darkfire projectiles hurtled toward me, their malevolent energy promising explosive damage. Thanks to my identification skill, I knew what to expect. I had no protection spells, so I relied once again on Frostburst Detonation. Thankfully, I had plenty of MP to spare for someone of my level, and the spell wasn't prohibitively expensive to cast.
I guess this this skill was not designed to be used in such an outrageous manner.
This time, understanding that a single frost burst detonation wouldn't be enough, I detonated my two remaining balls of ice, explosively releasing a powerful cold mist.
The darkfire projectiles collided with the released highly pressurized mist and exploded, keeping them from getting any closer to me. Their shockwaves were sent further outward as my Frostburst Detonations expanded. The collision was a violent clash of opposing elements, and for a brief moment, the world was a cacophony of ice and fire.
Through the chaos, I could see the creature, caught in the storm, being sent crashing against the side of the wall.
The creature was knocked against the side of the mountainous pass, rolling down before trying to recover from the heavy blow.
A sickly green glow surrounded the creature as it began to heal.
"Oh, none of that with me," I said, activating Hexed Frost Sword Conjuration. I sent the conjured swords flying toward the creature, and none missed their mark.
Some impaled it, while others severed its limbs, eliciting a screech from the beast. I walked up to it, casting a glance toward Veilleuse-01 to confirm something.
Yep, it was dead. With no reason to hold back anymore, I was ready to mutilate this creature.
"Because of you, I have to walk the rest of the journey!" I ranted, raising a conjured Hexed blade in my hand the creature lying helplessly on its back.
"It’ll take me even longer now!" Another swing.
"Screw you!" With each sentence, I struck the creature, venting my frustration.
I knew the journey through this pass wasn’t going to be easy or enjoyable, but now it’s going to be even more annoying and difficult.
With a final swing containing all my annoyance, I separated the creature's head from its body.
I pushed my hair back, sighing, and muttered, "Shit," as I dramatically looked up. At that moment, something happening at my feet made me lower my gaze with slow apprehension. "What the…?" At my feet, like paper burning and turning to cinder, the creature’s body disappeared.
For monsters, especially those of the undead, celestial beings, and familiars, it wasn’t uncommon to see them undergo a change when killed. The ice specters I fought earlier had shattered into shimmering puddles, radiating a cold, blue hue. Something similar should’ve happened to this creature, this undead. A rotting corpse, soup, or something equivalent should have been left behind. It shouldn’t have just disappeared like that. Unless…
Under that circumstance, there were only two explanations when a monster disappeared upon defeat without leaving anything behind: it was either summoned by someone or something. The way it disappeared suggested the latter. This undead was summoned by something. What exactly? Well, it was something I was all too familiar with, given that my denomination is literally named after it—a Dungeon.
This undead was a Dungeon spawn, a monster not naturally spawning but one that had been summoned by a Dungeon. And for it to be summoned by a Dungeon meant there was a Dungeon nearby. If there was a Dungeon in the vicinity, then there were bound to be more than just this one around here. At that moment, as if to confirm my thoughts, I saw several silhouettes flying toward me.
Clutching my Impotence, I took a defensive stance, eyes scanning the rapidly approaching shapes. As they drew closer, I could see they were smaller, faster creatures, possibly more undead or other Dungeon-spawned horrors.
"Crap!" I muttered, nonetheless steeling myself for another battle. "See the bright side of things, Arianna…more punching bags for me."