The Runesmith Chapter 382: A Lead.

Chapter 382: A Lead.

“He he he…”
“...”
“Come here you little…”
“... Can I hit him?”
“What if he gets even dumber?”
“You might be right… he might have suffered some brain damage during that fight…”
“He he hah… Huh?”
“Are you awake now?”
As Armand's eyes fluttered open, he was met not with the sight of the alluring elven wench he had been embracing, but a visibly irritated Roland. Confusion washed over him as he tried to comprehend how he had ended up in the embrace of his brother-in-law, attempting to plant a kiss on his chest. The metallic taste in his mouth suddenly made sense, as it became apparent that his lips had mistakenly latched onto a silver chestplate instead of the desired voluptuous peaks.
“What the… where did she… Argh…”
“Good, you’ve awake now…”
Before Armand could complete his question, a powerful fist struck the top of his head, forcefully driving his body down onto the very bed he had been peacefully sleeping in moments before. Following the conclusion of the platinum test, Elodia and Lobelia implored Roland to transport Armand to the guild infirmary. The Guild Master had rattled his brain enough to have him pass out in the middle of the testing ground with no clothes on.
It fell to Roland to carry Armand's exposed form all the way to the infirmary while draping him with Roland's own robe. The memory of the hushed whispers from onlookers, finding humor in the sight of a Knight Commander transporting a naked comrade, still lingered in Roland's mind.
"Argh, my face! It's stinging,"
Armand groaned, his hand instinctively reaching for his aching head. One of his eyes had turned a deep shade of black, and his face was visibly swollen from the brutal blow he had received not long ago. Despite being a single, direct hit, the damage it had inflicted was substantial. Nonetheless, Armand's resilience was commendable as surviving a strike from an opponent over a hundred levels above him was a remarkable feat.
"Quit being such a crybaby and down this potion."
Elodia urged him impatiently, her frustration evident in her voice. She couldn't help but feel irritated about the entire situation, especially since she had to cut short her gathering with friends because of Armand. Even though they were all adults, she still played the role of a de facto mother figure to these orphans. Despite the loud arguments that occasionally erupted, everyone in their group understood that it stemmed from a place of genuine concern. Even the usually boisterous Armand lowered his head and began apologizing.
"Sorry for causing you all this worry..."
"It's okay as long as you understand."
Elodia replied with a sigh. She then shook her head a few times before placing her hand on his shoulder.
"Anyway, congratulations on achieving the rank of Platinum adventurer. I hope you'll take your new status more seriously, especially when it comes to your own well-being."
Armand's eyes lit up with realization.
"Oh... That's right, I'm a Platinum Adventurer now! We have to celebrate all the drinks are on me!"
Even before the potion had a chance to work its magic on his swollen face, Armand leaped to his feet. His hands swiftly encircled Elodia's waist, effortlessly lifting her into the air as if she weighed nothing at all. The joy in his heart was evident as he spun her around a few times, eliciting a mixture of delighted screams from her. With a burst of exuberance, he propelled her into the air in Roland's direction. She landed securely in his waiting hands, her glasses teetering on the edge of falling and her hair now disheveled, partially obscuring her face.
“Come, little brother!”
“Little brother?”
“We are family now and I am older, so yes! You are the little brother!”
Roland frowned at Armand's boisterous gesture but understood the reason behind his friend's happiness. Armand had just achieved membership in the elite adventurers' club, a coveted achievement for many like them. It was akin to people from his world gaining admission to a prestigious school or securing a life-changing job. However, he was not really willing to get drunk and party in the red light district that this would probably end up in. He was on the verge of getting married, and Elodia, his fiancée, was not particularly tolerant of such activities.
"I think I'll have to pass. I still have a lot of work to do."
"There you go again. You need to learn to savor life's moments, my little brother!"
"Stop calling me that. I'm not your little brother."
"Don't be upset. I'm sure you'll pass your Platinum test eventually!"
"My Platinum test?"
"Don't be angry just because I've done it before you."
"Angry?"
As Armand continued to laugh heartily, Roland momentarily drifted off in thought. The amusing part of the situation was that he had actually managed to skip the test and attain the Platinum rank without going through the usual process. It was something Roland could point out, but seeing how genuinely happy Armand was, he decided not to be petty and let his 'big brother' relish his moment, a decision he almost instantly regretted.
“I need to invite everyone!”
“Yeah… good luck with that. Elodia, I have some things to do so…”
“Just go, I’ll take care of this.”
“Thank you.”
With Armand's jubilant celebrations echoing in the background, Roland made his exit from the infirmary. He was relieved to leave the chaos behind and return to the relative quiet of the adventurer's guild’s corridors. As he strolled through them, he couldn't help but ponder the recent turn of events.
The memory of Armand's battle with the Guild Master still played vividly in his mind. Despite the vast level difference and the brutal outcome, Roland had managed to gather some valuable insights. It was clear that Aurdhan had skills or abilities that allowed him to negate most of Armand's attacks effortlessly. While Roland was no stranger to the idea of level disparities and their impact on battles, the Guild Master's resilience had exceeded his expectations.
Roland knew that one day, he might have to face Aurdhan or someone similar. The ambitions of powerful individuals, and the secrets lurking in the shadows all pointed to a possible future conflict. He needed to learn more about people like the Guild Master and prepare for potential conflicts that he could not power through with more magical power.
There were certain limitations that even he who had recently broken had to adhere to. Things only became more complicated when the thought of not being able to protect the woman that he had chosen started creeping into his head. Roland was not someone that formed relationships easily but when he did, then he seriously committed to them.
The fight had served as a wellspring of inspiration, igniting his creativity and providing an opportunity to closely observe his brother-in-law’s fight. The frenzied state he had experienced had bestowed upon him a significant boost in his overall abilities. However, it was something he yearned to harness and control, a feat he believed achievable through the aid of divine runic spells. The only obstacle he faced was their implementation, a territory he found himself uncertain about.
Primarily, he found himself capable of using these spells only in sporadic bursts, lacking precise control. This proved effective against undead creatures susceptible to simple divine mana radiation or the creation of uncomplicated spells. Yet, when it came to addressing Armand's affliction, he recognized the necessity of crafting a focused calming spell that would activate only when he began losing control. This spell needed to be potent enough to mitigate the frenzied state without shattering it entirely.
‘Damn, I think I’ll have to get that idiot to come to the workshop to perform some tests… I’m already regretting all of this…’
…
“Mr. Necromancer, how much longer do we need to wait for? We have been here for a week already… It’s so boring… Can I at least go out and have some fun?”
“No.”
“Don’t be like that Mr. Necromancer. Are you still mad about that group? I already apologised for that, I’ll be good this time around, I promise~”
“No, you could compromise the entire mission! How did someone as incompetent like you exist within our cult!”
“Mr. Necromancer is mad, save me!”
In the eerie depths of the dark cavern, the woman's voice echoed, casting an unsettling chill upon the already somber atmosphere. The cavern itself, illuminated only by faint, flickering torchlight, seemed to amplify her words as they bounced off the damp, shadowy walls. The gathered individuals, cloaked in dark robes and surrounded by symbols of occult significance, shifted uncomfortably. Their patience had long since been tested, and the woman's impatience grated on their nerves like nails on a chalkboard. Whispers of annoyance rippled through the group but not one took any actions.
"No."
Came the stern reply, laced with a hint of irritation. The words came from a man surrounded by dark cloth, someone that the woman was very accustomed to.
“Not you to Mr. Warlock, why do I always have to get stuck with the boring types. Let’s just go out into the city this once…”
“The presence of the Solarian church has dwindled but there are still some paladins left, we must remain here while our acolytes perform the tasks instead.”
“Fine…”
The woman felt disappointed, yet she ultimately chose to cease her complaints. This was a recurring event that the group had become accustomed to. She would inevitably begin to voice her grievances, but her disruptions were typically minimal. They had all congregated in the expansive city, which had once served as one of their secret headquarters. While the majority of their members had been compelled to depart, a few concealed chambers in the depths had managed to evade detection.
This was one of them and the only one that managed to survive the previous extermination event. After the cult obelisk was robbed and eventually destroyed in the coming battle, the inquisitors from the church arrived into the city. They had failed in their mission so they took out the rage on the cult element within this city. The abominations that roamed the streets and sewers were quickly cleansed by regiments of holy paladins. Only this small area remained free of the cursed radiant energy that their god despised.
Moving above ground remained a perilous endeavor. Even though the church element had departed, it didn't imply that they weren't keeping a vigilant watch over this place. It would likely be years before the paladins returned, making this area safe again. Their activities on this island, especially in this region, were now scrutinized closely. They couldn't risk being seen by anyone, and permitting the unruly woman to roam freely might spell their doom.
“Mr. Necro…”
“Be quiet, someone is coming!”
After many days of waiting, the unholy magician finally opened his eyes and shifted his gaze to the side. There, an occult symbol began to glow in a sickly green hue, followed by an audible clicking sound. The walls of the chamber started to shift, revealing an opening through which a robed figure entered.
"Oh, is this one of our acolytes? No... is this one of yours, Mr. Necromancer?"
"For the last time, call me Master Kovak!"
"But I don't want to. How about instead of Mr. Necromancer, I call you Mr. No-Nose?"
"Shut up!"
Kovak, the necromancer in question, released a burst of green energy that illuminated the cavern. His face was briefly revealed, and as the woman had remarked, it was missing a few features, notably his nose. He might not have been truly undead yet, but his face resembled that of a desiccated mummy.
As a result of the powerful winds generated by the magical energy, the person who had entered had their face unveiled too. They appeared quite distinct from their group, resembling an ordinary individual from the streets. Their eyes were fixed in one direction, and the drool dribbling from their mouth indicated that they were ensnared by a spell.
“Thrall, have you brought the information that I require?”
The man that was under the spell didn’t reply and instead moved his hand into a side pouch. From within they pulled out a few scrolls on which they wrote down the information. Kovak manipulated his finger to conjure an eerie-looking mage hand that seized the parchment. His eyes scanned the handwritten scribbles at an astonishing speed. As he continued to peruse the parchment, a faint smile curved on his face, a detail not missed by the annoying woman accompanying him.
"Does that smile mean that we have our target?"
"Perhaps..."
"Perhaps? So do we have them or not?"
The man didn't believe conversing with this woman was wise, but he also knew that if he didn't provide some information, she would pester him relentlessly throughout the mission. Hence, he decided to update her on what his thrall had managed to gather.
"We have a list of names for the people who arrived with that caravan. Some have been confirmed as deceased, but others managed to leave the city. Fortunately, most of them were adventurers, which will simplify matters."
The Adventurers Guild maintained an extensive database of their members, allowing the group to swiftly identify potential targets in any city where guilds operated. Anyone on this list they received would be subject to investigation. Kovak had also noticed an interesting individual among the group, with a somewhat unusual class.
“This one could be it, only someone with this kind of class would be able to alter the relic… but he was only a tier 2? Could this person be part of the church? Or did those bastards falsify the records?”
The man who bore the appearance of a mummy continued to mumble to himself as he sifted through the list of names. Had he not been so engrossed in these writings, he might have noticed that his unruly companion was stealthily edging closer to the mind-controlled individual who had delivered the information. Kovak had reconciled himself to the notion that this mission predominantly depended on his abilities, as he couldn't place much reliance on the other high priests.
“So, does that mean that we have our targets now, Mr. Necromancer?”
After a brief moment of silence, the woman persisted, prompting Kovak to tear his gaze away from the parchment. He faced her with a sinister grin. Among the numerous names scribed on the parchment, one of them clearly stood out. It couldn't have been a mere coincidence, and it seemed their mission was about to take a significant step forward.
“Yes, that’s right with this list we should be able to find the person responsible…”
“That’s lovely~”
The woman chuckled with joy and with one quick movement sliced the throat of the person that brought forth the information. Kovak’s dead eyes bulged out of their eye sockets as he saw his thrall's throat burst forth with a stream of blood. The person could not even groan as the red blood turned pitch black and corroded their entire body. In a matter of moments the body exploded before the group of abyssal cultists, leaving behind a maddened necromancer.
“What have you done you imbecile?”
“What? We got the list and the names, what good is this thrall to you? Just let me have some fun~. It’s been a week already, I have my needs~”
“Are you an idiot? This thrall is part of the adventurer's guild, they will notice when he doesn’t come back!”
“Oh really? Oh well, I’m sure you’ll figure something out~”
Kovak’s whole body started radiating a menacing pale green hue as he had enough of this behavior. It took a lot of resources to plant someone into the adventurers guild who answered to him and his mistress and this person just ruined it. The thrall was supposed to return and act as if nothing happened but now the guild could start looking into what they provided for the cult, a new problem had been created and he was furious.
“I’ll figure something out… AFTER YOU DIE!”
The whole cavern shook as necrotic mana flew toward the laughing woman. Even now she didn’t repent but instead enjoyed the spectacle. Luckily for everyone gathered here, before the two cult members could go at it, a third one appeared in the middle. From within his sleeve a massive arm made of tentacles shot out to create a fleshy shield. It contained those undead energies and from the other side the cursed blade the woman held.
“That’s enough, stop this at once!”
The third cultist, who had been observing the escalating situation from the shadows, had finally decided to intervene. His grotesque tentacle arm, a manifestation of dark magic, proved effective in halting the impending magical clash between Kovak and the unruly woman. His voice, though filled with an eerie, otherworldly quality, carried a commanding tone that demanded obedience.
“Enough of this senseless bickering! The great one has given us a mission and we shall see it through!”
The woman reluctantly withdrew her cursed blade, still grinning provocatively at Kovak. The necromancer, though seething with anger, lowered his hands, allowing the necrotic energies to dissipate. The tension in the cavern gradually eased, but the air remained thick with hostility.
“We have the lead now, we will follow the list but when this is over… You will regret everything…”
“Ohh, so scary~”
The group quickly realigned their focus, prioritizing their mission over any personal disputes. Their primary objective was to eliminate everyone connected to the recent event, and this list would serve as their roadmap to locate all those involved.