“Dammit, we lost him,” I muttered angrily to one of my minions.
“We should retreat and regroup then, my lord,” The Winter Bound replied.
“Where?” I snapped, “This whole place is a nightmare.”
He pointed towards another street, “Past that fallen statue there appears to be a residential district.”
I nodded, “All right, let’s move.”
We moved slowly through the crowd of spiders swarming around us, occasionally I would see a small group of the ghouls jump in and snatch three or four of the crowd. Adding to their number. More often though they were simply replenishing what had been lost in the latest skirmish. Thankfully my Winter Bound contingent hadn’t suffered any losses yet.
Current Minions: 16 of 68
Despite the activity surrounding me my mind kept reverting back to the gritty texture beneath my boots and the awkward sticking of my steps.
I flicked my hand and sent a death bolt into a wounded spider with a growl. If we had simply scouted this out beforehand we could have avoided this entire situation. But no, let’s go through it. I wouldn’t understand the reasoning behind it.
“Dammit Alaric,” I half shouted, slamming my spear into another spider and releasing it violently from its skull. “You’re going to get me killed and I still don’t have my fucking answer for this stupid trial.”
I tossed out more marks and looked towards our destination, it was covered in webbing, wide bridges connecting the rooftops of the houses. I narrowed my eyes.
“That’s it,” I muttered and sent a mental command to one of the nearby ghouls.
It came scuttling down a wall and leapt over the circle of minions, attaching to another wall and continuing its trek.
“My Lord?” A Winter Bound questioned.
“We’re going up,” I responded, “They’re coming down at us, let’s eliminate an angle for them.”
The Winter Bound group nodded and we pushed forward, a new goal in mind. My ghouls converged on the singular point, fighting off the encroaching hordes as they gave chase. We stopped underneath one of the thick web bridges and waited, holding our position. If the majority of the combatants weren’t undead, we would have died from simple exhaustion. How long had we been fighting now? It felt like an eternity. I glanced over at the sun's location on the horizon. It hadn’t made it past sunrise yet. Webs shot down from the ghouls, whisking the five Winter Bound and I upwards and onto the bridge. It shook from the sudden weight but held firm. I grinned.
“Let’s buy some breathing room,” I ordered my minions, returning my spear to a ready stance.
The spiders below us were only briefly befuddled at the change of terrain and scuttled up the wall after us. I gritted my teeth, watching probably everyone’s worst nightmare closing in around me as we fought to the nearby rooftop. I was thankful for the gloves I had been wearing since my arrival in this trial, I would’ve dropped my spear ten times over from the amount of sweat coating my palms. Still I tightened my grip on the shaft and tried to breathe deeply. I sent the tip of the spear forward, lodging it in another set of mandibles.
“No amount of calming techniques are going to help with this one Crowley,” I muttered exasperated, “Just kill the damn things.”
We made it to the rooftop and continued to hold the thin line between death and survival.
“I need to do something else,” I said to myself while withdrawing the spear and sending it forward to greet another spider, “What else do I have?”
I went through a mental checklist.
“I’m already using Mark of the Grave as much as I can,” I withdrew the spear and sent it forward again, “Create Ghoul is self propagating,” I put more force behind the spear to hold a spider at bay, “I could use more Winter Bound but I don’t have time for the summoning,” I dismissed Harbinger and threw death bolts with both hands, “Or the room for the matter.”
I resummoned Harbinger and hacked at a trail of web connecting to the sword arm of one of the Winter Bound. A spider seized the opportunity and leapt at the minion, taking a chunk of its shoulder with it as it was thrown off.
“Bind Specter?” I questioned before shaking my head, “What use will that be? They’ll still be vulnerable to the spiders when they materialize.”
I fought back against the spiders in silence, my thoughts focused only on the killing. And I was at the stark realization that I was out of tools. What was out was the only thing I could use. “Unless I use Animate and fight a horde with a horde,” I finished the thought aloud. It wouldn’t be very cost productive though, I’d be spending more mana than I could maintain. Even Death Energy wouldn’t last long, at the rate I’d have to be animating. If they could self propagate like the ghouls maybe it would be a better option. Sometimes you don’t need smart predators, just overwhelming numbers.
The web bridge we had come across fell, draping across the opposing building like a mourner's veil. “Apparently they have both,” I grumbled.
Returning my attention to the fight at hand I was increasingly aware of the flaws in our line. The Winter Bound could take a startlingly large amount of punishment before they died but at this rate it was only a matter of time before we lost one or two of them and the line collapsed. And I wasn’t doing much better, nicks and nibbles were fine on their own but several dozen added up quite quickly. And I realized that I had made a massive mistake. Initially coming up to the rooftop seemed like an excellent plan, cross the various buildings via the web bridges that had already been built. But I watched each and every one fall and drape down to the streets below. Turning our rooftop into an island.
“This is it then,” I whispered, “This is how my second life ends.”
I drew back the spear and kept stabbing forward into the ever growing crowd of legs and fangs. One by one the Winter Bound fell to the horde, a blaze of frost that spanned outward, freezing the webs and sending cascading blasts of wind around them.
Spiders flew in every direction slamming down onto the streets below or into each other. Fangs sank deep into my calf, I brought the head of my spear down on it screaming. More fangs. More screams. Harbinger became a blaze of green blood that sizzled against the magic metal. Claws extended from my hand as it took a new form and I swung out in a primal daze. The coarseness of my throat closing around my yells before the last Winter Bound fell and threw the Spiders and me off of the rooftop. They clung to my body, sinking their fangs deeper when we connected against the stone street below. I coughed and choked, blinking rapidly. Calm rushed over me while I watched the approaching horde through a fog. Every detail grew fuzzy with each passing second until I saw nothing at all.
I laughed into the void around me, collapsing to my figurative knees. I looked to what I assumed was up knowing that only the deep dark awaited my eyes. This was it. I had died again and there was no fey to offer me another chance this time.
Objective [Trial of the Wight] recalculating.
Initial quest: Regroup with Alaric Abernathy’s party [Completed]
Current quest: Travel with Alaric to Lone Peak Mountains [Failed]
Reason for failure: Death.
I gazed at the teal box of text, wondering what it was I was supposed to learn from Alaric to begin with.
Question received, evaluating.
[Error] Administrator override. Request rejected.
Reason: Unrelated to current objective.
“What?” My thought spoken aloud as my body took form within the void. I glanced down at my body, clothed in the clothes Robin had given me but without all of the acid burns.
“That is a valid question,” A voice replied.
I looked up to see a finely dressed man, emerald eyes staring keenly at me, appraising me.
“Um, all right,” I replied hesitantly, “I wasn’t really trying to understand that part. I was trying to learn something about myself through him,” I continued but paused, “Though since I’m dead again that doesn’t really matter now I suppose.”
The man nodded, “True enough,” He sighed, “The first trial this System sends someone to is this place and It expected you to survive following my father’s path. I’ll need to keep a closer eye on it than I originally thought.”
“Your father?” I looked at the man closely, I guess there was a slight resemblance. But not really.
“Nothing that concerns you,” He answered with a dismissive wave of his hand before sighing again and looking around curiously, “You have my sincerest apologies for your early demise within this new world,” He stated, a System box appearing in front of me.
Administrator Auelda extends an offer of one free revival in recompense for his oversight.
“What happens if I accept?” I asked.
“Well you’d come back to life in your tent in Riverrun,” He explained, “Though it will be counted as failing the trial,” He shrugged, “Better than being dead I’d imagine.”
“It’s not that foreign to me,” I replied, “What if I want to continue the trial?”
He frowned, the thought previously unconsidered. “Why would you want to do that?”
“A number of reasons,” I brushed the System box to the side of my vision for the time being, “Sure it’s been hectic and hellish but it’s doing its job. I was pressed into several corners and forced to adapt,” I paused, “And I’d like to know what it is I’m supposed to be learning here.”
“Hmm,” He mulled over my explanation and looked at me appraisingly, “All right, but on one condition, you have to revive yourself using your own resources. And you’ll be in the same situation you were previously in. No freebies, no mercy or consideration for your plight.”
I nodded, “All right,” Mentally rejecting his offer from earlier, “How do I do that?”
He shrugged, “I don’t know, I’m not the Necromancer.”
“So I should just figure it out?” I frowned.
He nodded, “Best of luck to you Crowley and thank you for bringing this oversight to my attention. I look forward to seeing the outcome of your little trial.” He was gone before he finished his sentence, the words echoing through the void. No elaborate display of magic or control, just gone.
If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.
I nodded to myself, I was looking forward to seeing the outcome of this trial too. And I had just learned there was someone other than that fey governing the Chrono System. Interesting but useless knowledge in this situation. I shook myself and knelt down, drawing my attention inward. What have I learned so far? And how could I possibly bring myself back to life? It was possible which was encouraging. But how many times could I do it? Was there a limit? Probably.
“Focus Crowley,” I hissed, “First question, what have I learned so far in this trial?”
So far there were the different interactions between souls and the energy related to them. For example, when I made my Shade I had no issues shoving necrotic energy into its corpse once I had torn out its previous soul core. But when I raised the spider ghoul I needed to expend more power to override the demonic energy.
And then there was Alaric’s soul and that inky black substance coating it.
I peered down at my chest, hoping to gain insight on my own soul. It was there, a teal ball of light, black strands wrapping around it and green permeating it. All right now what do each of these parts represent?
Teal must be my Wight nature represented as the core, the black strands could be the death energy I absorb, and the green is probably related to, to what?
I frowned and a thought crossed my mind, the different paths the System had assigned. I pulled up my status.
“All right,” I muttered, “Let’s start with the easy ones. The black correlates to Path of the Grave and Path of the Reaper. The Teal is definitely Path of the Wight, and maybe Path of the Cryptkeeper. So that leaves Path of the Horned King for the green.”
I shook my head, no that still felt wrong. I discarded the image of my soul and focused on the paths, if these were representations of me, what did they mean to me?
“What does being a Cryptkeeper feel like?” I wondered aloud, “It makes me think of graveyards, zombies, the dead.” I could feel something clicking into place but there was still something missing. “What does it mean to be a Cryptkeeper?” I asked myself before snapping my fingers in realization, “To govern over the dead and the undead.”
I blinked, a hole being filled that I hadn’t realized was there. A rush of energy and acceptance filling my being before dwindling to a steady flow.
I now understood why the System had given me this trial, I hadn’t accepted my new abilities fully and as a consequence they hadn’t accepted me. My abilities had been stunted from the beginning. This was it, this was the path for my answer. But why had it done the trial the way that it did? I had an idea on that but I turned my attention back to my paths.
“Path of the Grave,” I stared at it, imagery rushing through my mind, “It makes me think of the same things as Cryptkeeper. But it’s different somehow.” I chewed on my lip. I only had the one skill assigned to it, Mark of the Grave. All right, let’s work backwards. What does Mark of the Grave do? It slowly rots and decays anything and anyone that it’s inflicted upon. “A slow inevitable death,” I whispered, “That’s what Path of the Grave is, Inevitability. Everything dies.”
It clicked, sitting nicely next to Path of the Cryptkeeper.
My attention landed on Path of the Reaper next. Taking the approach I had for Path of the Grave, I looked at the skills first.
“Bind Specter, Create Shade, and Spectral Sight,” I muttered, “Each has to deal with souls in one way or another. And the Reaper is famously a being that carries souls to the afterlife,” I paused, “Though in some stories it takes the souls for itself.”
Is it like Cryptkeeper but deals with souls instead of bodies? I shook my head, no that was too simple. It didn’t fully fit.
“All right, what am I doing when I use those skills?” I asked aloud before answering myself, “I’m interacting with souls, whether I’m binding them or analyzing them. Or creating artificial ones.” I grinned, “Using the power of souls, guiding them to their next destination, watching and waiting for the right time to harvest. Being a Reaper means being the shepherd, the harvester, and the warden.”
I could almost hear the click.
I looked at the one path that had brought me here initially and had vexed me since I had woken up in that clearing. Path of the Wight.
“Death bolt, Soul Sight, and Harbinger,” I considered the three skills, “Death bolt was one of my first skills. An expression of death energy.”
Soul Sight allowed me to properly utilize several of my skills and had become a constant in everything that I did. It was my sight. And Harbinger, it was my weapon, an expression of my will in combat.
“All right, if death bolt is an expression of death energy, soul sight is my sight, and harbinger is an expression of my will,” I muttered, “What is my will? What does being a Wight mean to me?”
A second chance. The second chance. To come back from death and try again. But I didn’t fully come back, I’m in Limbo, between life and death.
“The Path of the Wight is me, the indignation of death.”
Click.
Trial of the Wight objective: Accept who you are or be forgotten. 80% complete.
I looked at my last path, Path of the Horned King. The only thing I could think of was the skull hanging on my belt. I took it off my belt and stared at it, its empty sockets staring expectantly back at me.
“Summon Winter Bound,” I turned the skull around, “Whispers of the Hunt,” I slid back my hood and placed the skull on my face, feeling it fasten to me, “Winter Bound call me my lord,” I drew the hood back over my head, “Even the trees tell me what I want to know with Whispers of the Hunt.”
I looked up at the empty void, the dark sockets of the mask mirroring it.
I let out a heavy muffled sigh through the mask, “I know what it means.”
Looking back down I felt the clicking before I said the words aloud, “Dominion. Rule. King.”
Trial of the Wight complete.
Unique reward: Skill [Ghostfire] has been obtained, replacing skill [Death Bolt] to correctly mirror your unique state.
Spectral teal flame ran down my arms momentarily, announcing the brilliance of my soul and lighting the sockets of the mask as darkness flowed in to obscure what was visible of my face and neck.
The Administrator applauds your ingenuity and intelligence. But wishes to remind you that you are still dead.
I laughed, fully and heartily. The weight in my chest lifting and allowing me to breathe fully once more.
Notice: Trial of the Wight secondary objective activated.
Objective: Deny the jaws of death and return to the world you left, escape the Brood Mother’s nest with Alaric.
Reward: Evolution.
I grinned and stood, “Better get to it.”
And I stood there. “How exactly should I do this?”
Let’s compare it to Animate, how does that energy flow? I took a deep breath exhaling an icy mist like it was a cold winter day. And Bind Specter, how does that energy flow? And Ghostfire, what exactly does that do? I concentrated on the skill and the box of text popped up into my vision.
Skill: Ghostfire
The definitive expression of a Wight's being, this spectral teal flame is a chilling paradox, an attack that freezes the body and burns the soul.
Effect: [Active]
- Combat: Launch a bolt of Ghostfire that inflicts a dual curse. The Grave's Touch saps warmth and vitality, making the physical body brittle and slow, while the Soul's Embers ignite the spirit from within, dealing direct damage to the target's essence.
- Utility: At will, you can manifest the two aspects of Ghostfire separately: drawing forth its cold to create chilling environmental hazards, or using its pure spiritual flame to inscribe powerful runes and wards for ritual magic.
I nodded along, my eyes bouncing from word to word. Before holding out my hand and conjuring the teal flame and concentrating on the ritual Elden and I had used when we summoned Myer. It fell from my hand in liquid fire, trickling along the ground. It didn’t take long for the ritual circle to become complete and ignite as a low wall of flame. I stepped into it, focusing death energy into the work and picturing what I wanted. The void shook and the flames grew brighter.
Notice: Unique Trait [Limbo] has activated.
I felt my body give way to the spiritual, my form disappearing as I performed the Bind Specter ritual. Rebinding my soul to my body. “Probably not the most effective way of doing it,” I noted absently, watching my reserve of death energy and mana drain exponentially, “But it’s all I’ve got right now. And frankly I’m surprised this is even working.”
Several straining seconds later I vanished from the void, the ritual circle winking out.
I blinked rapidly, taking a shallow breath at the sight before me. Nothing but the web. Panic rose in my chest and I fought myself to not struggle in the confines of my body's temporary home. “Breathe Crowley, it’s just a cocoon. You’re fine.” I evened out my breathing slowly, and glanced at my resources. Health was abysmal, Stamina was all right, Mana was half gone, and I grimaced at my empty Death Energy bar.
I activated Spectral Sight, my eyes shifting to take in my surroundings. The souls of the spiders were scurrying around in a frenzy, all heading towards a similar direction. “Probably going towards Alaric.”
And then I noted something interesting, my ghouls were still running around but I no longer had any control over them. I reached out mentally but their intense hunger slapped away my offering hand.
“That’s a problem.”
I took another breath, one thing at a time. First I needed to recuperate my reserves. Death Energy was trickling in like it always did and all I needed was time. My mana was regenerating just slightly faster. More spiders were flooding past and a couple stopped, glancing over at my cocoon. Their mandibles chittering suspiciously.
I tensed, watching the few spiders approach me cautiously. I was going to have to fight sooner than I wanted.
I reached out to Ghostfire, calling upon the frost aspect and having it radiate outwards from me. The webbing surrounding me began to crystalize, spreading along the ground. The spiders hissed but did not advance towards me. The ground freezing beneath me and hoarfrost forming along the strands of web. The spiders retreated quickly, avoiding the encroaching ice.
But I was running into a problem, I was too constrained to attempt any movements. Sure my cocoon was frozen and brittle but there was no room to try and break it. I needed minions.
“Winter Bound.” I muttered, focusing on the skill. Etchings appeared in the ice, carved there by the flame aspect.
Notice: Winter Bound [Castien] [Erlan] [Vamir] [Syndra] and [Ashryn] wish to return to your service. Do you accept?
I frowned but accepted the prompt. Mana flowing out of me and into the skill. Five Winter Bound appeared outside of my cocoon, three immediately took guard in front while the other two began to break the crystalized cocoon that was my prison. Soon the frontside had been shattered and they pulled me from it, helping me gain my footing on the slick ground beneath. I looked around and noted with satisfaction that the area the hoarfrost had taken was large enough to be considered safe.
What wasn’t safe was the horde gathered along its edges. I briefly wondered why it was holding them back so well but my attention was stolen by the change in appearance of the Winter Bound. They were still wearing their dark robes and overly large hoods but beneath them wasn’t darkness. I was staring at the beautiful, cold, and pointed features of elves. Extremely pale Elves with burning teal irises. I couldn’t help but stare in wonderment and confusion.
“My Lord?” One of them asked.
“Sorry, I was taken aback at the change you all seemed to undergo.” I replied quickly.
The Winter Bound chuckled and smiled brilliantly at me, “It is due to the change my lord has gone through in the time we’ve been apart.”
Their appearance had changed since I had accepted the Path of the Horned King?
“My name is Castien,” The Winter Bound introduced, “This one is Erlan, Vamir, Syndra, and Asryn.”
Each Winter Bound gave a respectful nod of their head as they were introduced but never took their eyes off of the spiders.
“I have so many questions,” I said, “But it’ll have to wait until we’re done with the Trial.”
“What’s the objective, my lord?” Castien asked.
“First we need to establish a better zone of control so I can make Shades to scout ahead. We need to find Alaric and regroup with him.”
Syndra scowled at the mention of Alaric but nodded with the rest of them.
“Understood.” Castien replied, taking position with the rest of the Winter Bound.
The Five of them began to magically encourage the hoarfrost to continue to spread outwards. I watched the magic flow and grinned. Next I needed to make an army.
Notice [Infant Shade] wishes to re-establish connection. Do you accept?
I nodded quickly, accepting the prompt.
The shadowy form of my spike demon slithered into the frosted area and briefly rubbed against my leg as it slid back into my shadow. Just going to ignore that sign of affection I thought with a frown. I’m going to have to talk with Elden extensively about Shades and their behaviors when I get back.
I took a centering breath and looked at all of the cocoons around me, each containing corpses at differing stages of decay. It was time to be a Cryptkeeper. I took the Deor Skull from my belt and placed it on my face. Teal flames lighting in the sockets and shadows hiding my features just like in the void. I held out my hands and made an active effort to absorb the death from the area, watching the bar fill faster but not fast enough to warrant careless casting. With my left hand pointed outwards and my right pointed towards the multitudes of corpses I began to cast Animate.