Chapter 128 - Heretics (1/2)

All the noise and illusions vanished instantly. Before Gawain realized what was going on, the sight before his eyes had returned to normal.

The corridor of the castle stretched out in front of him. A dark red carpet was laid on the ground, while the portraits of Viscount Andrew’s ancestors hung from the walls on both sides of the carpet. Charged magic crystals were mounted in between the portraits. These crystals emitted a constant glow, but it was as if there was something disrupting the transmission of the rays of light. Though they appeared to be bright, the slightly further spots were unusually dim.

Gawain instinctively turned back for a glance but saw Sir Philip and the others who happened to be striding forward and crossing the door. Their movements were natural and not in the least abnormal. — It seemed he was the only one affected. Besides, those illusions that he saw earlier only lasted a moment; no one else had noticed.

“What’s wrong?” Amber caught the change in Gawain’s expression and asked in a low voice.

Gawain kept a sharp lookout of their surroundings while replying. “I seemed to have encountered an illusion earlier, but it only lasted a split second.”

“There is indeed magic dissipating here, most likely the aura left behind by the heretic cult believer. After coming into contact with such a powerhouse like yourself — who’s beyond its grade — it broke down by itself,” Pittman analyzed softly. “We must be careful. There might be a magic trap here.”

Gawain frowned. “Are you able to sense the heretic cult believer’s general position?”

“He’s very cautious. Either that or his power is odd.” Pittman shook his head. “I can sense remnants of twisted druid magic all over this area, but not one of the auras are ‘alive’…”

Sir Philip gripped his longsword tightly. He rested the sword handle against his chest and briefly recited the name of Kehr, the god of knights and warriors. He displayed a theurgy-like ability through such a method. Then, he looked towards the end of the corridor. “The auras are gathering at that side.”

That was the direction of the feudal lord’s meeting chamber.

Gawain exchanged glances with Amber and the others; then, with Gawain taking the lead, druid Pittman at the back, Philip and Amber keeping guard on the sides, the four carefully edged down the corridor.

The portraits hanging on the walls on the two sides radiated a pale glow in the light cast by the altered magic crystals. The ancestors of the Leslie Clan hung on the walls, indifferently watching the visit of uninvited guests. Those blanched eyeballs were like dead fishes, making Amber involuntarily feel a cold shiver down her spine.

On the contrary, Gawain merely cast those portraits a glance. That was only due to the mild alteration created by the magic environment, absolutely undeserving of worry. Besides, who hadn’t been hung on the wall before?

The door of the meeting chamber was similarly left ajar; a dim light leaked out from inside. However, when they drew nearer, both Pittman and Philip could not sense a definite aura of a heretic cult believer. Gawain scanned the wooden door decorated with luxurious metal threads and carved with the heraldry of the Leslie Clan. After confirming that there weren’t any potential dangers such as traps and whatnot with the door itself and behind it, he carefully pushed it open.

The feudal lord’s meeting chamber was deserted. The magic crystals on the vault and the columns all around created a murky glow; the tables and chairs in the middle of the hall had been moved away, only leaving the velvet high-back chair on the platform at the front of the hall. That was the feudal lord’s seat.

Tanzan Town’s feudal lord, Viscount Andrew, was seated in that high-back chair. Behind him hung the portraits of the Leslie Clan’s earliest generations of ancestors to be conferred a title of nobility, while he breathed with difficulty under the gazes of those ancestors. This man who was originally tall and skinny had become emaciated to the point of being shriveled. His blood and flesh seemed to have withered, skin sticking tightly to his bones, like a pale and desiccated living dead. He leaned against the back of the chair; his head swayed on his shoulders, while his eyes fixed on the roof without a focus as he struggled to breathe while murmuring something under his breath.

The magic crystals located on the two sides of the chair emitted a white light, casting Andrew’s long and hazily cast shadow on the ground.

This viscount seemed to have completely lost his ability to move freely.

Gawain grasped the Sword of Pioneers tightly, leading Philip and Pittman to walk into the hall. The trio guarded against their surroundings while moving towards Viscount Andrew. However, it was as if the Viscount was totally unaware of the three people’s approach; he merely stared blankly at the vault, muddled sounds coming from his mouth.

“His mind has been trapped.” Pittman immediately decided. “But it’s not severe. — I can release his curse, but the heretic cult believer is very likely to notice. Be prepared.”

Gawain nodded lightly. “Do it.”

Pittman presently placed his hand on Viscount Andrew’s forehead, while his other hand brought out a small bottle from his chest. He used his mouth to bite off the wooden cork at the mouth of the bottle then dripped a few drops of the liquid onto the top of the Viscount’s head.

A strange yet strong flower fragrance diffused from those few drops of liquid and created an intense exorcism effect alongside the druid spell. The sorcery that bound Viscount Andrew’s mind was affected and began to loosen bit by bit.

All of a sudden, Viscount Andrew’s eyelids lifted for a moment. He regained soberness from the chaos and looked towards Gawain who stood before him. His eyes abruptly widened as a hoarse and horrific voice choked out of his throat. “He’s in my shadows!”

And almost in the exact moment the Viscount’s words fell, the shadow that he cast on the ground began to contort. The magic crystals on the back of the chair shattered with a bang. The shadow on the ground grew all at once, a pitch-black figure leaped out of it and charged right at Gawain’s face.