Chapter 151: Ether Outburst

At the bottom of the slope, Captain Field briefly stretched his limbs.

Through Spirit Vision, flames surged from his chest to engulf his body. On the etheric plane, his entire silhouette glowed a blinding white.

Maggie, knowing the details, whispered, "That's an ether outburst. Only hunters at the Practitioner rank can use it."

"At the Practitioner stage, it can only be maintained for ten minutes at most. But while it lasts, their explosive power is several times greater than normal."

Richard watched Captain Field take his first step.

He leaped up from the meadow, his foot finding purchase midair as though springing off an invisible wall.

He landed directly in the puddle.

The twin handaxes previously at Captain Field's waist were already gripped tightly in his hands.

The axes were double-edged; their heads were small, but the blades were razor-thin.

Through Spirit Vision, Richard could see a dark red film of ether clinging to the blades.

This had to be a temporary weapon enchantment, a feat requiring a senior practitioner nearing the Minor Adept rank.

The blades themselves were nothing special, but coated in ether, they carried an exorcism effect similar to Enchanted Bullets against evil creatures.

As these thoughts flashed through his mind, the captain swung his first axe. Richard couldn't even track the arc of the slash.

He only saw Captain Field's right hand rise and fall.

A dark red blur flashed, and the Swamp Corpse's flattened face was cleaved cleanly in half from the crown of its head to its jaw.

As it split, a geyser of brown sludge erupted from the corpse.

Captain Field flipped the axe in his left hand and swatted with the flat of the blade, batting all the spraying sludge back away from him.

The Newcomers present watched with bated breath, unable to look away.

The second strike was even faster. Before the captain's heels even touched the ground, his target's upper and lower body were already separating.

The third was a Coal-Pickled Walker. As it poked its head out of the puddle, the captain tossed his right axe backhanded.

The weapon spun three times in the air before the blade buried itself dead center into the creature's squashed face.

The fourth had already been taken care of by Sarah.

Only when he saw the muzzle flash did Richard's gaze snap toward Sarah.

The female hunter hadn't waded into melee. She stood at the southern edge of the slope's base.

She raised her double-barreled Hunting Rifle, aimed, and fired.

"Bang!"

The double-barreled Hunting Rifle held two rounds, firing one after the other.

The first shot had barely left the barrel before her hand was already moving to load the third round.

By the time the third shot rang out, her left hand was already thumbing in the fifth.

Her micro-circulation synced perfectly with every shot, reload, and aim, seamlessly reinforcing every physical movement.

Even accounting for the reloads, Sarah fired six consecutive shots in just eight seconds.

Six evil creatures dropped, including two Coal-Pickled Walkers.

No matter how thick a Coal-Pickled Walker's hide was, it couldn't withstand a silver bullet directly to the neck joint.

Back on his side, Captain Field was already cleaving his seventh Swamp Corpse.

Watching the two of them work, Richard felt a surge of adrenaline.

A hunter walking the Path of Blood Ignition, fueled by an ether outburst, could reap evil creatures like wheat.

He stared at the flashing dark red arcs of the axe and recalled Hecate's words.

Abyss plus hunter: nearly invincible within the same rank, capable of rivaling even some Virtuosos.

Even an ordinary hunter was this staggering when utilizing an ether outburst.

So just how terrifying would a Major Adept hunter of the Abyss Tradition be when fighting at full strength?

At the bottom of the slope, Captain Field's ether outburst was drawing to a close.

His micro-circulation slowly cooled from a roaring inferno back down to its usual slow, simmering, energy-saving state.

The dark red gleam on both of his axe blades faded away.

The steel returned to looking like something fresh out of an ordinary blacksmith's forge, save for the dark brown sludge caked across it.

The two hunters wiped out all the Coal-Pickled Walkers, intentionally leaving a few Swamp Corpses alive.

Gripping his handaxes, Captain Field waved the four Newcomers over.

From below, the pool of dark water nestled in the depression looked exactly like an eye.

"Don't stare at it," Sarah's voice rang out. "If you stare, it'll stare right back."

Richard immediately tore his gaze away.

"Spread out around the rock," Captain Field commanded.

"Twenty paces apart. Edmund on the east, Richard on the south, Maggie on the west, and Theodore on the north."

"Sarah and I will hold the perimeter. If something goes wrong, blow your whistles."

The four Newcomers took their designated positions.

Richard moved to the south side of the rock, planting his boots on a relatively solid patch of meadow.

Beneath the grass was a layer of thick black mud, and below that, water.

He dropped his backpack and initiated his breathing method.

By the end of his first complete cycle, he could feel the "door" right beneath his feet. This one was far wider than the one at the Highland Summer Lodge yesterday.

During the exhalation phase of his third cycle, Richard took a step.

This time, he deliberately suppressed his output, cutting the force of his step to half of what he'd used yesterday.

The material world bled away from the corners of his vision, and the entire peat swamp changed color.

But this was different from the Highland Summer Lodge.

Through Spirit Vision, he witnessed echoes from a thousand years ago.

Dozens of figures were lined up around the depression atop the rock.

They were packed tightly together, all facing the dark pool with their hands bound securely behind their backs.

Two robed priests were gripping the shoulders of the person at the very front, shoving them toward the depression.

The victim struggled violently. Richard watched as the man's heels dug bloody streaks into the edge of the rock, his neck twisting wildly beneath the priests' hands.

He threw his mouth wide open, but no sound came out.

These echoes in the shallows were purely silent.

The scene played out and the bodies moved, but the sound had long been ground away by the weight of time.

The man was finally shoved off the edge. His body plummeted into the depression, splashing into the water below.

The next victim was dragged forward. This time, it was a woman.

Richard saw that her hair had been bound tightly behind her back with a thick vine.

The woman didn't struggle.

In the last second before being pushed, she lifted her head and took one final look at the sky.

Richard could feel the glowing leaves on the tree of his Seat of the Sun trembling.

It took him three full breathing cycles to stabilize them again.

On the other side of the rock, Edmund stood deathly pale, his right hand tightly clutching the Silver Cross at his chest.

On the north side, Theodore was hunched over, violently retching into the dirt.

He was curled into a tight ball, bracing one hand against the mud while the other clutched his stomach.

To the west, Maggie was constantly muttering something under her breath in Gaelic—it sounded like some kind of folk dirge for the dead.

"Stop staring and get to work!"

Sarah's voice shouted from the perimeter.

That snapped Richard back to reality. His right hand unholstered his Webley, keeping it ready as a backup.

According to their orders, they only had to mop up the few remaining Swamp Corpses.

The Swamp Corpses looked completely different from the Infatuation Lamps back at the Highland Summer Lodge.

Infatuation Lamps were just masses of drifting mist with an umbrella-like structure, hovering slowly along the ground.

But Swamp Corpses had a physical form.

Richard watched the first Swamp Corpse haul itself out of a puddle roughly ten paces to his south.

It crawled on all fours, but the angles of its limbs were all wrong.

Its knees bowed outward while its elbows bent inward, and its spine arched sharply upward. Overall, it looked like a bloated, oversized frog.

But its face was more nauseating than any horror movie makeup Richard could remember.

Marinated in the peat, the face had been compressed and deformed into a flattened, dark-brown patty of flesh.

The eyes, nose, and mouth were still in their relative places, but every feature had been horribly stretched, twisted, and swollen.

It dragged itself out of the muck and scuttled along the edge of the grass straight toward him.

It was far faster than an Infatuation Lamp, and far more purposeful.

Richard's left hand brushed against his needle case, and he drew out a Silver Needle.

Channelling Fourfold Breathing into the exhalation phase of the third cycle, he condensed a Moon Nail.

The moment he flicked the nail, Richard knew this fight would be much smoother than yesterday's encounter with the Infatuation Lamps.

Infatuation Lamps had no flesh, rendering the piercing power of his Moon Nails virtually useless.

But Swamp Corpses had skin—thick, leathery skin pickled tight by the peat.

The projectile punched right into the Swamp Corpse's chest. Carried by the ether, the Silver Needle tore cleanly through the outer armor of mud, the leathery skin, the rotting flesh, and finally the spine.

The Swamp Corpse lurched to a halt, throwing its jaw wide as if about to vomit.

Richard's Inspiration spiked in warning.

Without a second thought, he activated Stone Armor to brace himself.

With a sizzle, the corrosive fluid splashed against him, but it only managed to eat through the outermost layer of stone.

He drew a second Silver Needle and flicked it out.

This shot flew straight into the Swamp Corpse's gaping, fetid mouth.

The needle punched clean through that flattened face and blasted out the back of its skull.

The creature's entire upper body whipped backward before collapsing dead into the puddle.

A shout from Maggie rang out from the far side of the rock.

Over on the north side, Theodore stood at the edge of a muck-filled pool.

A Swamp Corpse was crawling straight toward him, but the Flintlock in his hands was shaking violently.

He had already fired his first shot, but missed entirely.

His second shot... Theodore's finger hovered over the trigger, but he couldn't bring himself to squeeze it.

Richard could see the former stable boy was deathly pale.

The Swamp Corpse had crawled to within three paces of him.

Maggie was the closest to him.

She dashed over, holding her Oak Short Staff horizontally in front of her, the carved ram horn at its head clutched tightly in her palm.

Just as she reached Theodore, Maggie slammed the head of the staff into the dirt.

Richard saw a burst of dark green ether erupt from the staff, expanding outward to form a ring.

The ring washed over both Maggie and Theodore.

On the very last step of its pounce, the Swamp Corpse froze.

It stared blankly at Maggie and Theodore for a few seconds, then abruptly turned and scurried off toward a nearby clump of reeds.

The freckled girl fished a few objects out of the leather pouch at her waist.

They were small, dart-like metal shards, each etched with runic inscriptions.

"Family arts," Maggie told Theodore. "Stand still. I've got this."

"...I'll help you," Theodore gritted his teeth, raising his Flintlock once more.

"Your hands are shaking, you'll miss," Maggie said bluntly. "Just count for me."

"Count what?"

"Count its steps. When it takes its third step, I want you to scream as loud as you can."

"...Why do I need to scream?"

"To make it turn its head."

Theodore didn't ask any further questions.

He leveled his Flintlock, fixing his eyes on the Swamp Corpse scurrying toward the reeds.

"One."

"Two."

"Three!"

Theodore let out a roar.

His shout echoed across the swamp, and the creature violently snapped its head back to look at him.

With a flick of her wrist, Maggie sent all three metal shards flying at once.

They buried themselves securely into its right shoulder, its left shoulder, and its neck.

The inscriptions on her metal shards clearly couldn't compare to proper exorcism rounds, and they were noticeably weaker than Richard's Moon Nails.

The Swamp Corpse only paused for a moment before turning and crawling back toward Maggie and Theodore.

This time, the Azure-Green Ring wouldn't be enough to fool it.

Maggie narrowed her eyes. "My family's tricks really aren't enough."

"What do we do?" Theodore asked.

"You shoot its leg," Maggie commanded. "I'll go for the neck."

"...Shoot its leg?"

"Slow it down."

Theodore gritted his teeth.

He raised his Flintlock, blasting a Silver-Lead Bullet squarely into the Swamp Corpse's front right leg.

Unlike Sarah's, his Silver-Lead Bullet possessed no ether enhancement.

It slammed into the creature's thick armor of mud, but merely gouged a small crater before bouncing off harmlessly.

But the sheer kinetic force made its front right leg buckle, tilting its entire body sideways.

This time, Maggie drew her hunting knife.

Seizing the opportunity, she vaulted onto the Swamp Corpse's back. Pinning its squashed face down with her left hand, she brought the blade down with her right.

The tip of the blade plunged straight into the back of its neck.

One stab, two stabs, three stabs.

With the fourth strike, the Swamp Corpse's entire head—spewing a gush of corrosive fluid—was completely severed from its body.

The decapitated body slumped into the puddle. It was a good thing the girl leaped back so quickly, or she would have been drenched in the foul spray.

Maggie stepped away from the edge of the puddle, her boots caked with a fresh layer of slime.

"This is exactly why I don't want to walk the hunter path," she muttered.

She wiped her blade clean against the grass. "One hack, and you're covered in filth."

Theodore stared at her. "...That was you not fighting like a hunter?"

"It's a family knife technique," Maggie said, wiping the blade fully clean. "Even a Scholar needs to know how to use a knife."

"..."

"Don't just stand there." She sheathed her knife. "There are two more coming from the east."

Theodore snapped his head around.

On the eastern side of the rock, Edmund was locked in a bitter struggle with two Swamp Corpses.

He had managed to hit one with a cross nail, but the creature had only staggered; it didn't fall.

"Cross nails are useless against this thick hide!" Edmund cursed, retreating frantically under the pressure.

Richard hurried around from the south edge to assist him.

Moving into position, he flicked out a third Silver Needle.

The projectile punched right through the first Swamp Corpse's face, dropping it instantly onto the grass.

The second Swamp Corpse had already reached Edmund. The young man frantically drew a Silver Dagger steeped in holy water.

But the dagger was still just an ordinary blade. Going head-to-head against a thick-skinned monster like a Swamp Corpse with it was a fool's errand.

Edmund retreated step by step.

As he moved back, he quickly traced a cross over his chest with his left hand, muttering a phrase in Latin.

Suddenly, the Silver Dagger flared with light.

He pivoted and slashed. The blade sheared clean through the Swamp Corpse's right forelimb, leaving a perfectly smooth stump behind.

"What was that?" Richard asked.

"Consecration," the young man explained, ducking away as the beast spat a volley of corrosive acid. "A temporary enchantment for the dagger. It only lasts ten seconds."

"It fades after ten seconds?"

"Then I have to chant it again."

Capitalizing on the beast's severed limb, Edmund quickly followed up with two more slashes.

The first strike laid its neck open, and the second neatly severed its remaining forelimb.

"Beautiful." Richard provided the finishing blow, sinking a Moon Nail squarely into the back of its head to end its final spasms.

"Thanks." Edmund let out a heavy breath. "Just this one was harder to put down than all six of those Infatuation Lamps combined."

"The danger of a Swamp Corpse lies entirely in its mud armor,"

Captain Field's voice called out from the perimeter. "Once you pierce the shell, it's completely soft inside."

"Good use of Consecration."

"But it's a massive drain on your ether. At the Newcomer stage, you'll be completely drained after two casts."

"Understood." Edmund slid his Silver Dagger back into its sheath. "I'll try to use it sparingly."

"And Richard's Moon Nails." Captain Field turned his gaze to Richard. "How many did you go through today?"

"Four."

"Four needles to kill two and a half." Captain Field nodded in approval. "Not a bad ratio."

"Thank you."