Chapter 218: Trial Of Lord [3]

Over the last five days, Stella had hunted large animals that provided most of the meat the village needed, and since she was a friend of Natasha, the villagers had quickly accepted her into their community.

Several hunters had been impressed by her skills and approached her to learn from her, hoping to improve their own abilities. Stella agreed to train them, and although they were far from being proper knights, their efforts had allowed the village to form a somewhat capable unit of hunters under the guidance of an Imperial knight captain.

However, none of that mattered when the Rotted finally reached the village.

The creatures were grotesque masses of black tar whose shapes seemed to defy comprehension, with enormous bestial maws and terrifying eyes scattered across their amorphous bodies. Their sickly tentacles writhed and lashed about, dripping a dark purple liquid that killed everything it touched, and wherever the creatures crawled, the very ground beneath them began to rot.

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The villagers could only watch in horror as the wooden fence they had constructed as a barricade crumbled beneath the advancing monsters, its broken planks scattering across the ground as though they were nothing more than brittle twigs.

The Rotted continued moving forward without the slightest hesitation, and the land around them withered as their bodies passed over it. The soil blackened and decayed, the river water turned deathly murky, and the animals unfortunate enough to come into contact with their tentacles dissolved into puddles of foul liquid that were promptly absorbed into the creatures’ bodies.

Continuous popping and hissing sounds emerged from their shifting masses, while their enormous maws released a cacophony of groans, growls, and bloodcurdling screams that echoed throughout the village.

The villagers had believed they could handle the threat, just as they had dealt with the bandits several weeks earlier, although they had expected the battle to be considerably more difficult this time. They had gathered their weapons, reinforced their barricades, and prepared themselves to fight for their homes, believing that enough courage and cooperation would allow them to survive.

However, the moment their gazes fell upon the Rotted, those preparations became meaningless.

Their bodies stiffened, their breaths caught in their throats, and their weapons trembled in their hands as an overwhelming terror descended upon them. It was not merely the fear of being killed, nor was it the dread of witnessing something stronger than themselves, but a raw and primordial terror that seemed to seep directly into their minds and seize control of their very existence.

It felt as though they were standing before something that should never have existed, something that defied the natural order and whose very presence was an impossibility that the world itself should never have permitted.

Their minds screamed at them to run, yet their legs refused to move, and even the instinct to fight for their lives was overwhelmed by the undeniable certainty that they were facing something they could never defeat.

The Rotted advanced while their tentacles whipped through the air, smashing into the remaining barricades and scattering the wooden debris across the ground, and the villagers could do nothing but stand frozen as the creatures drew closer.

However, Stella stepped forward.

Although her face had gone pale and her sword trembled slightly in her grip, she forced herself to move despite the suffocating fear pressing down upon her. She knew how dangerous the Rotted were, and she understood that the knights under her command had stood no chance against them, yet she refused to let that knowledge become a reason to abandon the villagers.

Suddenly, crimson smoke rolled across the blade of her sword, and the Aura surrounding it shimmered as though a raging flame had been compressed into the shape of a thin, gleaming edge.

"If you have the will, nothing can stop you!" Stella shouted, forcing her voice to carry over the creatures’ hideous cries.

Then, gripping her sword firmly, she sprang forward and swung at the nearest mass of black tar.

Her blade cut through the creature’s body, and wherever the crimson Aura touched its sickly surface, the black mass dissolved into smoke and dispersed into thin air. The portion struck by her sword vanished almost instantly, leaving a ragged gap in the creature’s otherwise shapeless body.

Stella immediately followed up with another slash, cutting diagonally through a cluster of writhing tentacles before turning her blade and thrusting it into the creature’s central mass.

The Aura spread from the point of impact, erasing another portion of its body, and the Rotted recoiled as several of its tentacles lashed wildly through the air.

But the creature continued advancing despite the damage she had inflicted.

She shifted her footing, narrowly evaded a tentacle that smashed into the ground beside her, and swept her sword horizontally across its body, dispersing another section of the black mass.

Her movements were quick and precise, each strike delivered with the discipline of an experienced knight captain, and her sword never lingered in one place long enough for the creature to retaliate. She continued cutting through its tentacles and carving away at its body, using her Aura to erase whatever came within the reach of her blade.

Yet, despite her skill and determination, the creature’s immense size barely changed.

She could destroy the portions of its body that she struck, but the amount she removed was insignificant compared to the vast mass surrounding her, and the Rotted continued advancing as though her attacks were little more than an inconvenience.

Even so, Stella refused to retreat, hoping that her example would inspire the villagers to overcome their fear and join the fight.

Her shout had been encouraging, and her attacks had demonstrated that the creatures were not entirely invulnerable, but the terror gripping the villagers was far stronger than any courage her words could inspire.

Some of them trembled so violently that their weapons slipped from their hands, while others stared at the approaching monsters with vacant eyes, their minds unable to comprehend anything beyond the overwhelming need to escape.

Their survival instincts had become so distorted by fear that even death seemed preferable to facing the Rotted, and some could scarcely resist the desperate urge to turn their weapons upon themselves rather than endure another moment of that unbearable terror.

Elias was among them.

He stood motionless with a dagger in his trembling hand, staring at its blade as though he had forgotten why he was holding it. His breathing had become shallow, and his fingers tightened around the handle while his mind struggled to process the nightmare unfolding before him.

The only reason he had not yet done something irreversible was the faint hope that Stella might defeat the creatures.

She was an Imperial knight captain, someone who had survived an encounter with the Rotted and possessed the strength to fight them, and for a brief moment, Elias allowed himself to believe that her Aura might be enough to turn the situation around.

However, that fragile hope began to crumble as the Rotted overwhelmed her.

More tentacles emerged from its massive body, sweeping toward Stella from different directions, and she hurriedly twisted aside to avoid them. She severed one tentacle with a sharp diagonal cut, but another struck the ground beside her and sent broken earth flying into the air, forcing her to leap backward.

She tried to regain her footing, yet the creature’s countless appendages continued closing in around her, leaving her with fewer and fewer opportunities to attack.

Stella swung her sword again, releasing a crimson arc that carved through several tentacles at once, but the Rotted pressed forward without hesitation, its immense body looming over her as its maws opened to reveal rows of grotesque teeth.

"Get back!" Stella screamed, attempting to strike at the nearest cluster of tentacles before they could reach her.

Her sword cut through them, but the remaining appendages lashed around her legs and arms, tightening their grip before she could escape. She struggled to break free, her Aura flaring violently as she hacked at the tentacles binding her, yet the creature continued dragging her toward its enormous central mass.

For one final moment, Stella raised her sword and tried to strike again.

Then, with a high-pitched scream, she was swallowed by the Rotted.

Elias watched in horror as the crimson light of her Aura disappeared beneath the creature’s black surface, and the last hope he had clung to vanished with it.

The villagers had already been paralyzed by fear, but witnessing the knight captain’s defeat made the truth undeniable: they were doomed.

Before anyone could react, the Rotted suddenly began to expand.

Its body swelled at an astonishing rate as it absorbed Stella’s Aura Core, and the black mass spread outward like a flood, swallowing everything in its path. Within seconds, half the village had disappeared beneath its expanding body, and the creature showed no sign of slowing down.

The villagers finally broke free from their paralysis and attempted to flee, but their efforts came far too late.

The black mass surged through the streets, sweeping over houses and crushing fences beneath its spreading weight, while its tentacles lashed at anyone unfortunate enough to remain within reach. Those who tried to escape were caught by the advancing tar, and the moment it touched their bodies, their skin peeled away like melting wax.

Their flesh dissolved next, followed by their bones, leaving behind only a formless black mass that was quickly absorbed into the Rotted, making the creature larger with every life it consumed.

Elias could only watch as the village descended into an unimaginable slaughter.

The elderly villagers he had helped carry supplies, the hunters who had trained under Stella, and the people who had welcomed him and Natasha into their homes were all swallowed by the spreading darkness. Their screams echoed through the streets, growing weaker as the black mass consumed them, until even those desperate cries were silenced.

His knees weakened as he watched the familiar faces disappear, and his mind struggled to accept that the peaceful life he had grown accustomed to was being destroyed before his eyes.

Then he saw Natasha.

She was trying to help one of the villagers escape when the Rotted surged toward her, its black mass spreading across the ground beneath her feet. She turned at the last moment, and for an instant, her eyes met Elias’s across the ruined street.

He could not move.

He could not even call out to her.

All he could do was watch as the black tar engulfed his wife, swallowing her body and erasing her from the world as though she had never existed.

Something inside Elias broke.

He dropped to his knees, his dagger slipping from his fingers as he stared at the place where Natasha had disappeared. The world around him seemed to fall silent, yet the Rotted continued spreading, its hideous noises becoming distant and meaningless as the reality of what he had witnessed settled over him.

His friends were dead, the villagers were dead, and the woman he loved most in the world had been taken from him.

A furious roar tore from Elias’s throat as he finally found the strength to move, and he raised his head toward the monstrous mass consuming everything around him.

Yet, even as rage surged through his chest, the terror remained.

He hated the creature, wanted to destroy it, and desperately wished he possessed the strength to make it pay for what it had done, but his body still trembled at the mere sight of it, and his mind remained trapped beneath the same overwhelming fear that had paralyzed him from the beginning.

One of the Rotted’s tentacles suddenly slithered toward him, its surface bulging as several maws opened along its length. Elias stared at the approaching appendage, unable to move as it curled around him from every direction, its grotesque mouths snapping at the air while it closed in.

Then the tentacle struck.

The force tore through Elias’s body, exploding him into pieces before he could even comprehend what had happened.

Elias opened his eyes and found himself lying on a bed inside a small cottage.

For a moment, he remained still, staring at the wooden ceiling above him as he tried to understand where he was.

Then he pushed himself upright, and a strange sense of déjà vu washed over him as he looked around the familiar room.

’Where am I?’

Before he could examine his surroundings any further, a familiar voice reached his ears.

"Is something wrong?"

Elias turned toward the voice, and his eyes widened when he saw the woman standing at the doorway.

"Natasha...?" he uttered, staring at his dead wife in disbelief.