Chapter 316: Withered Elf

The bloodthirsty bronze Heron Sculpture had also tried to get a piece of the action in the premeditated slaughter, but while it looked like a water bird, its body was cast from bronze. The moment it touched the stream, which was coursing with a dangerous electric current, the sculpture let out a shriek that drowned out the cries of the Gnolls and promptly sank.

If Ron hadn’t remembered to fish it out after the battle, the sculpture would have had to rely on the current to get back to the manor it so longed for.

"A few of them escaped to the other side," Victoria said, smashing a Gnoll’s abdomen to a pulp with the tip of her Kite Shield. "I wonder if they’ll go get reinforcements."

"That’s assuming they have reinforcements. I think the one I shot dead was their leader," said Delaford. "Besides, all the Gnolls here were wiped out. If they really do have reinforcements, they won’t come looking for us if they’re smart."

"The water’s been polluted by all that Gnoll blood," Yelena said, regretfully watching the electrocuted freshwater fish floating belly-up on the surface. "Otherwise, we could have at least gathered a few more rations."

"This is no time for fishing. Let’s get out of here. The smell of blood will attract other things soon," Ron said, showing no attachment to the fruitful results of his electro-fishing. "Based on the map we memorized on the peak and the distance we’ve traveled, we have to find a safe place to rest for the night."

No one wanted to rest at such a critical moment, but considering the strength of the Gargoyles, abundant Energy and stamina were essential if they wanted to avoid being wiped out in their lair.

They followed the stream downward. As the water beside them began to wind and twist, the surrounding scenery gradually started to reveal an unusual side.

Under the slanting western sun, the withered trees were plated in a golden-red afterglow. The sparse vegetation looked like the twisted limbs of zombies and skeletons, while strange movements occasionally came from the denser thickets. Tree-men and Withered Branch Monsters moved cautiously, tracking the group that was fearlessly advancing deep into their territory.

"Souls have started to wander nearby," Yelena said, licking her lips. "We can’t be far from the graveyard. We can rest here for the night and arrive tomorrow during the day."

"Elemental Creatures don’t care about day or night," Victoria disagreed with the suggestion. "It’s still early. Since we’re already so close, we should press on!"

"If we wait until tomorrow, Silvia might be—"

"Elemental Creatures aren’t affected, but Undead Creatures are," the Shadow Spirit shrugged. "I’m just making a suggestion. In fact, I’m more at home in the night than in the day."

"What a coincidence, I prefer the night too," Quest chuckled. Delaford chimed in in agreement right after him.

"I have no problem with it," Aive said, stopping and turning to look at Ron. "There’s one among us who doesn’t have Dark Vision—you’ll be okay, right?"

"Just because I wasn’t born with it doesn’t mean I can’t have it," Ron said, wiping his hands clean and beginning the Casting on his own eyes. "I would have actually suggested playing it safe, but since everyone agrees on resolving this as soon as possible, then so be it."

Ron moved his quiver of special arrows to a position where he could draw them more easily. Fortunately, he no longer had to rely solely on Casting to survive. As long as he wasn’t facing an overly powerful opponent, he still had ways to handle the situation.

And even if his Magic really did run out... Ron reached into his alchemy bag. In it was a Scroll given to him by a certain Dwarf Dean, which could grant him combat abilities on par with any veteran Warrior for a period of time.

With the help of Dark Vision, the party’s advance was not affected at all. The ambushers hiding in the woods were clearly visible, even more so than in the daytime. Perhaps noticing this, the ambushers instead hid themselves farther away, no longer posturing as if they might charge out to attack at any moment.

When a crescent moon had risen into the sky, Ron and his party finally reached the graveyard the giant eagles had spoken of. A rusted, broken gate lay toppled to one side, covered in moss and weeds. The way ahead was empty; the graveyard, which had likely been untended for centuries, seemed to be inviting them in.

Ron and the others drew their weapons and warily entered in a combat formation. There were many stone pillars and pedestals here, which had likely once held menacing statues, but were now empty. Scattered tombstones revealed their weathered markings in the moonlight. The names and deeds of their owners were no longer discernible; moss and the creatures that had come and gone over the years had usurped their place, leaving their own marks behind.

"Most of the graves are still intact, and the emotions of the souls here are relatively stable," Yelena said in a low voice. "It seems we don’t have to worry about the dead climbing out of the ground, nor do we have to be on guard against the surrounding Ghosts."

"I strongly suspect these pedestals were all originally supposed to have Gargoyles on them, but we smashed quite a few of them," Aive said from the front, carefully checking every space where an enemy might ’pop out’.

"If they’ve come back, we should at least be able to find one statue missing its lower half," Quest remarked, then noticed the Shadow Spirit had suddenly stopped. "Yelena, is something wrong?"

In this environment, Yelena should have been in her element. Her sensitivity to souls could help the group avoid a great deal of unnecessary trouble. But now, the Shadow Dancer from the Shadowfall Netherworld had her brow tightly furrowed. Not only had she stopped walking, she was even trying to shrink back.

"I think I was wrong. Tonight isn’t a good time to explore this place," Yelena said, forcing a strained smile when she realized her companions had noticed her strange behavior. "Shouldn’t we regroup and think this through? I can’t sense Silvia’s presence here either. She must have been moved somewhere else!"

"But where would she be moved to?" Ron retorted. "Our lead ends here, and this graveyard very likely is the Gargoyles’ lair. If we don’t search here, are we supposed to just wander the deep mountains and old forests and try our luck?"

"I..." Yelena looked at Ron in desperation. "I don’t know! But we really can’t stay here any longer. I’ll—"

"You’ll what?"

Ron spun around, stunned. It was a man’s voice, but it wasn’t Quest’s, and it wasn’t his own.

Under the pale moonlight, a withered Elf in a dark cloak and a heavy veil had appeared behind Ron at some unknown point. He carried a lantern, and his skin was as pale as paper, as if he had just climbed out of a grave.

Beside him, a snow-white raven flapped its wings. Its small, inky-black eyes were fixed with malice on Ron—or rather, on the Shadow Spirit behind him.