Chapter 317: Dark Weaver

"This is an Undead, too?!"

Delaford was startled by the sudden appearance of the Elf and nearly raised his bow to fire. However, after getting a closer look at the figure’s face, the Goblin Hunter lowered his shortbow.

"Wait... skin like that... I feel like I’ve seen it somewhere—"

"Ahem."

Yelena coughed lightly from behind, and the goblin’s memory was instantly jogged. "Yelena! Is this creature one of your kind?!"

"Very observant, and a good memory, too," the Shadow Dancer quipped wearily. She lifted her head and warily brandished her Thorn Chain, its tip aimed at the Shadow Spirit with the snow-white, crow-like creature at his back. "So, what about you? My kin. You should be able to see clearly. These souls are already spoken for."

"How about we each go our own way?"

The snow-white raven let out a few hoarse caws. No one except Delaford and the two Shadow Spirits could understand what it was saying, but Ron could see Yelena’s expression instantly darken.

"Did you understand?" the male Shadow Spirit asked, his eyes ringed with dark circles. He glared at everyone but his own kind. "Yelena von Richthofen. Former Shadow Dancer, traitor, fugitive. By order of the Crow Queen, I’ve had a hell of a time hunting you down."

A shadow darker than darkness itself spread out from the male Shadow Spirit, enveloping Ron’s entire team. Even with Dark Vision, they couldn’t pierce the dense gloom.

Worse still, within the shadow, the passage of time felt like a physical pressure weighing them down. As a human and a goblin, with their shorter lifespans, Ron, Victoria, and Delaford felt every second stretch into a year. Their strength was draining away at an alarming rate. If this continued, Ron suspected he might actually die of old age!

Even Aive, a Half-Elf, couldn’t hold out for long. The Hand Armor on her hands ignited with a fiery red glow as she tried to see through the surrounding illusion, but it was powerless against the impenetrable darkness!

"Tch, so fragile," the male Shadow Spirit’s voice echoed from everywhere in the darkness, dripping with contempt. "Especially that half-blood. Your very existence is a blasphemy against the Elves. Get lost! All of you, except the traitor, get out!"

"My mission is to capture Yelena, who defected to the Inferno, and drag her back to the Shadowfall Netherworld. As for your souls, you can keep them in those pathetic shells of yours for the time being."

"What kind of nonsense is that?!" Although she couldn’t pinpoint his location, that didn’t stop Aive from shouting back. "You’re just a bunch of gloomy, boring creatures less interesting than a corpse. How dare you criticize me?"

"Look at you! So gaunt! Your skin is dry! Your face is old! How long has it been since you looked in a mirror? Don’t want to? Or don’t you dare!"

"Elves only age rapidly when they’re on the verge of death. And you people? How many years have you lived? Do you even dare to count them on your own fingers?!"

"Shut up!"

A short spear, like a lance of pure shadow, shot out of the darkness and struck the tower shield the Half-Elf raised. It then quickly retracted. Behind the spear was the Shadow Spirit, his nerve clearly struck.

Shadow Spirits were once Elves. But long-term exposure to the Shadowfall Netherworld has left them looking withered, and they have almost completely lost the capacity for joy or sorrow. Their pale hair, wrinkled gray skin, and swollen joints make them resemble corpses. Although they may appear younger on other planes, their skin is always deathly pale. Shadow Spirits wear dark cloaks and heavy veils, despise mirrors, and refuse to keep anything that would remind them of their age.

This was why Yelena, too, almost always kept herself covered with a cloak.

After blocking the male Shadow Spirit’s sneak attack, Aive sneered, staring intently into the darkness before her. "Oh, I almost forgot. You probably look even younger here—like someone who died in their prime? Or an addict who’s wasted his body away?"

A flash of a snow-white feather blurred Aive’s vision. A heavy impact struck her shield. Before she could retort with something more scathing, the Shadow Spirit had already bypassed her shield’s defense. His Shadow Spear struck like a viper, piercing straight through Aive’s heavy armor and wounding her shoulder!

The wound wasn’t deep; the thick Full Body Armor had absorbed most of the damage. Yet her attacker seemed completely unconcerned. He transferred the Shadow Spear to one hand as shadows intertwined in his other, once again coalescing into a second Shadow Spear.

"I’ve changed my mind," the Shadow Spirit said, his composure shattered by Aive’s taunts. His voice was grim. "I was going to spare your lives, but if you insist on dying, I will oblige you—"

BOOM—

The Shadow Spirit hadn’t even finished speaking when the surrounding space seemed to shatter. The entire field of darkness began to tremble and collapse. Caught in the blast, the Shadow Spirit’s form instantly vanished into the shadows, only to reappear dozens of meters away.

The oppressive weight of time lifted from the group. They had also been hit by the blast to varying degrees, but it was something they were used to. Yelena and Quest had even smelled something unusual in the air before the explosion and had already moved to avoid it.

The only ones truly caught within the blast radius were the male Shadow Spirit and Aive.

"You?!" the Shadow Spirit snarled, glaring at Ron and the bow in his hands. The darkness he had woven was gone, but instead of being grateful, the human was raising his bow to aim at him again!

’Another explosion like that last one?’

"You’re just a mere human. How many more times can you muster that kind of power?" The energy of Shadow Magic surged around the Shadow Spirit. He grinned maliciously as the raven in the air shrieked, adding to his menace. "You ungrateful lot!"

"Come on! I’ll turn this place into your tomb! I may not be able to make you savor the agony of death, but I can certainly turn you all into corpses right here and now—Her Majesty the Crow Queen will be most pleased!"

"Watch out! He’s a Dark Weaver! Don’t let him use Magic!" Yelena’s Thorn Chain sliced a fiery arc through the air. In the dark of night, the Shadow Dancer was like a living shadow. She vanished from where she stood, reappearing a second later behind her kin. With a series of ghostly whistles, the Thorn Chain lashed out, striking at all the Dark Weaver’s vital points.

"Come now, my ’dear’ kinsman. Let’s see how many more times you can use that Fog Escape of yours!"