Chapter 256: Heads Like Morbid Confetti

Thoren’s expression was grave as he looked at the trembling booths surrounding him.

He did not need to be told what was happening. The creatures inside the booths were waking up from their slumber, drawn by the scent of fresh prey.

Whoosh!

From his undead space, he summoned his entire undead legion in a single motion. Apart from the elite undead legion, the undead Sanguine Vultures were also summoned from the darkness.

Just as he finished summoning his undead forces, the wooden doors of every booth were pushed open from inside simultaneously.

From each of the booths, different people walked out, staring at Thoren with expressions of deep grievance and hunger.

They came from all directions, surrounding him completely. They left Thoren and his undead servants at the very center of a tightening circle of nightmares.

Surrounded by dozens of unknown creatures posing as familiar humans, many would have been terrified and lost their composure. But not Thoren.

He stared at the dozens of fake humans with an indifferent, cold expression that showed no fear.

“Since you love to disguise yourselves, let us see how you fare against this,” he said calmly.

From his inventory, he took out the Choir Bell Charm, its silver surface glinting in the dim light.

“Do you think that small bell will save you from us?” a woman said with an enchanting, seductive smile.

If Thoren had not seen the fake Neville turn into a dark creature with writhing tentacles, he might have believed such a beautiful woman was actually human.

“Anyone who kills him will have his body,” the fake beautiful woman announced loudly to the gathered creatures.

Howl!

The fake humans cried loudly in response, their eyes turning completely dark, filled with insatiable greed.

It was creepy and deeply unsettling to witness.

“Kill him now,” she declared and rushed forward, licking her lips with a long, forked tongue.

Ting!

Suddenly, a soft, pleasing sound echoed through the tense air, and all the fake humans stopped dead in their tracks.

Their expressions twisted in agony, and then the screaming began.

Ahhh!

They grabbed their heads tightly with both hands and screamed in unbearable agony, their bodies convulsing.

Thoren looked at the fake creatures crying in pain and nodded with a pleased, satisfied expression.

“Kill them all,” he commanded his undead legion.

Ting!

He shook the bell once again, sending another pulse of soul sound through the chamber. The fake humans who were trying desperately to get used to the piercing pain screamed once more, their bodies wracking with spasms.

Those who were too weak among them fell to the ground, writhing vehemently like worms on hot stone.

Whoosh!

The five Sanguine Vultures vanished from their spots instantly. Thoren had already given them their specific targets to eliminate.

As for the remaining undead elite legion, it was free slaughter without mercy.

Swiss!

A sharp whistling sound echoed in the air, and an object flew high into the sky.

It rolled a couple of times through the air before it fell heavily to the ground. Dark liquid gushed out continuously from the severed neck.

Behold, it was the head of the fake beautiful woman. Until death, the creature did not understand how it had been killed so swiftly.

Whoosh! Whoosh!

The Sanguine Vultures displayed exactly why they were considered fearsome beasts to encounter in the Bleeding Desert.

Heads flew through the air like morbid confetti.

Dark liquid splattered everywhere, coating the ancient wooden floor.

And when the undead elite legion joined the fray, it became a massacre on an entirely different level.

Bang! Bang! Bang!

The undead Storm Tyrant crushed everything in its path without distinction. It moved like a living war machine, unstoppable and brutal.

To its left, the undead Elite Jackal Beastman was not outdone in the slightest. Its club howled through the wind, shattering the fake humans into a fine paste.

And to the right, the undead Royalty Stonewall was killing with deadly finesse. Its attacks did not cause blasting sounds nor shake the ground beneath.

Yet the fake humans were split from head to torso in single, clean motions.

For a full minute, the fake humans were like fish on a chopping board, completely helpless. The effect of the Choir Bell Charm made them utterly powerless against the undead servants.

Not that they would have stood a chance in the first place against such overwhelming force.

Some of the creatures tried to retreat back into their booths, but they did not have the chance to escape.

Whoosh!

They barely took a single step before their heads were separated from their bodies by the waiting Sanguine Vultures.

The Sanguine Vultures lurked in the shadows and only struck when needed, invisible and deadly.

They were the grim reapers that kept the fake humans in check, cutting down any who tried to flee.

A minute later, the booth area was terrifyingly quiet. A thick stench of disgusting, rotting smell filled the heavy air.

All the fake humans had turned back into their real bodies, revealing tentacle covered creatures lying motionless on the ground.

From the dark liquid pooling around the corpses, hundreds of small worms wriggled back and forth, unable to survive now that their hosts were gone.

Looking at the disgusting creatures, Thoren frowned for a moment before he focused his attention on their stats.

[Whispering Confessor]

[Level: 26]

[Attributes: Strength 65, Constitution 78, Agility 50, Spirit 8, Defense 45]

[Traits:]

– Memory Devourer: By touching their target, they can consume a portion of their memory fragments.

– Flesh bound Disguise: Perfectly mimic their prey’s physical form, voice, and presence for a limited duration of time.

– Confession Whisper: Emits subtle invasive whispers that wear down the target’s mental defenses.

[Skills:]

– Mind Peel Grasp: Seizes a target and forcibly extracts surface memories, briefly stunning them while gaining tactical awareness.

– False Salvation: Approaches enemies while disguised and unleashes a sudden brutal strike. A single strike is enough to disorientate their prey completely.

– Whispering Lure: Projects familiar voices to their prey, drawing them into traps.

– Confessor’s Judgment: A heavy, deliberate strike that deals increased damage to disoriented prey.

Looking at their stats, a look of cold realization appeared on Thoren’s face. Now, he understood exactly what had been going on.

The Whispering Confessor took the appearance of their target’s loved ones or companions, attracting more prey into their web of deception. Without careful observation, many would have fallen to such devious, cunning creatures.

“But how did Neville hear the captain’s voice, and why did I not hear anything?” he whispered under his breath.

He stared at one of the booths with narrowed eyes.

Slowly, one of the undead servants walked to that booth and entered. This time, the eerie darkness was completely gone, and lying on the ground was the real Neville.

His face was pale as death, blood trickling from his nose, eyes, and ears in thin, dark streams.

****

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