Chapter 45: Thunder Claws vs. Midnight Mist (2)

In that forest of withered trees, the dark elf began chanting a spell in the Dead Tongue, a language only the undead could use, and at that moment a torrent of dark magic began pouring out of his body.

This was possible because dark elves were born from the union of a pure-blood elf and an undead, a process forbidden and punishable by law in the land of the elves.

Because of this, dark elves were destined to disappear sooner or later, as they could not reproduce naturally either, since technically part of their body was dead.

And that tongue was capable of invoking vile powers from beyond life, an uncontrollable force for any being that retained even a trace of life. Because of this, casting spells through this method carried a cost of extreme pain.

A pain the elf was willing to pay, and as he finished pronouncing the final phrases, the magical torrent suddenly stopped.

{{Dark Magic X Assassin Art:}}

{{Night of Laments}}

At once, blood began dripping from the elf’s eyes and an intense pain coursed through his body, but instead of screaming he began to laugh frantically, then spat from his mouth a massive wave of mist even darker than before.

This gas was so thick it looked like coal, and so abundant that it covered the entire area, even blotting out the sun.

Amid that darkness, the hunters’ leader looked around, waiting to sense her enemy.

Unlike the rest of humans, shamans were almost a race apart, due to their connection with spirits and nature, a connection so deeply innate that they could sense the spirit of living beings without needing to use their eyes.

However, the darkness was too dense and saturated with dark magic to sense even the faintest trace of spiritual energy.

“I have tasted your people before, their flavor is interesting, but their sixth sense is annoying… Because of you, I had to design this technique… Now you’re in the palm of my hand HA HA HA.”

The elf spoke as his voice echoed from everywhere at once, distorted and macabre, as if multiple voices were speaking in unison.

With those words, the rest of the hunters who had been waiting among the tree branches dropped to the ground and began searching for one another in desperation.

They bumped into each other and stepped on one another by accident. In the end, they managed to gather into five groups where each and every one pressed their backs against their companions to watch the darkness surrounding them in fear.

The elf, meanwhile, laughing, began stalking those groups, intentionally stomping hard or snapping branches so they would know where he moved, so they could feel as though they were being hunted by the darkness itself.

In a single draw of his blade, the elf beheaded three hunters without mercy, their bodies falling after their heads and leaving their companions’ backs exposed.

With another draw, a black blade sliced through ankle after ankle. He was like a cat playing with its prey while severing one limb at a time.

Blood began staining the ground, but there were no screams.

The shamans, regardless of creed or clan, were forbidden to speak. From birth, none of them were allowed a voice. Some learned to communicate through magic using symbols or by creating artificial voices.

This limitation had been imposed upon their blood through a contract with the spirit world. Since spirits do not speak through sound, the shamans sacrificed their voices to speak the language of spirits, one of empathy and pure energy.

Yet even in that darkness, their connection to one another was so strong from the years and years they had lived together that each death felt like a candle being extinguished inside their hearts.

It was like feeling a part of their heart die somewhere far away in silence.

Desperate, the leader began running through the darkness, confused and disoriented as she searched for her people. She wanted to protect them, but with every passing minute she felt one cruel farewell after another.

“Don’t despair, woman, you’re next. Don’t worry, I won’t kill them all, no no no… I’ll enslave the youngest ones and make you watch as I devour them piece by piece HA HA HA HA HA HA.”

That cold and cruel voice echoing in the ears of everyone present mocked the leader, savoring every tear that began to fall from her face onto the earth.

Until suddenly the leader dropped to her knees on the ground, something that greatly amused the elf, who stopped killing her people.

“This is your fault…” the elf whispered into the white-haired leader’s ear like a spirit that approached for an instant only to drift away like the wind. “You should have handed over the necklace… You should have stayed behind like the weak prey you are.”

Right after that, the heads of three of her friends fell before her. Despite the intense darkness ruling the place, she managed to glimpse their faces stripped of their masks.

At that moment, the chief clawed at the dirt in helplessness until her nails broke and her fingers began to bleed, then parted her lips for a second, trembling with the doubt weighing on her heart.

“(Despite everything… I’m still very young… All of this is my fault, it’s my fault… I’m sorry Sagal… Renat… Sunei… I’m sorry…)” she thought before glaring at the darkness with hatred.

The elf’s laughter continued echoing everywhere, and the leader named Kaly decided to end this. She took her bear-skull mask and drew a symbol on her forehead using her own blood.

And after putting on the mask with resolve, despite feeling the deaths of even more of her friends, she chose to break her limit to save her people.

“Listen to me…” Kaly said in a sweet and calm voice, almost like a whisper.

{{Spiritual Magic: Possession: Thunder Matriarch}}

At that moment, symbols began appearing across the woman’s skin, each one burning like hot iron pressed against her flesh.

But instead of pain, a magical current began pouring out of her body, forming a column of pure spiritual magic that rose into the sky.

Small bolts of lightning began coursing over her body, and the bone mask turned crimson red while the fur covering her body began fusing with her flesh.

The woman now looked like a humanoid monster bleeding from everywhere, and then she vanished in a flash of electricity.

Feeling that overwhelming presence, the elf began to doubt whether he should attack and hid within the shadows, trying to sense the woman, but she moved so fast it was impossible to keep up with her.

That darkness technique allowed him to shift from a physical body into a formless soul navigating through the mist.

But suddenly, that dark soul felt someone position herself behind him.

“Boo,” the woman said before striking the elf’s soul with all her strength, creating a massive explosion of spiritual lightning that even began cracking the earth.

Source: Webnovel.com, updated by NovelKeep