Chapter 79: Malum

Zandrel began to laugh when he heard that. “So you’ve been planning something like this for a long time, a shot to get back at me. You’ve been slowly eating away at my golden puppeting thread to try and get away, and yet you used it here?

“You could have saved it for later and maybe even tried to get away, but you used it on this boy? I didn’t know you still had humanity in you, Kivara. I did not teach you such!

“I thought you to be cold and ruthless. And yet you used your chance of ever escaping me on this boy? I am disappointed.”

Kivara smiled. “He did save my life. I owe him this much.”

Zandrel looked at her in disgust. “You are a fool. Because you have not managed to save his life. He will become my slave, just like you. And then I will reshape his life as I wanted.”

Kivara didn’t look at Zandrel. Instead, she focused on Riven. Their eyes met, and what he saw in her eyes wasn’t what he expected. What he saw was weariness and tiredness, as if she’d been carrying a burden for so long that all she wanted to do now was rest.

“You should escape. Trust me, you don’t want this life. And… I shouldn’t have brought you here.” As she finished saying that, she jerked her sword backward.

The formless sword that was her Shape technique could make her manipulate her sword to whatever shape she wanted. And as it was night, she turned the sword into a rope of darkness that coiled around Zandrel’s feet.

When she jerked, she pulled the man’s feet straight from underneath him. It was so sudden and unexpected that she was able to pull it off completely.

Zandrel let out a yelp as he fell, cursing. He twisted in midair and jerked his feet back, but Kivara had already let go. The brief instant that he wasn’t controlling the statues was enough, and Riven rolled to his feet. He stumbled forward, staggering as he ran.

But one thing that the two of them had underestimated was the power of an Auracrest. With a single leap, Zandrel was directly in front of Kivara, and a punch to the gut had her heaving on the ground.

Another leap, and he was beside Riven. His hand reached out and caught him in the throat, lifting him up as if he weighed nothing. “You have been playing around too much. Enough! I will squeeze your life inch before death.”

And he did just that. He squeezed so fast and hard that Riven thought his eyes would pop out onto the ground. He clawed at the thin hand holding him, but it was like trying to move a mountain.

He felt his consciousness trying to leave him, and his eyes were crowded with red and black.

Riven let go and shoved all his power into the foundation that was, still miraculously, held in his mind. He summoned Spartacus. Or tried to.

Cold aura surrounded him, far colder than any of his summonings. Light frost covered the ground, cracking against grass. His shadow lengthened so much that it spanned the whole area.

Zandrel dropped him and flinched back, his eyes wide. “What…?”

The two constructs moved towards him, their weapons crossed around him in a guard manner. They all sensed the danger.

Riven, with his head rolled to the side, couldn’t accurately make sense of what was happening. All his eyes saw were blurring shadows, but one thing he knew and felt deep in his bones was that it wasn’t Spartacus that was coming out.

Riven had no idea what it was.

His shadow turned into a darkening pool, liquid and yet not. A hand reached out from the pool. Once Riven saw the hand, he twitched because he recognized it.

The hand was heavily bandaged with black strips of cloth. Another hand reached out, and then the whole body pulled itself out. Red eyes of countless dots looked out from its eye sockets. “What did I tell you, boy! That we would meet again!”

Riven’s throat wasn’t strong enough to speak, so he could only settle for glaring. His hand tightened, and he finally understood that the feeling of someone staring at him all the while was actually from the black bandaged undead that had somehow hidden in his shadow.

Just then, Riven didn’t know what to feel.

“You don’t need to thank me, boy! I will deal with this problem, because that was why I am here. To think that a servant of… eh… who are you, puppet guy? Your rank is too low that I can’t tell who you are working for.”

Zandrel took a step back, his face white as a sheet. “You…! That black bandage, those red eyes. I know of you! You are Malum! Malum of the Dead Village!”

The black bandaged undead, Malum, paused. He rubbed his bandaged chin. “Oh. You know me. I didn’t think I would still be well known after all these years. It pleases me greatly. See that, boy! This is how you should receive me! Not try to fight me in my village. And where’s the girl?”

Zandrel’s face twisted when he heard that. “So she lied to me. I should have known. That bitch shouldn’t be trusted!”

But then a thought seemed to strike him, and he froze. He swayed. Zandrel’s voice trembled. “Doo… don’t tell me that he is here? The Faceless Skull Lord!”

Malum snorted. “Why would my lord be here, for you or the boy? Don’t be stupid, thin face. I am enough to deal with you.”

That seemed to calm Zandrel down, and he sneered. “Don’t you think you are underestimating yourself, Malum? We are both in the Auracrest rank. The only thing that made people fear you is the vicious, villainous acts that you perform like a lunatic!”

Malum smiled. “Even as you are right, you are also ignorantly stupid. Do you know that my lord only turns his subordinates to undead if they have the value that qualifies them? Alright, he also does it if they piss him off, but that’s beside the point.”

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