Dozens of vodyanoi corpses were strewn across the sands of Black Tern Island, and it was just daybreak. Some had holes on their foreheads, some were decapitated, some disemboweled, while some were charred and disfigured.
Two pairs of bloody footprints lay beside the bodies, and they stretched into the island’s center. Suddenly, a loud explosion was heard coming from the end of the trail of footsteps. A blinding light shot up into the heavens, and three fallen vodyanois came charging out of the mist, running around like blind people trying to escape a site of disaster.
The witchers stepped past the decapitated corpses, swinging their swords and cutting the heads of the escaping vodyanois.
“How many have we killed?”
“Twenty-seven, including those we killed last night. According to the Lady of the Lake, that’s all of Dagon’s henchmen. It should be in a weakened state now.”
The morning breeze brushed across Letho’s cheeks. He rubbed his scalp and looked coldly at the burned ruins before them. The looming maze that was Black Tern Island Forest was no more. In its place were charred soil and blackened trunks. A lone altar dedicated to Dagon stood in the center of the clearing. Jacques did this, and the witchers were surprised that he managed to come this far.
“A shame that knight died without leaving his remains behind.”
“I, for one, do not think he is necessarily dead.”
Without the forest keeping it under wraps, the witchers could finally see the altar in its full, grotesque glory. It was made of white marble, and it stood out like a flower amongst the muddy swamp. The altar seemed holy, but there was an air of evil hidden within it. The witchers didn’t head for the altar straight away. Instead, they piled the dead vodyanois together and burned them to ashes.
Roy came to the lake and dipped Aerondight into the cold water. As the water embraced the sword, it started to boil, and the steam that formed obscured Roy’s sight. A blanket of fog quickly spread around Aerondight, and Vivienne asked, “Why do you summon me here, my knight?”
“Lady Vivenne, as per your orders, we have vanquished all of Dagon’s henchmen.”
“I thought I told you to return to me at the lake, no?”
Roy froze for a moment, and he could imagine the look Vivienne was giving him for forgetting her orders.
“Dagon’s vile scent has permeated Black Tern Island, preventing me from entering.” Then, Roy could smell the scent of lilies washing over him, and Vivienne’s hand stuck out through the fog.
Roy felt something wet on his lips as Vivienne shoved something into his mouth. The item in his mouth tasted like iron, as if it were blood. Before he could ask what it was, Vivienne smiled at him and retreated back into a fog. Then Roy spat a crimson ruby out of his mouth.
‘Bloodstone
Contains a sliver of Vivienne’s blood essence.
Tip: Bloodstones can contain blood essences as well as souls.
??’
“My knight, take the bloodstone with you to the altar. Dagon’s projection shall appear before you once it senses the stone’s presence. The bloodstone can protect you from Dagon’s murmurs. Your signs and silver sword can deal considerable damage against it. Remember, Dagon must not get his hands on the bloodstone, or he shall gain more strength. Once the battle begins, my believers and I will do everything to suppress Dagon’s powers, but sealing it is the most we can do. Prove your courage to me once more. I await news of your victory.” Viviennes voice became a mere whisper in the end, and everything turned silent. The fog rose into the air, revealing the lake hiding beneath it, and Vivenne was nowhere to be seen.
Roy touched his lips. He never expected Vivienne to give him the bloodstone in such a suggestive way. No wonder they say nymphs are passionate creatures.
“Was that Vivienne, the Lady of Lake Vizima?” Letho broke his train of thought.
Letho had seen many creatures throughout his career, but nymphs only existed in rumors for him until that point.
“Thanks to me, you got to see Vivienne in the flesh. Not all ‘mortals’ get that honor.”
Letho sighed. “In the flesh? Even her hair’s hidden in the mist. I didn’t see a damn thing.”
That’s not my fault.
The witchers sorted out their supplies for the upcoming battle one last time. They each had a bottle of Swallow for continuous health regeneration, a bottle of Thunderbolt for enhanced muscle strength, one Dragon’s Dream, and Letho had one Dimeritium Bomb on him as well.
They sat on the ground and poured some brown oil on their hands, then they smeared it across their sword. Letho was holding Gwyhyr, which had three enchantments, while Roy was using Aerondight. According to Vivienne’s description, Dagon should be a relict, so they smeared relict oil on their swords, and they added a dose of paralyzing poison on it as well.
Roy concentrated on his character sheet and spent his final skill point.
‘Meditation Level 3 → Level 4
Constitution: 10.6 → 11.1
HP: 146 → 151
Spirit: 10.5 → 11
Mana: 145 → 150′
A surge of warmth coursed through Roy’s body, bringing him back to his best state. The witchers looked at each other for a moment, and they stepped into the charred forest for their final battle against Dagon.
The witchers stopped thirty feet away from the altar, and they took their potions out. They uncorked Thunderbolt and Swallow and gulped them down. The moment they did, black veins popped up on their neck, and they crawled up to their faces. Roy could feel his heart beating like a drum, and for some reason, he felt excited. Two potions was his limit for the time being. Any more and the toxicity would kill him. Then he made the sign for Quen, and a yellow protective shield appeared around him.
They unsheathed their swords and held them up in the plow stance, the blades gleaming brown from the oil on them. They crouched down and flanked the altar, getting closer and closer to it. They were moving in sync, as if one of them were a reflection of the other.
Twenty steps later, the altar sensed the incoming intruders, and black smoke shot up into the air above the altar, swirling around it. The smoke thickened into a dark fog, and eventually, a huge humanoid monster with a grotesque head appeared within the black fog.
Its head was ethereal at first, but as time passed, it gained shape and became corporeal. Its nose and eyes were scrunched together on the top of its head, and its gaping maw took up most of the empty space on its face. If the witchers didn’t look closely, they would have thought the monster only had a maw for a face. Its body slowly appeared within the fog from top to bottom. Four tentacles tumbled down its mouth, stretching over its short, stubby neck. Its dark blue back had muscles that looked like hills and was covered by thick, sturdy keratin scales that were arranged haphazardly. Then, the monster stretched its limb out, and it pushed itself up with its muscular arms, its claws glinting menacingly under the sunlight.
The monster knelt on one knee, and its head was hanging low, as if it were trying to get used to the space outside the altar.
‘Dagon
Age: ??
Status: Projection (This creature is a projection created by the real Dagon who resides in another dimension. It possesses less than a hundredth of the real Dagon’s strength.)
HP: 300 (Suppressed)
Mana: 200 (Suppressed)
Stats:
Strength: ??
Dexterity: 12
Constitution: 30
Perception: 12
Will: 8
Charisma: 13
Spirit: 20
Skills:
Domain of Enrapturement (Passive): Dagon can spread its spell in the form of murmurs that can create dreams based on the target’s deepest desire. It can brainwash the target and turn the target into its devout believer. The lower the target’s will, the faster the target will fall.
Cursed Waters (Sealed): Dagon can summon the filthiest liquids from the depths of the lake. This liquid can corrode its target’s flesh and awaken the target’s darkest emotions.
Glance of Malice (Sealed)
Others (Sealed)
***
The witchers wouldn’t give it time to adapt, of course. They tossed their Dragon’s Dreams and Dimeritium bomb, and the canisters were shattered into tiny little pieces, releasing the white flammable gas and dimeritium dust around Dagon. Letho pushed his left hand forward, and a snake made out of flames charged toward Dagon. A great explosion blew up around Dagon, and the monster roared in pain and fury. Roy pulled the string on his crossbow and fired ten arrows in the span of a few seconds at the monster, but it didn’t stop Dagon from charging out of the sea of flames. Countless white whirlpools appeared around it all of a sudden, dousing the flames that were hurting it.
The monster stared straight at Roy with its red eyes. It cracked its neck and whispered hoarsely, “Ceadmil caerme darganfod ensh’eass…”
It wasn’t any language that existed in this world, but Roy knew what it was saying without any translation at all. The monster spoke to its mind, and the spell hidden in its voice frustrated him, alluring Roy into its embrace. Give me the bloodstone.
It was as if the voice were an order. Roy lost his focus the moment he heard it, but fortunately for him, the bloodstone radiated a crimson light, and the witchers shook their heads, breaking the spell miraculously. Then they pounced at their adversary.
***
***
