Chapter 196: Chapter 196

Rusty and Gleam slipped into the shadows behind a half-burned wagon, their movements muted by silencing spells. The faint light of the torches flickered over the ruined camp, making the corpses seem to twitch in the shifting glow. His metallic body shifted into its all-purpose form, and he lowered his halberd to keep it hidden from sight.

When the strangers drew near, he activated his skill to merge with the shadows and kept it running at a low output to conserve mana. This was something he could now do after the skill had leveled up. Although he had gained new abilities during this shadowy siege, he had not yet found the time to review them.

"We need to stay quiet."

"They're not bandits and don't look like they are from the settlement either…"

The footsteps grew louder. Cloaked figures emerged from the darkness, moving with eerie silence. There were five of them, each wearing a long crimson robe that shimmered faintly with pulsing enchantments beneath the fabric. They spread out through the camp, examining the bandits that Rusty had already slain.

None of them spoke. They moved slowly, as if studying the scene to understand what had happened. Rusty remained motionless, watching them closely. Their appearance reminded him of a group he had encountered in another city, followers of a strange cult. That was where he had first seen a powerful blood mage, and where his body had come into their possession for a time.

"It's that strange cult. What are they doing here?"

Alexander sounded surprised to see them. One of the figures bore an ornate scythe tattoo bearing a crescent moon, which made their affiliation unmistakable.

"They could have followed us. We disrupted their plans. I would have done the same. A ruler cannot let lesser beings think they can get away with their crimes. An example has to be made so that it won't happen again."

Aburdon replied in a menacing tone. Rusty frowned at the thought. If they had tracked him here, could they also find their way to his smithy? He had people living there now, people he actually cared about. If his lair was attacked while he was away, it would be disastrous and might even draw the attention of the humanoids there. He at least knew that any involvement with the occult was frowned upon.

"Gleam, circle around, and get ready to attack."

He made up his mind. It was better not to leave things up to chance. The force was small, and stopping it now would be best.

"Just try not to kill all of them this time, Rusty. It would be better if we knew how they managed to track us all the way here."

Aburdon said as Gleam moved off and began circling the camp at a slow pace.

It was true. If Rusty killed everyone without learning how they had reached them, the consequences could be disastrous. Others might arrive later when this group failed to return with a report. He needed to understand how they were tracking him and find a way to stop it.

"It's been a while since that incident. If they are tracking us, then either this mission is not very important or their method is weak."

Alexander said as they watched the cloaked figures gather around the bandit leader. Finally, the strangers began to speak.

"This does not look like the work of a human. A monster must have been involved. It might have been that being… and it's not alone."

The one who spoke wore a robe that differed slightly from the others. He looked thin and wiry, and beneath his robe, he wore a kind of light armor. Two daggers hung at his sides, his primary weapons.

"We need to make sure. This one died recently; the ritual can be used."

The group of five surrounded the dead bandit leader who had just fallen. The wiry man who seemed to be their leader drew one of his daggers and cut his finger. Blood began to drip quickly into the dead bandit's open tiger-like mouth. The other four cultists stretched out their hands and began chanting in a strange language that he did not understand.

'This is my chance. I should get closer.'

These cultists were strange and dangerous, but Rusty edged forward, hidden in his partial shadow form. His armor plates shifted silently under the effect of his silencing spell. His metallic frame caught no light as he crept closer, and soon he could see the strange ritual taking form.

The air grew heavy with the smell of iron and fresh blood. The bandit leader's corpse twitched once, then again, before jerking violently. It stopped suddenly, and his head tilted back at an unnatural angle as his jaw cracked wide open.

"Rise and speak. Who or what did this to you?"

The wiry cultist's voice was sharp and cold. His blood now formed thin crimson threads that connected with the corpse, somehow forcing it to move. The bandit's one good eye snapped open. It was cloudy and red, but it turned toward the cultist who had commanded him.

The voice was flat and lifeless, but it answered.

"What kind of monsters?"

The cultist's tone demanded more. The corpse spoke slowly, its words dragging out.

"...metal... and... s-silver insect..." ᴛʜɪs ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ɪs ᴜᴘᴅᴀᴛᴇ ʙʏ novel{f}ire.net

The bandit's mangled voice croaked the words. His head jerked violently, and his jaw opened even wider than it should have, the joints cracking wetly. His eye rolled back as the spell began to harm him.

"Leader, the spell is breaking."

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"I know. Keep it steady. We need more information."

"Metal... armor... glowing... eyes... unnatural…"

The cultist nodded as if the words confirmed what he was searching for. Then, just as he prepared to release the spell, he froze.

He spoke and moved in the same instant, bending backward as a large halberd flew past him. Lightning crackled along the weapon's edge, grazing his cloak and burning part of it before he threw it aside. One of his followers was not as lucky. The weapon struck the man's head and hurled him into a pile of debris.

Before the others could react, a burst of radiant energy descended from above. Rays of shifting color struck several cultists, searing through their defenses and leaving deep wounds.

Rusty emerged from the shadows, targeting one of the three cultists still standing. In his hand was the same axe the bandit leader had once used against him, and now he hurled it toward another wounded cultist.

The axe spun through the air and buried itself deep in the cultist's chest. The man gasped, blood spraying from his mouth as he dropped to his knees. Gleam flashed across the side like a streak of silver light, her wings cutting through the air as she unleashed bursts of glowing projectiles that struck down the man already wounded by the axe. Five men had stood before them at the start, but now only three remained, and just one was still uninjured.

"I'll leave those two to you, Gleam. I'll handle their leader!"

Rusty stepped into the torchlight and charged at the man armed with twin daggers. The man wore a strange suit of armor made from mismatched pieces of leather and chainmail. His daggers were bent and jagged, yet still sharp and deadly. He flipped through the air to gather himself, which gave Rusty enough time to grab his halberd again and give chase, then the real battle started.

The cultist moved like a shadow, faster than Rusty expected. His blades flashed in and out of sight, each strike aimed at a weak point in Rusty's armor. Sparks flew as metal met metal. Rusty swung his halberd in a wide arc, but the cultist ducked under it and slashed upward, cutting across Rusty's chest plate. The blow left a shallow indentation, but the speed behind it made him step back.

"This one is fast…and deadly."

Rusty adjusted his stance as he faced his new opponent. While the force behind the enemy's attacks was not as great, the cutting power was tremendous. If Rusty had been made of flesh, that strike would have torn his chest apart. Even with his armored body, the small daggers were quickly carving gashes across his frame, while he could barely land a clean hit in return.

"Strong monster… but strength means nothing if you can't land a hit."

The cultist smiled, his eyes glowing faintly red. Before Rusty could respond, the man vanished, leaving only a blur of motion. Rusty spun just in time to block another strike aimed at his neck. The impact sent a violent jolt through his metal arms, and the sound of clashing steel echoed across the ruined camp.

The cultist moved like liquid, his attacks fluid and unpredictable. Each strike came from a different angle, mixing slashes, stabs, and feints. Rusty's halberd was powerful but slower, and every missed swing cost him another wound. Even though he could regenerate his metal body, his supply of SP would eventually run dry, and then he would lose.

This was a first for him, an enemy he could not fully track or predict. Yet he did not panic. There was still a way to win. During the battle at the bandit camp, he had leveled up several times and gained a new skill. Now was the perfect time to use it, as it served as the ideal counter for someone with such incredible reaction speed.

As the skill was activated, time seemed to freeze. The world turned gray and still. The cultist's last movement hung in the air, his daggers suspended above Rusty's helmet like a falling guillotine. Even the flames of the burning campfire flickered slowly. Rusty was not controlling time, but his perception had expanded. His speed remained the same, yet now he could see clearly and react with precision.

He dropped his halberd and drew two short swords, closing the distance for close combat. With his senses sharpened, he activated every buffing skill he possessed and met the cultist on equal terms. Their blades clashed again and again. Sparks burst with every hit, and Rusty managed to cut the man's arms and legs, forcing him to retreat.

"This… how did it get so much faster?"

The cultist shouted in disbelief and activated his own skill; his veins bulged as his muscles swelled with unnatural strength. Despite the surge in power and speed, Rusty kept up with him, his own skills amplifying his movements. The two fought relentlessly, their bodies covered in cuts and punctures, but one of them was clearly fading faster than the other.

"Impossible… how could I… Argh…"

With a powerful thrust, Rusty drove one short sword into the man's thigh and the other into his shoulder. He pressed down, pinning the cultist to the ground before he could escape. The man's daggers were still buried in Rusty's metallic frame, but as long as his core remained intact, he would not fall.

The cultist thrashed beneath him, eyes burning crimson as blood spilled from his wounds. Rusty's grip tightened on the hilts of his blades, keeping the man pinned to the ground. He even used his body to restrain him as he wasn't quite done with him. Killing him would be easy, but what he really needed was information.

Rusty did not reply because he had no head within his body to produce sound. Once the man took his position, his companion appeared behind him.

"Did you take care of those two?"

"Good. This one has to live. Keep watch while I get some information."

Although Aburdon mentioned torture, Rusty knew he did not have time for that. Instead, he decided to use his possession skill to uncover what was happening by searching through the man's memories. He had become accustomed to using this ability to gather information, and once he was finished, he might even absorb one of the cultist's skills.

Before the man could finish, Rusty's helmet settled onto his head and the possession skill activated. The man's consciousness resisted with all its strength, but Rusty eventually overpowered him. Images flashed through Rusty's mind, showing the cultists wandering through spider-infested forests as they tracked him to the place where he had evolved. After his evolution, they had lost his trail and spent weeks searching for clues.

As Rusty continued to explore the man's memories, something unexpected occurred. A force began to pull at his very being, and before he could react, he was drawn into a strange place.

Before him stretched a crimson lake, not of water but of blood. He stood in it, half of his metal body submerged. Rusty struggled to keep his balance as the thick, sticky liquid lapped at his metallic frame. Something was watching him. Something unseen, something… powerful.

He tried to scan the area with his skills to locate the source of the gaze, but there were no life signals. It wasn't a normal presence. It didn't feel physical, yet it pressed on him with a weight that made him uncomfortable. Every instinct screamed to get out. Rusty took a slow step back, the blood clinging to his legs like heavy chains.

He turned his head, trying to see. But the crimson lake stretched forever. No sky above. No ground beneath. Just red. And that feeling of eyes being on him. Watching. Waiting.

His voice echoed through the vast expanse, but nothing answered. Instead, the lake began to move. A ripple spread out from nowhere. The blood rose higher around his body, reaching his chest, then his neck. It slid over his helmet and began seeping into him through every crevice. Even when he tried to push it back, it clung to him like tar.

Soon his entire body was submerged in the bloody lake, and he felt himself sinking into the depths. At first, there was no sound, only the crimson void surrounding him, but eventually he heard something. A faint, repeating echo, like a heartbeat. He looked down toward the source and saw it: a strange organ resembling a human heart, only many times larger, as massive as a mountain.

Suddenly, the entire world blurred, and he awoke to find Gleam poking him with her antennae in concern. To make matters worse, he felt damp and realized that the cultist's head he had been inhabiting had turned to paste.