Academic gathering with a lich-Chapter 724 - 668: Worsening Situation

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From the bloated spirit in front of him, one could still hear other sounds, like the noise of leather friction and the muffled murmuring through something. Vaul hung his head low, as if he was certain the scent belonged to his master. Lyle looked at Vaul’s blood-red eyes that were almost non-functional, they say eyes are the windows to the soul, then the soul Lyle saw in Vaul was locked tight, beyond imagination was the contract he must have made with Naslan, that kept the servant’s will proceeding within this collapsing soul.

Like the breaths of a beast, this persisted three times before Lyle, the Evil Spirit’s expression contorted, and the spiritual body convulsed, seemingly with great difficulty even maintaining a crouching position.

"That... Mr. Vaul, there’s no need for such reverence, just remain in your natural state."

No sooner had the voice faded than the Evil Spirit abruptly lifted his head, his spirit body emitting a scream, faces emerging within the body, twisting and turning like hemp ropes, yet the only head that could be called human still stared straight at Lyle.

It had become even more terrifying, Lyle thought. Such an appearance would certainly not seem out of place within Mr. Crimson’s sinister collection.

First, see if normal communication is possible.

"I am Lyle, currently a member of Naslan."

The mention of Naslan caused his body to pause momentarily, before it resumed twisting.

"Master... Vaul... can kill... but must... eat."

"Ah..."

Rather than introducing himself, he emphasized his own purpose first, the War Seeker is a complete war machine, with no other talents beyond combat. The twisted spirit in front of him growled with slight unease, as if anger was stuck in his throat, making a suppressed sound.

The feelings of unease and the like were actually projections of Lyle’s own mind, habits fostered by Andrey. Faced with outward appearances too twisted to observe directly, Lyle was accustomed to adding some embellished tones to his understanding, a kind of self-protective delusion.

The reality was that the twisted Vaul glared at Lyle, emitting a fierce roar.

Vaul’s combat prowess was of little use to Lyle, whether in searching for that coordinate or in actions after finding the place, the stench of blood was too chilling and lacked any subtlety, it would undoubtedly alarm the enemy.

Lyle pinched his chin, looking at the Evil Spirit’s abnormal body, "Is this... the Soul Reaver?"

Those faces that appeared on Vaul’s body seemed to be the souls slain and devoured by Vaul, taking others’ souls to strengthen himself, similar to Helena’s soul embodiment. But this one was definitely a failed experiment.

Forcing captured Evil Spirits into one’s body for assimilation, the soul ripped and fragmented into ugly pieces, the self driven to madness, the devourer and the devoured indistinguishable, becoming this new existence in front of him. While digesting, it also endured the backlash of the resentful spirits, this was the state Vaul was in now. The reason for his current distortion was entirely self-inflicted. But perhaps it was stepping into Posuwa’s land that brought him under the influence of the Evil God, driving both entities mad. Whether it was Vaul or the vanquished within him, they had become an inseparable symbiotic entity.

[Irreparable, or rather, eradication might be the best cure.]

"So that’s why Helena left him here, to let him kill capriciously on this cursed land."

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[Foolish compassion.] The Omen had a significant grudge against Helena, who had once sealed it away.

Lyle decided to let Vaul continue to wander in Posuwa, keeping Vaul by his side was not a good option. With a commanding tone, he ordered the War Seeker to leave; this sickly land of Posuwa became his prison and home.

There was no light on the road ahead, the best path forward was to maintain the status quo.

"There is one advantage to this," Lyle muttered to himself as he watched the receding figure disappear into the slowly settling dust, leaving only the remnants of ruins.

"Those insane souls devoured by Vaul were once just ordinary people who had gone mad. Their souls should have dissipated with time’s washing, instead of living so vividly in a cursed spiritual body like they do now."

[You call this an advantage?]

"Who knows, the judgment of good and bad varies from person to person."

Changing direction, Lyle continued towards the coordinates.

The dismal state of Posuwa was reflected in every part of the land, with Vaul’s presence being but a symbol. The temporary encampment ablaze with fierce flames, the charred remains strewn along the streets, burnt beams from collapsed houses smashing to dust on skewed tombstones, and the exposed broken bricks in the mud witnessed the repeating cycles.

Ragged refugees occasionally appeared in Lyle’s line of sight but upon seeing him, they either fled in terror or pulled out weapons from under their filthy robes, screaming as they rushed at him in groups. A small squad of a dozen madmen was just like ghouls scurrying across a battlefield, and they were the first Lyle encountered whenever he followed their screams. Even with Nia’s body fully stretched out behind him, casting indescribable shadows, these lunatics didn’t care.

After encountering them two or three times, Lyle began to avoid those places where flames fluttered up dust and smoke. But Posuwa’s troubles didn’t end there; Lyle’s tent had been attacked at night twice, one burned to ashes by a torch, the other smeared with blood and pieces of organs. One night, when Lyle was exhausted and fell into a deep sleep, bandits raided his tent, and Nia tore the head off one of them, scattering it everywhere, while the rest were impaled by bone spurs as tall as a man. Lyle, with bloodshot eyes and a face covered in blood, looked at the hell on earth he had created with an indifferent expression.

The long travels and constant harassment had worn him down, and the corruption beneath the earth had interfered with his judgment to some extent, finally exploding at this moment. Not far away was a gallows tree with no leaves, its twisted branches holding seven or eight corpses; the moon danced in the treetop, casting a cold moonlit frost over the blood-red stones.

The Omen perched atop the bone spikes that pierced human bodies, sat on the chests of those dead, laughing like a madman.

With his face still smeared with the mucus left from Nia’s cleaning, Lyle was wide awake, his back to the moon, stepping into the forest at the coordinates. The rustling of swaying tree shadows in the wind was eerie and terrifying, but Lyle didn’t want to stay a second longer on this desolate plain.

The instant he stepped into the forest, the slender moonlight was devoured, and shadows were everywhere. The Omen slithered along the backdrop wall of continuous trees, stretching at will. The forest was eerily quiet, as if dead, with only the sound of his boots crushing leaves and Lyle’s whispers.

[I’m growing more and more eager about that place. On this land rife with flying flesh and rampant warfare... you could try to guess what lies at our destination.]

"Something worse, perhaps the very essence of this malicious land, the tumor of Posuwa."

[We rarely agree on anything, Lyle.]

"Truly unfortunate." [Truly fortunate.]