Transmigrated to a Dark Fantasy World of SSS-Rank: King of the Void-Chapter 68: The Land of Ash [7]
Looking at it more closely, Marco truly noticed that this being was a rather pure specter. First of all, its four-limbed humanoid form resembled the body of an adult man, except that its face had no mouth or nose. However, it did have long ashen hair and a large cloak that covered most of its masculine figure. Its eyes were like two small flames suspended in darkness, glowing faintly as if from a distant age.
A specter will always carry pain and regret; anger and guilt. The emotions of these creatures—once rational beings—always influence the way they manifest in the world. Sometimes a specter can be a blurry, translucent creature, like a classic ghost, but then there are specters like the Master of Cinder—beings so solid and powerful, so deeply bound to the world—that they are unable to rest forever in the World of the Ethereals.
’I can barely see them...’ Mitsuki thought, slowly moving away from Monar, who was still maintaining his magic on Marco. ’I need to be close at the right moment.’
Returning to the fight, which was within the sight of Azel’s bow, Marco leapt three times in a zigzag across the side walls of the houses, chasing the specter that mirrored his movements—except it did so backwards, staring directly into his eyes. Then, both landed on different rooftops, locking gazes.
Marco frowned.
"You’re not going to mock me, loser," he muttered. He tightened his grip on the hilt of his sword; his muscles contracted painfully, helping him propel himself toward his target at maximum speed.
A perfectly straight trail of light formed, flashing toward the specter in an instant. The ethereal creature seemed surprised—it was already too late to dodge.
Clang! Bright metal rang against ashen metal. The specter had not tried to evade the attack. In fact, its cloak parted, revealing that it held two large dark daggers shaped like cat claws in both hands—weapons it used to block the descending slash of Marco’s sword.
Its body beneath that dark mantle was like a shadow of mist and ash that faded into exposed ribs the color of the moon, with worn and tattered clothing revealing parts of its ghostly form, which seemed to merge with the darkness of the night.
"You’re already dead, specter. It’s been a long time since you lost your chance in the world of the living," the Blondie said with a serious expression. He stepped forward onto the wooden tiles, forcing the creature to resist. "Stop clinging to this place; go and rest forever in the World of the Ethereals. Otherwise, I’ll be forced to increase your suffering until you vanish from existence."
The specter’s eyes flickered.
"Shhh..." it whispered. "No..." Its voice was broken, as distant as if it came from another world, as painful as if shards of glass were lodged in its throat... so sad... so afraid... yet strong enough to oppose the very will of the living.
Marco’s hands trembled for a fraction of a second at such a direct response, something the specter took advantage of to push him back with a double slash from the chest outward. Blondie stepped back, guarding himself with his sword, quickly regaining his stance, spinning on his axis and managing to slash the specter across the chest.
The creature let out an agonized groan, falling into the ruins of an old house.
Everything seemed to be over, but suddenly, a powerful, heart-wrenching scream echoed in all directions. Mitsuki and the others covered their ears, stunned by the noise.
An instant later...
Two small shadows rose beside the specter, which leapt out from the rubble to reposition itself elsewhere. It bounced between the walls, followed by those shadows, which for a brief second stared at Marco with deep resentment.
Blondie clicked his tongue, saying:
"Everyone, move! More bastards showed up!"
Azel brought a hand to his forehead with an awkward smile.
"Damn it, Marco. You always waste time when you fight something. That’s why the Crazy Princess always beats you."
He slung his bow over his shoulder and ran toward where Marco had gone chasing the specter. With Monar, it was different. He extinguished the magic, holding it in his hand like a small yellow sphere, and looked at Mitsuki.
"Don’t fall behind. Follow me."
’It’s not like I have anything else to do,’ he thought, but he followed Monar like a duckling after its mother.
The elf focused, looking at the walls of the houses, analyzing the surroundings again. "It seems the Princess and Ellegaard didn’t encounter these creatures because they arrived here during the day. We were the unlucky ones who got here at night—the time when they can come out."
"Why do these specters always come out at night and not during the day?" Mitsuki asked, breathing heavily. ’I’d also like to understand those statues in the capital—which apparently are some kind of specter as well—because none of it made any sense the first time I arrived in this world.’
A few meters away from them, Marco was tearing through buildings while exchanging blows with the specter. The incandescent flashes of clashing metal illuminated the scene in brief intervals, accompanied by the two small shadows that resembled the silhouettes of two children.
"There are different types of specters that function in different ways," Monar replied. "The reasons why some specters act at night have a lot to do with the connection between the Mortal World and the Ethereal World, and certain aspects related to the ’emotional darkness’ of souls bound to the Mortal World—especially the souls that were consumed by the Mystery of Cinder."
"Are the ash statues similar as well?"
"They are, but we don’t have time for explanations right now. Without the connection of my magic, Marco’s Strength Spell will fade soon. Besides, fighting an A-rank specter is equivalent to two S-rank adventurers facing each other one-on-one."
Mitsuki clenched his teeth in frustration.
’Shit. Then everything I was planning before just got more complicated. We need Marco to subjugate the specter before it gets the chance to kill us all. I thought being S-rank was something more impressive—and it is—but compared to Jeanne and Ellegaard, I’m finally starting to see the limitations of more conventional adventurers.’
Boom! Buildings rumbled as they were smashed apart. Marco was hurled into the walls, breaking through them one after another until, by chance, he stopped against the wall of a small church right in front of Monar and Mitsuki.
"Shit!" he muttered.
The specter appeared before Marco, ready to slice his neck with its daggers—but that was the perfect opportunity for Azel, who had managed to climb onto one of the nearby houses. He had the perfect angle to shoot, but this time it wasn’t a wind bullet. A brilliant arrow of light shot forward, less destructive than the previous one, but fast enough to pierce straight through the specter’s head.
From the darkness of a nearby alley, those small shadows intensified their bloodlust toward the group.
