Chapter 175
The night cloaked the City of Silent Bells in a suffocating shadow. From the rooftops and alleys, Addison's reinforcements emerged, not in the roar of war, but in the whisper of blades and the soft tap of boots against stone. Ballistae slept, and siege lines lay unnoticed in the darkness. The defenders of Merfleur did not yet realize how the field had shifted.
Addison moved at the head of her vanguard, claymore strapped but silent, the weight a promise rather than a threat. Her gray eyes caught the faintest shimmer of torchlight in a distant alley, and her voice barely rose above a hush.
Addison: "Spread out. Shadows become our shield. Strike where the city breathes, not where it bleeds."
Alexsei followed, seated in his chair atop the armored golem, the enormous construct moving like a silent sentinel. His pale eyes scanned the streets with the precision of a surgeon, calculating angles and weak points in the walls. When he spoke, it was to a single earpiece in Addison's armor, sharp and precise.
Alexsei: "Pairs and trios. No solo hunts. Observe, strike, vanish. Let the city think the night moves alone."
From a rooftop across the square, Brie pressed her fingers to her temple, and her gift, Whispermind, spread like a web through the sleeping streets. Thoughts and commands slipped into the minds of her scattered allies, guiding them like invisible hands.
"This is Brie. One hundred and twenty operatives are in position. Addison Lazarus and Alexsei Sokolov lead the forward strike. Proceed quietly converge on the hidden rendezvous."
The strike team of fifty, previously pressing against Merfleur's outer defenses, melted back into the shadows, guided by her whispers. Charllote Lazarus led the retreat, her twin blades now instruments of precision rather than flame, slicing through locks, chains, and unsuspecting sentries with a dancer's grace.
Jacob Lazarus followed, his molten skill contained to silent obsidian traps that sprouted where the enemy might step, hardening instantly into walls that blocked corridors and funneled foes into deadly zones. Farrah Lazarus twisted her control over vines into silent snares, ensnaring feet and halting patrols without a sound. Rainey Lazarus' swarm of insects crept unseen, a living shroud that obscured vision and muffled movement.
Sabine Lazarus moved like a predator through the alleyways, her transformation minimized to agile, humanoid reflexes, her claws tearing silently through locks and barriers. Noah Lazarus became a moving shield, not of open confrontation but of deflecting chance encounters metal skin preventing accidental discovery.
Mary Kaye Lazarus wielded her shovel like a master of guerrilla demolition, collapsing small walls and opening secret passages without alerting anyone. Cody Lazarus controlled subtle concussive pulses beneath floors, shaking structures just enough to make traps or barricades hold—louder clashes reserved only for distractions.
And Natasha Sokolov shadowed the rear, her runed bolts carefully fired to disable guards, lock gates, or collapse small wooden platforms, leaving no trace but the cold glimmer of her work.
Through whispers, Brie's guidance kept the guild moving as one slipping through patrols, vanishing from sight, and leaving the city's defenses unsure if anything had truly moved at all. When they crossed beyond the undead's reach, the rotting masses froze, suspended like lifeless sentinels.
Addison's gray eyes narrowed at the unnatural halt of the dead, her grip tightening around her claymore. Alexsei's pale gaze flicked toward the city's walls, his voice low, heard only by Addison.
Alexsei: "They wait. The dead are leashed, not free. This siege isn't the battle, it's the warning."
Addison's lips curled into a shadowed smile. She raised her blade, whispering to the darkness rather than the city.
Addison: "Then we'll cut the leash quietly… and take the master by surprise."
The City of Silent Bells groaned under its own stillness, unaware that the real hunt had already begun.
The night deepened over Merfleur, and the city seemed almost to hold its breath. From their vantage points, the united guild moved like shadows made flesh, one hundred and twenty operatives threading through rooftops, alleys, and hidden passages with the precision of a single mind.
Charllote Lazarus led the sweep, twin blades glinting faintly in the torchlight, each movement a silent question: Are you awake? Can you see me? Only those who answered incorrectly would suffer the consequence.
The first defensive watch fell without sound. A pair of guards, chatting idly in the moonlight, never even glimpsed her before the glint of steel silenced them. Their bodies were moved into the shadows, unseen by the next patrol, leaving only the faint impression of their passing.
Mary Kaye Lazarus followed the main route, her shovel digging into weak foundations, collapsing wooden stairways and barricades without a creak. Each collapse was timed to channel enemy patrols into carefully planned zones, where traps and subtle attacks awaited. One collapsed balcony, one snapped ladder, and the path for the guild remained clear.
Natasha Sokolov's crossbow whispered through the darkness. Each runed bolt struck silently locking doors, freezing guards mid-step, or shattering small mechanisms that could have raised alarms. Her icy precision left no mark but the absence of resistance, a quiet dread spreading through the city's defenders.
Jacob Lazarus stayed close to Charllote, controlling molten flows in hidden patterns. He did not throw fire openly; instead, liquid rock seeped into cracks, solidifying quietly to block patrol paths or create traps that would crush unwary feet. Every movement was calculated, every strike invisible until its effect was unavoidable.
Oliver Lazarus, stationed along the city's back alleys, launched poisoned darts into chimneys, air vents, and rooftops. Each dart left no trace, yet the enemies who inhaled the faint toxin stumbled into shadows, groaning softly before collapsing, leaving the streets eerily empty.
Rainey Lazarus' swarm of insects moved like living smoke through the streets, blinding eyes and muffling footsteps. Torches dimmed as insects swarmed, faintly shimmering in the torchlight as they corralled guards, herded patrols into dead ends, and ensured the guild moved unobserved.
Sabine Lazarus, in her agile beast form, struck with precise ferocity. Not a scream, not a clash of metal only the soft crunch of a lock or the subtle snap of a neck. Every patrol she intercepted would vanish into shadows before anyone could sound the alarm.
Farrah and Bonnie remained at the camp, reinforcing wards and observing Alexsei Sokolov as he calculated the city's defensive patterns. "They move like a single organism," Bonnie whispered. "Not just skill coordination. They could sweep this city without a single alarm if they wished."
Alexsei's pale eyes didn't leave the distant rooftops. "They will wish. The guild moves in whispers, but every whisper has weight. Each member knows the cost of failure… and each ensures no thread is broken. That is why they succeed where others would falter."
Above, Addison Lazarus, veteran, mother, strategist, moved with the calm authority of fifty-seven years of survival and warfare. Her gray eyes flicked to her children, then to the shadows before her. Every step she took cleared the path, her presence anchoring the guild's movements.
One by one, Merfleur's outer defenses were neutralized. Silent traps immobilized gates. undead Guard rotations vanished into alleys where the guild controlled every exit. The undead forces, tethered to a leash unseen, remained frozen at the edges, only hinting at the threat to come.
The bells around the castle and its ruined homes remained silent, as if the land itself held its breath. Every step the players took had to be precise. Those skilled in wind magic stirred currents through the broken corridors and shattered roofs, masking the creak of shifting tiles with the howl of the night.
The undead never tired, never rested. They responded to the faintest noise—falling debris, scraping metal, or the groan of stone. Yet the wind covered the intruders like a shroud. Alongside them, others skilled in concealing sound and weaving illusions moved with the same purpose. Their role was as vital as that of the healers, for silence was their only shield.
Each strike team consisted of six. Together, the guild's forces converged on the central square, moving with precision, every gesture deliberate.
The guild teams converged toward the central square, their movements still precise, still silent. Charllote's whispered commands cut through the night air:
Charllote: "Sweep the inner walls. No mistakes. No unnecessary kills. The master constantly listen and so do we."
Mary Kaye's voice followed, calm and deliberate: many member mostly responded with hand signals and sign language.
Mary Kaye: "Traps and weaknesses marked. Patrols neutralized. The path to the tower is clear prepare for the final confrontation."
Natasha adjusted her crossbow, icy runes flickering in the dim light. "All exits covered. Any pursuers will find nothing but silence… and cold steel."
From the camp, Bonnie and Farrah watched the city with tense anticipation, knowing the guild would not falter. The united guild, led by the Lazarus family and Alexsei Sokolov's calculation, was moving as one, silent, precise, and deadly.
And in the heart of the City of Silent Bells, the master waited, unaware that his city was already overrun… by ghosts who left no sound, no trace, only the whisper of inevitability.
The crater yawned before them, a jagged wound in Merfleur's castle walls where Rothchester's knights had torn through the stone, leaving the city's defenses broken but not conquered. The underground chambers beyond were dark and oppressive, the air thick with the metallic tang of blood, decay, and magic. Shadows shifted unnaturally, as though the walls themselves were alive and watching.
The united guild descended silently, ropes and grappling hooks guiding them down the jagged rock into the crater. Addison Lazarus remained at the rim, her eyes scanning the perimeter. She was the anchor, the unseen shield; her presence a silent warning that no interruption would reach the operatives below. She would not fight, not yet but she would ensure none of the participants fell to distraction.
Below, the corridors of the underground chambers opened into a vaulted hall, jagged columns of stone rising like teeth. The smell of earth and rot was overpowering, and faint glimmers of magical residue traced the edges of walls.
"Stay sharp," Charllote whispered, moving at the head. Her blades glimmered faintly with suppressed fire magic, lighting only the immediate space. "The undead aren't patrolling—they're waiting."
Mary Kaye, glancing over the letter Daniel had left, touched the faintly etched sigils on her shovel. The Rothchester bombs were everywhere placed in precise arrays, invisible to anyone who didn't know to search for the faint earth-magic resonance. The letter had warned: "Activate only when the curse manifests. Mary Kaye will know the timing."
Jacob and Natasha fanned out, observing the traps. The corridors were lined with undead soldiers, stiffened into twisted poses, their eyes dull and lifeless. Only when the guild entered did the first few animate, staggering forward with jerky, unnatural movement, like puppets suddenly tugged on by invisible strings.
Then the ground trembled, a vibration that grew into a low, guttural rumble. From the far side of the chamber, a massive shape slithered into view, a grotesque nightmare brought to life.
The curse artifact was no mere item. It was a living abomination, a fifty-foot undead centipede, its segmented body armored with blackened chitin fused with bone. Each segment bore jagged ridges, tipped with serrated spikes that dripped a faint green ichor, and from its underbelly protruded hundreds of jointed legs, each tipped with claws capable of rending stone and flesh alike.
Its head was a horrifying visage: multifaceted eyes glimmered faintly in the dark, and its mandibles clicked rhythmically, whispering of hunger. From its legs and mouth it shot razor-sharp shards, each tipped with a potent neurotoxin that caused convulsions and paralysis. The shards hissed through the air, glancing off stone with deadly precision, forcing the guild to weave, dodge, and coordinate silently.
Charllote moved first, leading the attack in measured strikes. Her blades traced arcs that deflected shards and distracted segments of the monster, drawing its attention in choreographed bursts. Jacob conjured molten traps along the floor and walls, hardening flows into barriers that constrained the centipede's movement without causing loud explosions.
Natasha fired bolts at weak points along the joints of its armored segments, each icy strike causing the creature to twitch and shift violently. Farrah manipulated the earth beneath the chamber, lifting slabs of stone into barricades that slowed the centipede's advance and provided cover for her allies. Rainey Lazarus unleashed swarms of insects, cutting through poisonous shards in the air and confounding the monster's sense of touch.
Oliver's poison darts, subtle yet precise, found their mark in the few remaining undead guards trying to flank them. The venom meant nothing to the dead, but the sheer force shattered skulls, dropping the creatures instantly and keeping the master centipede as their sole focus. Sabine darted between the beast's armored segments, claws flashing as she struck at its joints. Shards splintered around her, but she never overextended, every movement was woven seamlessly into Charllote and Jacob's coordinated assault.
Mary Kaye's gaze scanned the array of Rothchester bombs. They hummed faintly in resonance with the centipede, reacting to the living artifact. The letter had made it clear: earth magic alone could trigger them. She could feel the latent energy beneath her hands through the shovel, waiting for the precise moment.
Alexsei, seated in his chair, guided the guild in hushed tones, whispering corrections and observations through subtle earpiece channels. "Segment three, shift left. Avoid the shards. Let Mary Kaye time it. Wait for the reaction."
The creature's massive body coiled, sending shards ricocheting off the walls, while the undead guards rallied, moving with the terrifying synchronization of the curse. Every step, every strike, every movement had to be executed perfectly. The silent-assassin approach was their only advantage; any loud clash could provoke the centipede into an uncontrolled frenzy, destroying the bombs before they could be used.
Addison's presence above reminded them of the stakes. She was the unseen eye, the guardian of their survival. The guild operated in perfect coordination, a deadly dance through shadow and stone, as the cursed master waited for the inevitable an activation it could not anticipate.
And at the center of it all, Mary Kaye held her breath, shovel in hand, waiting for the living curse to expose the timing, for the Rothchester bombs to respond, and for Daniel's plan to unfold.
The silent siege had reached its true test.
Mary Kaye felt the faint hum beneath her shovel twist into a roar as the cursed centipede convulsed, its armored body smashing into the chamber walls. The ground shook like thunder, cracks spidering out beneath her boots. She slammed the blade end of her shovel into the earth and forced her magic down, igniting the Rothchester bombs hidden in the stone.
The first explosion pulsed like a heartbeat.The second followed—shuddering the chamber so violently that entire pillars fractured, toppling into heaps of dust and rubble.
The centipede shrieked, a deafening metallic screech that rattled bones. Blind though it was, its body moved with terrifying speed, legs stabbing like spears, mandibles carving chunks of rock from the walls. One lunge shredded an entire stone barrier in an instant. Another swipe of its segmented body sent three undead guards splintering like rotten wood.
Dust rained, the chamber a storm of shards and noise.
Charllote's command cut through the chaos like a blade:Charllote:"Flank left—don't let it reset its rhythm! Move!"
The guild surged as one.
Jacob carved molten rivers across the floor, his lava walls hissing as the centipede's armored body slammed into them, spraying sparks. But even molten rock cracked beneath its raw force.
Natasha hurled rune-etched spears of ice into its joints, shards exploding across its carapace. The beast screamed, its body arching so violently that shockwaves knocked loose entire slabs from the ceiling.
Sabine slipped beneath its writhing bulk, claws slashing deep into gaps of softer flesh, blood spraying black and foul. But the monster twisted with inhuman speed—its leg scythed down, barely missing her skull as she rolled aside, her hair scorched by the force of impact.
Rainey unleashed her swarms, insects swirling in a dark cloud, shielding the guild from the storm of poison shards the centipede spewed from its maw. The air stank of venom, each shard sizzling against stone like acid.
Farrah raised jagged walls of earth, but the centipede tore through them like parchment, each slam leaving shockwaves that cracked her barriers.
Oliver's poison darts peppered the beast's smaller segments, slowing its thrashing—but not enough. The centipede coiled and lunged, moving with a speed that belied its size, its body hammering the ground with each movement like an avalanche in motion.
And still—Mary Kaye pulsed the bombs.
Every detonation sent ripples through the stone. Every ripple forced the creature to convulse, thrash, and lose control. Its legs stabbed blindly, its rhythm broken, its precision collapsing.
Daniel's earlier strike had given her the key: vibration was its curse. Sound was agony.
Another sequence of explosions rippled through the earth. The monster slammed itself into a wall to escape the resonance, but the guild was faster. Charllote darted forward, twin blades flashing, carving at exposed segments as Jacob locked its path with molten spikes. Natasha froze its flailing limbs, Sabine shredded its underbelly, Oliver cut off its coordination with venom.
It shrieked again, louder, desperate—its body a storm of blades and poison. The guild bled, scratched and battered, but their formation never broke.
Finally, Mary Kaye drove her shovel down with everything she had. The Rothchester bombs answered—A devastating symphony of explosions thundered beneath the chamber.
The floor erupted.The centipede's body convulsed, slamming ceiling to floor, walls to rubble. Segments cracked apart, spraying ichor. Its shriek tore through stone, a dying roar that sent stalactites crashing down.
And then, silence.Only the sound of dripping venom and falling dust remained, as the cursed beast writhed one last time, broken by the very vibrations it once commanded.
The chamber fell silent. Dust hung heavy, choking every breath. The guild stood scattered among the ruins, bodies bruised, weapons dripping with black ichor. The centipede's massive body lay coiled and broken, its segments twitching in spasms.
Mary Kaye leaned on her shovel, heart hammering. It's over, she thought.
Then she felt it—The hum.
Low at first, like a whisper beneath the earth. Then rising—deep, pulsing, violent. The ground convulsed, throwing the guild off their feet.
The centipede's corpse moved.
Black ichor boiled from its wounds, fusing shattered segments back together. Its shriek ripped through the chamber, louder and sharper than before, a sound so violent it made ears bleed. Segments split open, birthing jagged spines that jutted outward like blades. Its carapace cracked, glowing faintly with cursed energy, every vibration now magnified tenfold.
Jacob (hoarse):"Damn it—phase two. Everyone MOVE!"
The centipede struck like lightning. Its body slammed across the chamber, stone pillars disintegrating under its force. A single lash of its tail hurled Rainey across the ground, blood spraying as she crashed into a broken wall.
Shards of venom rained like arrows, sizzling as they melted through stone. Farrah threw up walls in panic—each shattered instantly, shards punching through and cutting deep gashes into her arms.
Natasha planted her feet, runes glowing, and fired bolt after bolt of ice. The beast twisted in midair—in midair—its massive body coiling like a whip, smashing her spell apart before it even struck. The backlash sent her sprawling, coughing blood.
Sabine darted in, claws raking across a glowing segment—only for the centipede to turn its own vibration against her. A pulse erupted from its body, throwing her back like a ragdoll, ears ringing with ruptured eardrums.
Charllote, blades flashing, leapt straight onto its thrashing body, driving steel into its joints. The centipede screamed, its body rolling violently to crush her against the stone floor—Jacob barely saved her, molten walls forcing the creature to recoil for an instant.
Mary Kaye's chest clenched with panic. Her bombs had worked once. But the creature had adapted. Every detonation now only enraged it further, the vibrations fueling its frenzy.
And yet—its weakness still lingered. The more sound, the more chaos in its senses. The trick now wasn't control. It was overload.
Mary Kaye (shouting):"Everyone—don't hold back! Give it EVERYTHING! Make the ground sing!"
Jacob slammed his fists down, molten rivers boiling. Natasha carved freezing glyphs into the floor, the cracking ice screaming through the chamber. Sabine and Oliver struck in tandem, poison hissing against exposed flesh. Rainey's swarms became a living storm, wings buzzing in a deafening roar.
Charllote led the charge, her blades sparking against its armor, carving wounds that bled black fire.
And Mary Kaye—She pulsed the Rothchester bombs, one after another, not in rhythm this time but in a brutal, chaotic sequence. The chamber roared, the ground itself becoming an orchestra of shattering stone and screaming magic.
The centipede thrashed wildly, movements no longer precise—its senses overwhelmed, its body striking walls, floor, even itself. Segments tore, spines cracked, venom spilled uncontrollably.
But its death throes were catastrophic.
It collapsed pillars in its frenzy, the ceiling groaning, boulders crashing down. Each strike was blind but carried enough force to kill outright. One venom shard grazed Jacob's side—his skin blackened instantly, smoke rising from the wound.
And still—the guild pressed.
Charllote: "All at once focus the strikes now!"
Jacob, Sabine, Natasha, and the others unleashed the coordinated onslaught, each movement a precise, silent cut into the already disoriented body of the centipede. Its legs twitched, claws scraped uselessly against the stone, and its monstrous mandibles snapped into empty air. The guild's choreography, every step, every strike flowed with deadly grace.
Mary Kaye's eyes glimmered as she realized the brilliance of Daniel's plan. The bombs didn't kill the monster outright they allowed the guild to exploit its weakness, to turn its hypersensitivity and blind fury into a weapon for their precision attacks.
Finally, with one last, unrelenting surge of earth magic, Mary Kaye detonated every remaining Rothchester bomb. The ground erupted, swallowing the centipede in a storm of fire, stone, and deafening vibrations.
The monster shrieked, a sound so loud it seemed to tear reality itself—before its body ripped apart from within, segments flying like shrapnel. Black ichor sprayed across the chamber, coating stone and skin alike.
Then, silence.Real silence.
The centipede's body lay shredded across the floor, no twitch, no hum, no cursed glow. The guild stood bloodied and battered, some barely able to stand. But alive.
Above, Addison exhaled quietly, lowering her claymore. She hadn't fought, yet her vigilance had ensured the guild remained unbroken. The City of Silent Bells was silent now, but the echoes of their deadly precision lingered like ghosts among the rubble.
Mary Kaye's hands still glowed faintly, her shovel trembling slightly from the last pulse of earth magic. She glanced at the others, a nod passing silently among them. The curse had been neutralized not by brute force, but by coordination, patience, and understanding.
The underground chamber stank of ozone, earth, and decay. The battle was over, yet the City of Silent Bells remained ominously still, as if holding its breath for the next move.
The chamber was silent now, save for the faint settling of dust and rubble. The cursed centipede's massive body lay sprawled across the stone, its segmented exoskeleton cracked and smoking where molten and poisoned strikes had torn it open. The smell of decay was strong, but there was no life left within the monstrous corpse.
Charllote moved among the team first, her twin blades now sheathed, carefully inspecting the chamber for lingering hazards. Jacob followed, reinforcing structural weaknesses with molten stone and earth magic, ensuring the tunnels would not collapse behind them.
Mary Kaye and Natasha moved systematically, disabling the remaining Rothchester bombs and dismantling traps, leaving only faint sigils on the walls as markers for later study. Farrah strengthened the wards at the chamber entrances, sealing the underground labyrinth against any lingering undead or rogue magical fragments.
The guild worked efficiently, silently communicating with gestures and soft whispers. Addison remained above in the crater, eyes sweeping the surrounding ruins to ensure no reinforcements would interrupt the operation.
Once the underground chamber was secured, the guild began clearing the castle. Small patrols of undead remained scattered through the outer halls, but with the centipede gone, their coordination was fractured. Sabine and Oliver eliminated threats quietly, while Rainey's swarms kept stray enemies from regrouping.
Finally, the chamber doors opened to the outer city streets, and the united guild regrouped. The once-terrifying City of Silent Bells was now eerily calm, the remnants of Rothchester's defenses neutralized.
From the shadows above, a familiar voice crackled softly through the guild's communication channels:
"Announcement:"
"The cursed centipede has been neutralized. The main objective of the Merfleur quest has been successfully completed. Rewards for participation are as follows:
"Primary Rewards for Attack Main Teams:"
"300 experience points per operative"
"Unique combat sigils enhancing stealth and coordination for 5 days"
"Access to rare weapon upgrades attuned to personal skills"
"Recognition within the united guild and affiliated guilds as elite operatives"
"Secondary Rewards for Quest Support Teams (Camp, Magic Coordination, Recon):"
"150 experience points per operative"
"Magical reinforcement talismans usable in future missions"
"Recognition for strategic and defensive contributions"
"Special bonuses to guild influence and resource allocations"
"Additional Note: Previous members who temporarily returned to their respected guilds may now reclaim positions and gain participation rewards retroactively, provided they completed assigned tasks in accordance with guild protocols."
A cheer rose quietly among the seventy guild members who had returned to their home organizations, relief and pride softening the tension that had gripped them for weeks. Even those who had operated in support Brie, Bonnie, Farrah, and others felt the quiet satisfaction of a task flawlessly executed.
Charllote's eyes met Mary Kaye's across the chamber, and a subtle nod passed between them. "Daniel's plan worked. Every piece fell into place."
Mary Kaye's fingers brushed her shovel, still warm from the earth-magic pulses that had activated the Rothchester bombs. "It's all coming together," she said softly. "Merfleur is secure, the curse neutralized… and the next step waits. Karion's capital."
Addison descended from the crater, finally rejoining the guild. Her gray eyes scanned her team, pride evident despite the exhaustion etched into her features. "No lives lost. No mistakes. Well done. But this is only the beginning. Karion will not be silent, and our next target will test every skill we have."
The guild moved as one toward the remaining hidden exits of Merfleur, their shadows stretched long in the early dawn light. The streets were eerily empty, yet every operative remained alert. The reward announcement had brought relief, but also a clear reminder: the capital of Karion awaited, and the challenges ahead would demand the same precision, stealth, and lethal coordination that had brought them through Merfleur.
As the last operatives disappeared into the concealed tunnels, the city behind them silent once more, the rewards hung tangible in their minds not gold or titles, but experience, skill, and the affirmation of surviving the impossible. The next phase of their journey, toward Karion, awaited, and the united guild had proven that when every shadow moved as one, no monster not even a living cursed centipede was invincible.