Chapter 4.2: Four Days Break in the Village of Berkinsil
Year 0004, Month I-III: The Imperium
---
Day 16.2-17.1: Berkinsil Village (III) - Against the Dark Arts of dark magic
The night stretched endlessly before them, with several long hours remaining until the blessed arrival of dawn. Master Flameswrath had made it clear that these creatures of darkness drew their unholy strength from the absence of light, feeding on shadow and despair like vampires feeding on blood. The miniature sun he had conjured overhead served as their primary defense, its brilliant radiance creating a protective barrier that held the worst of the creatures at bay, and weakening the effect of the darkness that strengthened the creatures.
However, the wizard faced a terrible dilemma that constrained his actions as much as it protected their enemies. Ben Flameswrath possessed the raw power to incinerate every one of these abominations in a matter of moments, reducing them to ash and cleansing the very air of their corruption. But unleashing such devastating magic would inevitably result in catastrophic collateral damage that would likely obliterate not only their enemies, but the innocent villagers who remained unaware of the supernatural battle raging in their midst.
The sleeping innocents presented both a blessing and a curse. Their unconscious state—clearly the result of some magical intervention—meant they were not fleeing in panic or interfering with the battle, but it also meant they were helpless victims who could be killed by any stray magical effect. The wizard's conscience would not allow him to save the village by destroying the very people he sought to protect.
"Master Ben," August called out over the sounds of approaching undead, his voice steady despite the gravity of their situation. "How can we defeat these creatures without endangering the villagers?"
The ancient wizard's response was both reassuring and sobering. "My flames will certainly burn away their darkness and send them back to whatever hell spawned them, but as I said, doing so at full power would create a conflagration that would endanger every innocent soul in this settlement including ours. These enemies have chosen their battlefield well—they know I cannot bring my full strength to bear without becoming the very monster I seek to defeat."
Master Flameswrath's eyes twinkled with something that might have been pride as he continued. "This battle will largely depend on your skills and those of our companions, young August. But do not despair—from what I have observed of your abilities and character, this challenge is well within your capabilities. Your magic will more than suffice for what lies ahead."
August felt a surge of confidence at the wizard's words, bolstered by the knowledge that he possessed a new magical ability that he had not yet had the opportunity to test. The SYSTEM had previously rewarded him with this magical skill after completing a particularly challenging emergency mission, and while he had studied its theoretical applications, tonight would mark its first practical use.
The spell was called "Tempest Sovereign Aegis Dominion" (CLASS V - GRANDMASTER) | (High-Tier Skill ★★★), classified as a Class V Grandmaster skill and rated as a High-Tier ability with three stars. It represented the pinnacle of his elemental magic, combining the raw power of lightning with the devastating force of wind in ways that few mages could hope to master.
Originally conceived as"Tempest Sovereign's Dominion," this spell had evolved through desperate necessity during ancient battles from its original conjurer against overwhelming numbers of shadow elementals—creatures remarkably similar to what they now faced. Through the repeated use and refinement across countless conflicts from the mage that created this spell, it had now become known as the Tempest Sovereign Aegis Dominion, combining sovereign mastery over storms with the protective aegis of Solarik, the God of Fire and Thunder himself.
This was not merely an incantation but an act of elemental creation, weaving a miniature superstorm around the caster that served simultaneously as an impenetrable shield and an unstoppable weapon. It was the signature magic of those who had achieved complete mastery and profound unity with the twin forces of wind and lightning.
The spell manifested in distinct stages of escalating power and complexity. It would begin as barely visible shimmer and subtle wind whispers, forming defensive crackling barriers around the caster. As it developed, these invisible barriers would transform into a howling vortex of tornadic force accompanied by a constant buzzing cage of lightning capable of deflecting attacks and shattering stone.
In its advanced stage, the spell's power would double every two seconds through cascade amplification, with lightning arcing more violently while winds spun faster, creating an ever-expanding sphere of destruction. The magic could be amplified by 150% for every two-second cycle, as long as the user possessed sufficient mana to sustain it. The spell could maintain up to thirty such cycles, reaching a maximum amplification of 4,500% for those who could endure its demanding energy requirements.
At the level of mastery August had achieved, the spell would transform into a self-sustaining maelstrom of blinding light and deafening sound. The caster would become the serene eye of a storm capable of unleashing concentrated lightning bolts, wind blades, and omnidirectional devastation. With complete control over the effect, August could expand the sphere's radius from fifty feet to a thousand feet in all directions, while precisely targeting damage to those he deemed enemies within the sphere.
As a High-Tier skill, it possessed a base power damage of 5,000 points with a consumption of 500 mana points for every second of activation. The Class V Grandmaster rating added an additional 3,450 damage points, with the addition of its increasing damage output it can reach a potential maximum damage output of 388,700 points per second beyond the initial minute of operation for anyone unfortunate enough to be caught within the sphere.
August began gathering his magical energy as the undead creatures shambled closer to their defensive perimeter. Master Ben, understanding the plan they had quickly formulated, began using his floating fire sprites—bonded spirits of flame that obeyed his will—to herd the enemy forces into a more concentrated formation. The strategy was simple but effective: funnel all the creatures toward August's position, allowing him to engage the entire force simultaneously rather than fighting a prolonged battle against scattered enemies.
The wizard's fire sprites danced through the air like living stars, their brilliant forms creating walls of light that the creatures instinctively avoided. Slowly but surely, the shambling horde was compressed into an increasingly tight formation, exactly as August had hoped.
With his enemies properly positioned and his allies safely outside the projected area of effect, August began the complex incantation required to activate Tempest Sovereign Aegis Dominion for the first time. The sensation was unlike anything he had experienced before—raw elemental power flowing through his body like liquid lightning, demanding perfect control and absolute confidence.
The initial manifestation was subtle, barely visible to observers. A faint shimmer surrounded August's form, accompanied by the whisper of wind that seemed to come from nowhere and everywhere at once. But within moments, the effect began to intensify dramatically.
The air around August began to swirl with increasing violence, creating a localized whirlwind that grew in both size and intensity with each passing second. Lightning began to arc between his fingers and dance along his armor, creating a cage of electrical energy that crackled with barely contained power.
The undead creatures, perhaps sensing the gathering storm, pressed their attack with renewed desperation. They hurled themselves forward with the mindless fury of beings that knew no fear or pain, their grotesque forms illuminated by the growing electrical display.
But August was ready for them.
As the creatures entered the expanding sphere of his magical influence, the true power of the Tempest Sovereign Aegis Dominion revealed itself. The gentle wind became a howling gale that could shred flesh from bone. The dancing lightning transformed into devastating bolts that struck with the precision of a master archer and the force of divine judgment.
The battle that followed was both beautiful and terrifying to behold. August stood at the center of an ever-expanding maelstrom of wind and lightning, perfectly calm within the eye of his own storm while chaos raged around him. The creatures that had seemed so threatening moments before were torn apart by forces beyond their comprehension, their unnatural forms unable to withstand the elemental fury that August had unleashed.
The precision of the spell was perhaps its most impressive aspect. While hurricane-force winds and devastating lightning strikes ravaged everything within the designated area, not a single stray bolt or gust of wind extended beyond the sphere's carefully controlled boundaries. The sleeping villagers remained undisturbed, their homes untouched by the supernatural battle raging mere yards from their doors.
The consumption of mana was enormous, draining more than half of August's reserves at a rate that would have been unsustainable for most mages. But his training and natural ability allowed him to maintain the spell long enough to completely eliminate the threat. Seconds felt like hours as he poured his magical energy into sustaining the storm,each moment requiring absolute focus and unwavering determination.
The creatures pressed their attack with supernatural persistence, their grotesque forms hurling themselves against the barriers of wind and lightning with the mindless determination of beings that knew neither fear nor self-preservation. Some wielded crude weapons forged from bone and rusted metal, while others attacked with claws and teeth that had been enhanced through dark sorcery.
But for all their numbers and unholy resilience, these abominations were fundamentally outmatched. August's magic tore through their ranks like a scythe through wheat, each bolt of lightning reducing another shambling horror to ash and scattered bone fragments. The wind carried away the remnants of their destruction, ensuring that no trace of their corruption could linger to poison the earth.
The precision required to maintain such devastating power while protecting innocent bystanders pushed August to the very limits of his abilities. Every adjustment to the storm's intensity, every redirection of a lightning strike, required conscious effort and careful calculation. A moment's lapse in concentration could have sent a stray bolt crashing into a nearby home or allowed the winds to expand beyond their designated boundaries.
Throughout the battle, Master Flameswrath and the other members of their group provided crucial support. The wizard's fire sprites continued to herd any creatures that attempted to flee or approach from unexpected angles, while August's companions maintained defensive positions around the camp's perimeter, ready to respond to any threat that might slip through the magical barrage.
Erik and Bren worked in perfect coordination, their years of adventuring together evident in every movement. Bren's blade work was surgical in its precision, cutting down any creature that managed to approach their position while avoiding the chaotic energies of August's spell. Erik provided ranged support from his elevated position, his arrows finding their marks with deadly accuracy even in the midst of the swirling winds.
Betty, Angeline, and Isabel had positioned themselves to protect the non-combatants, their weapons ready and their expressions grimly determined. Adam and Andy flanked the camp's eastern approach, while Sibus, Michelle, and Marcus covered the western flank. Every member of their group understood their role and executed it with the professionalism of seasoned adventurers.
While their migrant community formed their defensive line in the middle, with their hunters providing the necessary range to help and eliminate stragglers.
The battle raged for what felt like an eternity, though in reality it lasted less than two minutes. As the final creature fell to August's relentless assault, the young mage allowed his spell to gradually diminish in power. The howling winds slowly died down to gentle breezes, the crackling lightning faded to occasional sparks, and the brilliant maelstrom collapsed back into the subtle shimmer with which it had begun.
August swayed slightly as the full extent of his magical exhaustion hit him, but he remained standing through sheer force of will. The battlefield around him was eerily clean—the combination of lightning and wind had not only destroyed their enemies but had also scoured away most traces of the conflict. Only a few scorch marks on the ground and the lingering scent of ozone in the air provided evidence of the supernatural battle that had just concluded.
"Is everyone accounted for?" August called out, his voice slightly hoarse from the effort of maintaining such intense concentration for so long.
The responses came back quickly from around the camp's perimeter. No injuries among their people, no damage to their equipment or supplies, and remarkably, no sign that the villagers had awakened from their magically induced slumber. Whatever force had kept the residents of Berkinsil unconscious during the battle remained in effect, sparing them the trauma of witnessing the supernatural horror that had played out in their streets.
Master Flameswrath approached August with obvious concern, his ancient eyes studying the younger man's face for signs of magical overextension. "How do you feel, my boy? That was an impressive display of power, but I know the cost of such magic."
August managed a weary smile. "Exhausted but intact, Master Ben. The spell performed exactly as I had predicted it would, though using it for the first time in actual combat was... intense."
The wizard nodded approvingly. "You handled it admirably. The precision you maintained while under pressure speaks well of your training and natural ability. But we must not let our guard down—this attack was likely only the beginning."
As if summoned by the wizard's words, the first hints of dawn began to appear on the eastern horizon. The approaching sunrise brought with it a sense of relief and renewed hope, but also the sobering realization that their night's work was far from complete.
"The creatures are destroyed," Master Flameswrath continued, his voice taking on a more serious tone, "but I was never able to discover where their controller was hiding. Whoever summoned these abominations remains at large, and they will undoubtedly be planning their next move."
August nodded, feeling the weight of unfinished business settling on his shoulders. "Tomorrow—or rather, today—we'll need to track down the source of this dark magic. The missing Baron, the empty estate, the children who have been taken—all of these mysteries are connected, and we won't be safe until we've uncovered the truth."
The other members of their group began to gather around the central fire, their faces reflecting a mixture of exhaustion, pride, and concern. They had won a significant victory, but everyone understood that greater challenges lay ahead.
"I want to commend all of you," August addressed the group, his voice carrying clearly in the pre-dawn stillness. "Your coordination and professionalism tonight prevented what could have been a catastrophic battle. We protected not only ourselves but also the innocent people of this village who remain unaware of the dangers that threaten them."
Betty stepped forward, her expression thoughtful. "August, what you did tonight with that storm magic—I've never seen anything like it. The power was incredible, but more impressive was your control. You could have leveled half the village, but instead you contained every effect within exactly the area you intended."
"The power of the spell emphasized its dual nature, I could feel it speak to me." August replied (although he knew that his SYSTEM had already provided him with a detailed explanation of how it works), grateful for the opportunity to explain what had happened. "It functions as both an impenetrable shield and an unstoppable weapon, but its true strength lies in the caster's ability to precisely control its effects. Tonight was my first opportunity to test that control under real combat conditions."
Angeline looked around at the remarkably clean battlefield, where only faint scorch marks provided evidence of the magical devastation that had occurred. "It's almost like the storm cleaned up after itself. How is that possible?"
Master Flameswrath answered, his voice carrying the authority of centuries of magical knowledge. "High-tier elemental magic of this caliber doesn't just generate raw force—it imposes the caster's will upon the very fabric of reality. August didn't merely summon wind and lightning; he created a localized realm where the laws of nature bent to his intentions. The 'cleanup' effect is a result of his subconscious desire to minimize collateral damage."
The explanation seemed to satisfy the group's curiosity, though several members continued to glance around in amazement at the precision of the magical effects they had witnessed.
As the sky continued to brighten with the approaching dawn, August made a decision that he knew would shape the remainder of their stay in Berkinsil. "I want everyone to get what rest you can over the next few hours. This afternoon, once the village returns to its normal routine, we'll begin investigating the source of these attacks."
He looked around the circle of faces, seeing determination mixed with exhaustion in every expression. "Master Ben, I'll need your expertise to track the magical signature of whoever summoned those creatures. Erik and Bren, I want you to gather intelligence from the villagers—now that we've proven we can defend against supernatural threats, they might be more willing to share information."
The assignments continued as August outlined his plan. "Betty, Angeline, and Isabel, I need you to organize our defensive preparations. If tonight's attack was a probing action, we can expect a more serious assault soon. Adam, Uncle Andy, and the others will help secure our perimeter and ensure we're ready for whatever comes next."
As the meeting began to disperse, Master Flameswrath lingered behind to speak privately with August. "You've grown considerably stronger since I first witnessed you a couple of days ago since I joined you on this journey," the old wizard observed. "Tonight you demonstrated not just raw power, but the wisdom to use that power responsibly. However, I must warn you that our enemies will not underestimate us again."
August nodded soberly. "I understand, Master Ben. Tonight's victory bought us time and information, but it also revealed our capabilities to whoever is orchestrating these attacks. They'll be better prepared next time."
"Indeed," the wizard replied. "But remember—we also learned much about them. The type of creatures they summoned, the magical signature of their necromancy, the timing of their attack—all of these details will help us prepare for what's to come."
The two men stood in comfortable silence for a moment, watching as the first rays of sunlight began to illuminate the village of Berkinsil. In the growing light, the settlement looked peaceful and normal, giving no hint of the supernatural battle that had raged through its streets just hours before.
"Master Ben," August said quietly, "do you think we can really save this place? The children who have been taken, the villagers living in fear, the corruption that seems to have taken root here—can we actually make a difference?"
The wizard's response was immediate and confident. "Young August, I have lived for more centuries than most people can imagine. I have seen the rise and fall of kingdoms, the birth and death of heroes, and the eternal struggle between light and darkness that defines our world. If there is one thing I have learned in all that time, it is this: the willingness of good people to stand against evil, regardless of the personal cost, is the most powerful force in existence."
He placed a weathered hand on August's shoulder, his touch conveying both support and conviction. "We may be only a small group of travelers, but we carry within us the hopes and dreams of everyone who refuses to bow to darkness. That makes us far more powerful than any army of the dead."
As the morning sun continued its climb into the sky, August felt a renewed sense of purpose and determination. The battle they had fought during the night was only the beginning of their struggle to free Berkinsil from the evil that had taken root within its borders. But with companions like these and the guidance of Master Flameswrath, he believed they could face whatever challenges lay ahead.
The village began to stir as the magical sleep that had protected its residents finally lifted. Children's laughter could be heard from nearby homes, and the familiar sounds of daily life began to resume. To the villagers, it would seem like any other morning—they had no knowledge of the creatures that had stalked their streets or the heroes who had defended them while they slept.
But for August and his companions, this morning marked the beginning of a new phase in their mission. They had proven they could defend against the forces of darkness, but now they faced the more complex challenge of rooting out the source of that darkness and freeing an entire community from the grip of supernatural terror.
The day ahead would bring new revelations, greater dangers, and difficult choices. But as August looked around at his companions—each one ready to face whatever came with courage and determination—he knew they were prepared for whatever lay ahead. The whispers of the wind had warned them of the darkness that threatened Berkinsil, and they had chosen to stand against that darkness regardless of the cost.
The real battle for the soul of Berkinsil was about to begin.
---
Day 17.2: Berkinsil Village (III) - The Village Learned of their Missing Lord and his Servants
The entire caravan had remained vigilant late into the morning, their bodies weary from the fierce battle against the forces of darkness mere hours before. Exhaustion weighed heavily on their shoulders as they finally allowed themselves to rest, knowing they had earned this respite through blood and courage. The sun climbed higher into the sky before any of them stirred from their well-deserved slumber, their internal clocks disrupted by the supernatural encounter that had tested their resolve.
Even in their rest, they maintained their defensive positions. Kirpy and Rexy, their faithful guardians, stood watch with unwavering loyalty, their keen senses alert for any sign of danger. The travelers doubted their enemies would be bold enough to strike while the sun blazed overhead, but caution had become their closest companion in these troubled times.
As the morning wore on, a pressing question gnawed at August's mind: why had they been attacked in the first place? The assault seemed to coincide suspiciously with his investigation of Baron Todd Berkinsil's estate. His exploration had yielded disturbing results—the entire mansion appeared abandoned, as if life had simply vanished from its halls. Only the Baron's private bedroom had shown signs of recent habitation, maintained with some form of mediocre care while the rest of the estate gathered dust and shadow.
The pieces of this puzzle demanded careful examination. August knew he needed to locate the Baron, whom he had last encountered several days prior during their initial arrival. The man had seemed cordial enough then, welcoming them to his domain with the practiced grace of nobility. But now, that memory felt tainted with an ominous undertone.
Determined to uncover the truth, August ventured into the village proper, his boots echoing against the cobblestone streets as he sought answers from the local populace. The villagers he approached painted a troubling picture. They confirmed that Baron Berkinsil had indeed been absent from his usual routines—a man known for his daily walks through the village, engaging with his subjects and overseeing local affairs. His sudden disappearance was entirely out of character.
When August inquired about the estate's servants, the villagers' expressions grew more concerned. Many nodded gravely, explaining that several of their own relatives worked within the Baron's household. These servants were respected members of the community, hardworking individuals who took pride in their service to the local lord. Their simultaneous absence only deepened the mystery and confirmed August's growing suspicions that something catastrophic had occurred within those estate walls.
The pattern was becoming clear: everyone connected to the Baron's household had vanished without explanation, leaving behind only questions and an unsettling silence.
With renewed purpose, August gathered Team 1 who were also doing their own investigations and preparations in case they got attacked once more. He and his team mates made their way towards the estate. The familiar path seemed different now, charged with an undercurrent of dread that made each step feel heavier than the last. They approached the imposing gates with the intention of requesting a formal audience with the Baron, hoping against hope that their earlier assessment had been premature.
The estate's perimeter guards remained at their posts, a small comfort in the growing uncertainty. These men had maintained their vigilance despite the strange circumstances, their dedication to duty unwavering even when their lord's whereabouts remained unknown. August approached the head captain, a grizzled veteran whose weathered face spoke of years of loyal service.
"Good day sir, may we request an audience with Baron Berkinsil," August stated formally, his voice carrying the authority of his position while maintaining appropriate respect for local customs.
The captain nodded with professional courtesy and dispatched one of his subordinates to announce their arrival to the Baron. The guard disappeared through the massive oak doors that marked the estate's main entrance, his footsteps echoing in the vast foyer beyond.
Minutes stretched like hours as they waited, the silence broken only by the gentle rustling of leaves in the estate's well-maintained gardens. When the guard finally returned, his face was pale with shock and confusion. He whispered urgently into his captain's ear, his words too quiet for August to discern but their impact immediately visible.
"Sir, the entire house is empty," the guard reported in hushed, disbelieving tones. "The Baron isn't here—no one is here."
The captain's reaction was immediate and telling. His composed demeanor cracked, revealing the deep concern beneath his professional facade. Without hesitation, he ordered a comprehensive search of the entire estate, mobilizing every available guard to scour the mansion from cellar to attic.
The search yielded the same impossible result: complete and utter emptiness. Not a single soul remained within those walls, as if every inhabitant had simply evaporated into thin air. The guards found no signs of struggle, no evidence of forced entry or departure, no clues to explain the mass disappearance. It defied all logical explanation, particularly given that the perimeter guards had maintained constant surveillance with no record of anyone entering or leaving the premises.
The head captain, clearly struggling with the inexplicable situation, approached August with barely concealed frustration and worry. "Sir, we're experiencing some difficulties," he said carefully, his training preventing him from revealing too much to outsiders. "I must ask you to leave for now while we attempt to resolve this matter."
This diplomatic dismissal only confirmed what August had already suspected. The Baron was either dead or captured, likely by the same malevolent forces that had orchestrated the previous night's attack. The timing was too coincidental to ignore—their arrival, his investigation, and the subsequent supernatural assault formed a pattern that spoke of deliberate orchestration.
"Guys," August said to his companions as they walked away from the estate, his voice heavy with grim certainty. "I think the Baron is no longer with us, or he and his household have been captured by whoever attacked us last night. Should we investigate this matter further?"
Erik, ever practical in his approach to dangerous situations, responded with measured caution. "Let's leave it to the guards for now and see what they discover. It would be best if we returned to camp and prepared for whatever comes next."
August agreed, recognizing the wisdom in Erik's counsel. They had their own people to protect, and rushing headlong into an unknown threat without proper preparation would serve no one.
Hours passed before the estate's head captain made his official announcement to the village. The news spread through the community like wildfire: Baron Todd Berkinsil and his entire household staff had vanished without a trace. There were no signs of violence, no indicators of struggle or forced departure—they had simply disappeared as if they had never existed at all.
The announcement sent shockwaves through the close-knit community. Villagers returning from their daily labors gathered in the central plaza, their voices rising in concerned chatter as merchants, farmers, and craftsmen tried to make sense of the impossible news. The market stalls that usually buzzed with commerce became centers of anxious discussion as people sought answers that no one could provide.
The relatives of the missing servants were particularly affected, their worry transforming into desperate action. They besieged the estate guards with pleas and demands, insisting on participating in the search for their loved ones. Their emotional appeals eventually wore down official resistance, and the guards reluctantly allowed civilian volunteers to assist in their investigation.
As night fell over Berkinsil Village, the community remained in an uproar. The disappearances had shattered their sense of security, leaving them vulnerable and afraid. In the growing darkness, whispered conversations carried ominous undertones that spoke to deeper fears lurking within the collective consciousness.
"Do you think it was those evil bastards who took them?" one voice asked, not quite quietly enough to avoid being overheard by those nearby.
The comment sparked a chain reaction of murmurs and speculation that rippled through the gathered crowds. Fear and uncertainty created fertile ground for suspicion and blame, and it wasn't long before another voice rose above the general din with a more direct accusation.
"Or it could be those new arrivals that did this!" The words cut through the night air like a blade, immediately focusing attention on August and his caravan.
Those villagers whom August had questioned earlier in the day began sharing details of their conversations with the increasingly agitated crowd. The innocent inquiries about the Baron's whereabouts now took on sinister implications in the minds of frightened people seeking someone to blame for their losses.
"Then shouldn't we go and arrest them!" The cry came from somewhere within the mob, voiced by someone whose fear had overcome their reason.
However, not everyone was ready to rush to judgment. Voices of moderation attempted to inject logic into the emotionally charged atmosphere. "But we know they haven't been near the estate since they arrived," one villager pointed out reasonably. "It would be impossible to make that many people disappear without any of the guards noticing, don't you think?"
The debate raged back and forth through the village streets, with fear and reason warring for dominance in the hearts and minds of the populace. Eventually, a compromise of sorts emerged from the chaos: they would confront the travelers directly and demand answers to their questions.
The mob of angry and frightened villagers surged through the streets like a tide of human emotion, their torches casting dancing shadows on the walls of buildings as they made their way toward the travelers' encampment. Their voices created a symphony of fear, anger, and desperate hope for answers that might restore their shattered sense of security.
August sensed the shift in the village's atmosphere long before he saw the approaching crowd. The very air seemed charged with negative emotions and supernatural malevolence that set his nerves on edge. "You can sense it too, don't you, young August?" Master Ben observed, his ancient eyes reflecting wisdom born of long experience with dark magic.
"They are being influenced by the dark arts of those dark magicians," August nodded in grim agreement. The unnatural intensity of the villagers' emotions, their rapid shift from concern to mob mentality, bore all the hallmarks of supernatural manipulation.
"It is best we gather everyone here just in case something dangerous is about to happen," August decided, his tactical mind already calculating defensive positions and escape routes.
Moving with practiced efficiency, August and his companions alerted their entire caravan to the approaching threat. Their people assembled in the clearing near the two inns where most of their members had taken lodging, positioning themselves strategically around their wagons and beasts of burden. The formation was both defensive and non-threatening, designed to protect their people while avoiding actions that might escalate the situation.
When the mob finally arrived, they came with torches held high and voices raised in accusation and demand. The confrontation that followed was tense but civil, with village representatives and estate guards questioning the travelers about their knowledge of the disappearances and their possible involvement in the mysterious events.
August and his people answered every question truthfully and cooperatively. They allowed the guards to inspect their wagons thoroughly, understanding that transparency was their best defense against unfounded accusations. Their openness and the obvious sincerity of their responses began to defuse some of the tension, though suspicion still lingered in many eyes.
The situation might have resolved peacefully if not for what August noticed next. The same shadows that had heralded the previous night's attack began to move once again, creeping along the edges of perception like living darkness. He immediately alerted his companions and Master Ben to the ominous development.
The change was instantaneous and terrifying. The very atmosphere began to tremble with malevolent energy, and the unmistakable stench of death and decay filled the air around both the travelers and the assembled villagers. The supernatural corruption was so thick it seemed to press against their lungs with each breath.
"To your positions!" August shouted, his voice cutting through the confusion with military precision. "It's those dark creatures once again!"
The villagers' anger and suspicion evaporated instantly, replaced by pure, primal terror as they finally understood the true nature of the threat that was beginning to surround them. "What dark creatures? There's a necromancer here?" The questions came in panicked gasps as the reality of their situation became clear.
Screams of men, women, and children pierced the night as panic seized the crowd. People tried to flee in all directions, only to discover that every road leading out of the area was blocked by an unnatural darkness that seemed to devour even the moonlight. The supernatural barrier trapped them all within the necromancer's killing ground, helpless prey for the horrors that were about to emerge.
From that impossible darkness came the dark creatures, the undead—shambling corpses in various states of decay, some with visible body modifications, some crawling on hands and knees while others walked upright with jerky, unnatural movements. Their low grunting sounds and hungry gurgles filled the air with the music of death, while their dismantled, rotting faces, figured heads and some with attached heads of the different beasts bore witness to the unholy magic that had torn them from their eternal rest.
The villagers now understood with crystal clarity that they were about to die in the most horrible way imaginable. Women screamed hysterically while men shouted in fear and rage, their voices joining in a chorus of human terror that seemed to feed the darkness surrounding them.
---
Day 17.3: Berkinsil Village (V) - Defeating the Darkness
To restore calm and seize control of the rapidly deteriorating situation, Master Ben Flameswrath called upon his considerable magical power. With a gesture that seemed to tear light from the very fabric of reality, he once again like the previous night manifested a miniature sun above the battlefield. The brilliant orb hung in the air like a beacon of hope, its radiance pushing back the supernatural darkness and slowing the advance of the undead horde.
The effect on the panicking villagers was immediate and profound. The warm light not only weakened the dark magic that had been influencing their emotions but also rallied their spirits, reminding them that they were not alone in this fight. Hope, that most precious of human emotions, began to flicker back to life in hearts that had been consumed by despair.
"Hey, Mr. Guardsman!" Andy called out to the estate guards, his voice carrying the authority of someone accustomed to command in crisis situations. "Take the villagers behind our lines and protect our flanks!"
The guards, trained soldiers despite their shock, immediately understood the tactical wisdom of Andy's suggestion. They quickly organized the civilians, herding them behind the protective formation that August and the migrants of Maya had established. The arrangement created a defensive perimeter that utilized every available combatant while keeping non-combatants as safe as possible under the circumstances.
The undead began pouring into the area from all directions, emerging from the supernatural darkness like a tide of death and corruption. August, drawing upon the tactical experience gained from the previous night's encounter, positioned himself as the primary target to draw the creatures' attention. It was a dangerous but necessary strategy—by making himself the focus of their hunger, he could control the flow of battle and prevent the undead from scattering among the defenseless villagers.
The coordinated response was a marvel to behold. Team 1 and Team 2 (the Martins) moved with practiced precision, their weapons flashing in the light of Master Ben's miniature sun as they cut down wave after wave of shambling corpses. The migrants fought with the desperate courage of people defending their loved ones, while Master Flameswrath's magical abilities slowly turned the tide of battle decisively in their favor.
The villagers watched in awe as August demonstrated combat skills that seemed almost superhuman. They had never witnessed such displays of martial prowess and magic acumen, and the realization that there was a High Archmage of Master Ben's caliber among the travelers filled them with wonder and gratitude. The flame sprites that danced around the battlefield, luring undead creatures toward August's waiting blade that has been imbued by his lightning element, a skill called "Lightning's Edge", were particularly mesmerizing to people who had never seen real magic performed in such an environment.
When most of the undead had been gathered within striking distance, August warned everyone to brace themselves for what was to come. He then activated his most powerful ability to date that doesn't borrow the power of his Guardian Beast: Tempest Sovereign Aegis Dominion, a grandmaster-level skill that represented the pinnacle of his magical combat training.
The spectacle that followed would be burned into the memories of every witness for the rest of their lives. Wind and lightning erupted from August with the fury of a natural disaster, creating a sphere of elemental destruction that cut through the undead ranks like a scythe through wheat. The creatures that had seemed so terrifying moments before were reduced to scattered and burnt remains in seconds, their unholy animation ended by the raw power of August's magic.
For the villagers, it was an unforgettable demonstration of the difference between ordinary people and those who had dedicated their lives to mastering the arcane arts. They now understood beyond any doubt that August and his companions had nothing to do with their missing lord and fellow villagers. If anything, these travelers were their salvation, the only thing standing between them and the true evil that threatened their community.
The battle seemed to be reaching its conclusion with the same decisive victory they had achieved the previous night. However, the night held one final horror that would test their resolve even further. As the last of the initial undead wave fell, new figures emerged from the shadows—and these were heartbreakingly familiar.
The missing people from the Baron's estate shambled forward, their faces recognizable despite the corruption of the dark magic casted on them. Baron Todd Berkinsil himself led this grim procession, his noble bearing replaced by the jerky movements of the reanimated dead. Behind him came the servants, the very people whose relatives now watched in horror from behind the defensive lines.
The sight was demoralizing beyond words. Family members began calling out in disbelief and desperate hope, unable to accept that their loved ones had been transformed into the very monsters they were fighting. Some tried to approach their reanimated relatives, driven by love and denial to ignore the obvious danger.
But the undead that had once been their family and friends showed no recognition, no humanity remaining in their corrupted forms. Instead, they attacked with the same mindless hunger as all the others, forcing the horrible truth upon those who had held onto hope.
"Damn it, we are too late," August muttered, his heart heavy with the weight of what he had to do. Drawing his sword, he coated the blade with his skill "Lightning's Edge", the weapon humming with deadly energy as he prepared to grant these poor souls the only mercy left to him.
With swift, clean strikes, August severed the heads of the people who had once been human beings, ending their supernatural torment and returning them to the peace of true death. "I'm sorry," he whispered with each cut, the words both an apology and a prayer for the souls he was freeing.
The battle ended with this grim but necessary task, but the full scope of the tragedy was only beginning to become clear. As the survivors looked upon the fallen undead, they began to recognize familiar faces—people who had gone missing and had been forcefully taken from the village over recent weeks, months, and years. These were victims of a supernatural predator that had been hunting among them far longer than anyone had realized. This included the children who they knew had been used as ritualistic sacrifices to whatever abomination these dark magicians had conjured or prayed to.
Tears flowed freely from the villagers who recognized their lost loved ones among the defeated undead. The sight of family members and friends reduced to shambling corpses was almost too much to bear, yet there was also a bittersweet relief in knowing that their suffering had finally ended.
Master Flameswrath approached the grieving survivors with the gentle wisdom of someone who had seen too much death in his long life. "If the bodies aren't burned," he explained carefully, "there is a good chance that the undead might rise once again and be used for whatever twisted purposes their masters command. We must cleanse them with fire to ensure they find true rest."
Understanding the necessity despite their grief, the villagers gave their consent. Master Flameswrath began the solemn process of cremating the bodies of the dead, his magical flames consuming the corrupted flesh while leaving the spirits free to find peace in whatever afterlife awaited them.
The sight of their loved ones' remains being consumed by magical fire was painful but cathartic. It represented a final goodbye and the promise that these souls would never again be forced to serve the whims of dark magic.
As the last flames died away, August addressed the assembled villagers with the gravity and respect their sacrifice deserved. His words carried the weight of a sacred oath, spoken before witnesses who had shared in the night's horrors and would never forget what they had seen.
"Good villagers of Berkinsil," he began, his voice carrying clearly through the night air. "There is only one thing we can do for you now. If you have any information regarding our enemies—anything that might help us track down the source of this evil—please approach us tomorrow before we leave to continue our travels. I assure you, we will deal with this threat and avenge the spirits of your fallen loved ones."
The promise resonated with everyone present, creating a bond between the travelers and the village that transcended the circumstances of their meeting. The villagers had witnessed the courage and power of these strangers, seen them risk their lives to defend people they barely knew, and watched them treat the dead with dignity and respect.
With that solemn vow hanging in the air like a sacred covenant, the night finally came to an end. The villagers returned to their homes, their hearts heavy with grief but also filled with a new hope that justice might eventually be served. The travelers likewise sought their beds, knowing that tomorrow would bring new challenges as they continued their quest to root out the evil that had brought such suffering to this peaceful community.
The stars wheeled overhead as Berkinsil Village settled into an uneasy quiet, the silence broken only by the gentle crackling of dying embers where the dead had found their final rest. It had been a night of horror and heroism, of loss and redemption, and none who lived through it would ever be quite the same again.