Chapter 4.3: Four Days Break in the Village of Berkinsil
Year 0004, Month I-III: The Imperium
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Day 18.1: Berkinsil Village (VI) - Crucial Information
The dawn of the fourth and their final day of stay broke with an ominous stillness over Berkinsil, a stark contrast to the revelations that had shattered the community's very foundation the night before. The horrifying truth had spread like wildfire through the village—their lost loved ones, their noble lord, and his faithful servant had not simply vanished into the wilderness. Instead, they had fallen victim to something far more sinister: corruption by the darkest of magical arts, experimentation that defied all natural law, butchery that reduced human beings to mere components, and finally, sacrifice to malevolent deities that thrived on suffering.
The weight of this knowledge had transformed the villagers' grief into something far more potent—a burning rage that drove away their fear. No longer content to cower in their homes and whisper prayers to unhearing gods, they began to gather their courage and march toward August's encampment within the village walls. Word had spread of August's powerful declaration the previous night, carried by those brave souls who had initially approached his camp in protest, only to witness the undead abominations that had once been their cherished family members, friends, and protectors.
The time for secrets and half-truths had passed. The enemy they faced demanded to be named, understood, and ultimately destroyed.
It was a young woman, her hands trembling but her voice steady with resolve, who first stepped forward to address Erik, one of August's most trusted companions. She had spent the sleepless night wrestling with her conscience, knowing that breaking her silence meant placing her life—and the lives of all she held dear—in the hands of these mysterious strangers who claimed to champion their cause out of pure altruism.
"Sir," she began, her voice carrying the weight of years of suppressed terror, "I am here to report what I know." She paused, drawing a shaking breath before continuing. "Those people... they came to our village several years ago, not as mere brigands or common thieves, but as something far worse. At first, we believed them to be simple raiders, attacking us daily with increasing boldness and cruelty. We fought back with everything we had—our farm tools, our hunting weapons, our bare hands when necessary. We used every stratagem we could devise to repel their assaults."
Her voice grew stronger as she continued, the act of finally speaking these long-buried truths seeming to fortify her resolve. "Lord Berkinsil—Lord Todd—he witnessed too much bloodshed, too many of our people falling to these relentless attacks. The sight of our children orphaned, our elderly slaughtered, our young men and women cut down in their prime... it broke something inside him. He made the decision that would damn us all—he chose to negotiate rather than continue the endless cycle of violence."
She paused again, her eyes distant as she relived those terrible memories. "We thought we were dealing with ordinary outlaws, desperate men driven to banditry by hard times and harder choices. How wrong we were on that thought and naivety. The woman who served as their envoy, who called herself Anne, was no mere criminal. She was a cultist, a devoted servant of entities that should never be named in the light of day. She belonged to the Children of the Crimson Choir—a name that even now makes my blood run cold."
Erik leaned forward, his attention completely focused on her words. The implications of what she was revealing were staggering.
"The deal they offered seemed simple enough at first," she continued, her voice dropping to barely above a whisper. "The attacks would cease entirely, but in exchange, we would be required to provide them with... tribute. Children, specifically. The younger, the more innocent, the better. Lord Todd was horrified—we all were. He refused immediately, calling their demands demonic and unholy. But Anne did not take kindly to his defiance."
Tears began to flow down her cheeks, but she pressed on. "As punishment for his resistance, to our outrage, they took many of our children anyway, along with several adults who tried to protect them. The screaming... I can still hear it in my nightmares. Lord Todd was beside himself with grief and rage. He tried to organize a rescue, tried to rally our remaining fighters, but we were so few, and they were so many. When they beat him and his guards nearly to death, leaving them broken and bleeding in the village square as an example, he finally capitulated."
She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand, her expression hardening with self-loathing. "He agreed to their terms, but only if they promised that no more villagers would be harmed. The devil's worshiper Anne agreed—with that serpent's smile of hers—but they still took our people as what they called 'advance payment.' When we missed the first official tribute, they came for more of us. That's when Lord Todd made the decision that haunts us all."
Her voice became barely audible, filled with shame that seemed to physically pain her. "He began offering them to travelers instead of our own people, as there were no stipulations in the agreement that specified where we get those absurd demands of theirs. Merchants, pilgrims, adventurers who sought shelter in our village—they became sacrifices to buy our safety. We are all complicit in this evil. Every single one of us who stayed silent, who allowed it to happen, who felt relief when strangers died in our place. We only heard whispers from their minions—those wretched outlaws who served the cult—about what happened to those they captured. Tortures beyond imagination, experiments that violated every law of nature and moral decency, rituals that would make the most hardened warrior weep."
She looked directly at Erik, her eyes blazing with a mixture of guilt and desperate hope. "When your group arrived, we knew immediately that something was different. We recognized Lord Todd's genuine hospitality toward you, so unlike his calculated performances for other visitors. We wanted to warn you, but we knew the cult had spies among us—we could never be certain who was watching, who was listening. We also recognized that your group possessed power far beyond anything we had ever witnessed. We could have warned you, but we were cowards. We waited to see what Lord Todd would do, knowing that defying the cult would mean his death."
She fell silent for a long moment before adding, "He must have finally found his courage again when he welcomed you to genuinely stay. He knew it was a death sentence, but he chose to stand against the darkness one final time. And he and his servants paid the ultimate price for that defiance, but perhaps... Perhaps their sacrifice will not be in vain."
Erik processed her words carefully, understanding the full scope of the evil they were facing. "I see, madam. We are deeply sorry for your losses, and we do not judge you for the impossible choices you were forced to make. But tell me—do you have any knowledge of where these cultists have established their base of operations?"
Relief flickered across her features at his lack of condemnation. "Yes, of course yes, according to our own investigations and the scouting missions we attempted over the years, their stronghold lies approximately 150 kilometers deep into the western forest. We could never pinpoint its exact location because their forces always drove off our scouts before they could get close enough to gather detailed intelligence. My father led one such scouting expedition with fifty of our bravest men and women. Only half of them returned, and those who did were... changed. They spoke of horrors in the deep woods, of trees that bled, of screams that echoed from the earth itself."
Throughout the day, similar accounts reached August and his team as more villagers found the courage to come forward. Each testimony added another piece to the horrifying puzzle, painting a picture of systematic evil that had infected the very heart of the forest. The cult's influence had spread like a malignant tumor, corrupting everything it touched and leaving a trail of suffering that stretched back years.
With this crucial intelligence in hand, August and his team began preparations for what would undoubtedly be their most dangerous mission yet—the complete eradication of the Children of the Crimson Choir.
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Day 18.2: Berkinsil Village (VII) - The Martin Household and Cult Cleansing Operation (1)
The preparation phase proceeded with military efficiency, despite the complexity of their situation. August and his team understood exactly what they were confronting, but the true challenge lay not just in the enemy they would face in the forest, but in the enemies that might still lurk within the village itself.
The villagers' testimonies had contained disturbing references to cult spies embedded within their community. The thought of leaving Berkinsil undefended while these hidden enemies remained at large was unacceptable. If August and his primary force departed for the forest stronghold, these spies could use the opportunity to complete whatever dark work they had been assigned, potentially destroying the village they were trying to save.
Fortunately, August's foresight had already set the wheels of counter-espionage in motion. The previous night, during the confrontation with the undead abominations, he had quietly tasked Master Flameswrath with a secondary objective: to scan the battlefield and the surrounding area for any signs of hidden enemies or magical surveillance. August's instincts had already warned him long before the information they collected today came to light, that the cult's influence in Berkinsil ran deeper than whatever agreements they had in place.
The Martin family, whose true capabilities had only recently been revealed to August, proved instrumental in this covert operation. Their patriarch, Axel Martin, had approached August privately some time before, discussing matters that they had kept carefully concealed from the rest of Maya's migrant community and their young leader August. Of course, August had understood their need for secrecy—in their line of work, revealing one's full capabilities too early could prove fatal. He knew this from the first time they met at the city of Gremory when they came to join the migrants, eager to have a fresh start. Although they dressed as commoners in tattered clothing, their mannerisms were far too regal to be just refugees. Their circumstances may have been as such, but it is hard to hide what you truly are.
Now, with the full scope of the Martin family's extraordinary abilities laid bare, August saw how perfectly suited they were for this particular challenge, and they would be the key for this operation to succeed:
Their patriarch Axel Martin, at 48, served as the stoic figure and unparalleled strategic mind behind the household operations. His piercing gaze seemed capable of seeing through the most elaborate deceptions, perceiving the true flow of mana and intent with supernatural clarity that bordered on the prophetic. A former Master of Wards and Counter-Sorcery within a legendary order of arcane protectors—an order that had disbanded under mysterious circumstances in his youth—Axel possessed encyclopedic knowledge of ancient runes, magical architecture, and the forbidden arts of summoning and scrying that enemies might employ against them.
His specialty lay in pre-emptive magical threat neutralization, identifying and neutralizing arcane incursions or curses before they could establish any foothold in reality. His defensive strategies typically involved intricate layers of both magical and mundane protections, creating fortifications that were virtually impregnable to conventional assault. Rather than relying on flashy displays of raw magical power, he preferred to command the unseen currents of defensive magic while mastering barrier techniques that could turn aside even the most determined assault. His abilities earned him a fair evaluation as a Category IV-Mid Tier Master, a rank that spoke to decades of hard-won experience.
Helga Martin, Axel's wife of 40 years, served as the household's formidable Mistress of Blades and Guardian-Sense. A veteran of countless skirmishes against monstrous beasts, rogue mages, and worse things that emerged from the deep places of the world, she possessed physical capabilities that bordered on the superhuman. Her mastery of unarmored combat techniques allowed her to move with deadly grace while her preternaturally keen senses could detect hidden traps, magical auras, and concealed enemies without requiring any overt magical assistance.
She designed and personally oversaw the physical fortification of any stronghold the family protected, trained elite guard details with ruthless efficiency, and could personally serve as an unbreachable shield for any dignitary or location under their protection. Her grounded pragmatism and formidable combat skills provided the steel backbone that complemented Axel's arcane foresight perfectly. Her evaluation as a Category III-High Tier Expert reflected her mastery of multiple combat disciplines.
Their eldest son, Lukas Martin, had emerged at the young age of 18 as a prodigy in Arcane Cryptography and Scrying Interdiction. He dedicated countless hours to studying ancient grimoires, deciphering forgotten languages that predated current civilization, breaking complex runic ciphers that would stymie master scholars, and unraveling intricate magical wards through pure intellectual force. His abilities encompassed tracing magical communications across vast distances, identifying the origins of cursed artifacts through subtle magical signatures, and disrupting enemy divinations before they could gather useful intelligence.
As the household's primary magical reconnaissance and counter-intelligence specialist, his quiet, scholarly demeanor often led enemies to underestimate him—a mistake they rarely survived to repeat. His expertise had earned him an evaluation as a Category III-Mid Tier Expert despite his youth, a testament to his exceptional natural talent.
Freya Martin, at 16, had developed into a lithe and perceptive Shadow-Stalker and Sentinel of the Wilds. She had inherited her mother's supernatural agility and her father's uncanny perception, combining these gifts into a skill set that allowed her to excel in tracking and counter-tracking across any terrain imaginable. Her ability to detect magical ambushes, see through subtle illusions, or locate hidden beast lairs before they could threaten her allies made her invaluable for advance reconnaissance.
Her mastery of silent movement and observation allowed her to blend seamlessly into deep forests or bustling marketplaces with equal ease, always sensing danger before it could fully manifest. Her skills proved invaluable for advance scouting and perimeter security operations, earning her an evaluation as a Category II-High Tier Advanced classification that belied her apparent youth.
The youngest son, Milo Martin, had shown remarkable inventive talent at age 14 as an Artificer of Traps and Contraptions. His mind operated in terms of cogs, springs, and intricate enchantments, allowing him to construct ingenious mechanical locks, pressure-activated alarms, self-resetting snares, and arcane tripwires that could activate specific magical defenses when triggered by unauthorized intruders.
His passionate love of tinkering produced an endless stream of bespoke, portable security devices while his talent for designing escape routes through secret tunnels and concealed passages provided crucial tactical advantages. His evaluation as a Category II-High Tier Advanced reflected both his current abilities and his tremendous potential for future growth.
Bjorn Martin, Axel's younger brother at 45, served as the family's vital Master of Secure Passage and Acquisition. More outwardly jovial and earthier in manner than his intellectually focused older brother, he possessed an equally sharp and practical mind for logistics and procurement under the most dangerous circumstances imaginable. As a former mercenary captain who had specialized in "impossible" extractions and high-value cargo transport through hostile territory, he had developed an unparalleled network of contacts and resources.
He could secure safe passage through bandit-infested lands, acquire rare magical components from heavily guarded sources, and manage the family's public and covert protective contracts with smooth efficiency. His extensive network of contacts and strategically placed safe houses extended the Martin clan's operational reach across multiple realms and kingdoms, earning him an evaluation of Category IV-Mid Tier Master classification.
Astrid Martin, Bjorn's wife at 42, specialized in Mind-Weaving and Deception Lore. With extensive background studying the most obscure schools of mental magic and courtly intrigue, she possessed an almost supernatural ability to read intentions, discern truth from the most elaborate enchantments, and navigate the complex social webs that surrounded centers of power. She provided calm, rational leadership during the most chaotic crises, capable of de-escalating volatile confrontations through cunning negotiation or extracting vital secrets from resistant targets through carefully applied charm, subtle suggestion, or piercing insight into their deepest desires and fears.
Her comprehensive understanding of security's human element included identifying critical weaknesses in their clients' morale or loyalty before they could be exploited by enemies that were after them, earning her an evaluation as a Category III-High Tier Expert in her specialized field.
Their son Ragnar Martin, at 17, had developed into a broad-shouldered and naturally charismatic Sentinel of Steel and Oath-Sworn Protector. He had inherited his father's practical wisdom and his mother's commanding presence, combining these traits to become the clan's foremost specialist in close-quarters combat. His mastery of shields and blades allowed him to engage with devastating efficiency against both mortal foes and supernatural threats that emerged from the darker corners of the world.
He excelled at leading small, elite protective details while personally serving as an unyielding bulwark against any form of assault, always prioritizing his charge's safety above his own survival. August would later use this characteristic of his in forming another group led specifically by Ragnar. He would later be known as the village of Maya's premier guard captain, a stark defender of the village. His current evaluation of Category III-Mid Tier Expert reflected his exceptional combat skills and natural leadership abilities.
Solveig Martin, at 15, had emerged as a quiet but keenly observant Whisper-Gatherer and Guise-Master. Her ability to blend seamlessly into any court, marketplace, or even obscure cult gathering allowed her to extract whispers of intrigue, rumors of rebellion, or secrets of arcane significance without ever drawing unwanted notice to herself or her family. Her eidetic memory for sigils, noble lineages, political affiliations, and the subtle visual cues that revealed magical glamours or elaborate disguises made her exceptionally valuable for covert intelligence gathering and identifying hidden threats that masqueraded as innocent civilians.
Her current evaluation as a Category III-Low Tier Expert reflected her specialized skills in infiltration and information gathering.
The youngest, Finn Martin, at 13, had displayed prodigious talent for Warding Frequencies and Scrying Disruption. His obsession with ambient mana flow and the complex patterns of magical signals allowed him to establish secure magical communication lines using enchanted stones or specially trained familiars, detect enemy scrying attempts or magical eavesdropping with remarkable sensitivity, and subtly disrupt hostile magical frequencies before they could gather useful intelligence.
His abilities ensured that the clan's communications remained completely private while their movements stayed hidden from even the most determined diviners and enemy scryers. His evaluation of Category II-Low Tier Advanced reflected both his current capabilities and his enormous potential.
After listening to Axel's explanation and reading the detailed contents of their family's capabilities, he now understood what this meant—trust. Yes, August had earned their trust. It would be sooner rather than later that he would get to personally witness in full how this family worked. A budding friendship and trust between lord and subordinate would become a prevalent thing between them.
Coincidentally, during the previous night's battle, August had provided Axel with the perfect opportunity to not just his capabilities but to assess the enemy's magical capabilities and pinpoint the exact locations of cult spies embedded within the village population. Simultaneously, Finn had worked to disrupt communications between these hidden agents and their masters at the forest stronghold, effectively blinding the enemy to their plans.
In the present situation, August had tasked the entire Martin household with extracting crucial information from the cultist members who had infiltrated Berkinsil and helped orchestrate the previous night's confrontation with the undead. After they had successfully identified and captured all ten cult members currently operating within the village, the extraction phase of crucial cultist information began in earnest.
The Martin household's women, with their specialized expertise in uncovering the deepest secrets of captured enemies, began the delicate process of extracting vital intelligence regarding enemy strength, numbers, defensive capabilities, and strategic plans. Axel compiled all of this information into a comprehensive report for August before the assault team departed the village to eradicate the forest stronghold.
The team that would accompany August consisted of his original companions from the village of Maya—hunter-warriors who had proven their loyalty and skill through countless previous battles and hunting expeditions—along with Master Flameswrath, whose participation added immeasurably to their chances of success. A wizard of Category V - High Archmage status represented power on a scale that few enemies could hope to match or counter.
To expedite their journey to the target area, Master Flameswrath employed one of his most impressive transportation abilities, allowing the entire team to ride upon creatures formed from the living flames of the earth itself. While Erik and Bren naturally relied on their own bonded companions—Kirpy and Rexy respectively—August and the remaining team members utilized the Wizard of Molten Flames' spectacular method of travel. These weren't ordinary flames, but magma golems that resembled agile predators, capable of traversing the dense forest floor with remarkable speed while leaving no trail that enemy scouts could follow.
The journey proceeded swiftly, with Bren providing continuous overhead reconnaissance for the group below through his bond with Kirpy, updating the team with real-time intelligence about the exact location of the enemy stronghold and the number of hostiles currently visible from aerial observation.
Before departing Berkinsil, the captured cult spies had already been thoroughly interrogated, revealing crucial intelligence about their enemy's strength and composition. The cult force consisted of approximately 300 dedicated cultists supported by 500 outlaws who had surrendered their souls to the dark arts practiced by the Children of the Crimson Choir. Master Flameswrath had also determined during the previous night's encounter that the necromancer leading this operation possessed power roughly equivalent to a Category IV Human practitioner—formidable, but not impossible to defeat with proper preparation and tactics.
However, the potential involvement of supernatural entities summoned from other planes of existence meant that they could never be entirely certain of what they might face, which explained Master Flameswrath's decision to personally participate in the assault.
Upon arrival at the forest stronghold, the enemy forces were in a state of frantic activity, their movements suggesting either preparation for a major ritual or response to some form of crisis. The very air around their encampment carried the foul stench of death and decay, while unnatural shadows seemed to writhe between the trees despite the bright daylight.
As the assault team moved closer to the heart of the enemy position, the true scope of the cultists' atrocities became horrifyingly apparent. Rows of severed human and beast heads had been arranged along the camp's perimeter like grotesque sentries, their dead eyes seeming to track the intruders' movements. Various body parts hung from the surrounding trees like obscene fruit, creating a canopy of horror that defied all natural law and human decency.
The sight prompted urgent questions from August and his teammates about the purpose behind such elaborate displays of carnage. Only Master Flameswrath possessed sufficient knowledge and wisdom of dark magical practices to understand the true implications of what they were witnessing.
"Young August," the wizard said, his usually jovial demeanor replaced by grim seriousness, "this ritual preparation indicates an attempt to summon something that should never exist in our world. Such extensive sacrificial displays are not uncommon among practitioners of the darkest arts, but they serve only one purpose: to create a suitable anchor point for summoning a demonic entity—a devil that dwells in the deepest, most corrupt regions of this world's many hells."
His expression grew even more troubled as he continued, "We must act with utmost haste before they can complete their summoning. If they succeed in bringing such an entity into our realm, I fear the resulting destruction would force me to break the Sacred Oath Of The Strong that binds all Category V members—the agreement among all continentally powerful high archmages and grandmasters to withhold our full strength so that we do not inadvertently destroy the world around us in our battles."
August understood the implications immediately and wasted no time on further discussion. Using his party communication system, he transmitted urgent orders to Team 1—his most trusted companions—emphasizing the need for swift action balanced with extreme caution for their own safety, as their lives were far more valuable than any tactical advantage speed might provide.
Upon reaching the heart of the enemy encampment, they witnessed a scene that seemed to have emerged from humanity's darkest nightmares. The cultists were engaged in a twisted celebration, feasting with savage joy as they consumed cocktails mixed with human and beast blood. Their food consisted of raw flesh torn from humans, humanoids, demi-humans, and various beast species, consumed with the enthusiasm of creatures that had abandoned all pretense of civilization.
They danced with fevered intensity, as if celebrating the imminent birth of their unholy deity who would soon break through the barriers between worlds to corrupt everything in its path. The very air around them seemed to pulse with malevolent energy, and the ground beneath their feet appeared to writhe with unnatural life.
"Filthy beings!" Master Flameswrath roared, his usual restraint completely abandoned in the face of such absolute corruption. Even for an archmage who had witnessed centuries of conflict between light and darkness, this level of depravity was beyond acceptable limits.
The assault began immediately as August and his team emerged from concealment to begin systematically slaughtering the enemies who had finally noticed their presence. The necromancer stood atop a towering pyramid constructed entirely from bones and flesh—some of the components were still alive and screaming, held in their tortured existence by the dark magic that had fused them with dead tissue in violation of every natural law.
August and his team advanced with lethal precision, their identities concealed behind masks that had become symbols of their unwavering commitment to justice. Though their armor designs varied to accommodate different fighting styles and combat preferences, they shared a unified aesthetic that struck fear into the hearts of their enemies. Each of Team 1 wore equipment crafted from the remains of their previous victories including that of August's: Grimfang's insulating fur, Boarat's thick hide leather, Scythe Stalker's flexible carapace, and the Arborwyrm's hard scales, which only excludes the select pieces incorporating the rare silky steel-like thread and armor plates of the Armored Arachnid that August's armor currently have.
Their previous weapons had been upgraded to match their individual fighting preferences—spears, swords and shields, daggers, bows and arrows—each piece of equipment designed to ensure that every attack would prove lethal to their targets.
Even Kirpy, the Juvenile Peregrine Eagle chick, had been fitted with light armor and a protective helmet that shielded its most vulnerable areas while maintaining its natural agility and aerial capabilities. As Bren's bonded companion, the eagle had extensive experience in close-quarters combat, using aerial reconnaissance to provide tactical advantages while engaging directly when circumstances required.
Similarly, Rexy, the Grimfang pup who had grown to juvenile size, wore carefully fitted armor that protected her vital areas without impeding her natural movement. Erik rode her when scouting was required, but during active combat, he maintained distance to utilize his archery skills while she engaged enemies directly with claws and fangs enhanced by magical protection.
Master Flameswrath wore his ancestral flame-forged armor, a masterwork originally crafted for his grandfather and passed down through generations of powerful fire mages. The armor itself seemed to burn with inner light, providing both protection and a conduit for his most powerful magical abilities.
The odds they faced were daunting—eight warriors against approximately 800 immediate enemies, with the necromancer possessing the ability to reanimate fallen combatants as undead reinforcements. The decision to assault with such a small force had been deliberate, intended to minimize the number of bodies available for the necromancer's dark magic while maximizing their tactical flexibility.
"August, boy, buy me ten seconds!" Master Flameswrath called out as magical energy began building around him. "I will cast a containment spell to enclose this entire area, ensuring that the malevolent corruption of this place cannot spread beyond our immediate battlefield!"
"You heard Master Ben!" August shouted to his teammates as they engaged the frenzied enemies who seemed as eager to die for their cause as to kill their attackers. "Let's give him the time he needs!"
The enemy force consisted primarily of Category I - Low to High Tier Common practitioners, representing about 65% of the total 800 cultists and outlaws present at the stronghold. However, they also faced 50 Category II - Advanced enemies, 10 Category III - Expert level threats, and the single Category IV - Master Necromancer whose power rivaled that of an Archmage.
August and his team had systematically eliminated most of the weaker opponents while August himself engaged the most advanced and expert-level enemies in single combat, his superior training and equipment allowing him to face multiple opponents simultaneously.
Master Flameswrath completed his spell incantation, his eyes beginning to glow with white flames as his aura surged to its maximum allowable intensity during his sealed state. The air around him began to scorch and burn as he unleashed his isolation spell: Flames of Purgatory. A massive sphere of controlled fire surrounded the entire battlefield in a 2-kilometer radius, ensuring that none of the cultists would be able to escape while simultaneously providing beneficial effects to his allies.
The flames were precisely controlled, avoiding harm to friendly forces while imbuing their weapons with additional fire damage. Those blessed with natural fire elemental affinity received a 100% power enhancement to all their abilities, turning already deadly warriors into forces of pure destruction.
The necromancer, realizing that his forces were now trapped within the magical barrier with no possibility of escape or reinforcement, made a desperate decision. "Anne!" he called to his primary lieutenant, "Buy me the time I need! We shall summon our god immediately, so he can deal with these heretical unbelievers before us. Sacrifice yourselves for our great and glorious cause!"
Anne, the cult's envoy who had originally negotiated the village's corruption, responded with fanatical devotion. "Thy will be done, master! May the gods of all hell bless us all!" She curtsied gracefully, her eyes blazing with the lunacy of absolute faith and her smile twisted with pure evil.
"You heard our master's command!" she screamed to the remaining cultists, her voice carrying across the battlefield despite the roar of magical flames. "Now offer your lives as we summon our lord to this world! He shall remake it in his own perfect image! Ahahahahaha!" Her maniacal laughter echoed off the magical barriers surrounding them.
This final order triggered a horrifying transformation among the surviving cultists. They began to release something from deep within their mana hearts—dark magical seals that had been placed there through forbidden rituals. These seals, when broken, temporarily boosted their magical powers by 1,000%, transforming desperate fanatics into genuinely dangerous opponents.
The battlefield dynamics shifted dramatically as the power of dark magical arts began to thicken the very air around them, creating an oppressive atmosphere that seemed to drain hope from the hearts of all who opposed the cult's final gambit. The real battle was only beginning.
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Day 18.3: Berkinsil Village (VIII) - Cult Cleansing Operation Final Battle (3)
The necromancer's frantic incantations echoed across the flame-enclosed battlefield, his voice growing more desperate with each passing moment. The ritual remained incomplete—perhaps 80% finished at most—which meant that the malevolent deity they sought to summon would not manifest at full strength. Even at a mere 5% of its true power if fully manifested in a mortal's body, however, the implications were terrifying. When dealing with entities that commanded the raw forces of evil across multiple planes of existence, even fractional manifestations could prove catastrophically destructive.
The battle raged with increasing intensity as August and his team, supported by Master Flameswrath's overwhelming magical presence, fought to purge these corrupt beings from existence while simultaneously preventing the completion of the summoning ritual. Every second counted—not just for their own survival, but for the fate of the entire region should such an entity gain a foothold in their world.
August unleashed everything in his considerable arsenal against the frenzied cultists and outlaws who threw themselves at him with suicidal fervor. His movements had become a deadly dance of precision and power, each strike calculated to maximize damage while conserving energy for the prolonged battle ahead. His team members provided crucial support from strategic positions, their coordinated attacks creating openings that August exploited with lethal efficiency.
Meanwhile, Master Flameswrath engaged the ten expert-level enemies who had undergone a horrifying transformation. The dark seals they had broken within themselves had elevated their power dramatically—ten former Category III Experts had ascended to Mid Tier Category IV Master status, their abilities enhanced beyond their natural limits through forbidden magic that fed on their very life force.
The Category II Advanced cultists had similarly been elevated to Category III Expert level, ranging from low to high tier in their newfound power. Their numbers had been reduced from 50 to 30 through the earlier phases of combat, but those who remained fought with the strength of desperation and the terrible power granted by their sacrificial magic.
Even the lowest-ranking members of the cult had received significant enhancement, their numbers reduced from the original 739 to approximately 150, but each now possessing Advanced Category abilities, albeit at the lower tiers. The mathematical disadvantage remained overwhelming, but the quality gap had narrowed.
Fortunately, August's team possessed advantages that mere numbers could not overcome. Erik and the rest of Team One had achieved middle to high-tier Category II Advanced status through their extensive training and combat experience. Their bonded beasts represented even greater assets: Kiryp was a SOLDIER Rank with a rarity of HEROIC and a level of 30, or a cumulative level of 100, while Rexy was SOLDIER Rank with a rarity of EXPERT and a level of 25, or a cumulative level of 70. Their natural abilities, combined with their deep bonds with their human partners, allowed them to punch well above their apparent weight class.
The strategic advantage lay in their superior coordination and the mysterious benefits provided by August's unique party system. Before they had come here to do this assault in a moment of tactical inspiration, August had extended invitations to both Master Flameswrath and Axel Martin, integrating them into his supernatural communication network and PARTY SYSTEM. This allowed for seamless coordination of their efforts while potentially granting them access to enhanced abilities through their connection to August's power.
Master Flameswrath's reaction to joining the party system was particularly intriguing. As the magical connection established itself, he experienced once again the sensation of being observed by the same mysterious entity that he had first made contact with during his initial encounter with August. The ancient wizard's eyes widened with understanding and amusement.
"So this was the entity behind it all," he murmured with characteristic good humor. "Ho ho ho, very interesting indeed, young August." His tone suggested both respect and curiosity about the true nature of the power that augmented August's abilities and now theirs.
The party system's benefits became immediately apparent through enhanced experience sharing and various buff effects that activated when specific combat requirements were met. The enemies they faced—humans, humanoids, and demi-humans corrupted by dark magic—provided substantially better experience gains than the forest beasts they had previously encountered. Additionally, the +15% shared experience bonus meant that every victory contributed to the rapid advancement of all party members.
Since beginning their journey together, with the exception of Master Flameswrath who had joined only recently, the team had been advancing through levels at an unprecedented rate. The constant combat and high-stakes encounters provided ideal conditions for rapid power growth.
Despite their advantages, the battle proved far more challenging than their previous encounters. The initial phases had seemed manageable, with their superior coordination and individual skill allowing them to systematically eliminate enemies while avoiding serious casualties. However, as the engagement stretched beyond the thirty-minute mark, the inevitable toll of prolonged combat began to manifest.
Wounds accumulated despite their best defensive efforts, and their health points began dropping toward dangerous levels. August's supportive passive abilities helped maintain their regenerative capabilities, accelerating natural healing processes and providing temporary boosts to their recovery rates. The more pressing concern, however, was stamina depletion. Despite their rigorous daily training regimen, the sustained intensity of combat against supernaturally enhanced enemies was pushing them toward their physical limits.
The tide began to turn in their favor as the cultists' artificial power enhancement reached its natural conclusion. The temporary 1,000% power boost that had made them so dangerous came at a terrible price—it literally consumed their life force as fuel. One by one, the enhanced enemies began to weaken as their borrowed power faded, leaving them vulnerable to finishing attacks from any member of August's team.
As the last of the regular cultists fell, only the necromancer remained, surrounded by the growing manifestation of his dark ritual. The summoning process had reached approximately 80% completion, and the partially formed entity was already conscious enough to observe the battlefield through its incomplete sensory organs. The creature's presence was immediately apparent—a figure of such concentrated evil that it seemed to distort reality around itself.
The entity spoke in tongues known only to the demonic deity races, its voice carrying harmonics that seemed to resonate with frequencies that human ears were never meant to perceive. Its laughter was a sound of pure malevolence, expressing amusement at the carnage surrounding its manifestation point. The necromancer, meanwhile, had reached the limits of his magical reserves. The sustained casting required for such a powerful summoning had drained his mana completely, leaving him vulnerable and unable to maintain his other magical defenses.
Master Flameswrath recognized this critical moment and acted with decisive precision. Channeling his power into a concentrated attack, he manifested a spear of pure flame that pierced directly through the necromancer's mana heart—the core of a magical practitioner's power. The instantaneous destruction of this vital organ killed the necromancer immediately and severed his connection to all active magical workings, causing his undead minions to collapse into lifeless heaps.
August, meanwhile, had pushed himself to his absolute limits. Having engaged thirty expert-level enemies simultaneously, he had exhausted both his mana reserves and his physical stamina. Only his supernatural regenerative abilities kept him functional as wounds appeared across his body and his health points dropped to critically low levels. His various protective skills activated automatically, accelerating his recovery processes, but the cumulative damage was severe.
In the midst of this intense combat, August received a system notification that he was too focused to properly acknowledge—he had achieved the maximum level of 25, representing the highest advancement possible within his current system parameters. This milestone would normally deserve celebration and careful consideration of new abilities, but the immediate demands of survival took precedence.
The climactic moment arrived as the partially summoned demonic entity prepared to take direct action. Despite its incomplete manifestation—possessing only fragments of its true form, including one grotesquely malformed arm and leg—the creature retained enough consciousness and power to pose a significant threat. Its appearance was nightmarish: flesh that seemed to writhe with its own malevolent life, appendages that defied natural anatomy, and an aura of corruption that made the very air around it feel poisonous.
The entity continued speaking in its incomprehensible language, but its tone and gestures made its intentions clear—it was mocking their efforts even in its weakened state. Through some combination of telepathic influence and contextual understanding, its words became partially comprehensible:
*"Foolish mortals... hahaha... weaklings all of you. But I must acknowledge my lunatic followers for enabling my appearance in this world, however limited. At barely 1% of my true power, let me demonstrate my gratitude by destroying these insects before me."*
The creature began gathering the residual evil mana that permeated the battlefield, drawing power from the lingering corruption left by the cultists' rituals and the dark magic that had been unleashed throughout the engagement. Even though it was subject to the fundamental laws governing manifestations in the mortal realm, its power remained formidable. A fully realized summoning at 100% completion might have allowed it to wield 5% of its true strength, but in its current incomplete state, it could access only 1% of its divine power.
That 1%, however, represented more raw destructive force than any mortal practitioner could hope to match through conventional means.
Master Flameswrath immediately recognized the catastrophic danger posed by the entity's gathering power. Without hesitation, he made a decision that violated one of the most sacred oaths, "The Oath of the Strong" binding all Category V members—the agreement among continentally powerful mages to limit their full capabilities to prevent inadvertent destruction of the world around them.
For the first time in decades, Master Flameswrath released every constraint on his power, manifesting 100% of his true capabilities. The necessity was absolute: August and his companions, these promising young individuals, faced certain death if the entity's attack succeeded. Even August's mysterious system recognized the mortal peril, flashing an urgent warning:
[SYSTEM: WARNING - DEATH IMMINENT]
The simple message carried the weight of absolute certainty. August felt his entire life flash before his eyes in that moment—all his struggles, victories, friendships, and dreams suddenly reduced to mere memories about to be extinguished. He and his friends stood on the precipice of annihilation, with no apparent means of defense against divine wrath.
Master Flameswrath's intervention came in the form of the most powerful defensive magic he had ever attempted. Layering multiple barriers of concentrated flame magic, he created a protective shell around August's entire team while simultaneously preparing to deflect the entity's attack. The collision between divine malevolence and mortal determination created a spectacle that defied description—energies that represented fundamental forces of creation and destruction meeting in direct opposition.
The unleashed power of a Category V high archmage or in his case a wizard at full strength proved sufficient to not only deflect but completely destroy the entity's attack, demonstrating why such practitioners were required to limit themselves under normal circumstances. Even gods, it seemed, could be challenged by mortals who achieved sufficient mastery over the fundamental forces of magic.
The demonic entity's reaction was a mixture of rage and genuine amusement. In its millions of years of existence across multiple planes of reality, this was the first time a mortal had successfully deflected and destroyed one of its most powerful attacks. All be it, it was only 1% of its actual power. The novelty of the experience seemed to fascinate the creature even as it prepared for its inevitable dissolution.
As the incomplete summoning began to collapse, the entity's physical form started breaking apart and decomposing. Its final words were delivered in its incomprehensible language, but the malevolent satisfaction in its tone was unmistakable:
*"Heed this warning, humans—another deity from the eastern realms is slowly attempting manifestation. It has been... entertaining... to play with you lowly beings."*
The voice itself was a horror to experience—simultaneously masculine and feminine, layered with the agonized screams of countless tortured souls. As the last syllables faded, the entity's form completely disintegrated, leaving behind only the lingering stench of corruption and the memory of its terrible presence.
With the immediate threat eliminated, the survivors could finally breathe freely, but the aftermath of the battle was devastating. The surrounding area within Master Flameswrath's 2-kilometer containment sphere had been completely obliterated, reduced to ash and molten rock by the unleashed energies of their conflict. Paradoxically, this total destruction served a beneficial purpose—it had eliminated all traces of the evil rituals and summoning circles that had defiled the forest, ensuring that no residual corruption could attract other malevolent entities.
Master Flameswrath gradually began scaling back his power output, the ground beneath their feet cooling from molten flame to merely scorched earth. Throughout the entire catastrophic display, August's team had remained protected within the archmage's defensive barriers, though the experience of witnessing such raw power unleashed at close range left them all somewhat shaken.
"The threat assessment was more challenging than anticipated," Master Flameswrath admitted as he surveyed the devastation. "If I were to estimate, that deity's 1% power level was roughly equivalent to 5% of a Category V Grandmaster or High Archmage's capabilities. However, this comparison may not be entirely accurate—the true limits of divine power remain largely theoretical for mortal practitioners."
After ensuring that all team members had survived the encounter without serious injury, the archmage expressed genuine concern for their well-being. "Are you younglings unharmed?" he asked, his voice carrying both relief and residual worry.
"Yes, Master Flameswrath," came the collective response from the group, though their voices reflected the exhaustion and emotional impact of their near-death experience.
Following a period of rest and the consumption of healing potions, the team began the process of recovery. Their physical wounds healed relatively quickly with magical assistance, and their mana reserves gradually replenished through natural regeneration and alchemical supplements. Stamina recovery, however, required more time and rest, leaving several team members unable to travel under their own power.
Master Flameswrath solved this logistical challenge by summoning another flame golem, this one equipped with wings for aerial transport. The luxurious ten-minute flight back to Berkinsil provided a stark contrast to their earlier ground-based journey, offering spectacular views of the surrounding landscape while allowing the exhausted warriors to rest during transit.
As they approached the village, August reflected on the significant lessons learned during this engagement. The encounter had pushed every member of his team to their absolute limits and beyond, revealing both strengths and areas requiring improvement. A thorough review and analysis of their performance would be essential for future mission planning and individual development.
Their four day stay in Berkinsil had reached its conclusion with the complete eradication of the Children of the Crimson Choir cult. While they had succeeded in eliminating the immediate threat and avenging the victims of the cult's atrocities, the loss of Lord Todd and his retainers left the village without its traditional leadership structure.
The resilient villagers would need to determine their own path forward, drawing upon the strength and determination they had demonstrated throughout this crisis. Tomorrow would mark the resumption of their journey back to Maya, but the memory of Berkinsil's courage in the face of overwhelming evil would remain with them always.
The entity's parting warning about another deity attempting manifestation in the eastern realms suggested that their adventures were far from over. Greater challenges awaited them on the horizon, but they now possessed the confidence that came from having faced divine wrath and emerged victorious through their combined strength and the wisdom of their allies.