NOVEL WEB Chapter 41: Lord of the Crimson Veil
My vision began to blur as I saw that the statue had begun to form a molten spear in its hands, with the weapon pulsating with fiery veins.
I needed some time to recover.
'Now.' I screamed in my head, and the duskwraith jumped out of the shadow and latched itself onto the statue's back, biting onto its neck.
Weaker, it might have been that the statue was still too fast for the duskwraith. It momentarily paused before its free arm grabbed him and threw him into the distance.
As the spear thrust toward me, I dodged left, the molten tip grazing my shoulder and igniting the edge of my cloak. I doused the flames with a quick roll and retaliated with a spinning slash to its exposed midsection, sending fragments of glowing rock flying.
The creature staggered as I darted in, delivering rapid strikes to its weakened leg joint.
It staggered but still somehow raised the molten spear for a final thrust, but I ducked beneath it, driving both daggers deep into its neck. The molten veins surged once, twice, onto my arm, burning them before exploding outward in a fiery cascade, the creature collapsing into a heap of cooling stone.
Argh," I screamed before retreating back into the hall. Thankfully, the lava had exploded outwards at a normal pace, meaning I was still able to dodge it with the help of Static Timefall.
Still, the battle had been intense, short but intense; I took a solemn look at my burnt arms.
"This is going to be harder to explain." Letting out a heavy sigh I called in Duskwraith close to me to check on his injuries, he seemed fine for the most part. These injuries were nowhere close to what the poor guy had to go through earlier.
Once I was done catching my breath, I took out some emergency healing supplies and began working on my injuries, mostly my arms. My injuries from before had somewhat healed, but this was going to be another roadblock in the upcoming battles.
Once I was done with those, I stood up and walked towards the door at the end of the hall before cautiously entering inside. In front of me was a large hallway with rooms to either side.
I began walking inside the hallway, all the while carefully checking the rooms one by one.
The place was entirely deserted, as was to be expected. Still, it was disappointing. The large reason behind my coming here was to investigate the sudden responsiveness of the will, while also hoping to get some goodies in the process. This place, however, seemed to be filled with a whole bunch of crumbling, hollowed-out junk, already destroyed by the passing of time.
Disappointed, I was about to turn back when I encountered a set of staircases in front of me. With nothing else to lose, I cautiously walked down the stairs leading to an open chamber, the sight of which made me shake to my core.
In the middle of the room stood a large altar with a pitch-black statue of a robed figure with a small metallic crown covering his head. The statue had his hands raised high, pointing towards the sky, while several lifelike tentacles emerged out of his cloak, circling around in a circle.
Just looking at the figure made the will inside surge like it had never before, and a wave of rage suddenly took over my body.
My jaw immediately clenched while my fists tightened; at this moment, I wanted nothing but to smash the figure out of his pedestal.
It took everything I had in me to pause and continue to observe.
Around the statue stood a group of women who stood in a circle, chanting in a steady rhythm, their voices overlapping in a rising cadence.
Their heads were bowed, hoods drawn low, shadows masking their faces in an unnatural darkness. They didn't stir—not a twitch, not a breath. For a fleeting moment, I thought they were mere statues. But then it began—a sound so low it wasn't heard but felt, as a vibration rippled through the chamber.
My breathing paused as I looked at them. Humans in the Wastes? How?
One of them moved, the tallest of the figures, just enough for her head to tilt.
"One."
The word echoed in ancient Khravaen.
Then the others joined in, their voices completely in unison.
"Three… Five… Eight…"
And then came the whispers.
"Void… Veil… Flame… Flesh…"
The chant intensified, their voices rising, deepening.
"Nine… Eleven… Thirteen…"
The numbers struck with force, each one rippling through the chamber like thunder. The shadows in the room thickened, stretching and writhing as if they had gained a will of their own. My pulse pounded in my ears, but I was frozen, a prisoner to the scene unfolding.
The words shifted, sharper now, biting.
"Bone… Blood… Breath… Silence…"
The air seemed to compress, becoming thick and oppressive, pressing down on my chest until every breath was a battle.
Then they moved.
As one, the figures raised their arms, their robes sliding back to reveal hands scarred and grotesque, each one etched with elaborate patterns that seemed to shift when the light touched them.
Their chant turned reverent, worshipful.
"Zarethar, o Lord of the Crimson Veil…"
The words echoed with a strange reverence, filling the chamber, each syllable slower and more deliberate than the last.
"Veil of truth. Veil of lies. Veil of blood."
With each repetition, their voices climbed, trembling with devotion.
"Lord of the Crimson Veil! Shrouded in shadow, cloaked in fate. We offer bone. We offer blood. We offer breath."
The statue responded.
A sickly crimson light pulsed at its base, slow and ominous, illuminating the tentacles that seemed to shiver. The light grew stronger, bathing the room in an unnatural glow that turned the figures into jagged silhouettes.
The chant escalated into a frenzy, their voices colliding, overlapping, until the words bled into one another, a storm of sound:
"Lord of the Crimson Veil… Lord of the Crimson Veil… Lord of the Crimson Veil!"