Medieval Gacha Lord

"Ahhh—" Two shrill screams pierced the entire alley.

The ugly evil spirit, hovering in mid-air, the dried skin on its decayed cheeks slowly pulling back into a hideous smile.

Fear was the evil spirit's sweetest sustenance.

This type of spirit, often born from those who died due to premarital violence and lingering near their place of death, was filled with hatred and venom towards the living.

"No, don't!"

"Get away, beast!"

The two patrolmen shrieked, wildly brandishing their weapons. But ordinary iron weapons merely passed through the evil spirit's body, failing to stir even a ripple.

Just as the evil spirit's hideous, long tongue was about to reach them—

"So noisy."

A somewhat impatient voice suddenly echoed in the two men's minds. Looking up, they saw a young woman in a white skirted-robe sitting on the opposite eave, dangling her two fair little calves.

She pointed to her own ears. "Scream again, and I'll deal with you two along with it. Strange to say, this is the first time I've seen an evil spirit appearing at high noon, and one containing such a dense fire aura at that. Is it a local specialty of this world? How interesting," she murmured to herself in words the two couldn't understand at all.

The Noonwraith, which had been about to strike the two men, now stared intently at the young woman's beautiful face. On its own face, jealousy and venomous hatred intertwined into an even more hideous visage.

'If I had been that beautiful back then, would I not have met such an end? I might even have become a maidservant in a noble house, favored by the master, instead of being toyed with by that bastard!'

Black liquid gushed from its eye sockets. It almost instantly abandoned the "food" already at its metaphorical lips and lunged towards the young woman.

Scott shouted, "Miss, run quickly! This is an evil spirit!"

John cursed loudly, "Fool! Never mind her, run!" He scrambled up from the ground and, his legs somewhat numb from fear, desperately ran outwards.

The young woman, swinging her legs back and forth, chuckled. "Heh, quite kind-hearted, aren't we? In the past, I might have granted you the status of a blood slave serving the Blood Court, but not now."

A pillar of fire erupted from the Noonwraith's mouth. Looking closely, it was actually that long tongue of the Noonwraith; its sharp barbs were now wreathed in somewhat blackened, dark flames.

"Truly disgusting." The smile on Fringilla's face vanished instantly. The flames exuded a stench like rotten meat. A look of disgust appeared on her face. "What a nauseating smell! Don't you dare dirty my new clothes; Milord bought these for me!"

'Bang—' The long tongue pierced through the wall and eaves. But the young woman's figure had long since vanished.

The Noonwraith was somewhat bewildered. In its previous life, it had never encountered any supernatural powers; how could it know that someone who clearly looked like an ordinary young woman could possess such special abilities?

"I'm behind you, fool." The Noonwraith abruptly whipped its head around to look.

Different from when she was merely observing beside Lothar, in her combat state, Fringilla's eyes were filled with an undiluted blood-red. At the corners of her mouth, two delicate, sharp fangs pierced her somewhat pale lips. A pair of winding red demon horns extended from her head, and a thin mist of blood permeated the small alley.

"I need to finish you off quickly and get back to Milord." She hovered in mid-air, spread her hand, and a bone spur, with a thread of blood running through its center, pierced through her palm, resembling a sharp longsword. The movement of bone spur and flesh emitted an eerie, scalp-numbing sound.

The Noonwraith let out a shriek filled with fear and anger and lunged fiercely at Fringilla. But she didn't dodge, merely swinging the bone spur down lightly.

The next moment, blood-red light filled the small alley. When the light subsided, the Noonwraith's body solidified inch by inch, turning a grayish-white like a stone statue, then suddenly with a loud bang collapsed into countless fragments.

***

On the platform at the top of the castle, from here, one could overlook the entire city of Montreal: the narrow, winding alleys, Count Raynald's favorite residence, the churches, and the numerous street-side shrines. Brothels and bathhouses, gardens and fountains... and the cracked, dusky yellow earth, as well as that tributary of the Jordan River, its flow drastically reduced by the dry season.

Sir Humphrey, wearing a murex purple cape, rested his hands on the rough stone parapet. Behind him, an elderly, white-haired servant asked with some confusion, "Sir Humphrey, was it somewhat inappropriate for us to treat that Baron Lothar so cavalierly?"

Humphrey sneered. "Treating him with such an attitude is perfectly appropriate. They, having fought to a mutual ruin against that Saracen cavalry, have lost their combat effectiveness for the short term. He has already lost his value to us."

The servant hesitated. "Also, people have been dying in the city every day recently. It's said to be a haunting... Shouldn't we warn Baron Lothar?"

"No. It's best if he dies. According to custom, after his death, his army should temporarily come under my command. That is indeed an elite force; it shouldn't remain in the hands of an upstart baron like him."

Sir Humphrey stood facing the sun, his eyes slightly narrowed by the dazzling glare. Though the sunlight was bright, clearly illuminating even the fine hairs on his skin, his face was still cast in an obvious layer of shadow.

"Kerak Castle, why hasn't it fallen yet? Saladin, you truly disappoint me."

The servant behind him immediately lowered his head and reminded him, "Sir, how can such words be spoken?"

Humphrey smiled. "Why can't it? In any case, it's just you and me here. That stupid, reckless stepfather of mine, who knows what bewitching soup he fed my mother. To this day, he still refuses to grant me a fief. What if one day he adds another little brother or sister for me? What's wrong with me wishing him dead?"

The servant remained silent, then after a moment, said, "At the end of the day, My Lady is also there."

"Alright, you may leave. Keep a close watch on this Baron Lothar and his Knightly Order. Don't let them cause any trouble. Oh, right, remember to levy an extra 'Saladin tax.' This is in preparation for the upcoming Crusade."

***

"Fringilla?" Lothar hurried over.

Fringilla turned her head. The crimson in her eyes swiftly receded, turning clear. The winding red demon horns vanished. She quickly smoothed her somewhat messy white hair, then called out in a tearful voice, "Milord, I'm here!"

Seeing Fringilla unharmed, Lothar let out a long sigh of relief. "It's good you're alright. How did you end up here?"

"I just wanted to share your burdens, Milord." Fringilla threw herself into Lothar's arms, rubbing non-existent tearstains onto his shoulder. She peeked her head out secretively and made a face at Banu, who was behind Lothar.

Lothar was somewhat surprised. He patted Fringilla's back. "Thanks to you this time. The Demon Hunter milestone requires hunting demonic creatures. It's just a pity this Noonwraith doesn't seem to count towards it."

"Milord! I just went through a major battle, and you don't even care about me?"

Lothar perfunctorily patted her head. "Care, of course, I care. But aren't you perfectly fine?"

After the previous battle, he had leveled up both Fringilla and Banu to thirty. Their strength, compared to before, had greatly increased. Lothar didn't think a single evil spirit could pose much of a threat to Fringilla. He had rushed over purely as a precaution.

Banu suddenly spoke, "Perhaps it's not that the Noonwraith doesn't count, but rather... it's not dead yet?"

She lifted the black demon-faced shield in her hand. The demonic relief on it instantly became animated. It took a deep breath, an ecstatic expression on its face, then suddenly opened its mouth wide.

From among the white stone fragments on the ground, a translucent female phantom was swiftly drawn out, flying into the mouth of the demon-faced relief. The face chewed on the spirit body with sickening, crunching sounds.

At the same time, the system's notification sound chimed.

[You have completed the milestone, Demon Hunter. Received: Special Card Draw x1.]