Medieval Gacha Lord

In the castle hall, Banu's expression changed slightly as intricate, glowing runes flared to life across the floor.

"It's a teleportation array!"

At the same time, a cold, disembodied voice sounded, "Such formidable magical power, even the teleportation array couldn't affect you all. Indeed, as long as I devour you, I can definitely recover all my strength."

With a loud crash, the ground beneath Banu's feet abruptly split open. Countless lead-grey, corpselike arms shot out from the fissure, grabbing her ankles with unnatural strength.

'Bang—' Banu was dragged directly into the fissure before she could even cry out.

Fringilla, the instant her body felt a sudden sense of weightlessness, transformed into a swarm of blood-red bats. Beating their wings frantically, she passed with lingering fear between the grasping arms and flew to the ceiling.

"What do I do now?" she looked anxiously at the chasm in the ground, from which a faint, foul odor was rising. "That big dummy, surely she won't be in trouble?"

'Damn it, why am I worried about the big dummy? If even she can't hold out, the rest of us have no hope of survival either.'

Fringilla's face suddenly changed. "Right, Milord! Milord was teleported away! He must be in danger!"

The blood-red bats quickly reconverged, reforming Fringilla's body. She anxiously rushed towards the way they came, but the stone main door, which had been open, now slammed shut with a boom that shook the walls.

In the room, the servants, one and all, turned their heads in a stiff, unnatural unison, staring intently at her. The next moment, they all grinned, revealing sinister smiles.

A fear that inspired worshipful awe instantly enveloped Fringilla's heart, but she overcame it in a flash, her eyes instantly turning into a deeper blood-red and started glowing. "Come out, you fucking charlatan who plays god and acts all mysterious!"

"I am right before you," the leading servant who had guided them smiled politely, his voice unchanged. The next second, a blood spear pierced through his body.

"My apologies, I am here," another servant said, taking his place with an identical smile.

"All of you?"

'Then all of you can go to hell!'

Fringilla, growing increasingly agitated, spread her hands. Magical power converged, and in her palms, one after another, spears forged from blood slowly materialized, humming with power. Then, the next moment, they shot forth. Servant after servant fell to the ground.

But from their wounds, no blood flowed; instead, it was a viscous substance like black grease. This viscous substance, as if alive, rapidly congealed into numerous black monsters of bizarre shapes: some walked on all fours but had a head growing from their backs; some had all four limbs replaced by sharp blades; and some simply grew a black, lizard-like head with milky white eyes.

"Stay here. I can already smell the sweet blood aura on you. Devouring you should be enough for my initial awakening. By then, I will deal with the more troublesome one below," the black monsters said in a grating unison.

Just then, from the fissure in the ground, the shrill, soul-tearing roar of an evil ghost erupted with a boom!

The next moment, Banu's figure leaped high from the chasm, smashing onto the ground like a cannonball. Spiderweb-like cracks slowly spread out from where she landed, the impact shaking the very foundations of the hall.

Her body was covered in dust and grime, and the flesh on her left arm was almost entirely stripped away, revealing gleaming white bone that was uncannily clean amidst the filth.

But such a grievous injury did not cause her to show even a hint of pain. She merely looked expressionlessly at the black monsters, the chill in her eyes frosting the stone tiles beneath her feet.

A trace of joy appeared on Fringilla's face. "Big dummy, it's good you're alright!"

Banu held her shield horizontally. The black, demon-faced shield spun rapidly like a saw blade, its edges still stained with some bits of foul, unidentifiable flesh.

Clearly, though the time had been short, she had already experienced a fierce, brutal battle underground!

She said succinctly, her voice like grinding stone, "Go, find a way to save Milord."

Fringilla shook her head. "No, it's already too late. Although I can locate Milord through the Ring of the Gargoyle, there's interference; the feeling isn't clear at all. However, I have another way. This place, I'll leave it to you for now."

Banu looked at Fringilla with some surprise. After a moment of silence, she gave a single, sharp nod, choosing to trust her. She knew that Fringilla, who usually seemed rather unreliable, would definitely be trustworthy in matters like this.

***

Lothar, in the dark corridor, slowly raised his palm, feeling the terrifying magical power welling up within it, so immense it felt as if it would tear his entire body apart. A raw, untamed energy thrummed under his skin.

'This is... Fringilla's power!'

At this moment the system's notification sound chimed in his mind.

[Your retainer Fringilla, by sacrificing to the Țepeș family heirloom, the Ring of the Gargoyle, has temporarily lent all her magical power to you.]

[You have temporarily activated the special talent: "Tyrant."]

Terrifying magical power, like icy snowmelt, flowed through his blood vessels. He spread his hand. A fine layer of blood beads seeped from his pores, then, as if alive, streamed across the surface of his body, until it converged on his right arm. There, the solidified blood flow surged, transforming into a savage, bone-spur-like armguard, its points jutting high at his shoulder and elbow, gleaming wetly in the gloom.

Lothar opened his eyes, his pupils now dyed crimson and filled with a cold, exhilarating madness.

'Clang—'

Blood in his palm condensed into a resplendent crystal, like a perfectly cut ruby pulsating with its own internal light. Lothar gripped the blood crystal with his right arm.

He looked up, his lips curling into a cruel smile. Like a tyrant opening his eyes.