Chapter 58: The Forest Ranger Who Clings to Power

Fortune had not completely abandoned Harbwick; just as the Corrupted Avenger was about to catch up with him, he finally encountered two Watchers.

The two Watchers were tall and gaunt, clad in gray robes, their hands gloved in white. In the darkness, one could vaguely see the green ghostly glow flickering within the hollow eyes beneath their pale masks.

They were servants of Jaeger.

But at this moment, he had no choice—Harbwick had to steel himself and rush forward to plead for help.

The two Watchers stood silently, looking in the direction from which Harbwick was running, though the ranger sensed their attention was fixed on the pursuer behind him.

It seemed the Corrupted Avenger also sensed a threat and no longer focused on Harbwick.

The suffocating sense of being targeted vanished, and the Heart of Nature within him ceased its frantic warning. Whether it was the Watchers ahead or the abomination behind, neither were to be trifled with.

As he was about to reach the Watchers, a blade of energy suddenly struck from behind, hitting Harbwick squarely in the back.

The ranger flew through the air like a broken doll, crashing into a roadside ditch and lying motionless.

The Watchers showed no interest in his life or death, but the actions of the Corrupted Avenger were a direct provocation!

As servants of the Master of All Ends, it was their prerogative alone to dispense death. For someone to reap life before their very eyes was nothing short of blasphemy.

The heretic must die!

One Watcher produced a skull-shaped vessel, while the other withdrew a blunt, unidentified bone weapon for defense.

Though his mind was corrupted, the Avenger retained enough instinct and combat sense to realize these two opponents would be troublesome. He struck first, his massive sword cleaving toward the Watcher with the skull vessel.

Clang!

The attack was blocked by the Watcher wielding the bone weapon. Though it was an unknown bone, when it met the Corrupted Avenger’s sword, it rang out with the sound of clashing steel.

This Watcher, too, was a master of arms. Though his strength paled in comparison, his superb skill allowed him to hold the line.

Yet under the relentless assault of the high-ranking Corrupted Avenger, he was forced to retreat again and again. The Avenger’s corruption had no effect on the Watcher, but the Watcher’s robe and gloves, eroded by the corrupting aura, became tattered, revealing ashen, withered hands.

At that moment, the other Watcher finished his incantation. A blast of negative energy struck the Corrupted Avenger, sending him flying.

The mantis-shaped mask of the blunt-weapon Watcher slowly fell away, revealing a lifeless, deathly face beneath.

They were undead!

Necromancers!

The Avenger, blasted aside by the negative energy, slowly rose. Aside from his ruined garments, he was otherwise unscathed—the spell had left him unaffected.

The Avenger’s soul was rotten and lost, possessed only of basic combat instincts. But realizing that neither opponent was human, his desire to fight faded instantly.

Against undead, his greatest weapon—corrupting evil—was useless. He got up and tried to leave.

The two Watchers, seeing this audacious creature attempt to walk away after provoking them, exchanged a glance. The green glow in their eyes flared brighter.

The undead spellcaster raised his hand and summoned a prison of bone, trapping the Avenger. Then, a torrent of [Curse of Frailty], [Ray of Enfeeblement], and [Hold Person] spells rained down, immobilizing him.

The other Watcher approached swiftly, drawing a wooden bottle as he moved—a bottle crafted from coffin wood.

Pop!

When the stopper was removed, a holy light seemed to radiate from the mouth of the bottle. The Avenger’s eyes flashed with terror as he struggled desperately to break free.

The Watcher offered what he imagined was a smile, then swiftly shoved the bottle into the Avenger’s mouth and retreated.

A heart-wrenching scream tore from the Avenger’s throat, his skin sloughing off like rotten mud.

The commotion and wailing attracted the attention of nearby patrols, and soon two radiant paladins—genuinely glowing—arrived.

When the paladins arrived, they found the two pale-masked Watchers tormenting a fallen Avenger. The creature, so consumed by corruption, had no real vulnerabilities save for its head.

The Avenger lay on the ground, all four limbs severed. Each Watcher wielded a sword, standing over him and taking turns stabbing at his body.

Though he had no vital points, pain still racked him; each stab drew forth another pained howl.

When the undead had tired of their torment, one simply sliced off the Avenger’s head, then summoned two zombies to carry off the remains.

Watching the Watchers depart with the corpse, one paladin asked, “Was that my lord’s holy water?”

The other was silent for a moment, then replied, “Indeed, that was the aura of my lord’s power.”

Neither paladin spoke further. Had anyone told them before that undead could wield holy water, they would have thought it a jest.

Though Jaeger and Amanata maintained cordial relations and their clergy sometimes collaborated, in essence, their natures were incompatible.

The holy water of Amanata, Lord of Radiance, was a deadly poison to the undead and to all creatures of negative energy.

For the undead to use holy water was a rare anomaly. After ensuring nothing else was amiss, the two paladins returned to their patrol.

As for the ranger who had fallen by the roadside, he had vanished without a trace.

…

When Bourne next saw Harbwick, he found him badly wounded and already infected.

“Boss, help me!” Harbwick, having narrowly escaped death, clung to Bourne’s leg as if he were salvation itself.

It turned out that, on that fateful night, Harbwick had cast a second-circle spell, [Barkskin], which saved him. He then used the third-circle spell [Feign Death], deceiving even the undead. While both sides were locked in battle, he slipped out through the sewers.

He knew nothing of what happened afterward.

He spent the days hiding in the sewers, returning once to his old dwelling only to find it leveled, the ground still stained with blood and lingering corruption.

Terrified, Harbwick fled and hid in the sewers, venturing out only to the temple to purchase holy water for his wounds.

The Avenger’s sword strike was laced with evil energy; without daily cleansing, he would have succumbed to corruption and become a monster himself.

But as the corruption worsened, holy water became scarce and its price soared by the day—now he could no longer afford it.

He could not stop the treatment; the moment he did, the infection would return, and within two days he would be lost.

So when Bourne’s message arrived, it was as if he had seen his savior—he nearly fell to his knees in gratitude, ready to call him “father” if that were what it took.

…