Malphegor
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MoP: Ch. 26
🕑 Added 2025-01-11 00:54:14 +0000 UTC---Third POV---
Alyanne's despair overflowed from the only eye not obscured by blood.
She had been tricked again?
There was no monster, was there? Just one of Karl's games to humiliate her?
He must have found her pitiful state utterly hilarious. But as she raised her head, she froze.
The person speaking was shrouded entirely in a black robe.
That same kind of robe looked utterly different on this figure compared to Karl. Moreover, this person was taller, with a more imposing build.
As she stared at the mysterious stranger who had suddenly appeared, she demanded sharply, "Who are you?"
She could feel it—the aura emanating from this individual was overwhelming. It wasn't magical fluctuations; it was a presence, an unmistakable air of someone who had lived for centuries.
This was the aura of an ancient monster.
This was a powerful mage!
The thought made her gaze grow even more guarded.
---Viktor's POV---
I landed silently, paying no heed to her question. Instead, I crouched down, dipping my finger into a patch of blood on the ground. The peculiar coloring caught my attention immediately.
The fresh blood showed a sharp division between red and blue hues. The blue portion, though scarce, behaved oddly—stretching like a continuous thread without dissolving. Interesting.
I had initially planned to ignore her completely.
My eavesdropping was merely a way to scout for potential pawns worth cultivating. But after witnessing the entire ordeal, one thought dominated my mind: Alyanne's current wretched state had its reasons!
Aeltia didn't tolerate mages who were both overly idealistic and naively kind. Bringing someone like her back would cause more harm than good.
Pawns could be found anywhere, but they mustn't bring trouble to The Watchers.
With Karl, the only real threat to me, gone, it was time for me to leave as well.
But then, to my surprise, she moved.
I extended a tendril of magical energy into the blue blood. Paralysis, magic exhaustion, mental collapse, weakness, infection, severe blood loss, dizziness...
And yet, you can still move? You're not dead from your own recklessness?
I clicked my tongue in amazement.
On Earth, even wrist-slitting could prove fatal. Yet here was Alyanne—missing an entire hand—still managing to move around without any attempt to staunch the bleeding.
According to Aeltia standards, mages weren't immortals; wounds like these should have sent her into a coma or killed her outright.
My instincts told me this was no ordinary situation.
After ten seconds of contemplation, I flicked the blood from my skeletal fingers. The ghostly blue flames in my eye sockets flickered.
Dragon bloodline?
Now things were getting interesting. No wonder her constitution was so exceptional. Her dormant bloodline must have just been activated.
I stroked my chin thoughtfully. "See? This is why you don't give your enemies a rage buff. And now, look at the mess you've created."
Dragons were naturally irritable creatures. Anger had triggered her latent bloodline into awakening.
"'Rage buff'?" Alyanne's confusion was evident, but the doubt in her eyes soon solidified into resolve.
"I don't understand what you're saying!" she shouted, her gaze flicking to my white skeletal hand emerging from my sleeve.
"Who... what are you?!"
In the distance, I could hear the unnatural sounds of approaching monsters.
Perfect timing, as always.
I slowly lowered my hood, completely revealing my skeletal head. The twin flames of faint blue light in my empty eye sockets cast an eerie glow.
"Me? I'm one of the so-called betrayers of the gods—destined for divine retribution."
Her pupils shrank in shock, and her eyes widened.
"A sentient undead! You're Viktor... von... Vinesse!"
"Hahaha!" I pulled my hood back on, amused by her recognition. "Seems like you're tangled up with some troublesome factions. But oh well. Fate has a way of bringing people together, doesn't it?"
What luck!
By sheer coincidence, I had stumbled upon someone with a dragon bloodline in this remote town. Her troubles were negligible compared to that discovery.
Naive and kind, yet immensely powerful? Perfect! That combination practically screamed "obedient and capable NPC"!
My plans shifted quickly, and I softened my gaze toward her. With a wave of my hand, I conjured a parchment scroll before her.
"This is hardly a safe place to talk. The little pests are nearly here. If you want to live, sign this."
"A master-servant contract?!" she immediately recognized its purpose, her expression torn with hesitation.
Of course. Why would a dark mage save her for free? Yeah, I am not that kind. She'd have to abandon the Frostmoon Goddess entirely, sealing her identity as a traitor to the faith.
I glanced toward the source of the distant noises, which were drawing closer.
"The monsters will arrive in two minutes. I'm giving you one minute to decide."
I kept my tone calm, as though her answer mattered little to me. Let her think she had a choice.
Alyanne's face was deathly pale from blood loss.
She looked at her battered, motionless body, her mangled right hand, and then up at me as I stood unmoving as a mountain.
"Fifty seconds," I counted calmly.
From the forest came the sound of trees snapping apart.
"Forty-five seconds."
The growling of beasts grew louder, vibrating through the air and into Alyanne's heart.
"Thirty seconds."
She stared at her inexplicably blue blood, wracking her brain for answers—but none came.
She even tried to negotiate, how laughable. "You're only saving me because of my blood, aren't you?"
"Twenty-five seconds."
"I'm important to you, right?"
"Fifteen seconds."
"What do you know about me? Who am I, really?"
"Ten. Nine. Eight..."
"I agree!"
Summoning all her strength, Alyanne pressed her mutilated hand onto the contract just before my countdown ended.
Magical contracts didn't rely on intact fingerprints to take effect. As soon as her hand left the parchment, it burst into brilliant white light, transforming into two streaks of energy that flew to both our wrists.
The contract was sealed.
I glanced at the system panel displaying the new contract details and nodded with satisfaction.
"Alright, don't move around too much. With my current strength, I can't guarantee your safety entirely."
With that, I crouched down and gently picked up the hem of her bloodstained robe.
Beneath my feet, circles of magical arrays lit up, their dazzling radiance resembling a gathering of stars.
Whoosh!
---Third POV---
By the time the monsters arrived, all that remained was a pool of blood with faintly unusual colors.
The monsters, drawn by the warmth of the blood, skidded to a halt.
Their massive heads lowered as they sniffed greedily at the air.
But when they looked around, their blood-red eyes reflected nothing but confusion and frustration.
Though the scent of prey was there, the source was nowhere to be found.
Frustrated, one beast growled loudly before randomly choosing a direction and charging off.
---
At the entrance to Honeyvale Town, under the great tree, white runes on the ground suddenly lit up.
Two figures descended from the sky.
Thud!
Already severely weakened from blood loss, Alyanne coughed up another mouthful of blood upon falling from mid-air.
"Ugh! Cough, cough!"
After two weak coughs, she completely passed out.
Clatter!
That was the sound of a skeletal frame falling apart.
---Viktor's POV---
After what felt like an eternity, I painstakingly reassembled my skeleton and struggled to stand up.
Opening my system panel for a glance, I saw exactly what I'd expected—my survival time had been reduced by more than a day again.
[Survival Time: 5 days, 13 hours, 28 minutes]
With a deep sigh, I closed the panel and put on my wizard's robe that had fallen off during my collapse.
"Ugh, I'll have to cut down on using high-level spells next time. Otherwise, I really won't survive."
Despite all the time I'd spent recovering, my injuries had only worsened. Yet intermediate spells were just barely useful enough for performing tricks, let alone activating a teleportation array.
And for a skeletal undead like me—who risked falling apart while walking—there was no way to carry a living, breathing human and evade the dog-like noses of two-headed howling wolves without teleportation magic.
I reattached my loosened arm with a grimace.
"I'll leave the task of scouting new NPCs to Edgar next time..."
With my current state, staying put in the church and nursing my wounds seemed the only sensible choice.
Casting a glance at the nearby church, I reluctantly began dragging the unconscious Alyanne along, swaying unsteadily as I moved.
"She's a dragonborn after all. A little scratch shouldn't be a big deal, right?" With this thought, I felt more justified in my slow, careless movements.
Fortunately, when the players had been running amok in Honeyvale Town, they'd casually cleaned up the streets as part of a task.
From the town entrance to the church, they'd removed most of the trash and rubble, though the path was still overgrown with weeds. At least there weren't any major obstacles.
By the time I dragged her to the church's entrance, the wound on her severed hand had already scabbed over.
"As expected of a dragonborn," I muttered enviously as I examined her injuries.
If I could somehow mass-produce her regenerative ability, I could undoubtedly train an unstoppable force to sweep through Aertia. The thought made my eyes gleam faintly.
"Hmm... It might actually be possible!"
Forcibly fusing foreign bloodlines came with immense side effects. But what if someone was born with dragon blood? It wouldn't work for ordinary people, but players?
I'd already created humans—why not dragons? Of course, a few experiments would be needed to confirm feasibility...
---
"W-water..."
Not far away, I sat immersed in the Earth Network. Hearing a voice, I quickly snapped back to attention.
"You're awake?"
Seeing her pale lips and dry, cracked mouth, I slapped my forehead in annoyance.
"Ah, I almost forgot. Excessive blood loss leads to dehydration, and those guys probably didn't feed you anything before dragging you into the Great Oak Forest."
"Luminaris, fetch some water for our guest."
The glowing orb floated down from above Alyanne's head.
"Fine."
I watched as she drank. Though her stomach still seemed to burn, she looked much better than when she'd first woken up.
She managed to sit up and began observing her surroundings. Judging by her expression as she observed the decorations, she was confirming this really was an abandoned church.
"This is the prayer room of Honeyvale Town's church—the only room still in decent condition," I explained. "I'd planned to repair it for nerds to use as a changing room, but since you're here, you can use it to recover."
I approached, studying her condition while stroking my chin thoughtfully.
"Hmm... As expected of a dragon's regenerative ability. A few basic Holy Light spells, and most of your external injuries are already healed. And all that's left is for you to rest and recuperate."
Of course, that applied only to her external wounds. Her internal injuries were another story—those were far more troublesome than I let on.
She glanced at her bandaged right hand and then looked up, and asked, "Are you really Viktor von Vinesse?"
I hastily changed the subject. "Don't mention that name. My current identity is the Lord of Honeyvale Town. Oh, and by the way, your father is apparently a lord of... somewhere. You can call me Boss. From now on, you're also a member of our Watchers."
"The Watchers!" Her spirits lifted, and her face regained a bit of color. "I've heard of them! The Watchers—the gathering of the Fallen Gods!"
Her eyes fell on the sun-and-moon insignia of The Watchers carved into the stone bed, and her voice grew more resolute.
"You're the infamous Butcher of Flesh and Blood!"
I could only stare in silence. How did I end up with so many bizarre titles? Still, as long as she believed it, that was enough.
She looked at me like a storybook figure brought to life, half-dreaming, as if afraid that waking fully would find her still lying in the depths of the Great Oak Forest, surrounded by monsters. Compared to that fate, falling into the hands of a dark mage didn't seem so bad to her, I supposed.
"Why is your power so weak?" she asked with concern.
She still remembered falling from mid-air after the teleportation array failed. It didn't match the image she'd likely read about—a dark mage so powerful he could singlehandedly oppose the entire Church.
I could see the question in her eyes: where was that strength now?
I coughed awkwardly.
"You'll find out later."
To avoid more probing from the straightforward dragonborn girl, I hurriedly changed the subject.
"Since we've signed the master-servant contract, I have a few questions for you."
She nodded immediately. She wasn't foolish enough to resist—after all, I still held her life in my hands.
Whatever I asked, she answered. That's when I learned her father wasn't her birth father at all, but her foster one.
She revealed everything after that—from her past to the forces she'd served.
Initially, I'd assumed the black-robed men, with their talk of territories and lords, were from a small state under the Berrian Empire.
Like other nations under the Radiant Church, they were likely obsessed with maintaining complex systems of noble inheritance.
But that wasn't the case.
Instead, they hailed from the Seren Kingdom, a small state under the Gale Empire, separated from the Great Oak Forest by several other countries. Their primary deities were the God of War and the God of Winter.
As for their so-called "territory," it was merely a large mercenary organization.
