Kitshaar
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Vol. 2 Ch. 18: Scythe of Judgement
🕑 Added 2025-07-07 03:26:41 +0000 UTCAuthor's note: Recurring Characters: Peter: The protagonist of this novel. Deathknell: A spirit of chaos that is contracted to Peter as hi
Author's note:
Recurring Characters:
Peter: The protagonist of this novel.
Deathknell: A spirit of chaos that is contracted to Peter as his summon. It's very good with shadow and darkness manipulation. Peter can wear it like a cloak using his title effect.
Mariah: Peter's mother. You can find her picture in Art collection.
Tarin: A 13 year old boy rescued by Peter and Mariah near a fountain during their travel to the city of Rosefall. Picture in Art collection.
Samuel: A bandit with long hair, that Peter subdued in the last chapter. He is under the effects of Mental Domination. A skill of Deathknell.
Recap:
As time passed, Samuel’s words began to flow more smoothly. A smile tugged at his lips, his eyes rolled back now and then in what looked like bliss, and a flushed, intoxicated hue settled on his cheeks.
…End of Author's Note...
…
“Word is, he had some uncommon class in his first tier, then unusual in the second. The new boss? Had to be peak second tier to bring ‘im down,” Samuel answered, without any prompting from Peter.
‘An unusual grade? That’s pretty high for just a bandit leader…’ Peter frowned.
“Why is he still alive if someone else took over?” he asked. “Is your new boss not worried that the leader will betray him in the future?”
“That’s… That’s because he says he’s lazy… The boss, he’s not human. He’s a vampire,” Samuel revealed, saliva dripping from his mouth, twitching in pleasure. Mental domination had broken him in plenty of small ways.
“A vampire?” Peter muttered, recalling the bat that he had killed a couple of days ago.
“Yeah. Was ‘bout half a year back, he just showed up at our hideout in the dead o’ night. Took down our leader quick, right in front of us… then offered ‘im the same strength.”
“Let me guess—he accepted?” Peter sighed. He’d probably be dead if he hadn’t. Compared to death, the man had likely grabbed at the opportunity for further advancement and supposed vampiric immortality.
Samuel nodded. “Yeah, he did. Back then, we’d hit a village once in a while, maybe grab some fool who wandered too close. That was it. But now?”
“We started raidin’, attackin’, haulin’ folks back to the hideout. The boss’d show up every now an’ then, take those people away… never seen ‘em again.”
“When was the last time he came to visit?” Peter asked. His voice stayed calm, but his eyes searched for a thread of hope, anything that might mean Tarin’s group could still be saved.
“’Bout two weeks?… yeah, two weeks.”
Mariah breathed a sigh of relief.
“You said something about a monthly quota…explain.” Peter said, sharing a look with Mariah.
“We gotta gather a certain number o’ people for ‘im… or he’ll just take some of us with ‘im instead,” Samuel answered, before breaking into a fit of laughter, falling over and rolling on the ground, clutching his stomach.
Peter decided he had heard enough for now. He turned to look at the sun, slowly making its way to the west.
“Vampires get more powerful at night,” Mariah said, her voice laced with quiet warning.
Peter’s lips curled into a faint smile. “So do shadows.”
…
Samuel guided the three carriages down the worn path, the reins loose in his hands, his gaze fixed straight ahead. Mariah and Tarin sat in one of them, both bound and gagged. On either side, bandits moved in a loose escort, weapons slung and eyes scanning the trees, the formation ragged but practised.
The forest lay still, as if holding its breath. Above, thick clouds smothered the sky, blotting out the moons and veiling the moonlight from every godly domain. With no light to restrain it, the darkness crept freely between the trees, deepening in every hollow and fold like ink soaking into parchment.
“Stop!” someone yelled, hidden among the trees just ahead.
“Where are the others, Samuel?” the voice continued after a moment, once he halted.
“…Separated,” Samuel said, his face hidden in the darkness. “We hit a small caravan… a few lasses managed to get away. They went after ‘em.”
“Fools!” A different, gruffer voice said. “Never thinkin’ with their heads.”
“We had no choice but to come back with these two. I figured they’d caught up with ‘em and headed back instead o’ regroupin’,” Samuel said helplessly.
“Gather up and stay put.”
Minutes passed before a dozen figures emerged from the treeline, moving with deliberate caution. Weapons drawn, eyes sharp, they closed in on the carriages. Half fanned out to encircle the group, while the others advanced on the wagons, peering inside.
“A woman an’ a kid, plenty o’ coin, a bunch o’ weapons, and some livestock…” one of them called out, turning to the front once they finished the search.
“Fine. Bring ’em back,” the same gruff voice barked. The men nodded and seized Samuel, hauling him forward without hesitation. In the dead of the night, none of them noticed that Samuel’s shadow was darker than usual.
…
It took them fifteen minutes of steady travel before the hideout came into view.
The cavern yawned open from the hillside, its mouth wide enough to swallow a house, nearly fifty meters across. Rough terrain framed its edges, overgrown with moss and jagged stone.
Bandits were everywhere. Some stood openly at the entrance, weapons ready, while others lingered in the treeline, half-glimpsed shapes among the underbrush, eyes tracking every movement.
Due to the uneven, rocky terrain leading up to the cavern, the carriages had to be stopped. The bandits quickly pulled the captors out and led them, along with Samuel and others, to the cavern.
“C’mon now… we drank together, didn’t we? Ain’t that worth a bit o’ trust?” Samuel grumbled loudly, struggling to get free but failing.
“Quiet. You came back with half yer numbers,” remarked a man stepping out from within the cavern. “Till we know what happened to ‘em, you’ll stay under watch.”
The man had a different, much heavier, and more imposing presence than the rest. With short red hair and ruby-like irises, he stood solidly with a smirk on his face.
“Leader…” Samuel gulped, feeling the predatory gaze sizing him up from head to toe.
“Somethin’s definitely fishy here. I can smell it in yer blood,” the red-haired man said, parting his lips to reveal a snake-like tongue that flicked in the air. “You better hope it don’t got nothin’ to do with you,” he warned, smiling maniacally before turning to address his men.
“Take ’em all to the prison.” the man said with a twisted grin. “If the others don’t get back soon, they’ll go to the boss with the rest o’ the prisoners.”
Samuel stiffened. Around him, the others went pale, eyes widening in dread. Pleas spilt from trembling lips, but the guards only chuckled, dragging them forward without slowing.
The cavern opened into a vast chamber, its interior stretching farther and wider than its gaping mouth had implied. Lanterns hung at intervals along the walls, their flames sputtering in the damp air, casting wavering shadows that danced across the ground.
Etched just above eye level, a line of glowing runes shimmered faintly along the perimeter, carved to keep monsters at bay. The magic pulsed softly. The worn paths and settled dust made it clear—this place had been used for a long time.
They were pushed down a narrow tunnel that twisted deeper into the earth. At the end, a cluster of wooden cages came into view.
Most of them were already fully occupied by women and children, their bodies thin and their skin pale from lack of sunlight. The children sat huddled in filthy clothes, shoulders trembling. The women bore bruises and scars across the parts of their bodies not hidden by torn garments.
Mariah and Tarin were shoved into two separate cages, landing hard on the floor. Several prisoners looked her way with tired, sympathetic eyes. But when the bound bandits were tossed into a nearby cage, the mood shifted. They stared at them, eyes hard with loathing, lips curled in silent disgust.
The men guarding the cages cast the imprisoned bandits looks of pity. There was no saving them. Once the guards were gone, the prisoners would have their revenge. No one expected anything different from them. These men had personally beaten and abused them. They were the reason some of them were here, rotting in cages.
The guards would be surprised if they remained alive in the next few days. They unlocked the door, casting their fellow bandits one last glance before stepping out. The air was thick with rot, and none of them cared to linger.
The moment the guards left, the prisoners near Samuel’s cage inched closer with vengeance in their eyes, their jaws clenched in anger. Just as the prisoners reached toward the wooden cage, a blade silently shot upward from Samuel’s shadow. It carved through him in a perfect line, splitting him from groin to skull. He died before a sound could leave his throat.
The prisoners looked with widened eyes as both parts of his body separated and fell left and right, exposing his innards for all to see. A few turned away, hands clamped over their mouths. One staggered back, retching, while another doubled over, face pale and eyes wide with horror. Only bile came out of their empty stomachs.
A sharp gasp cut through the silence. Someone shrank back, retreating until their spine thudded against the far wall of the wooden cage. Their trembling finger rose, aimed at the ground.
Whispers stirred. Eyes followed the gesture, then froze.
Samuel’s shadow hadn’t moved. It clung to the dirt exactly where it had been when he was still on his feet, alive. Just then, a ripple spread across the surface, as if the shadow were a pond and someone had thrown a stone in the very middle.
“Holy…holy mother,” an older woman said, before her eyes rolled back and she gave herself to dreams.
Slowly but surely, the shadow expanded. People began screaming in terror as a grim reaper rose from the darkness. He carried a scythe as large as his figure. Glancing at Mariah, he turned to the entrance and swung his scythe, slicing the wooden bars apart.
He had barely stepped outside when guards rushed down the corridor, drawn by the noise. Their hands flew to the hilts of their swords, but it was too late. Peter moved like a blur, reappearing at their flank before steel even cleared the scabbards.
A casual swing of the scythe, and the man on the right had his gut sliced open. He gasped, clutching his falling insides with his hands. The grim reaper had already moved on, grabbing the other man by his neck, lifting him in the air.
Turning to the side, Peter slammed the bandit against the cavern wall. The blow carried such brute force that his head split open. Blood spilt, wet splashes painting the wall. The man died right then.
"Attack!" the injured guard shouted from the ground. One hand clutched his abdomen, fingers slick with blood as he struggled to keep his insides from spilling out. With the other, he propped himself up and inched backwards, healing slowly as his health points ticked away, eyes fixed on the doorway, hoping backup would come.
Peter stepped forward, eyes fixed on the wounded man. In the corners of the cavern, shadows stirred under his will and then surged. They swept across the ground like a tide, converging and rising into the shape of a massive claw. It snapped shut around the man’s torso, engulfing him from shoulders to waist.
The man screamed constantly for help, eyes wide, face twisted in absolute terror.
Peter closed his right hand into a fist. In response, the claw constricted. Bones cracked. The bandit screamed once before the sound was cut short. It was a brutal end, one Peter wouldn’t have chosen under normal circumstances. But he had seen the man’s titles… and his karma value.
Peter left the mangled corpse and the trembling prisoners in silence, his footsteps echoing as he made his way toward the cavern’s mouth. With every step, the distance between stone walls widened, giving space to whatever was about to unfold.
A sharp cry cut through the air.
“What in the abyss is this?!”
A lean man burst into view, panic in his eyes as he lunged forward, halberd slicing through the air toward Peter.
He caught the halberd’s tip with the blade of his scythe. As the weapons clashed, Peter felt an increase in mana drain to retain the shadow’s shape.
...End Of Chapter...
Next chapter on Wednesday or Thursday.
