Talesworn
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Chapter 20 - Ashes of Home
🕑 Added 2025-09-26 13:58:15 +0000 UTCPiper ran until her lungs ached and it felt like her legs were made of lead. But still, Alfred didn’t slow down. He ran like a man possessed, tearing through bushes and smashing branches in a mad dash to reach his home.
Ding! Your skill, Running has reached level 11.
Dismissing the notification as it appeared, she pumped her arms in a desperate attempt to keep up with Alfred.
Piper reached a spot with a break in the canopy and looked up to see even more ominous smoke filling the sky. The entire farm must be burning to create such a huge black cloud. Had a redcap raiding party attacked while they were gone?
Neither of them stopped for rest or water as they raced down the hill. While Alfred blundered through the forest like a wounded animal, Piper did her best to avoid the bushes and trees. But her legs and arms still ended up covered in scratches from the prickly bushes dotting the foothills.
Piper slowed her pace slightly as the ground leveled out and they neared the farm. If something was attacking, they couldn’t just run straight into it. That was a good way to get them both killed. However, Alfred’s panicked expression made her worry that he wasn’t going to stop for anything.
I’m just going to have to figure out a way to make him see reason.
She picked up her pace again and cast [Truth Shroud] to hide her class and level. Since she lived on a farm, she made herself a level 5 human and a level 3 farmhand. Ethel had told her that was around the average level for age. Hopefully, whatever they ran into on the farm would underestimate her—assuming anything there had evolved their [Identify] skill to see class.
Ding! Your spell, Truth Shroud has reached level 2.
Ding! Your spell, Truth Shroud has reached level 3.
Ding! Your spell, Truth Shroud has reached level 4.
The notifications were a very bad sign. To get so many levels in a row meant something incredibly dangerous was out there. But before she could warn Alfred, he burst out of the forest and disappeared from sight.
A second later, she heard the most agonizing, gut-wrenching cry she’d ever heard. It was the cry of a man who’d lost everything. She felt her heart twist at the sound, followed by worry blooming in her mind. What would she see when she emerged from the forest?
Without slowing, she broke through the treeline and staggered to a stop as she took in a scene of utter devastation. The longhouse was burning along with one of the storage sheds. Dead animals lay scattered about as if a capricious god had tossed aside his playthings. But Alfred wasn’t looking at any of that; in front of the longhouse lay Ethel and Ophelia in a pool of blood. Neither of them was moving.
Alfred let out another anguished cry, and he ripped his axe free from his belt. His head turned toward the figures on horseback obscured by smoke near the longhouse. The wind shifted momentarily, revealing a man astride a warhorse in full plate armor with a bloodred cloak.
Piper immediately recognized the man from the village. It was the Blood Lord, Ransford—the one who’d wanted to drink her blood.
But this time he didn’t have any Crimson Guard accompanying him. Instead, he was surrounded by a group of rough-looking men. One man, older than the others, held a spear, while his companions were armed with wooden clubs. None of them had any armor and were dressed in dirty tunics and pants.
Ransford wheeled around on his horse, his cloak billowing out behind him. “There you are, my lovely,” he called out. “I was worried you had run away from me.”
Piper stared in horror at the Blood Lord. This was all her fault. She should have known that he would come for her after asking about her in the village. She’d put everyone in danger by staying here.
I’m responsible for everything that has happened.
Alfred raised his weapon and charged forward. “You bastard! You took everything from me. I’m going to cut out your heart and bury it in the dung heap! I’ll tear out your fangs with my bare hands!”
More than anything, Piper wanted to murder these monsters. She wanted to hurl herself at them, ripping and tearing with her claws until they were all dead. But she couldn’t lose herself to her rage. She couldn’t repeat her mistakes in the battle against the lion if she wanted to stay alive here. Alfred was all she had left, and she had to save him.
Ransford flung his arm in the direction of Alfred. “Capture them both. I want him alive, so I can make him watch as I feed on his daughter. She looks so young and delicious…”
Piper needed to know what she was facing, so she used [Identify] on the rough-looking men. They were much younger than Alfred, so their level should be lower.
She identified the older man first.
Human, Level 65
Generally, someone’s class wasn’t much higher than their race level. Which was a good sign. She then turned her gaze to the others.
Human, Level 25
The next one was even lower.
Human, Level 20
The final one holding a club was closer to the first one.
Human, Level 50
Finally, she used [Identify] on Ransford, and her heart sank.
Vampire, Level ???
She knew they had no hope of defeating the Blood Lord. But she couldn’t abandon Alfred. No matter how hopeless, she had to stand and fight.
Piper quickly nocked an arrow and aimed at Ransford. She drew her arm back and released. The arrow surged forward, but then a ribbon of red liquid burst out of Ransford and knocked it aside. Was that blood?
With wide eyes, she launched another arrow. This one was also intercepted by the strange ribbon of what she assumed was blood. Was that a racial skill or a spell from one of his classes? She changed her target to the thugs, only to have her arrow deflected again.
Ransford laughed as she lowered her bow. “My lovely,” he called out. “Now you understand the futility of resisting your superior. Should you surrender now, I promise to make your death quick.” He paused. “Actually, that’s not true. I want to savor every moment as I drain your life. You look so delectable. I can’t wait to taste your flesh.”
She lowered her weapon as she watched Alfred advance on the thugs protecting Ransford. Didn’t he realize the level of the vampire? He didn’t stand a chance against someone with question marks for their level. They were both going to die if he didn’t retreat.
At his approach, the thugs had spread out into a semicircle, awaiting the big man. While he out leveled them, they could attack him from all sides at once.
“Alfred!” she pleaded with him. “You have to stop.”
He didn’t answer and continued his advance.
“Please… don’t leave me alone.”
This slowed him for a moment, but then he shook his head and let out a savage cry. He hurled himself at the closest thug, his axe descending like a blow from the heavens. His weapon slammed against the club brought up to meet it and sent the man reeling back. His follow-up attack drove the head of his axe deep into the man’s chest.
A shriek rent the air, the man groping at his gaping wound as Alfred ripped his weapon free. The big man stood there, his chest heaving, his face spattered with blood. He looked like an avenging god.
“You bastard!” The older man shouted. “That was my brother!”
The fight descended into a vicious melee, with two of the attackers battering Alfred from each side, while the third one with the spear tried to stab him.
Piper watched Alfred fighting for his life against the men, feeling helpless. Her bow was all but useless, and she couldn’t help him with her spells. She felt frozen with indecision.
Another glance at Ransford galvanized her into action. There was no way she was going to let him take her alive. But before she could fight, she had to improve her attributes.
There was no time for finesse, so she dumped 40 points into Strength, 30 into Dexterity, 10 into Stamina, and finally the remaining 18 into Vitality. Someday, she’d have to start putting points into her magic attributes, but that wasn’t today. Right now, she needed to be able to disable or capture the men fighting against Alfred.
A cry made her glance up to see Alfred skewered by a spear. The axe tumbled from his grip, but he wasn’t done yet. He grasped onto the spear haft, dragging himself down the weapon, his face twisted into a snarl. His meaty hands groped for the man holding the spear. As he reached his attacker, his strength seemed to give out, and he sagged to his knees.
I was too slow, she thought, despair nearly overwhelming her. I’ve lost everyone because I was too weak to help them.
“You fool!” Ransford shouted as he wheeled his horse around. “I told you to take him alive!”
“The bastard put my brother in the ground,” the man holding the spear spat. “He deserves to die.”
“Do not disobey me a second time,” Ransford snapped. “I want the girl brought to me unharmed. Do you understand? Or none of you will see a single coin of your payment.”
Piper stood there, her gaze travelling from Alfred skewered on the spear, to Ophelia and Ethel, who still hadn’t moved. Something inside her broke at the sight of them, and rage flooded her veins. For the first time in her life, she wanted to hurt someone. She wanted to make these men suffer. She wanted to hurt them in the way they’d hurt the ones she loved.
Congratulations! You have learned the racial skill, Demonic Fury, Level 1.
Few have ever seen an enraged demon and lived to tell the tale. This skill doubles your Strength, Dexterity, and Stamina attributes for a short period of time at a significant cost to your Vitality.
Without hesitation, she activated [Demonic Fury] and stalked toward the killers. As she did, she felt her demonic side taking control, and her lips curved up into a wicked grin. Her vision narrowed until all she could see was the target of her rage.
Every last one of them was going to die by her hands. And it wasn’t going to be quick.
*******
Alistair chuckled to himself as he watched the farm girl march toward them like she was actually going to do something. She had a ridiculous grin plastered on her face, as if it was supposed to scare them. Did she honestly believe she stood a chance against them at only level 5? She had probably just awakened recently.
A moan from beside him made his grin grow larger. That stupid bastard Edgar had taken an axe to the chest. He’d always hated the man, and he was happy to see him die. And with Edgar gone, there was more reward money to go around. Better to split it three ways instead of four. More money for him and all that.
After they captured this girl for the bloodsucker, he was going to spend a solid week drunk in a brothel. The amount he was making for this little job was more than he normally made in two years. He had no idea why the Blood Lord wanted their help and not his Crimson Guard. But he wasn’t about to look a gift horse in the mouth.
Alistair watched with some concern as Harold, Edgar’s brother, approached the girl with his spear raised. Was the man going to do something stupid? Harold looked seriously pissed off at his brother being mortally wounded.
That asshole better not blow the job for me.
Harold pushed a strand of his thinning hair out of his face and pointed the spear at the girl. “Get on the ground, or I’ll run you through. I’m in no mood for any shit. Did you hear me, girl?”
Ransford cantered forward on his warhorse. “I told you not to harm her, peasant!”
Alistair watched with amusement as Harold reached out for the girl. Before the man could grab her, the girl’s hand shot out, her fingers wrapping around his forearm.
“What the fuck?” Harold pawed at her grip, a look of surprise etched onto his features. “Let go of me, you stupid bitch!”
Alistair shook his head at the man’s incompetence. “Having trouble with a little girl?”
“She’s got some kind of skill or something,” Harold called back, trying to pry her fingers off. “I can’t get loose!”
“She’s only level 5, you idiot.” Alistair took a step forward but froze as the girl twisted her arm and Harold’s arm snapped like dry kindling. “What in the name of Infernus?” He stumbled back as the girl’s hand blurred, followed by blood spraying out from Harold’s neck.
“What-what just happened?” Alistair stammered. He stared in horror as Harold flopped to the ground, blood gushing out of his mangled neck. It looked like a wild animal had savaged him. The man kicked feebly on the ground, his hands trying to hold in his lifeblood before he spasmed and then lay still.
Alistair’s gaze darted around the farm, searching for another attacker. But they were alone with the girl. Had she done that to Harold? No, that was impossible. What in the name of the Abyss was going on here?
“You’re going to pay for that!” Osbert, the other man Ransford had hired, shouted as he raced toward the girl.
Alistair watched the man charge forward with a raised club. Before Osbert could reach the girl, something burst out of his neck, and he dropped as if his bones had been turned to jelly. The girl casually stepped over the man’s body and continued her march toward Ransford.
Alistair turned toward the big man kneeling on the ground. The injured man was holding his gut wound with both hands, and blood trickled out from between his lips. But even seriously wounded, he was chuckling.
“Why are you laughing!” Alistair demanded. “How did she do that?”
The big man grinned up at him, his teeth covered in a film of blood. “You have no idea what you’re dealing with.”
Alistair's face drained of color as he realized the girl was nearing him. His grip felt slick on his club as a cold sweat sprang up on his body. What good was silver if he was too dead to spend it? Something was seriously wrong with this girl. She had to be a monster in disguise.
“They’re not dead!” Alistair shouted. “Ransford fed on them, but he left them alive to feed again later.” He gestured frantically at the woman and her daughter lying near the longhouse. The approaching girl didn’t slow at his words, and her rictus grin was no longer funny. Now she looked terrifying and even a bit inhuman.
I’ve got to get out of here!
He spun around and sprinted away from the farm like a demon from the Infernal Realm was chasing him. And after what he’d just witnessed, that might actually be true.
