The Paladin in the Abyss-Chapter 754 - 684: Recast the Spell

"Alright." Kalalin interrupted the two’s philosophical discussion, "Bruto, give me another drop of your blood..."

"Didn’t you say it wasn’t necessary before?" The dwarf looked at the Scholar skeptically, "Why are you asking for it now?"

"Because my abilities are limited." Kalalin confidently answered, "Anything that’s connected can make the results of Prophecy Magic more accurate. As the son of a father, your blood is one of the strongest indicators. Moreover, blood itself holds special magic power. Even without any external force, some individuals with keen senses can directly sense the presence of their blood kin..."

"Alright, alright, I’ll give it to you," Bruto waved his hand impatiently, "How much do you need? Should I slit my wrist?"

"No need, just a little will do, about as much as if you’d smacked a mosquito that just bit you..."

"Oh, that’s easy." Bruto brushed back the hair from his forehead, "These past few days have been so stressful, I’ve broken out in several pimples... Ah, there, where should I smear it on?"

"...Here, inside the two concentric circles."

"Won’t that be too little? I have a few more..."

"No, no, that’s enough!" Kalalin, holding back disgust, snatched the scroll back, "It seems I truly don’t possess the talent for studying Necromancy... Let’s start, everyone come closer, I have made some additional modifications, and you should be able to see the general results too..."

After the Scholar’s series of complex hand gestures and mysterious spells, a white mist rose from the surface of the scroll. The mist hovered about five feet above the ground and then began to condense into a specific figure—although many details were missing, the figure could roughly be recognized as a dwarf working in front of a forge.

"Dad!" Bruto shouted excitedly, "Look at that Blacksmith Hammer-swinging pose, it’s definitely him!"

As soon as Bruto’s voice fell, the misty dwarf suddenly stopped, turned its head, and seemed to look towards a disturbance off-screen. The next moment, the old dwarf charged toward a corner of the room, where armor, shields, and battle axes were stored, but he only had time to pick up a weapon before the enemy rushed into his space.

The attackers were three Devilspawn holding short spears. The old dwarf bravely charged at the enemy, his axe embedded in the chest of the first one, nearly cleaving him in two. However, the weapons of the other two penetrated the unprotected part of his body, undoubtedly ending the life of the old dwarf. Another, slightly fainter shadow flew out from the smokey dwarf’s body, signifying his soul had parted from the flesh.

A ’thud’ echoed in everyone’s ears, Lancelot turned his head and saw that the noise came from Bruto using his warhammer. The young dwarf, with reddened eyes, stared intensely at the mist, the process of witnessing his father’s death causing him extreme distress. His whole body trembled violently, clearly struggling to contain the surge of emotions.

"Uncle Barrend took down an enemy even when facing three," the Human Knight said softly, comforting, "He fought like a true warrior in his last moments. We all take pride in his glorious death..."

"I don’t care if his death was filled with glory, I just want him back." The dwarf finally broke down, crying out loud, "Oh, Dad! Where are you... where are you! I need you to come back..."

Lancelot sighed and decided not to say anything more, just patting the dwarf’s constantly twitching shoulder.

"Wait, something doesn’t seem right..." Alamir’s voice drew everyone’s attention back to the smoke image representing Barrend’s soul, which was drifting endlessly in the void, "Look, the weapon that killed him is still in his soul, but that’s impossible. When the soul leaves the body, it shouldn’t take anything with it..."

Lancelot moved his feet and observed the two spears from another angle, indeed discovering some new evidence.

"Come over here, take a look at this." He waved Alamir over, "Focus on the bottom of the spear handle, yes, do you see the skull? Whose emblem is that?"

"The glowing skull, why does it look so familiar..." Alamir pondered with a frown, soon revealing an expression of sudden realization, "I know now, these smokes can’t show color, otherwise that glow would definitely be purple. That’s exactly the emblem of Xirei... the Prince of Lies. It seems the King of the Dead’s intuition wasn’t wrong at all."

Just then, the dwarf made of smoke seemed to suddenly fall into water, changing from a drifting state to violent struggling. Subsequently, some kind of invisible force fiercely pulled it in a direction along with several other different dwarf figures, all eventually sucked into a large sack that appeared to be sewn from human skin.

Kalalin’s spell didn’t end there, as the perspective continued to pull back, the audience saw who was controlling everything—three old witches, skinny, ugly, and severely hunchbacked, their elongated fingers tipped with sharp claws, under their rotting robes teemed disgusting tumors.

The illusion made of smoke disappeared completely, and Kalalin, who had been casting with closed eyes since earlier, slumped, falling into the quick hands of Lancelot, gasping for air like a fish out of water.

"Are you alright?" Lancelot quietly passed a bit of True Yuan over, the effect being immediate, "Did the spell end prematurely?"

"No, that’s all there is, we can only get so much information for now..." The scholar stood up straight on his own, "I saw more details than you did, all three of those old hags are witches, a kind of evil creature with a profound scholarship in magic. Uncle Barrend’s soul was intercepted by them, and it happens less than fifty miles from here."

"That’s quite close," Alamir seemed to exhale a sigh of relief, "I was worried before that we’d have to travel halfway across the world to find the place..."

"After all, we’ve been personally sent to this plane by the Mysterious Lady." Kalalin said with pride, "Just by knowing our intentions, She can open the portal in a region more advantageous for us to accomplish our mission..."

The scholar’s words suddenly stopped, for Lancelot abruptly raised his left arm, the gesture unambiguous: enemy presence, prepare for battle. The companions, through long-term shared adventures, had developed a high level of tacit understanding, everyone immediately readied themselves for combat while protecting Kalalin, the relatively least capable of self-defense, in their midst.

"Where?" Bruto asked in a suppressed voice, but Lancelot could hear that the dwarf was filled with rage eager to be unleashed.

"Every direction." Lancelot rhythmically tapped his fingertips on the sword blade, producing a chime-like ringing, "Maybe I shouldn’t have stopped you earlier..."freewёbnoνel.com