Evantra bit her lip as the Ghostslayers slowly made their way back towards the Veilsurge. She cast a quick glance back towards the sand wall in the distance.
“Planning to take a trip to the necropolis, Evantra? I see you staring,” Clark nodded at her with a deep and profound sense of empathy and understanding.
The man was standing with his arms crossed, staring wistfully in the same direction that she had unwittingly been facing.
She didn’t have the heart to correct him.
“When the Ghostslayer guild finally takes it upon themselves to reclaim Egypt, I hope to be right there with them.” Clark Hallewell let out a long breath before grinning at her. “New talents like yourself are popping up all over the place nowadays, won’t be long before we reclaim some of the Lost Territories. I hear they’re even planning to make a push into Los Angeles soon.”
Evantra looked at him in surprise.
“Really?”
“Yep. Nezha Corporation initiative,” Clark winked, “don’t tell anyone I told you. They have this thing about it being all hush hush. It’s not anytime soon, though. They’re still planning for it.”
Evantra’s mind whirled as she considered the implications of his words.
“If it’s a Nezha initiative… one of their old transports that landed in the Lost Territories? Carrying significant enough cargo?”
Clark looked at her with wide eyes, slowly nodding his head.
“Huh… not only a good shot but smart too. You really should really consider joining our program.”
“Let’s head back,” Lancelot waved them back towards the Veiltear they had entered from. Evantra could still detect an undertone of unease in the Ghostslayer’s expression.
What has him so bothered?
Maybe I’ll just have to let that kill go, it’s just too much of a risk trying to make for the corpses.
Steve clapped her lightly on the back, giving her a congratulatory grin.
“Great shooting out there, lass. Most newbies just point and shoot in the general direction just to avoid feeling left out. You actually tried.”
“Thanks, Steve.”
They walked as a group, heading back towards the Veilsurge at the top of the sand dune.
Evantra felt a prickle at the back of her neck.
Whipping her head around, she stared at the shifting sands behind her. The sandwall that had been far in the distance now loomed over them, like a towering colossus. But that wasn’t where Evantra was looking. She scanned the top of the cliffs, at the base of which rested the remains of the earth elementals.
“Evantra? Did you see something?”
Lancelot’s crystal blue eyes were resting on her.
“N-no. Don’t mind me. Must be the sand.”
“No, trust your instincts. Something’s off.”
Lancelot, for all he must have disliked her, affirmed her reaction, joined her in her survey of the clifftop.
“Whatever it is, we aren’t equipped to deal—”
The ground in front of them exploded.
“GOLEM! Disperse! Move, Galahad!”
Lancelot shouted out as the hulking mass of stone emerged from the sand, causing grains to pour from its rising body like a multitude of waterfalls. The air around her began to fill with the familiar raucous of gunfire as the Ghostslayers reacted instantly.
The trio broke apart.
Galahad shot forwards, heading straight for the elemental which towered over the stocky man, at least three times his height. Showers of sand poured like a multitude of waterfalls from the crevices of its emerging body. Clark grabbed Evantra and leapt away from the tear, down the sand dune as one of the golem’s appendages came crashing through the top of the dune.
Evantra watched stunned, as Galahad confronted the stone golem head-on, planting his feet deep into the sand with a wide stance, bracing as the golem collided with him. The impact sent a wave of sand hurtling outwards, but the Ghostslayer seemed to hold.
Even if his arms were cast from metal, you can’t expect me to believe he could have withstood that blow.
Just what are these corpos putting into their cybernetics?
The golem withdrew its fist, its attack nullified. This time, Galahad side-stepped the attack at the very last second, leaving the golem no time to correct its trajectory. The moment the golem’s body halted, as its strike ended at its apex, the sound of Lancelot’s gunshots echoed through the air, taking advantage of the golem’s momentary rigidity.
Evantra could see clouds of dust kicked into existence from the powerful discharge of the shots from his rifle, far out of the golem’s range. He was lying prone to ensure that each of his shots met their mark.
Having been separated from the group, with a cloud of dust and sand kicked up around her, she had a single chance to make her move. Evantra retrieved the glass vial of blood and threw it towards the pile of earth elemental corpses in the distance.
[Ritual of consumption]
She grinned as she felt the ritual trigger, the glass vial flying true. Before she could open her display to check her skills, she was interrupted by a shout from Clark.
“Evantra! You alright?”
The man rushed out of the cloud of sand towards her. She nodded, moving towards him rapidly to ensure that he avoided scrutinising the remains of the earth elementals behind her. She didn’t have to worry, as he didn’t spare a second before shooting her a grin and gesturing towards the golem.
This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
“While it’s distracted, let’s give Galahad a hand, shall we?”
Clark and Evantra raised their weapons, from where they were standing, well out of the golem’s range. Evantra sighted the golem’s head, watching as Lancelot’s bullets sent shards ricocheting from the mass of stone. She began to fire in bursts, trying to keep her aim on the flailing golem and failing – her aim disrupted by the shifting sand beneath her and the abrupt movements of the Veilcreature.
Thankfully, the Ghostslayers had better aim than her.
Evantra’s eyes widened as she watched Galahad raise his free hand, pointing it towards the creature’s face. Then his forearm began to open, metallic plates under his skin progressively withdrawing, until they finally clicked back into position to reveal a launcher embedded into his arm.
Looks like his cybernetic specialty is his arms.
With a dull thump, Galahad’s missile struck the creature’s head, which exploded into a hail of shards. The rock golem’s body sagged, and the disparate boulders which comprised its torso began to fall into the sand below, finally defeated.
Veilsouls: 35
I barely did any damage to it… and I somehow managed to obtain the Veilsouls from it.
This is just begging to be abused.
That being said… I didn’t gain any levels from it. I’d assume that hunting a more powerful creature like the golem would have given me enough experience for at least a single level, as low as I am.
Just as quickly as the creature had appeared, Caliburn’s Ghostslayers had handily dealt with it.
Even so, Evantra’s expression darkened as she reflected on what she had just glimpsed.
Cybernetics and their powerful weaponry had given the Ghostslayers the edge they needed to handily conquer a creature of [elemental] rank, which put it in the level 20-24 range. The magical girl system placed her at level 7, a seemingly short way away from Galahad, but the gulf between them was as clear as day.
Before Evantra could wallow any further, Clark’s garbled voice reached her.
“We need to move.”
“Ouch, wha—”
Evantra flinched as she felt a sensation much like when the teethling had first bitten her, a piercing pain on her forearm. Looking downwards, she realised that her skin was raked with sliver-thin lines of blood. Tearing her attention away from her arm, she realised that the sandstorm in the far distance they had glimpsed, had crept up on them during the fight.
Then she felt pain erupt from every exposed inch of her body, as the wind around her began to scream.
“Evantra!”
In a split second, the world around her disappeared.
Evantra was engulfed in the sandstorm.
Fruitlessly shading her eyes from the cutting sand, Evantra’s breath caught in her throat as she saw something in the heart of the sandstorm, a distance away, through squinting eyes.
The swaying, shadowed figure in the heart of the storm was the size of a megabuilding. A sinuous, spiralling mass that towered into the sky and regaled the sandstorm around it with its flowing movements. The sight of it was entrancing, but evoked a deep sense of dread and helplessness in her very core. Yet she couldn’t look away, heedless of the sand which tore across her—
Clark barreled into her, grabbing her by the waist and hiking her up, then lunging upwards, surging through the air like one of Galahad’s projectiles.
The very next second, they emerged out of the Veilsurge, returning to Caliburn’s mine. Evantra panted, her heart beating out of her chest, and her vision tinged red with the adrenaline coursing through her system. When she eventually came to, she saw thin bloody lines that had carved a path across the skin of her forearms, from the sheer force of the winds heralded by the creature.
The ghost.
Evantra shivered, unable to purge the sight of the creature from her mind.
The earth golem was one thing…
How do you fight a force of nature?
“You alright there? Here.”
Evantra accepted the stim that Steve offered her, jamming it into her forearm and letting out a sigh as the thin lines of blood along her forearms sealed rapidly. She nodded her thanks to the Scottish Ghostslayer, who bore a wide grin, just the same as Clark.
All of them had made it back.
Still, her eyes lingered on the Veilsurge, her heartbeat continuing to rapidly thunder in her chest.
“Don’t worry, lass. If ghosts could travel through the Veiltears, we’d all be long dead by now. That thing isn’t coming through.”
“Here I was worried that us old codgers would bore you. A ghost no less. What are the chances?” Clark clapped her on the back lightly as he beamed down at her. “One of the reasons why Egypt is out of our grasp. The Dancer, I’d hazard, what do you reckon Steve?”
“Aye, that’s her. A little old wisp.”
“That… was a wisp?”
Steve nodded with a grin, utterly unfazed that they had almost collectively been torn to mush by the hurtling sands.
“Aye, she is. One of the weaker ones, from what I gather. Class 4 or 5, class 5 being the weakest. Still far out of our league though, good thing we made it out.”
Evantra struggled to process the hulking Ghostslayer’s words, though they were words she had no trouble accepting. After all, she had seen the havoc that ghosts far more terrifying than wisps could inflict.
Drawing her out of darker thoughts, Clark clapped her cheerily on the back, beaming like the sun. The man looked like he had been given a new lease on life, compared to how he had appeared to them when he first made himself known.
“Well then! That was fun, I think I’ll be able to get through another dreary day of mining now. Cheers.”
“If you’re up for another Veilsurge lass, I’m sure Lancelot’s warmed up to ya.”
Steve inclined his head towards the silent Lancelot, watching her with his arms crossed.
Clark beamed at the man, and Evantra could detect a hint of a smile in Lancelot’s stoic expression.
Finally, Clark’s hand fell on her shoulder.
“Well then. We’d best be getting you back home before my sister tans my hide.”
---
Lancelot's POV
“Lancelot. How was your little excursion?”
“My lady. The Veilsurge has been dealt with. Negligible threat, approximately six to eight earth elementals situated in the Sahara. One rock golem.”
Lancelot stood in Lady Elaine’s office aboard the Spirit of Nimue, one of Caliburn’s many vast flagship mining barges. The office was resplendent, adorned with the finest mahogany furniture, hand-crafted by artisans centuries dead, who were free to indulge in artistry and hone their craft free from the curse of the Veil. A liberty that his employer deeply envied.
“For your interest, the Dancer remains. She detected our presence, and the territory of the Archliches remains impenetrable.”
Lady Elaine’s lips curved upwards slightly, and Lancelot tried not to flinch at the sight.
“The Dancer. What a beautiful, elegant name for a Wisp. Especially one with the power to conjure storms capable of reducing capital cities to dust. Don’t you think it silly, Lancelot?”
The Ghostslayer remained silent as his lady rose, rounding her table to gently stroke his forearm.
“All this power, and we are still constantly reminded of our helplessness, in the wake of the very weakest of them.”
Elaine Hallewell’s immaculate visage twisted, and ruby red eyes burned as she spat the words from her lips.
“Ghosts.”
“There was one other matter, my lady. I wish to recommend Evantra Wraithmarked for a position with our Ghostslayer corps.”
Elaine’s dark red lips curved into a smile of amusement.
“Really, Lancelot? I can’t recall the last time you made a personal recommendation. You weren’t fond of her when she first arrived. I’m surprised you changed your mind so quickly.” Elaine’s eyes narrowed as they met his own. “Is it because—”
“Her instincts, my lady.”
Elaine tilted her head as she sat at the corner of her desk.
“Oh?”
“I believe there was something else out there, in the sands. Something capable of evading our radar and optics. Lord Clark and Galahad were ignorant to it… but the girl. I believe she sensed something before the Wisp fell upon us.”
Lancelot watched Elaine fall silent, her brows furrowed, deep in thought. Then a hint of a smile played on the woman’s red lips, her eyes flashing.
“Oh, now that is fascinating. Its nature?”
“Uncertain, my lady.”
Elaine closed her eyes as she hummed. Eventually, she fixed Lancelot with her gleaming red gaze.
“Offer her a position if you wish. It matters not to me. The girl won’t take it. I know the type – she won’t be shackled, try as you may. Besides, Lancelot… Don’t forget our purpose here.”
Lancelot let out an imperceptible breath as he fell back into parade rest, taking solace in discipline and the familiar stance. His eyes came to rest on the item in the woman’s hands. One that his employer had taken great care to procure. On loan from her uncle, the owner and CEO of Caliburn Mining Industries.
A compass.
A humble trinket that would have been right at home in a pawnshop here in the slums. With a rusted, golden surface and a singular hand pointing towards that which they sought to acquire.
One of the instruments upon which Caliburn’s ascension to greatness would be predicated.
“Yes, my lady. I will desist.”
15 chapters ahead).
