Chapter 39: Way of the Voice: Part 8
The chamber beyond was vast—a grand, tiered burial hall with three stone platforms rising like a pyramid toward the back wall. Each platform bore sarcophagi, all of them sealed.
At the top of the chamber lay a large sarcophagus, wreathed in eerie blue light.
Before it, arms raised, stood a Dunmer—Vals Veran—his skin dark, face angular and gaunt, eyes glowing red. Dark blue robes fluttered slightly in an invisible wind as he chanted in a low, steady rhythm, hands glowing as he cast a spell on the coffin.
But he wasn't alone.
Above him, clinging to the ceiling like some horrific guardian, was a grotesque monstrosity—a zombified spider, the size of a wagon, its legs clicking and twitching on the ceiling. Its body pulsed with deep purple energy, and its eyes, milky and rotting, jittered at nothing.
Green liquid oozed from its fangs, and part of its exoskeleton had melted to the bones underneath.
I closed the door slowly and leaned back against it.
Two threats, one supporting the other, while one of them conjured even more. If I charged in like an idiot, I could imagine myself dying at least three times.
I'll have to take care of the spider first… No—if the Dunmer was mid-ritual, he had to be the priority. If he finished resurrecting whatever he was here to awaken, it would be too great a threat… and something tells me, it's an overlord-type Draugr inside that tomb.
I glanced at Lydia and Uthgerd, their faces questioning mine, concern written on their faces. Uthgerd had more of a face of horror, having gotten a glimpse inside, past them, hidden behind the two stood Agna, her face horrid, eyes wide, and hands trembling. She saw it, too, huh?
I exhaled loudly before whispering, "When I call," my voice low but sharp, and before they could utter an objection, I slipped through the door and pulled it shut behind me with a thud.
The spider jerked toward me, hissing, but it didn't budge from its place.
And though the elf's chanting had faltered slightly as he glanced at me, he didn't seem to care either.
"Well now," he said with a twisted smirk. "Another soul for the pile. Come to feed death, have you? Or to admire its beauty?"
I didn't answer, I kept moving up the stairs, slow, step by step, each stone beneath my feet echoing in the dimly lit chamber. I kept my arms relaxed but ready. One more floor to go
"I wonder…" the elf mused, raising a finger, the other hand still casting the spell, "Should I let the Broodmother deal with you? Or shall I peel your soul apart myself, so you can serve me for eternity?"
The glow around the sarcophagus pulsed once, my slow steps fastened for a moment, and the spider moved in response, crawling down from its place, coming down behind the Dunmer.
I clicked my tongue as the sarcophagus pulsed again. The Shout won't reach him from here.
The Dunmer shrugged, "Hm, doesn't matter, really, you'll be dead either way."
The spider moved, clambering to the stairs, now blocking the necromancer behind its massive form. Are they linked telepathically?
I quickly cleared my head and smirked, before putting my hands forward, the spider sensed the sudden change in the air, bracing for the impact, its legs drawing inwards, curling its putrid torso like a grotesque shield.
And then—
[Plasma Lance]
Zzzeeep!
A crack of orange and blue split the dim air. The blast lanced forward in a straight beam—like lightning forged in fire—cutting through the spider in a flash. The spell's whine echoed briefly off the chamber wall as a mist of pale, rotten blood exploded from the wound.
The Broodmother's corpse split apart in a diagonal slice, both halves tumbling wetly to the floor with a dull, heavy thud. One half slipped down the steps, trailing slime and grey gore, and stopped at my feet.
I exhaled with a short, amused chuckle, before my eyes turned to look up, the Dunmer still stood—untouched. His robes fluttered slightly in the gust of wind formed by the [Plasma Lance]
His eyes had widened for a moment before narrowing with a smug grin. He stepped back from the sarcophagus.
Tch! God Dammit! I keep falling short, I cursed internally.
"Hahaha!" He barked, laughing just long enough to annoy me even more. "You'll make quite the servant."
I scratched the back of my neck as I stepped past the corpse at my feet, "And you'll make quite the XP farm."
His brows furrowed for a moment, questioning something in his head, as I continued to climb the stained steps.
By the time he turned toward me, I was already at the top, standing across from him, the only thing between us was the giant sarcophagus.
Suddenly, the Dunmer asked, genuinely confused. "What is… an 'XP farm'?"
Are you serious? My expression twisted into a dry frown. My lips twitching, before they parted, nothing had annoyed me more since I came to this world than the arrogance of this pointy-eared rat
ROH DAH!
FUS!
The air exploded between us, from the shout…shouts
The voices boomed across the chamber.
Just before my Shout had left my lips, the lid of the sarcophagus burst upward, launched into the air by the unseen force of a second.
Time seemed to slow, reminding me of the moment at the Valtheim Towers.
The Draugr Overlord—the one the necromancer had been trying to awaken—was already awake. Its blue glowing eyes burned from the shadows inside the coffin, as acrid air burst out.
The lid became a missile—my Shout slammed into it midair, shattering it into flying chunks of jagged stone. The force sent them spiraling toward the necromancer.
He flinched, his back hunching.
A dome a shimmering purple, flared around him at the last second.
And in a blink, he vanished in a ripple of distortion.
The shards of stone crashed into the far wall where he had stood, leaving deep scars on the stone door.
I gritted my teeth as goosebumps crawled over my back. Are you kidding me? Teleportation?
A/N[And with this chapter, I return to my short king era, there will be some tall king moments tho, hopefully more frequently.
And there's a surprise coming soon...
]
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Read +3 or +5 chapters ahead on my Pat*eon
First_Endless