On the third tedious day of our journey, riding through the desert, I finally spotted signs of life, but to my displeasure, the sight could not have been more revolting.
I conjured Chameleon to transform myself into a cactus and removed my binoculars from my bag, spotting a small caravan of mercenaries riding in wagons pulled by beasts that looked like boars with horns on their heads.
The focus of my anger was their cargo: cages filled with imprisoned Sarkaz, men, women, and children of various ages.
As much as I wanted to act, following them was a good way to reach the fortress, so I swallowed my feelings and kept my distance.
Hours later, I spotted a stone structure in the distance. Light brown in color, its high walls were built in a rectangular shape with a watchtower at each point where the walls met.
I saw the roofs of smaller buildings inside, the largest of which rose slightly above the height of the walls, all made of stone bricks.
The main gate was made of wood, and the windows of the buildings were not blocked by glass or other material, but the main entrance was guarded, as were the walls and towers where troops marched.
I found no obvious water sources, so they must have been hydrating themselves through an internal well. And the disposal of waste had to be done manually, so there was no sewer or aqueduct I could crawl through.
I could break in through the front entrance and destroy everything in my path until I reached the warlord, but there was a risk they would use the slaves against me.
In the end, I decided a distraction would be best while I scaled the walls. I rang my Spirit Calling Bell, calling the twin Dragon Riders and ordering them to attack the main gate.
The archer twin positioned himself atop a rock formation while his brother, with shield and halberd, approached the fortress at a frantic pace.
I couldn't hear what the guards said, but their erratic movements indicated surprise at seeing two ghosts approaching them.
Soon a fight broke out, with the guards facing the knight while his brother offered support with his bow.
I circled the fortress, approaching along the east wall. On the way, I heard the string of the heavy bow tightening and an arrow shrouded in magic tearing through the air.
A mercenary screamed as his arm was ripped off and stuck in the ground in a cloud of sand. In his agony, he failed to dodge a halberd blow, being split in two, as was the man beside him.
I leaned against the wall, listening to the hurried footsteps of the guards heading towards the front section of the fortress. With that done, I removed the Ornate Blades from my bag and stuck them in the rock, using them to climb the wall.
Upon reaching the top, I lit my flame and snapped my fingers, creating a fireball behind the main gate. An explosion reduced it to ashes and flaming fragments.
The nearby mercenaries flew away, wounded or dead, allowing the spirits to enter unimpeded. Then, I donned my Simpleton Ring and the Slumbering Dragon Ring.
With my footsteps silenced, I ran towards the main building, leaping onto the roof of a nearby building, where I gained some distance and jumped towards the open window.
I clung to the doorframe, climbing up and entering the building. I rolled into a room, becoming invisible thanks to my magic ring, avoiding being found by the mercenaries who rushed past.
Then I traversed the corridors, searching for the leader of this place while avoiding enemy troops. Midway, I spotted the spirits fighting in the courtyard below, wounded and with weapons stuck to their bodies, but with several bloodied corpses around them.
The crossbowmen and archers on the walls proved to be the biggest problem, and I believe that the sorcerer equivalents would soon join them as well.
Fortunately, I found what I was looking for: a room blocked by a wall of gray fog.
I crossed it, finding myself in a kind of throne room, and on the other side, I found the supposed warlord, desperately trying to cross the fog that blocked one of the windows.
He was a tall, muscular man, wearing black plate armor and carrying a great sword in his hands while a kind of wand remained at his waist, indicating a talent for spells.
His tanned face and brown eyes turned towards me, his black hair following his movements, flowing down in horns. However, there was one detail that worried me: the numerous black crystals sprouting from his body.
He looked sick, gravely ill, with almost half of his face consumed by the dark stones.
He shouted something in a language I didn't understand, so I just shrugged, making him click his tongue and point his wand in my direction.
I swung my shield, reflecting the fireball back at its owner. He jumped aside, avoiding the attack, but I raised a curious eyebrow when the crystals sprouted from his flesh.
The warlord charged forward like a raging bull, swinging his sword vertically. And in a stunning display of strength, the ground where I had previously stood split in two with the attack.
Hm… Perhaps I underestimated these people.
The second swing came swiftly as lightning, and I raised my shield to block it. My arm trembled, and my feet slid lightly across the ground.
My eyes widened in surprise, and my opponent's good eye did the same. I wasted no time in aiming my flame at his stomach, forcing him to recoil immediately, but a fireball awaited him behind his back.
The explosion made him scream, his flesh and clothes burning as he flew towards me, his screams turning into a wet thud as my ornate blade pierced his neck.
I expected him to die right there and then, but the warlord had one last trick. He yelled something, glaring at me with blazing hatred as the wand in his grip began to glow.
That same glow coursed across his skin, and crystals exploded from his flesh, vibrating audibly and emanating a blinding orange.
He laughed madly, but I was already used to exploding enemies.
I removed my sword from his neck and kicked him away, however, I pondered how resilient a Sarkaz really was, because despite turning into a statue, he ran towards me, screaming at the top of his lungs.
I conjured Iron Flesh and raised my shield in time to hear an explosion and several crystals impacting my shield and body.
When it was all over, there was only a dark stain on the ground indicating that someone had been there at some point.
The fog blocking the exits disappeared, I absorbed the souls and obtained the warlord's sword as loot.
I left its details for later analysis. With the leader dead, it was time to free the slaves. First, I searched the fortress's armory, finding it quickly.
With my bag full of weapons, I descended to the lower levels where the dungeons were usually located. The path was unguarded; the guards had probably joined the ongoing fight.
I descended the dusty, dimly lit stairs without difficulty, finding myself in a dark underground chamber where several eyes stared at me with fear, distrust, and hatred.
I approached one of the cells, causing the prisoners to spit something out in their native tongue. I didn't respond, sliding my hands along the bars and locks.
It was something heavily reinforced. The people of Kazdel seemed naturally strong, so their constructions should be capable of withstanding such strength.
Preferring the quickest route, I lit my flame, melting the lock and opening the cell, then moving on to the next one.
Confused and curious murmurs filled the air as I freed everyone present. Soon I found myself facing at least two hundred prisoners.
I poured the stolen weapons onto the floor and pointed towards the stairs. There was hesitation, with only a few stepping forward and picking up a weapon.
I didn't turn my back, expecting someone to attack me due to some misunderstanding, but a man and a woman nodded in thanks, each with a sword, before leaving with a child in their arms.
That was enough for the rest to do the same.
Suddenly, a roar echoed through the underground, coming from a deeper area of the dungeon. I turned toward its source, despite the prisoners' protests.
Minutes later, I found myself facing a woman bound in chains attached to a wall inside a cell blocked by a heavy iron door. The door I had now broken open was covered in claw marks, punches, and kicks, as were the walls of her cell.
She had a thin body due to lack of food, extremely pale skin, bright red eyes, pointed ears, and white hair, but her long, sharp fangs captured my attention every time she screamed.
I didn't know if she was screaming at me or if she had gone mad from isolation and hunger. Each kick and struggle caused the chains to snap, and not understanding her language made communication difficult.
I retreated out of the cell and cast Dark Orbs in rapid succession, each one striking the point where the chains connected to the walls.
The woman vanished into a blur, and before the chains even touched the ground, I stepped aside, dodging her sharp claws, though receiving a slight cut on my neck.
She licked the blood like a hungry animal, and immediately, her health seemed to improve. Her eyes, now healthier, observed me for a moment before she disappeared towards the exit.
I sighed, pinching the bridge of my nose in exhaustion, then returned to the fortress courtyard, watching as my spirits and prisoners slaughtered the remaining mercenaries.
Their weapons turned against the spirits, preparing for combat. In response, I ordered them to stop and rang my bell again, sending them away to everyone's surprise.
Now I have to deal with another problem: organizing these people and taking them back home.
"Can anyone here understand my words?"
No answer, this will be harder than I thought.
"I can, stranger. And if I may say so, your accent is quite peculiar, as is your smell."
Turning to the source of the noise, I spotted the woman from before approaching, wiping her bloody mouth while a dried corpse rested at her feet.
"Well, it's the first time anyone has said that to me. Would you mind being my translator for a moment? I'd like to clarify my intentions to these people."
"I have no problem with that, Mr…"
"Alden."
"Mr. Alden, but I would like payment in return."
Her wide smile and smug voice showed someone who wasn't going to leave without getting what she wanted, so I removed a handful of gold and jewels from my bag and handed them to her.
Her eyes widened and her mouth dropped open. She looted a bag from the nearest corpse and pocketed the small treasure.
"So, how should I address you?"
She seemed to think for a few seconds before answering.
"Warfarin, you can call me Warfarin. Changing the subject, could you give me some more of your delicious blood?"
Her fangs gleaming in the sunlight gave me a bad feeling, and I prayed to find Godwyn again for the further I traveled, the more madmen I encountered along the way.
END OF CHAPTER