Глава 14

Once at the cusp of that end, powerful Nachzehrers will nourish weaker ones with their flesh, gaining unfathomable speed and strength in return, alongside witchcraft energy that no ordinary body could bear.

In so doing, they become even more powerful creatures, while their nourishment allows the Nachzehrer society to sustain and grow. Just as fallen leaves nourish the land, and the land supports new lives. An eternal cycle.

'FLOOD'.

The muddy waters of the swamp rise swiftly, like a curtain, immersing the Nachzehrer up to his torso.

At the same time, incantations wend and weave their way around the group, holding back the rot's incessant bite.

Over there! Quick! We'll head into the forest!

Don't step on the mud.

With the swamp rising, or perhaps the mist sinking, the dark ground becomes a gaping mouth, trying to engulf all. The group struggles through the mire, each breath growing more labored.

A singular thought seizes the collective mind: living is a tedious and futile effort compared to the peaceful, eternal slumber that awaits if they simply turned around and embraced death.

Mon3tr, protect the Doctor.

(Urgent growl)

He's here!

The only sound they can hear is the whistling of the corroded blade as it swings down.

The Nachzehrer, the one who walks alongside death, has arrived before them.

(Piercing cry)

Did Mon3tr... also feel the pain?

All life withers before his Arts.

If we are caught in the Nachzehrer's witchcraft, our life force will be sapped to become its nourishment.

He's fast!

Did he come from the mud or drop from a tree?

Either is possible.

From life to death, from blossom to wither, they draw upon the entire life cycle, turning it into seeds that produce new Nachzehrers.

I can feel it, the unending flow of witchcraft energy flooding towards us.

And not just from the enemy before us... From the marsh, amidst the trees. It's everywhere.

We have been wrapped in the Nachzehrer's shroud.

By his hands, death hangs above our very heads.

Only by tearing apart this barrier of witchcraft can we defeat him.

*whimpers* ...Miner, am I about to die?

He's tired, Shopkeep. Here, hold on to me so we don't get separated. I...

Driver! Hold my hand! Whatever you do, don't fall!

I...

She's fading out of consciousness! I can't hold her up much longer!

Ordinary healing techniques won't help. Nachzehrer witchcraft is devouring us all.

Lea... Leave me.

I'll only... hold you back...

*gasp* You can let go of us.

I know that if it wasn't for us... you and Sir Banshee could fight... more easily...

No.

I promised that I would get you out of the battlefield. We're in this together.

Is that... so?

Good.

The scent of blood. It pervades the air.

It's Driver and the others' wounds...

No. This blood is... witchcraft.

Huh?

As in... a Vampire? This forest has Nachzehrers <i>and</i> Vampires?

A thin fog of blood floats all around them.

This is entirely different from the Prince of Blood's Arts they witnessed before. It is subtle, like delicate strands of silk nearly smothered by the all-encompassing mist of decay around them.

But it is these silken strands that slightly stir the stagnant air.

Amiya, feel the flow of wind.

I will expose the weave of this shroud and locate its weakest point.

Got it.

Black Arts gather before Amiya's body, condensing into a spear.

Logos raises his hand, pointing at the depths of the thick fog.

'PIERCE'.

(Dull growl)

Herald of death.

You... resist the spread of the rot.

But... to no avail.

In the end, death...

Will claim your corpse.

I have never once doubted that.

'DISPERSE'.

His giant blade falls, sticking into the soil like a gravestone.

The Nachzehrer's shroud flutters and billows.

In an instant, his imposing figure disintegrates, leaving behind only several tattered strips of cloth gently falling to the ground.

Is-Is he dead?

I can finally breathe—

Clack clack.

It's the sound of bone scraping against bone.

A withered hand stretches out of the mud.

Eh? Ahh—!

Watch out.

It fell apart...?

Looks like it to me.

*phew* When'd you become such a badass, Driver?

Shouldn't we keep going, Your Highness?

Yes. It's best we leave at once, before the Nachzehrer reawakens and catches up to us again.

I wasn't expecting a vampiric Arts Circle here.

It is still working.

Those vampiric Arts that suddenly appeared as we were fighting the Sudaram... Was it because of this Circle?

I'm afraid it's not that simple.

I'm sure you're well aware, Amiya, that those Arts were cast by a Vampire.

Perhaps... a descendent of a Vampire?

I assume that while the Sanguinarch has been taken off the battlefield, the gifts he bestowed will not so easily fade away.

It doesn't matter. I'll do my best to put these corrupted lives to rest, as I've done before.

Logos, could you please assist me—

...Amiya.

The sound becomes ever clearer, coming from behind the bloodstained boulders. It is the sound of limbs dragging across the ground, a sound that they've heard countless times in previous battles.

Amiya notices the expression on Logos's face.

He looks not at the stone columns, but at Amiya, a trace of emotion flitting across his eyes.

It is sorrow. Amiya recognizes it instantly.

She has felt sorrow countless times since the war began, sometimes from an enemy, but mostly... from her companions.

Driver.

Your Highness.

When did it happen? Was it while we were fighting the Nachzehrer?

Yes.

When we left the skeleton, I brought along a rock that the Military Commission had ordered us to transport.

I thought since it made us stronger before, it might come in handy in a battle.

It really did help, right?