The Novel's Sidekick

Q: What caused the unnatural Icy Creature surge in Frostland?

A: The disappearance of the Saint Beast.

- - -

I sighed, looking at the dead archer. I pulled back the nail-sword from his skull, which oozed out more blood.

Turning my head from the gore, I rushed towards Shailyn, who managed to stand up after all she had been through. The snowstorm seemed to calm down by a notch as the swirling clouds in the sky cleared out for the moons to radiate the night.

Shailyn was pale, and I have no reason why she won’t be. Even purgatory dealing with the afflictions that I’d been hit with made me shudder, and she had nothing like that inborn capability to resist dark afflictions.

“Are you alright?” I asked, touching her arm. Shailyn didn’t resist as I infused the power of purgation into her channels, giving her a little relief, which I only could at the moment.

“I will be,” Shailyn said. Her eyes were towards the Warlock, bare with charred skin, unconscious in the snow. All his hair was burned, he looked unrecognisable with all that. “Is he?”

“No,” I answered, “he’s very much alive, but I don’t think he will be capable of anything anytime soon.”

The power of purgation purges all evil and corrupt things. So the fire I blasted him with not only burned his skin, but incinerate his channels, leaving him a helpless mess, who will never get back at his strength even if he has the chance.

“Oscar, I’m sorry,” she said next, touching my right palm. “I tried, but I failed to save your friend.”

My heart rang at once. “What?” I asked. “What happened to her?” Is she alive? That is what I would like to ask. My heart shuddered, waiting for her answer.

“They succeeded in the ritual, it seemed,” Shailyn answered, biting her lips. She found the worries in my face and understood what I wanted to hear. “She’s alive, but I don’t . . .”

“I need to go,” I said at once. "I need to find her."

“Yes,” Shailyn agreed, “the underlings took her when we’re fighting them. Find her. Don’t worry, I’ll be fine.”

I nodded and left Shailyn with the unconscious warlock, flying away through the swift, icy wind.

There was another fight going on where the ritual took place, however, Lord Penron joined there, so I didn’t need to be worried about that. I flew from there, remaining close to the ground, squinting all around to find many little details that I could find.

The ritual finished no more than ten minutes or fewer, so they couldn’t have taken her that far. With the moons radiating and the snowstorm slowing down, I didn't have a problem with my sight.

“Yeriel,” I shouted. Even if my shout would alert the bad guys, I didn’t care. If anything happens to Yeriel, that would be disastrous for the tale, not to mention she was the nicest of the people. I very much wouldn’t like to see the same as in the original story.

Abruptly, a spiritual undulation detonated. It was something silent and for only a nick of a moment, but I felt the terror as sweat dripped down from my face. It was a few hundred metres to my left, and I wanted to go there, but my instinct told me not to. Furthermore, it was screaming in my mind, telling me to leave, but Yeriel . . .

Gritting my teeth, I flew at the top of my speed. It didn’t take long for me to get there and the first thing I noticed was a half-naked corpse with torn clothing and scorched eye sockets. I sighed in relief to find it was a man with broad shoulders. Even in death, his face showed the horror he had seen. It was as if his very soul had been burned, though. Well, that’s what happens most of the time with corpses with burned eyes.

I left the body and found another two a dozen metres away. Getting near, I found Yeriel, more than just half-naked. She barely had any clothing on her. All her sweaters and clothing turned to rags, clinging on to her, still. However, what surprised me was the antler crown on her head with a mess of hair strands filled with snow. Then I looked at the other figure, unconscious in the snow.

All of it clicked in my mind as I gritted my teeth. Enforcing spiritual energy all over my body, I stroked the antlers on Yeriel’s head. It was, as I feared, those deer antlers had dug into her skull and become part of her.

“Oh, Yeriel,” I called, biting my lips. I stroked her cheek, rubbing off the snow from her face. “I’m sorry, I couldn’t make it in time.”

My jaw clenched together and the veins in my temple pulsed through as I checked her state. Utter anger rose in my heart as the burning sensation pulsed through my channels. I never felt this anger before. She seemed fine from outside, sickly pale, but alive, and that was the only consolation I had.

Because even if she was alive, the one that would wake up would unlikely be her—the Yeriel I know

No, it can’t end like this. Perhaps she can pull through the corruption. The other-power that scavenged through her body, it changed her, corrupted her. That’s how heinous the other-power was. Yes, Purgatory could undo what’s done, but I’m in no position to undo the corruption entirely, nor do I think I would succeed even if I was a Grand Magus.

Still, I tried. Drawing in the power of purgation, I infused it into her, trying to undo what I knew was impossible.

However, the moment my spirit energy touched her channels, my soul wavered, and my mind jolted in pain. My body was forced as an overwhelming force pressured on my soul, compelling me to remain still at the spot. The armament coating I formed broke and dissolved like it was never been there before.

In each second, the pain rose to new heights. It was as if hot needs were digging through my soul, biting me. I tried my best to get away and managed to withdraw my hand from Yeriel.

But then Yeriel woke up.

My soul screamed at once as she looked into my eyes with those deadly red eyes. All the defence I was forming with the spirt force sundered like it was nothing. My spirit energy jammed inside my channels.

Her red pupils, they were like mine, however, the sheer terror in them can compel one to freeze—like I was now.

The angry wind rose, swirling around us as Yeriel looked at me with all the hate in her eyes.

“Yeriel,” I tried to scream, but all it came out in a low, pained voice, “it's me. Please.”

There was no wavering in her eyes as if she didn’t recognise the name, or me. Oh dear, did she forget all?

Other than the sheer panic, I felt deep sorrow for her. “Yeriel, look at me,” I said, gritting my teeth. “You don’t want to hurt me. Yeriel, you don’t want to hurt anyone.”

She looked at me, confusedly. The pressure on me dropped by a little.

“You heal,” I continued, 'cause I could only do that. “Yeriel, I know they hurt you, but you’re hurting yourself now. Please . . . can you hear me?”

“Os . . . scar,” she opened her lips and whispered.

And then all the force sucked out magically as she fell unconscious again on my lap.

I wiped the sweat from my forehead and sucked a deep cold breath to calm down. I would most likely be dead if it was anyone else other than Yeriel now.

Sighing, I carried her before giving the other figure a look. This one was unconscious with a bloody head, but not dead. Yeriel killed the other fellow, unknowing what she was doing, but this one somehow survived, however, I didn’t recognise her to be one of us.

So that meant she was an enemy.

Sealing her channels didn’t take long, as she was nothing but helpless. Now the question was, can I even fly, carrying two? It seemed unlikely, not to mention, that not much of the juice was left in the suit. Looks like I have to come back again.

‘Yeriel first.’ Deciding that I was about to leave when abruptly, my instinct tingled again as a horrifying cry assaulted my ears, eyes, mind, and everything else.

No, it was not Yeriel, but the abomination approaching through the snowstorm.

_ _ _

You can read all the chapters in my Pa treon, which would help the continuation immensely. Thank you.

Also, lets start a goal. If this book reaches top 100 in golden ticket ranking then 10 chapters per week.

Similarly, Top 50 = 12 chapters per week.

Top 25 = 14 chapters per week.