Chapter 11 An Unexpected Figure <TOC> Chapter 13 Extraordinary Equipment
Translator: SumTLMan
Through the lens of his glasses, the butler only now discerned the silhouette standing at the doorway: Lance, his figure faintly illuminated by the candlelight held in Susan’s grasp.
Yet, beneath his subtly veiled anger, the flickering flames rendered Lance’s expression chillingly menacing. Startled by this, the butler couldn’t help but gasp.
“It can’t be… Impossible…”
“Act now.” Lance’s command was frigid, his lethal intentions laid bare. He seemed not to care for the butler’s delicate status, yet a hint of caution gleamed in his eyes as he added, “No mercy. Give it your all.”
Dismas didn’t doubt him for a moment. Assuming Lance’s deep loathing for traitors, he swiftly thrust his blade towards the butler’s heart, piercing the wiry figure.
When Dismas withdrew his blade, blood oozed out. The butler collapsed on the bed, devoid of any supernatural strength.
The butler had been with the old master for ages. Though Lance wasn’t sure if he was still human, he was unquestionably more dangerous than most in Lance’s mind.
Not to mention, he was the only one who could possibly see through Lance’s lies. He had to be eliminated.
A scream pierced the air. A woman, having just awoken, was horrified by the scene and shrieked, tumbling off the bed in fear.
As Dismas was about to deliver a finishing blow, Lance stopped him. “There are things I need to ask him. Take her away.” With a wave of his hand, signaling the duo to remove the woman, soon only the dying butler and Lance remained.
“Where are my belongings?” Lance stood by the bed, leveling his flintlock at the butler’s head, prepared to shoot at any sudden movement.
Though seemingly on the brink of death, a peculiar smile crept onto the butler’s face as he rasped, “Cold, mad, ruthless — you’re the spitting image of the old lord. The curse flowing in the Hamlet bloodline will surely continue through you.”
“What do you mean?” A frown marred Lance’s brow. There was indeed something amiss with his lineage.
“Cross the Weald, tread through the Ruins, and enter the ancestral mansion through the Courtyard. Wealth, fame, power — I’ve left everything there. Seek and inherit what’s rightfully yours.”
With those last words, the butler’s head tilted, a sinister chuckle escaping him before life left him, leaving no room for further inquiry.
Damn! Lance thought. He had no patience for riddles.
But he wasn’t one to be easily flustered. Glancing at the now lifeless butler, he quickly cast [Sacrifice].
However, unlike prior effortless attempts, something eerie occurred this time. The void approached to consume, yet the departed butler didn’t vanish. Instead, his body spasmodically reanimated.
His thin frame began to inflate alarmingly, tearing through the thin fabric of his clothing, revealing the bulging muscles beneath, all seemingly struggling against the bizarre power from the void.
Lance retreated, avoiding the butler’s frantic grasps. The swollen arms swung, shattering the wooden bed as if it were tofu. A mere touch would likely have a similar effect on flesh.
Dismas, hearing the commotion, disregarded Lance’s earlier words and rushed in, but halted, terror gripping him as he faced this abomination.
Lance stood aloof, observing the twisted transformation. Despite the might of the grotesque figure, the force from the void was evidently superior. The grim acceptance the butler had shown earlier vanished, replaced by palpable dread.
“No! Impossible! What is this?”
The butler’s disintegration progressed. Limbs and organs multiplied chaotically, rendering him unrecognizable. From every crevice emerged teeth, eyes, and fleshy tendrils. But no matter how much he mutated, bits of him kept disappearing into the void.
The struggle intensified until the butler became an indescribable mass of flesh, eventually consumed entirely by the void, leaving only remnants of carnage behind.
Lance, coolly surveying the aftermath, felt a shiver run down his spine.
He’d previously attempted to sacrifice various objects, only to find that only unconscious organic entities could be offered.
In essence, it seems impossible for the steward to feign death without passing the test of the [Sacrifice].
Having served the ancient master for many years, the butler must have come into contact with such entities, fundamentally being a vassal of the God of Flesh and Blood. Were a true conflict to erupt, not just his small group, but perhaps the entire town wouldn’t stand a chance against him.
However, ironically, the butler dug his own grave. Now, his adversary isn’t Lance but an entity superior to Lance.
Lance felt the immense power of an external aid, a rare comfort enveloping him.
An unprecedented [Gifting] from the void converged upon him, but this time the luminous points manifested in an unusual hue. Moreover, before he could invoke the [Blessing], these luminescent points took effect upon contact with Lance.
He felt an intense itching sensation throughout his body, as if every muscle was being torn apart.
This wasn’t mere pain, but it was accompanied by a numbing itch, reminiscent of countless ants crawling over one’s skin.
Such an intense sensation, far more unbearable than mere pain, almost made him cry out.
However, Dismas was nearby. He knew that voicing his agony would mark the end of his lordship. He had no choice but to grit his teeth, bearing the intense sensation, his hands clenched so tightly that his nails almost dug into his palms.
The overwhelming Gifting was nearing the limits of his body’s storage capacity. Without a moment’s hesitation, Lance used the [Blessing] to amplify himself, consuming the Gifting, while relying on a reset state to counter the sensation.
Fortunately, this intense feeling soon subsided, and Lance felt a surge of vitality he had never experienced in two lifetimes.
Upon refreshing his status panel, Lance found an added entry in his Skills.
[Blood and Flesh Reconstruction]: Use Gifting to control flesh healing, even regenerating severed limbs.
Undoubtedly, this was a healing skill, perfectly filling the team’s gap in that domain.
On his deathbed, the butler still thought to offer a significant boon. It’s like sending coal in snowy weather — a timely aid.
However, one wonders why, even in feigning death, he hesitated to lay a hand on me?
Chapter 11 An Unexpected Figure <TOC> Chapter 13 Extraordinary Equipment