Chapter 190 – 184 Intelligence
The Margon demon clutched its neck, slumping to the ground. As its life force dissipated, its body gradually took the shape of a humanoid creature with grey-blue skin that was smooth and hairless, and with vaguely defined facial features, much like lting tal.
“It’s a shape-shifter! A big shape-shifter!”
Cries of alarm from the Scholar rang out behind, and the battle erupted in an instant.
With a roar, Bruto hurled his hamr, flipping another demon to the ground.
“For Moradin’s beard!”
Not waiting for his weapon to return, the dwarf charged forward with his shield, toppling another demon. His hamr reappeared in his hand, and Bruto swung it furiously, hamring it like it was a mass of iron. With each of his strikes, the demon pinned beneath him gradually reverted back to the shape-shifter form, like a mound of clay.
“These guys are so ugly! Never mind the beards!” Bruto complained loudly, “They don’t even have a single hair on their bodies!”
Another demon swiped him off a clansman’s corpse with its claw, but the attack failed to breach the dwarf’s armor, only serving to give his anger a new target.
“Die, you big morpher!”
Fighting up close with the enemy along with them was Elothysia. The Succubus Paladin wore a form-fitting full body armor and wielded a treasured sword and shield made of cold iron, gifts from Tijana to her succubus kin.
Her fighting style was the polar opposite of Bruto’s. Lacking Tijana’s superior physical capabilities, most succubi, Elothysia adopted a very conservative tactic: she held up her shield to bear the brunt of the attacks, then thrust her longsword at the mont her opponent’s weapon was deflected, precise and orderly like a Knight’s attendant.
The practicality of such a tactic was undeniable. Although she seed to be on the defensive, with the enemy attacking far more often than she counterattacked, the foe in front of her soon fell, with seven or eight clear holes puncturing its body.
In the rear, Alamir and Kalalin busied themselves casting various defensive magics and divine arts, ensuring their own safety as the team’s spellcasters when the battle comnced. Skeletal heads remained by their side, assuming the role of protectors.
Koula slipped into the shadows behind the larger figures, with a short bow in hand. As a halfling, she knew charging into the fray and facing ten at a ti wasn’t what she should be doing (unless absolutely necessary). She waited patiently for her chance, occasionally loosing arrows that caught the enemy off guard.
Lancelot was undoubtedly the most efficient of them all. No demon, or rather shape-shifter, could last more than three moves before him. The dancing Frostslash was like a streak of light, bringing down one enemy after another, and before the group of shape-shifters realized just how formidable Lancelot was, their nurical advantage had vanished.
Once the magic missiles Kalalin launched and the Holy Fire Alamir summoned also began to inflict damage, the morale of the shape-shifters completely crumbled. They tried to turn and flee, but against Lancelot’s uncanny speed, this rely hastened their demise.
Soon, Frostslash’s blade buried itself in the last shape-shifter’s back. As the enemy fell, the intense battle ca to a sudden halt, as abruptly as it had begun.
But the group did not relax, for another Margon demon patrol squad had already arrived at the scene, standing not far off, watching their fight.
Lancelot withdrew his longsword from the slowly transforming body, flicked the blade to shake off the blood, and stared silently at the newly arrived host of demons.
“Well fought,” the lead Margon demon spoke, using authentic Abyssal, “They were a bunch of escapees being pursued. You’ve saved us a lot of trouble, but unfortunately, there’s no bounty, haha!”
“What did they do?”
Bruto stepped forward to ask. His courage always swelled when Lancelot was present. Find your next read at Novgo
“They took sothing they shouldn’t have,” the leading demon replied, approaching, “Now we’re here to interrogate the prisoners.”
Lancelot silently stepped back, yielding the corpses before him. It seed this ti it was truly the Mogrondale patrol squad, and since they showed no intention to engage, he naturally did not want to provoke a confrontation, but he remained vigilant, gripping his weapon tightly.
The demon captain glanced at Lancelot and seed to be interested in this human knight, but imdiately turned his attention to the corpse in front of him. He pulled out a magic wand from his waist, emitting a faint purple glow, waved it aimlessly in the air a couple of tis, then violently stabbed it into the corpse of the shape-shifter lying on the ground.
The light from the wand surged into the corpse, and a bizarre scene unfolded: the shape-shifter’s body flipped over and sat up from the ground, its eyes dull as it stared at the demon in front of it.
“Was it you who stole the Eye of Sarezdon, the divine artifact?”
The information contained in the demon’s first question took everyone by surprise, and just as Lancelot was astonished at the demon’s direct interrogation thod, the reanimated shape-shifter actually began to speak.
“Yes.”
The answer prompted the demon captain to beco very eager, and he quickly followed up with another question:
“Where is it now?”
“We lost it.”
“Lost it?” The demon’s face fell in disappointnt, “How did you lose it?”
“It got heavier and heavier, slipping out of the bag on its own.”
“Where did you lose it?”
“Near the Griffon Rift, close to where we were about to climb out of the ground.”
“Who instructed you to do all this?”
The shape-shifter’s face showed a look of confusion, and after a while, it said:
“I don’t know.”
As soon as the last words left its mouth, the corpse collapsed once more, its flesh rapidly desiccating, looking as though it had been dead for a long ti.
“Tch.” The demon captain disdainfully kicked the corpse aside. Then it looked up at Lancelot and asked:
“Are you rcenaries, planning to go to Mogrondale?”
Lancelot nodded, it was the second ti he had been asked that question today.
“Then take this.” The demon captain threw sothing to him. Lancelot caught it and found it to be a strange emblem, seemingly made out of a vertebra.
“This token of passage will save you a lot of trouble.” The demon spat vehently, the corrosive saliva burning a small pit in the ground, “You did a favor, and now I owe you nothing.”
With that, the demon captain turned around and left with its subordinates and the newly acquired information.
“They sure are a bunch of weird ones, huh?” Bruto remarked, then turned to look at Kalalin, “Scholar, what’s up with that stick that made the corpse speak?”
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