Chapter 323: Chapter 337 The Bizarre Demons
Lancelot ignored the dull thud of a bludgeon against flesh and the scraping of claws on armor behind him. He wrapped his palm with True Yuan and focused on searching the bloody, mangled corpse of the Demon.
Soon, he found what he was looking for. From the Demon’s digestive tract, filled with corrosive mucus, Lancelot extracted several fragnts of parchnt, their contents barely legible.
With a rhythmic clanging, reminiscent of forging iron, accompanied by the Dwarf’s exertion grunts: clang, clang, clang, splash. Then the noise stopped. Lancelot turned to see another Berserk Demon lying quietly on the ground, its head shattered like a waterlon dropped from a height, while Bruto contentedly put away his hamr.
The two exchanged glances and then burst into hysterical laughter, for their appearances were simply too comical. Whether Dwarf or Human Knight, their extravagant armors were soaked through with Demon blood. Bruto’s armor was additionally adorned with so skin and flesh, making him look more Demon than the actual Demons. Had a Holy Warrior passed by, he likely would have attacked Bruto without hesitation.
“Oh, my God,” Bruto shrugged, “what in the Abyss has happened to us…”
“You two, stand together, don’t move.”
Alamir looked at them resignedly. It was well-known that Shuni’s Priest had very little tolerance for filth. He poured a small drop of Holy Water onto his palm from the Holy Water Bottle he carried, and then, while making mysterious gestures, began to chant a prayer. Soon, it was as if an invisible bucket had opened above the heads of Lancelot and Bruto, and a large amount of water materialized out of thin air, washing over their bodies.
This water seed to contain special components that dissolved bloodstains, even cleaning out the crevices in their armor. Before long, the two were sparkling clean, as if soone had scrubbed them down with a brush.
“How many tis is this now? I’ve used up all my First Circle Spell slots just for this,” complained the Elf, arms crossed. “You’re both seasoned Adventurers; can’t you be more careful in battle?”
“Not my fault the Demons have an unhealthy diet and particularly high blood pressure,” the Dwarf dismissively flicked water droplets from his hair. “A sorsault with an overhead chop? Lancelot, were you serious?”
“I saw it take sothing from Kas’s Demon and stuff it into its own mouth,” Lancelot lifted his arm to show his companions the fragnts of parchnt he’d grasped. “Don’t you think these two Berserk Demons acted unusually? They not only failed to join the fight promptly but, realizing our strength, their response wasn’t to try and escape but for one to cover the other as it destroyed information. Does that sound like sothing a Demon would do?”
“Unlikely, but there are no absolutes,” mused Kalalin, taking the parchnt fragnts from Lancelot’s hands. With a simple spell, she made the pieces float in the air, attempting to decipher the symbols on them.
The group gathered curiously, only to find that the letters were written in Abyssal, but in such a nonsensical combination that it left them utterly clueless.
“Elothysia, do you understand what this says?” The Scholar scowled as he skimd the text, admitting his own incomprehension, and turned to seek help from the Succubus, for whom Abyssal was her mother tongue.
“I can’t decipher it either, this must be so kind of cipher,” the Holy Warrior shook his head, “And there’s too little content, it’s impossible to crack.”
Lancelot couldn’t help feeling disappointed, but he knew the Succubus spoke the truth. The sharp teeth of the Berserk Demon and their highly corrosive Digestive Juice were the best shredders, with recognizable parts making up less than one-tenth of the whole. In such a case, decryption was indeed not feasible.
“But we’re not entirely without gains,” Kalalin chid in, “At least we now know that the Demon Legion uses ciphers to transmit intelligence. I’ve never heard of such a thing before. Prince, is this phenonon unique to the demons of Androlina?”
“Just call Acheron,” the Elven Ranger was sowhat out of his elent with the Scholar’s formal address, “This is the first ti I’ve encountered this as well. Maybe they’ve been doing it for a long ti, and we just didn’t know.”
“Whether it’s the two Berserk Demons or what they were protecting, everything reeks of strangeness,” Lancelot secured Frostslash on his back again, “It seems the enemy is indeed brewing sothing significant. Let’s hope we find the answer at the end of our adventure.”
The others nodded in agreent and quickly began to clear the battlefield. They found so gold and green copper coins on the bodies of their enemies; the forr was collected by Lancelot, while the latter was abandoned because of its low value. The secretions and sweat of the demons had a slight corrosive quality, which would cause the copper coins to develop green rust spots rather swiftly.
Incidentally, although silver coins were in circulation in the lower realms, their material caused Fiends pain, so offering silver coins to one of them, for any reason, was considered a grave insult. Most Demons would let the person who gave them the coins know this imdiately, and a Demon might temporarily tolerate it due to the strength disparity, but the ensuing retribution would be no less than that ted out to their worst enemy.
Considering this was a team with a special mission, and the fact that the master of this team would most likely send soone to investigate their fate, it was necessary to destroy all traces of their corpses. This might have been difficult in other wilderness areas, but the way the toad had destroyed the evidence gave Lancelot an idea.
The Human Knight summoned many vines, which swiftly gathered up the myriad corpses on the ground and carried them to a snake tree grove nearby. The carnivorous plants initially hesitated over this ‘feeding,’ but the lure of the flesh was too strong. They quickly sward and devoured the dozen or so Demon bodies, leaving not even a fragnt of bone behind.
After their al, the snake trees turned and hissed at Lancelot, though whether they were expressing gratitude or contemplating whether to eat the Human Knight next remained unclear.
Lancelot had no interest in understanding what these malevolent trees wanted to convey. He might be skilled at summoning and controlling vines, but he was no Druid, nor did he understand the language of snakes.
About ten minutes had passed since the battle began, but none wanted to delay even a mont longer. After clearing the site, they set off at once.
They continued to advance at a cautious pace, diligently searching for any clues that might reveal the presence of the enemy. Fortunately, they did not encounter another unnecessary battle and, after two more hours of travel, the horizon ahead began to brighten, as if the pitch-black night sky was being wrapped in a layer of fluorescent-light-diffusing gauze.
Lancelot knew that it was the reflection from Lamborado Lake, signaling the end of their night’s journey.
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