Regaleon: The Forgotten Knight

The Ratchyr was hurled sideways, its snout missing Vaelorin’s neck by barely an inch before it struck the temple floor with a heavy thud.

Vaelorin instinctively rubbed his throat, the phantom pressure of those terrible incisors lingering against his skin, then turned towards the Netheryte as it struggled to regain its footing.

A long silver shaft protruded from its neck, ending in an axe-like blade that dripped black blood onto the ancient stones.

Vaelorin recognised the weapon immediately; it was the Soul Essence of the Forgotten Knight.

He turned towards Regaleon, who stood nearby with an unusually solemn expression. The silver-haired Knight’s golden eyes remained fixed on the unfolding disaster, his face reflecting the gravity of the situation Aelric had desperately tried to prevent.

Yet Regaleon was not the only one dismayed. Beside him, Aelric stared at the injured creature with an expression of exasperation that suggested he had just watched someone set fire to their only escape route.

He was not distressed because the Ratchyr frightened him. These creatures were merely Rank One Netherytes, considerably weaker than he was, and a single encounter posed little threat to someone of his cultivation. His reluctance to engage them stemmed from a far less heroic consideration: numbers.

In actuality, Aelric was simply too lazy to fight an entire colony of oversized vermin.

Given the choice between battling dozens of disgusting creatures and finding somewhere comfortable to rest, he would choose the latter without hesitation.

Unfortunately, the situation had deteriorated beyond the point where his preferences mattered, and escaping the impending commotion without lifting a finger seemed increasingly unlikely.

”Wonderful,” he muttered. ”Absolutely wonderful. I specifically told everyone to remain quiet, and somehow, we’ve managed to turn a manageable situation into a catastrophe.”

The manner with which Aelric spoke made it seem as though everything that just transpired was as a result of a deliberate action on the group’s part when it was nothing but a freak accident. After all, if anyone was to be blamed, the it had to be the massive stone door which shut suddenly without their permission.

In the meantime, the wounded Ratchyr regained its footing and swung its elongated head towards Vaelorin. Its nostrils twitched as it sampled the air, revealing its prominent incisors in a menacing display.

Black blood trickled from its neck, staining the grey fur beneath its jaw, while its enormous ears rotated towards the red-haired Pyromancer.

Vaelorin, however, was no stranger to battle. The terror that had paralysed him moments earlier quickly gave way to indignation, and his fiery eyes narrowed at the creature that had nearly torn out his throat.

”Come on, then,” he whispered. ”Let’s see how much you enjoy being roasted.”

The moment he concluded that statement, his Essence Rune ”Solar Lance” responded before prudence could intervene.

”No!” Aelric shouted.

But the warning came too late.

The instant Vaelorin activated his Essence Rune, Solar Lance, the flames dwelling within his Soul Essence surged into existence.

Scarlet fire erupted from his outstretched Fiery Staff, pouring towards the wounded Ratchyr in a torrent of scorching brilliance. The creature tried to retreat, but its injured body could not move quickly enough to escape the inferno.

Shrieks and frantic squeaks pierced the chamber as the flames engulfed it. Its short grey fur caught fire almost instantaneously, the burning strands feeding the blaze until the creature became a writhing mass of scarlet and orange.

The acrid stench of singed fur and charred flesh spread through the temple, mingling with the nauseating odour already lingering in the air.

The Ratchyr thrashed desperately, its claws scraping the stones as it struggled to extinguish the flames. Its shrieks grew weaker before ending in a final, strangled squeal and within moments, the creature had been reduced to ash.

As the flames receded, a slightly enlarged Aether Core remained on the scorched ground, pulsing with reddish-amber radiance beneath the temple’s scarlet illumination. Satisfied that nothing else remained of the creature, Vaelorin lowered his staff.

”There. That wasn’t too difficult.”

However, just before he could savour his triumph, Aelric turned on him and reprimanded. ”Are you out of your mind?”

The sudden ferocity in his voice startled everyone, particularly Vaelorin, whose satisfied expression collapsed into bewilderment.

”What?” the red-haired Pyromancer demanded. ”It was attacking me! Was I supposed to stand there and let it chew through my throat?”

”No, you imbecile! You were supposed to avoid provoking the entire colony!”

Aelric pointed towards the surrounding ruins, his emerald eyes blazing with frustration. ”Do you have any idea what you’ve done? You killed one Ratchyr. Congratulations. Shall we organise a ceremony to commemorate your magnificent achievement?”

Vaelorin’s face darkened. ”If you have something useful to say, perhaps stop insulting me and explain yourself.”

”Gladly.” Aelric spread his hands in exasperation. ”I would rather run out of this temple than fight these creatures. They’re individually manageable, as I already explained, but they hunt in swarms. Killing one doesn’t frighten the others away. It gives them a reason to attack.”

The group exchanged uncertain glances. Regaleon looked towards the blackened patch of stone where the Ratchyr had perished.

The creature had been reduced to ash within seconds, and Vaelorin had accomplished the feat without sustaining any injury. From their perspective, Aelric’s warning seemed somewhat excessive.

”If they’re only Rank One Netherytes,” Valmyr whispered, ”how dangerous can they possibly be? Vaelorin just killed one with a single attack.”

Aelric stared at him as though he had announced his intention to challenge the Nether Lands to single combat. He then replied, undisguised sarcasm lacing his tone.

”Remarkable reasoning as always, Valmyr. Your intellectual faculties continue to astonish me. By that logic, a man who kills one soldier should have no trouble fighting an entire army.”

Valmyr opened his mouth, reconsidered, and settled for an offended scowl.

Before Aelric could elaborate, a sudden change in the temple’s atmosphere caught everyone’s attention.

The clicking had intensified. What had been a scattered cacophony of intermittent sounds became a relentless chorus, reverberating through the chamber with mounting urgency.

Ratchyrs clinging to the pillars abandoned their perches, while those rummaging through rubble abruptly stopped. Their enormous ears rotated towards the smouldering remains, and their elongated snouts lifted to sample the air.

A series of sharp, agitated squeaks followed.

Regaleon’s expression tightened. Obvious, the other Ratchyrs had heard their companion’s dying shriek; worse, they had detected the disturbance caused by its death.

One creature descended from a broken pillar, landing on the stones with its leathery wings spread wide. Another emerged beneath a collapsed archway, claws scratching the ground as it approached the blackened remains.

And within seconds, dozens of grotesque heads had turned towards the same spot, their movements unnervingly synchronised.

At this stage, the colony was no longer indifferent to the intruders; instead, it was agitated.

The Ratchyrs began moving. At first, they approached cautiously, almost inquisitively, converging on their fallen companion. Their clicks grew louder, overlapping until the chamber seemed filled with countless invisible instruments tapping at once.

Then, as though an unspoken command had passed through their ranks, the creatures abruptly fell silent.

Every enormous ear swivelled towards the group.

The argument that had almost broken out amongst the group came to an abrupt end when they saw this sight. Watching them, Aelric’s expression hardened as he warned.

”Brace yourselves.”

The warning had barely left his mouth when the Ratchyrs erupted into motion. Dozens of grotesque bodies launched themselves from pillars, rubble, and broken archways, their leathery wings unfurling as they hurtled towards the intruders.

Claws scraped stone, incisors flashed beneath the scarlet illumination, and a deafening chorus of squeaks and clicks swallowed the temple in unrestrained aggression.

The swarm rushed towards them simultaneously. And upon seeing such army of Netherytes lunging at them, only then did the group finally understand why Aelric had been so desperate to avoid fighting the Ratchyrs...