Hunter of the Dead #22

Adrian rode past the strange creature, its bizarre dance and thrusting movements continuing unabated. The creature seemed completely engrossed in its peculiar routine, paying no heed to Adrian's presence. It was a welcome surprise, as Adrian didn't relish the idea of engaging in combat with such a perverted foe. He kept a steady pace on Torrent, determined to press on without interruption.

As Adrian crossed the end of the bridge, the landscape before him transformed into a vast expanse of rolling green hills. The beauty of the scenery contrasted with the eerie atmosphere that hung in the air. Adrian followed the worn dirt path that snaked its way through the grassy fields, the sound of Torrent's hooves resonating in the quietude.

In the distance, Adrian's sharp eyes caught sight of a small cemetery nestled among the hills. Tombstones jutted out from the ground like jagged teeth, a somber reminder of the resting place of the departed. The blackened earth beneath the graves stirred with unsettling energy as rotten bony hands reached upward, clawing for freedom. Adrian's gaze lingered on the disturbing sight for a moment, but he wasted no time dwelling on the undead creatures lurking below the surface.

He urged Torrent onward, his determination unwavering. The undead were of no concern to him now; his focus lay solely on his journey. The beat of Torrent's hooves resounded in his ears, drowning out any whispering voices that might have escaped the cemetery's confines. The path stretched out before him, and he pressed deeper.

After several minutes of riding, Adrian left the cemetery and its undead inhabitants behind him. As he continued on the path, a figure caught his attention—a man in metallic armor, veiled by a flowing red cape. The man stood with his sword buried in the ground, leaning upon it, his gaze fixed upon something at his feet. Intrigued, Adrian dismissed Torrent and approached the enigmatic figure.

As he drew nearer, Adrian noticed the man's peculiar armor. It was a sight to behold, heavily ornamented with golden and silver accents. The upper half gleamed with a resplendent golden hue, while the lower half, which enveloped the upper portion at the chest area, shimmered in radiant silver.

The helmet, a visage adorned with an intricate mask and curls of elaborate hair, added an air of mystery to the figure. And on the chest of the armor, a unique feature caught Adrian's eye—a head, much like the helmet's face, protruded from the plates, blindfolded and rendered in silver. The man's hand, covered in golden armor, gently embraced the metallic head emerging from his chest.

The man seemed lost in his own realm, absorbed in his contemplation. Adrian recognized the solemnity in his demeanor and decided to respect his introspective moment. He remained silent, giving the man the space to process his thoughts.

In hushed tones, the man muttered to himself, his gaze fixated on the lifeless body lying before him. His voice carried a tinge of sorrow and resignation.

"There's no mistake, is there? Death has left its mark once again..." He spoke softly, his words weighted with regret. A somber sigh escaped him as he shook his head, acknowledging the inevitability of mortality. Kneeling beside the fallen figure, he tenderly closed the vacant eyes, a gesture filled with reverence and respect.

"But at least you did not join Those Who Live in Death. Your soul will return to the Erdtree in time," the man reassured, his voice offering solace amidst the sadness. His tone carried soothing warmth as if he had an intimate understanding of the cycle of life and death.

With a graceful gesture of his hand, he performed a mysterious rite as if weaving an invisible tapestry of energy. His words became a gentle invocation.

"Honeyed rays of gold, deliver this spirit..." his voice trailed off, carrying his plea to some ethereal plane. The air around them seemed to shimmer with a faint golden glow as if touched by the unseen forces he invoked.

Turning his attention to Adrian, the man spoke, his voice filled with curiosity and recognition. "Ah, a tarnished, are we?" His words hung in the air, laced with intrigue and a hint of underlying meaning.

Adrian took a moment to observe the man's features more closely. His eyes were keen and piercing, a stark contrast to the stillness of his expression. There was an air of solemnity about him as if he carried the weight of untold tales and forgotten memories.

As the silence lingered, Adrian finally found his voice. "Who are you?" he asked.

The man replied in a measured tone, his voice carrying an air of purpose and determination. "I am known as D. I am a hunter of Those Who Live in Death, tasked with rooting out their presence and extinguishing their malevolent influence." His words resonated with a sense of duty and a commitment to a higher cause.

Adrian nodded, acknowledging D's introduction. "I'm Adrian," he offered in return, his gaze unwavering.

Curiosity sparked within Adrian as he leaned forward slightly, his voice filled with intrigue. "Did you come here for the cemetery I encountered west of here?" he asked, his eyes searching for any hints in D's reaction.

D shook his head, his expression solemn. "The undead in the cemetery are but a symptom of the greater sickness that plagues this land," he explained, his voice carrying a weight of knowledge and experience. He motioned towards the remains of a village in the distance, its silhouette etched against the horizon. "That village, now abandoned, is where the heart of the Deathroot lies."

Adrian's frown deepened as he tried to recall details about the village from the game. Images flickered in his mind of a minor boss fight and some items of varying importance. But before he could voice his thoughts, D interrupted.

"Heed my warning, Adrian," D spoke with a seriousness that sent a chill down Adrian's spine. "The village has been touched by death. And worse yet, it is home to a mariner of the undead. If you value your life, I implore you to go no further."

Adrian's mind raced, weighing the risks against his resolve. He wasn't ready to face the mariner yet, as he lacked a specific item of great importance, capable of destroying the undead.

He didn't come here to fight the mariner. But by defeating the minor boss, Adrian will get his hand on his first Deathroot, an item he could trade to a character in Cealid that will reward him with powerful holy incantations.

Still, now that Adrian thought about it, the item he needed to face the mariner wasn't far away, and his training with Knight Bernahl had boosted his confidence. Ultimately, the rewards outweighed the risk.

Adrian met D's gaze with unwavering determination. "I understand the risks," he declared, his voice filled with conviction. "Rest assured, I don't intend to charge in there like an idiot... not before making some preparations..."

D regarded Adrian with concern and respect, his gaze piercing through the layers of determination. "Very well, it is not my place to stop you..." he said, his voice tinged with a hint of admiration. "May the Greater Will guide and protect you on your path, tarnished one."

With a nod of mutual understanding, Adrian bid farewell to D, his thoughts already set on the village ahead. He summoned Torrent once again, mounting the steed with a sense of purpose.

Adrian rode eastward, his eyes fixed on the ruins of the village that lay before him. The once-thriving settlement now stood as a desolate reminder of a forgotten past.

As he approached the village, he noticed a small swamp to the immediate north, its murky waters swirling with an otherworldly energy. The mariner, a ghostly figure clad in a spectral purple hue, rowed his ethereal boat through the swamp with an air of eerie grace. Adrian made a conscious effort to ignore the mariner's presence, knowing that engaging with him at this moment would lead to a difficult confrontation.

Instead, he directed his attention to the outskirts of the village, where a site of grace awaited him. The site, a place of respite and reflection, was a sanctuary in these forsaken lands. With a sense of caution, Adrian activated the site, its comforting aura enveloping him, providing a momentary respite from the imminent danger that awaited.

Taking a deep breath, Adrian prepared himself for what lay ahead. He dismounted from Torrent and approached the ruins of the village, its crumbling structures and dilapidated houses whispering tales of sorrow and loss.

...

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