Chapter 39: Curtain Rises

In the morning, Asa got up, washed, and dressed properly in a priest commander's robe.

"I've known you for so long, and this is the first time I've seen you get up in the morning to wash your face and comb your hair. You're actually taking the time to dress properly. What's going on? Is Ronis setting you up with a girlfriend?" Sandru stared at him. The old man still had no respect for Asa, the future hero, he was the same as always.

"I'm just being asked to play the part of a hero." Asa checked to make sure his clothes were properly worn, as Bishop Ronis had instructed him to look heroic.

Asa only knew the general outline of the bishop's plan; the specifics had been arranged by the marquis. This hunting event was just a prelude, a setup for the grander schemes the bishop had in mind. As for Asa, the main character of the plan, this was also an opportunity to gain visibility and establish a foundation for his future. Although Asa had little interest in the bishop's grand designs, he found this particular task rather interesting.

"Becoming a hero?" Sandru frowned and shook his head. "That sounds like a tough job. You should demand extra pay."

"You can go and ask him if you want. If I get any salary, I'll split half with you," Asa joked as he strapped the long sword, which had come with the outfit, onto his back. He wasn't particularly skilled with the weapon, but given his current status, walking around with his rough old knife was no longer appropriate. Besides, today's task was supposed to be easy, so it didn't matter what weapon he used.

By the time Asa left the house, the hunting tournament had probably already begun. As he stepped outside, he noticed several people in the distance glancing his way. As soon as they saw him, they turned and ran off. Asa didn't pay any attention to them. Based on their appearance and behavior, they seemed like low-level thugs, not worth to bother with. He mounted his horse and set off.

Asa moved at a slow pace. The marquis had emphasized that heroes always needed to show up at just the right moment. The planned time was around noon, and since the distance was 30 to 40 miles, a leisurAiri pace would get him there in time.

After traveling more than 10 miles out of the capital, Asa entered a more remote area. Suddenly, a group of armed men emerged from the woods from both sides, surrounded him with an intimidating presence.

There shouldn't be any bandits this close to the capital, so these fifty or sixty men were clearly mercenaries. Asa recognized the leader in the crowd, Modo, son of the Prime Minister. Now it was very clear, those men watching him earlier were part of this setup. He sighed and shook his head. "I'm telling you, I don't have time for this nonsense. You'd better let me pass—I don't want to wrinkle my clothes."

"You're not getting out of here alive," Modo shouted. Every young noble in the capital now knew that this priest had beaten him up, smashed his face, and even thwarted his attempts at revenge. To make it worse, Asa had taken the priest commander position that Modo had coveted. Now, Modo had become a laughingstock among his peers. He had never endured such humiliation in his life, and what little rationality he had left was long gone. He had even ignored his father's warning to stay out of trouble.

"I've been waiting all morning for you. Don't think I can't touch you just because you're a priest commander. Do you think that old bishop can protect you? I'll kill you, and you know what? Nobody is going to know it is me. There's no one here. You're trElaineng to win the king's attention at the hunting event. Forget it. I know what you're planning."

"Do you really know?" Asa tilted his head, puzzled. "I doubt it."

Enraged, Modo waved to one of the mercenary leaders beside him. "Kill him. I promised you fifty gold coins."

"Only fifty?" Asa raised an eyebrow. His bounty had been worth more than a hundred gold coins after he kidnapped the envoy in Airi.

Meanwhile, the royal hunting tournament was in full swing.

The young King Geffenhart XVII and the nobles from various countries were riding their majestic horses, shooting arrows at the game being driven out of the woods. Without the strict military officers and Captain Roland around, the king was surrounded by people who could entertain him. He was having a great time and feeling proud on his foresight. Like any young man at his age, he eagerly sought to impress the nearby duchess, but she was mostly engrossed in conversation with her sister.

"Since you got married, we haven't seen each other much. I should have visited more often. Father misses you, too… Luckily, the marquis invited you to the hunt today," Christine whispered to her sister. "By the way, that guy will be here today…"

The now-dignified Lady Elaine hesitated for a moment, then suddenly turned her horse around. "I'm going back."

Christine quickly grabbed her. "Hey, you can't leave now! It's a rare occasion. Why would you go? The marquis invited you—what's there to be afraid of? By the way, the marquis is such an interesting person! He embarrassed that idiot Modo in front of everyone. It was so satisfying."

"Christine, we're here to have fun today. Why are you bringing up family matters?" The king, unable to hold back any longer, chimed in. "Look at how many things I've hunted."

Christine grabbed the king's hand playfully. "Your Majesty, you should give my sister a position in court so she can come out and work instead of being cooped up in the house all day. She's quite capable."

"Oh, alright," the young king replied absentmindedly, distracted by Christine's soft hand. He made a mental note to really impress her today.

If only some monsters would emerge from the woods for him to slay, the king mused.

As noon approached, deep in the forest, five thugs huddled together, watching the sunlight streaming through the gaps in the leaves. They silently prayed for the light to move over their heads.

Behind them, several magical circles had been drawn on the ground. There were some objects inside the circles which were covered with black cloth. One of them was writhing constantly with low growls, and exuding a beastly stench that kept the birds from flying overhead. The thugs turned their back and tried to avoid looking at the writhing creature. They fear it might break free from its restraints at any moment.

However, it was another thing under the cloth that really unnerved them. It just stood there without any movement, but they felt chills from head down to toe once they got close. After carefully placing it in the magic circle as instructed by their client, one curious thug had dared to lift the cloth slightly to take a peek. Later when he was asked what he saw, the bold adventurer's face turned to pale and his body kept shaking. He couldn't even say a word.

As they waited anxiously, one of the thugs pulled out a gold coin from his pocket, and the others did the same. Staring at the shiny pieces, they found comfort and the courage to stay.

"It took five of us to transport these things. Why do we all have to wait here until noon?" one of them asked. "Rich people sure do have some strange ways of doing things…"

"Stop asking questions. All you need to know is that there's money for us," the leader snapped. "If you don't want your three gold coins, feel free to leave."

The others quieted down, reassured by the prospect of more coins in their pockets.

"It's probably noon by now," one of them said, glancing at the sun. "Can we go?"

"Wait a minute. I've got one last thing to do." The leader pulled a small object from his pocket and placed it on the ground—a pile of fine, grayish-white powder, like ashes from something that had been burned. Just for curiousity, he grabbed a handful and noticed that the powder seemed to cling together. When he lifted a portion, the rest followed, as if bound by an invisible force.

"Come on, finish up already so we can leave," the others urged.

The leader put the powder down, pulled out a dagger, and lightly cut his finger. A few drops of red blood dripped onto the pile, which immediately absorbed the blood, turning from gray to pink.

"Alright, we're done. Let's go," the leader said, standing up and motioning for the others to follow.

But suddenly, the powder leaped off the ground like a flea, attaching itself to the leader's bleeding finger. Everyone heard a disturbing slurping sound, like someone sipping soup.

The leader screamed in terror, feeling his blood being drawn unnaturally fast. He frantically tried to shake off the powder, but it clung tightly to him, growing darker as it absorbed more. He used his other hand to pull at it, but that hand got stuck as well. The other thugs could only watch in horror as the scene unfolded.

The leader thrashed wildly, his bloodcurdling screams filling the air. He stumbled into the magic circle, disrupting the runes and pulling down the black cloths.

The creatures hidden under the black cloth were revealed: a dozen skeletons clad in tattered armor, still gripping swords and shields; a few zombies with bodies gray and shriveled like smoked meat; and two ghosts floating in midair, hazy and ethereal, yet with half-visible skulls. The magic circle that had bound them had lost its effect, and the undead creatures began to move.

One of the skeletons raised its rusted sword and slashed at the leader, who was still writhing on the ground. Although the weapon was almost completely corroded, it still managed to cut into his body. But the leader showed no reaction, as if that body was no longer his. He continued rolling and screaming in agony, but with weakened strength, like a dying worm squirming. His wounds revealed white bones and faintly pink flesh, but not a drop of blood flowed out. Meanwhile, the strange substance on his hands, which had turned dark red, was beginning to boil and ripple.

Witnessing this scene, the other thugs let out shrill screams similar to the leader's and bolted. The two ghosts quickly pursued them, gripping their throats with intangible yet solid hands. The men fell silently to the ground, their limbs twitching like frogs before they stopped moving.

The strange powder that had latched onto the leader's corpse now leaped to the next body, continuing to emit that eerie "sizzling" sound as it drained the remains.

Once all five corpses were shriveled and pale like deflated sacks, the powder began to grow and transform. Suddenly, with a loud pop, it turned into a cloud of smoke. The smoke swirled and gradually condensed into a human shape.

The skeleton warriors, zombies, and ghosts stood motionless while watching the smoky figure. Even the three-headed dog that had been struggling within the magic circle quieted down, whimpering in fear.