Chapter 96: Witches
The purest nourishment came from the body of the monster. Its density and energy were corrupt, but his skill managed to synthesize it.
Only a monster could feed another monster.
He straightened calmly. A slight satisfaction shone in the depths of his eyes.
That kind of gratifying experience was very rare. His vampiric senses had not even gone mad, consenting to his hunger.
He perceived his surroundings with renewed energies, maintaining control over his presence. He had disappeared from the scene quickly.
His small fight would attract hungry eyes, that would seek fresh meat. He had already understood the effect of the thirst for blood, which dominated the senses to bring about bloody fights over all common sense.
But he stopped, holding his breath, and mimicked himself into the shadows. His senses urgently alerted him of an extremely serious danger.
The cost of Shadow Illusions drained him constantly.
From the horizon, hissing the sinuous trees, a ball of fire flew freely. It was bright and malevolent, leaving a trail of destruction in its path.
It flew over his previous position, where he had carried out his fight. The ball of fire monitored in a circle the surroundings, until it went out and suddenly turned into a woman.
She was a woman of lush hair, delicate skin, and a beautiful face.
But her smile was twisted; it reflected human vices, with a constant sensation of depravity.
She walked barefoot over the underbrush, intoning a small melody, observing the lifeless monstrous body.
Her hands ran over the corpse and finally she stopped, an amused smile appearing on her face.
"I know you are here, charming one."
Her voice was a soft, attractive, and seductive melody, bringing forth the softest and most beautiful feelings in whoever heard it.
Behind some rocks, Gabriel trembled.
He felt a magnetic attraction from his bones. His physical body urged him to reveal himself and surrender to the most degenerate passions that a man and a woman could grant.
His neck blushed, but he restrained himself. A primordial force awoke from his soul that swept away the supernatural seduction.
"Sinful man, you are a beast, such a beautiful beast. Come to me, sinner. Surrender yourself in my soft embrace," the seductive woman repeated again.
Temptation was a dish served for the unwary.
From one moment to the next, her throat began to suffer horrible spasms, releasing a strident scream that resonated through the forest.
It immediately stunned him, with his mental defenses descending even further. Reality began to blur, with different illusions of immeasurable pleasures reproducing before him.
But it was not he who fell into her intricate trap, with another individual being attracted through the pleasant singing. He was muscular and had greasy hair.
"Beauty, have you gotten lost? I have countless hermetic secrets that you will love," said the newcomer with a disgusting smile.
He was a member of the Fallen of Prometheus.
A bestial man delivered to his lower instincts. He had been originally attracted by the fight and finally fell before the attractive voice.
"Oh, what do we have here? You are not the little one," she pronounced in an extremely feminine tone.
"With me you do not need anyone else."
The woman’s smile widened in an unnatural range, revealing pointed teeth.
"You will still serve."
She launched herself in a ghostly movement, moving extremely fast. Her nails grew until they were scythes of obsidian color.
The man opened his eyes with alertness, trying to react, but his arms were immediately severed.
Only one movement was enough for his arms to fall onto the mud, releasing warm and stinking blood.
The woman delicately cleaned the blood that had adhered to her nails.
"Bitch!" he vociferated falling to his knees.
His face had become livid, losing blood at a worrying speed. He had been cut from the bone.
He screamed and cried from the agonizing physical pain.
The woman’s red lips tasted the traces on her nails, smiling with pleasure, and expressed: "Children should hear the stories of witches. They need to fear them. There are so many evils out there."
Without mercy she decapitated her victim, laughing.
There was no moment of doubt, only a consequence of the arrogance of the man belonging to the Fallen of Prometheus.
With dedication she collected the scattered limbs into a strange linen bag. Magically she was able to contain them.
Witches? Why do she collect the limbs?
Gabriel remained hidden with a thoughtful and complex expression.
He had seen it from the beginning to its end, every word pronounced and every cruel action. Ending with the death of her opponent.
The hunt did not seem to be as simple as the unrestricted confrontation of the various participants of the Ruin.
The witches were one of the most difficult restrictions to overcome.
With their magnetic song, capacity to confuse human minds, and their supernatural combat abilities.
They were an extremely difficult opponent to defeat.
The witch began to observe her surroundings again, abandoning the corpse she had left behind. Her smile had never disappeared.
"Where are you hidden, little one?"
Cold sweat began to fall across Gabriel’s forehead.
To have a chance he would have to be astute and deceive her in an ambush.
But to his surprise, the witch finally desisted.
"I will find you in the great circle," she said while taking flight.
Over the sky in an artistic explosion, the ball of fire appeared again and navigated until disappearing on the horizon.
But Gabriel’s behavior never changed, preferring to be cautious. He mimicked himself even more with his surroundings and remained hidden.
His mental load increased constantly, keeping his abilities active.
His amulet had played a great role, allowing him to avoid the attention of the witch’s sensoriality.
He was able to recover his former calm when he finally perceived that she was not returning. His surroundings were free of any kind of threat.
He began to change zones rapidly.
Temporary safety would never mean that he was totally safe.
A grayish mist slowly ascended from the ground. It extended slowly covering a more extensive terrain each time.
At first it had been a small phenomenon, a mist that only covered the ankles. But its density increased progressively, becoming thick and larger and larger.
Is it part of the challenge? It does not seem like common mist... It is too cold, he thought silently.
He had numerous reasons to do so. An effect of those proportions did not happen casually in that kind of scenario.
He needed to recognize it to act accordingly.
It could be poisonous miasma or another of the mental tricks. The possibilities were not infinite, but very moldable.
The effects soon became visible. Chaos extended like a seed that finally germinated.
Metal shone with a fateful destiny.
Life-or-death battles began to spread like gunpowder through the forest.
The crows flew before the clamor, with strident laughter heard in different parts of the battlefield.
There was more than one witch and each one sowed even more death and chaos. They flew fiercely in fire, becoming agents of destruction.
Gabriel, on the other hand, did not get involved in any kind of battle.
The first casualties always responded to a preliminary extermination. Only a brutal, destructive but useless act.
In the end only the most astute would survive.
Near him a ball of fire descended and passed buzzing breaking the wind, until finally crashing into the center of a battle.
A monk of the Church of Rhodes faced one of the Despots.
The two became headless victims.
They were the punishment and the condemnation that those beautiful women attracted.
He preferred not to observe the outcome, because he could become the next. He cut through the enormous roots, avoiding hitting the leaves, disappearing without making noise.
"Die with my sacrifice, damned harpy!" he heard in the distance.
The mist had become practically tangible, hindering vision. It had been a luminous signal from the beginning.
Suddenly his senses alerted him, having to make an acrobatic maneuver at the last second.
He rotated the axis of his body and rolled over the ground, avoiding at the last second an extremely powerful punch.
The attacker was an old acquaintance.
A young man in shining armor, with golden threads falling over his forehead.
He was proud, extremely proud.
He approached slowly, observing each one of his reactions. Despite his pride, he was also extremely observant.
He fixed his eyes on his daggers, smiling.
"Are you an assassin? Don’t worry, not even an ambush would work on me."
Gabriel did not respond to his words.
His eyes constantly analyzed all his apparent weaknesses. A feat difficult to determine because of the armor.
Although he was cautious, he was not careful. Pride installed itself in his bones irremediably.
His hand always remained close to unsheathing his sword. He was probably a brilliant swordsman.
With athleticism he immediately got up with a jump and merged with the shadows.
"A damned assassin!" he said with a sarcastic smile.
The cold edge of his daggers already rested in his hands.
It would be another bloody fight.
He had already imagined different scenarios where he deeply slit his throat.