Chapter 100: The Shaman’s Dominion
The warriors in black, recovering from the initial impact of Grok’s strike, charged forward brandishing their iron swords with rage. However, Kellar remained unfazed in the center of the fray, feeling the flow of spiritual energy in his meridians reach its absolute peak.
"Now you’ll see," said Kellar, clenching his fists as a savage smirk played on his lips. "I didn’t waste time while we were on watch."
Kellar threw his head back and released a deafening roar that made the stone walls of the defile shake.
[Shaman Leadership Cry]
A crimson flash erupted from Kellar’s chest. In a fraction of a second, his own eyes turned brilliant red, and the pupils of his four hunters echoed the same bloody glare while the veins in their arms bulged with overflowing power.
[Skill Activated: Shaman Leadership Cry]
[+50% STR]
[+50% DEX]
[+50% Health Regeneration]
[Pain Immunity for 30 seconds]
[Side Effect:] Once cast, the summoner will see their vitality reduced for 6 hours.
The backlash of the mystical force was instant. Kellar fell to his knees on the hard dirt, gasping for air as he felt his strength drain at a terrifying rate. Grok and the other hunters paused in alarm, trying to step back to support their leader.
"Kill them!" shouted Kellar, glaring up fiercely as he pointed at the enemies. "Don’t stop, we only have 30 seconds!"
Without wasting a single second, Kellar raised his trembling hand toward the group of invaders and channeled the remaining dark energy in his reserve, casting a second spell.
[Curse of the Black Plague]
A viscous, blackish mist welled up from the ground beneath the feet of the Black Skull barbarians enveloping their bodies. Their faces turned pale, their muscles withered, and the bearded leader’s confident growls turned into gasps of pure agony.
[Skill Activated: Curse of the Black Plague]
[-25% Movement Speed]
[-30% Total Health]
[-80% STR]
[Side Effect:] Once cast, the summoner will enter a state of weakness for 6 hours.
Combining the mystical toll of both consecutive skills proved too much for Kellar’s body. The world began to spin in a whirlpool of shadows and distorted light, his vision blurred, and he collapsed onto the stone ground, unable to move a single muscle as the slaughter erupted.
With their eyes bloodshot and their veins burning under the colossal surge of their attributes, the four hunters turned into absolute beasts of war. The combination of the buff and pain immunity turned the skirmish into a one-sided slaughter. The Black Skull warriors, stumbling and weakened by the plague that stripped away almost all their strength, couldn’t even raise their iron swords.
Grok slammed into the first enemy with such brutality that he shattered the man’s spine against the rocks. Brak and the other two hunters moved like bloody shadows, thrusting their spears again and again, piercing chests and throats in a matter of seconds. The floor of the defile turned a crimson red as the barbarians’ screams of panic were stifled beneath the frenzy of the massacre.
In less than twenty seconds, seven of the eight invaders lay dead on the dirt. The only one left standing was the bearded leader, who rolled along the ground attempting to crawl away, his muscles crippled and spitting black blood. Before he could beg for mercy, Grok stomped violently onto his back, crushing his shoulders, and bound his arms behind him with thick leather straps.
"Time is running out!" shouted Brak, feeling the red glow in his eyes begin to fade.
Grok turned around immediately, hoisted the bearded leader off the ground like a sack of grain, and threw him over the shoulder of one of the hunters. Then, he walked over to Kellar, lifted him gently yet with firm strength, and slung him over his own shoulder.
"Hold on tight, Shaman!" said Grok.
"We are getting out of here before the main camp hears the noise," said Brak.
Without wasting a single extra second, the four hunters broke into a full sprint through the rocky pass, fleeing from danger while carrying their weakened leader and their captured prisoner.
Kellar opened his eyes heavily. At first, his vision was blurred, and the landscape was nothing more than a blur of rocks and shadows passing by at high speed. The freezing wind beat hard against his face, and it was then that he felt the pressure on his abdomen and the constant jarring motion: he was being carried over someone’s shoulder as the hunters ran at full sprint.
"What... what happened?" said Kellar, his voice slightly raspy as he caught his breath.
Upon hearing his voice, Grok and the rest of the group came to a dead stop in the middle of the rocky path. Grok set Kellar down with care, gently supporting him against a stone outcrop to check on him.
"Are you alright, Shaman?" said Grok, looking at him with deep concern alongside the other hunters.
"Everything is fine, everything is fine," said Kellar, rubbing his temples and offering a slight smirk to reassure them. "I simply overused the Bear God’s blessing by combining both arts."
"Shaman, you must not risk yourself like that again," said Brak, shaking his head. "We could have handled them in direct combat; it wasn’t necessary for your body to take such a toll."
"Perhaps," said Kellar, calmly straightening his back. "But one of you could have died in the chaos, and that was unacceptable. So everything turned out perfectly. I’ve rested a bit now, I’m good as new."
Kellar turned his gaze toward the barbarian being carried bound over one of the hunters’ shoulders, noting how the bearded leader was still struggling to breathe after the beating.
"You have done an excellent job," said Kellar, looking toward the horizon as he noticed the sun beginning to sink behind the mountains. "I see we are already close to our territory. Let’s return immediately before night falls completely."
"Yes, Shaman!" said the hunters in unison.
With their prisoner in tow and the valuable resin secured, the group quickened their pace beneath the golden twilight, eager to cross the valley’s borders and reunite with the rest of the tribe.