Chapter 248: Siege of Smoke


    Gmon pressed forward a fair bit ahead of Argrave, his metal boots impacting with the cold stone impressively quietly. Their strategy for the advance was quite simple—these vampires would rely on their senses to search out living things. Gmon, being a vampire, would have a better chance at surprising his foes. Argrave would serve as the eye-catching distraction.


    To that end, Argrave had three electric eels swirling around his body, illuminating his surroundings through the beige smoke that assailed from direction. The smoke stung at his eyes, the sensation reminding him of swimming eyes-open through a pool with chlorine in it. He remained ready.


    This ce was a catb. It appeared to be a warrior’s tomb specifically, with statues depicting armored knights erected just behind stone sarcophagi. The opening section was a long, long hallway of stone coffins. Primitive traps, detectable even by Argrave’s unskilled eye, lined the floor—snares, caltrops, the like. It was the beginning of the vampire’s preparation. They thought the smoke would be able to stop any from entering for a long while, evidently.


    Deep in the tomb, Argrave could hear the faint scrape and stir of scrambling. The long hallway opened up into many arger chamber divided by a pir down the center, and Gmon knelt down, gaze intent. He scanned the ce. Argrave counted six openings, each leading into different rooms—offering rooms, he recalled, where the living could leave gifts to the departed. After a long silence, Gmon pointed to each opening, disying on his fingers how many people were in each room.


    Heaviest on the right side, was Argrave’s conclusion. With that in mind, he gestured right, and Gmon gave a nod of confirmation. He moved slowly and quietly, while Argrave remained in ce. Once Gmon took his position just beside one of the rightward entrances, Argrave advanced.


    Once he passed a certain point, a great roar echoed out, and three pale-skinned people wearing clothes too fine for a tomb stepped out of their recess, tossing daggers adeptly. They did not seem like monstrous beings—they appeared like ordinary men and women, and even resembled particrly well-dressed aristocrats.


    But their daggers flew through the air as quickly as any arrow. Having been given ample warning, Argrave conjured a B-rank ward with his ring. Metal shing against magic and battle cries echoed across the tomb, giving signal the battle had begun. Argrave scanned the three foes for any spellcasters but found none. Not all had the magic affinity for such a vocation, fortunately, elsewise vampires would be a much more potent force.


    Gmon lunged and grabbed the closest, clutching his wrist. He pulled the vampire forth effortlessly, mming him into one of his partners. The third reared back, retrieving more throwing daggers. Gmon’s speed had always been astounding, but with royal-forged armor and the crown both empowering him, he seemed naught but a dark gray blur. He jammed his Giantkiller in the vampire’s neck before he could ready another attack, then turned and cut it out, severing his head.


    Vampires on the rightward side emerged from the other two prayer rooms—Argrave counted seven besides those Gmon engaged with, and once again found no spellcasters. One barked something about getting help, then fled deeper into the tomb. Argrave was pleased his enemies would be gathering closely together, but quickly dismissed the thought when the six rushed towards him and Gmon.


    Though Argrave considered this a fine time to use [Pavise Gale], he knew it was important he conserve his magic. Argrave remained behind his ward and sent the electric eels swirling above his head forth, using their presence to suppress the six rushing at them. It worked—they stopped in their tracks. It gave Gmon ample time to deal with the three he’d surprised.


    With one’s head severed and the other two reeling from his m, they proved no match for Gmon. He was faster, stronger—the two he’d thrown recovered and tried to throw more knives, but Gmon ducked low, grabbing one by the foot and tripping him. The other he mmed against the wall with his forearm, suspending him in ce for a dozen lightning-quick stabs to the stomach. The poison was working—the wounds did not heal, and he left the vampire to bleed. He turned back, kicking the vampire he’d tripped in the teeth. It was a devastating blow that sent the vampire sprawling, and yet Gmon pressed forth and snuffed out his life as one might step on a cockroach.


    Seeing both Gmon’s butchery and Argrave’s magic before them, the six vampires lost their boldness. They were thieves—even as vampires, they had mostly subsisted on captors rather than actively hunting. They did not seem ustomed to struggles where death was a possible, even likely, oue.


    When the seven from the left side’s rooms joined up with them, that battlefield fervor was reignited. One of them was a spellcaster—C-rank, by Argrave’s heat-of-the-moment estimation. Given their regenerative qualities, vampires were a prime candidate to use blood magic. C-rank blood magic could break through his ring-conjured ward. Argrave regarded this new arrival cautiously.


    After putting an end to thest of the three, Gmon turned, bracing for theing horde.


    “Green tunic, spellcaster,” Argrave informed him with a shout. At once, Gmon pulled free the Ebonice axe, holding it at the ready.


    Rather than target Argrave holed up behind his ward, the spellcaster directed his attention towards Gmon. He shouted amand to halt, then advanced before his vampire kin. Two C-rank [Skysunder] spells surged out of his hands, yet the Giantkiller in Gmon’s hand attracted the white lightning, absorbing it harmlessly.


    Gmon advanced, Giantkiller faintly sparking. The spellcaster, panicked, conjured a wave of fire and retreated. The elven vampire batted the mes aside with the Ebonice axe. Argrave urged his [Electric Eels] forth and rushed in, forcing the vampire to conjure a ward. With the ward up, the vampire was sealed in ce. Gmon lunged and swung his axe again. It stalled at the ward, yet broke past. Even still, the vampire managed to fall backwards and dodge. He scrambled to the protection of his kin.n/o/vel/b//in dot c//om


    Not content to let his foe get away unpunished, Argrave stepped up beside Gmon and cast [Pavise Gale]. A knight of wind formed before him, swinging a thick and tall shield. The vampire had reflexes fast enough to conjure a C-rank ward, but it shattered like sugar ss before the giant knight of wind. The pavise struck the spellcaster directly, mming him against the right wall. The group of vampires he’d been seeking protection behind scattered before Argrave, tossed by the powerful gust to the walls, the floors… one even managed to hit the ceiling.


    With the twelve of them tossed aside so effortlessly, they were routed. Those quickest to gain their bearings did not dare rejoin the fight—they fled. Gmon seized the initiative ruthlessly. He severed the dazed spellcaster’s head with his Ebonice axe and pursued those fleeing with his Giantkiller. He dealt haunting wounds that would not heal, but it was difficult to stop all from fleeing. He killed two more and injured several, yet they didrgely escape.


    Once he dared not pursue any longer, Gmon returned to Argrave. “They’ll group up,” he informed Argrave with a voice too-calm in the wake of their ughter. “Whether they retaliate or fortify themselves, I cannot say. Their leader will decide.”


    Argrave nodded, adrenaline still pumping through his body. “Our goal remains the same: deal with the poison smoke. We break their bellows, put out the fires, the smoke stops flowing. If they chase, I’ll deal with them. If they don’t, we’ll do our job, join up with Elenore’s men, and then I’ll deal with them.” Argrave nced around at the gore, mind scrambled. He shook his head to gather himself. “Come on. We head deeper, then turn right at the second hall. You take point.”


    After a quick moment to clean his weapons of blood, Gmon nodded, reapplying the vampiric poison on his Giantkiller. Argrave paced around, driven to constant motion by the adrenaline. Once finished, Gmon advanced, and they proceeded deeper into the tomb with him far ahead just as it had been the first time.


    They were unharried in their quick advance to the furnace rooms. The moment they turned right to proceed into them, Argrave saw movement at the opposite end. Through the smoke, it was difficult to distinguish how many there were. Yet lightning surged across the gap directly at them, gravitating towards Gmon’s Giantkiller.


    “God damn it,” Argrave cursed—a long corridor was the worst ce to be caught in, and he couldn’t afford to endure a protracted magic battle: it would cost too much magic. “Rush. Just rush!” Argravemanded, sending his electric eels darting forth to assault whoever was opposite them.


    Both of them sprinted, Gmon slightly ahead. It became immediately obvious there were multiple spellcasters on the opposite end as the attacks came very quickly. Lightning, des of wind, balls of fire—even despite Gmon’s diligent protection, Argrave took painful blows that cut past the haze of adrenaline. When they finally made it to the other side, their foes rushed at them with des of blood in hand: two spellcasters, both using the C-rank blood magic [Putrid Paramerion].


    Though more skilled than those they’d fought earlier, Gmon still effortlessly outskilled his foes, breaking the blood magic with his Ebonice axe and stabbing one through the eye. Argrave delivered three C-rank spells in quick session on the other—three loud white bolts of [Skysunder]. Though kept alive by his vampiric blood, the spells stunned him long enough for Gmon to crush his head against the wall.


    Argrave leaned against the wall, finally with the liberty to inspect the damage dealt. His gut had been pierced slightly by an ice spike that still persisted. Without his armor, the wound would have been incapacitating, he was sure. He pulled it free and healed it and tended to another cut on his thigh.


    “No more ahead. I hear fire, though,” Gmon informed Argrave.


    “That’ll be the furnace,” Argrave said, rubbing the now-healed spot on his gut. He had other, lesser wounds, but those could be healedter. “Let’s hurry.”


    Pushing past things, Argrave stepped over the fallen vampires and proceeded into a room that felt as hot as a volcano. Twelve iron furnaces persisted here, fires zing hot within them. There was a vast pile of herbal bundles in one corner of the room, while now-unmanned bellows beside the furnace collected the beige smoke and pumped it into ports that undoubtedly distributed it throughout the whole ce.


    “I’ll douse the mes. Destroy the bellows just in case,” Argravemanded.


    With that, Argrave conjured water into the furnaces, flooding them out. They hissed in defiance as they died, and the heat persisted in the air long after they’d left… but the smoke immediately began to thin. To ensure those herbs could not be burnt more, Argrave doused them in water, too, all but flooding the room. Meanwhile, Gmon ripped apart the bellows by hand. Once that was done, Gmon grabbed the furnaces and pushed them over. They were mounted to the wall, yet the elven vampire easily ripped them free.


    “Excellent work,” Argravemanded as thest iron furnace fell to the ground. “They might salvage this… but all we need is a window of opportunity to press in. Back to Elenore’s men—time to begin the real assault. And I can get my hands on some ancient relics that’ll help quite a bit for the task ahead…”


    Gmon nodded, and Argrave adjusted the Humorless Mask over his face. They both ran to where they’de from.