Lucas looked at the trembling child in front of him and asked in a calm voice, "You were about to tell me something, weren't you?"
The boy swallowed hard, his voice shaky. "Y-Yes... Can you help us? There's a corrupted church nearby. Inside... there's a corrupted priest. He—he's tortured our villagers. No, not just some—he's tortured every single person from the village here..."
His words trembled with fear, his small hands clenched tightly at his sides.
The group exchanged glances, tension growing heavy in the air.
Wei Jun muttered to Lucas, "I think we just found the boss."
Lucas gave a short nod, his expression darkening. He turned his attention back to the boy, his voice low but firm. "Where exactly is this place? Tell me its location."
The boy nodded quickly, voice still thin with fear. "There's an abandoned village nearby. The corrupted church is... inside that village."
Another round of silent glances passed among them. All of them were thinking the same thing.
Tianlei... he went to an abandoned village, didn't he?
Lucas felt a flicker of urgency rise in his chest. Without wasting another second, he moved swiftly. He leaped onto the back of the crimson-scaled eastern dragon that stood ready nearby. He gestured for the others to mount as well. Everyone climbed aboard—except for the boy. The path ahead was too dangerous for a child.
Once everyone was set, Lucas gave the signal. The dragon beat its massive body and surged forward with incredible speed. The wind roared past them as they shot through the sky, the ground below becoming a blur. Within mere seconds, the silhouette of the abandoned village appeared in their sights.
But something was wrong.
As they neared, Lucas narrowed his eyes. A strange, abnormal barrier shimmered faintly around the village like a translucent dome. The dragon, sensing the unnatural energy, flinched and halted mid-air. No matter how hard it pushed, it couldn't pass through the barrier.
Lucas's eyes sharpened. He moved to the dragon's head, drawing out his Ghost Guan Dao with a metallic hiss. Without hesitation, he leapt from the dragon's head, soaring through the air as he raised his blade. Energy crackled along the weapon's edge as he brought it down hard against the barrier.
The impact was explosive.
A surge of violent energy erupted as the Guan Dao's blade struck the shimmering field. Bright light flared as the barrier resisted—but then Lucas's weapon began to absorb the energy, draining it like a hungry specter. Cracks splintered through the barrier's surface until, with a final pulse, it shattered into a thousand fragments of light.
But Lucas was falling now, gravity pulling him down fast.
Before he could hit the ground, the dragon swooped beneath him with perfect timing. Its powerful body caught him mid-air, softening his landing. Lucas landed on the dragon's back with a grunt but wasted no time.
His eyes scanned the village below.
They could all see it now—the ruined remains of houses, their roofs torn away, walls crumbling from decay. Yet... there was one structure that stood apart. A building that still had its roof intact. It was large, much larger than the others.
To the others, it looked like just another house.
But to Lucas? No.
His gaze hardened. "That's not a house."
It was a church.
A massive structure built from dark red stones, towering over the other ruins with an oppressive, menacing aura. While the others were still caught in the illusion, seeing only a normal house, Lucas could feel the dark energy radiating from the building. It was as if something—or someone—was forcing an illusion on their minds.
But it didn't work on him.
The dragon descended, landing heavily on the ground right before the looming structure. Dust rose around them, and the earth trembled slightly beneath its weight. Lucas gripped his Guan Dao tightly, the ghostly weapon humming with faint energy.
He stepped forward.
Without a word, Lucas raised the blade and touched its cold edge against the wall of the "house"—the church. The moment steel met stone, a ripple of black and red energy surged out from the point of contact.
The wall shuddered.
Dark energy spilled outward, and then, like ink dissolving in water, the illusion shattered. The false image flickered and peeled away in strips, revealing the truth underneath. The building was not a simple house—it was a corrupted church, vast and terrifying in its presence.
And worse...
The surrounding buildings, the roofless homes scattered around the village—those too changed. The illusion lifted, revealing their true forms. They were not houses.
They were creatures.
Emaciated Wardens.
Tall, skeletal monsters with hollow eyes and gaping maws, their bodies twisted and malformed. They stood motionless, yet their heads slowly turned, one by one, until every single one of them was staring directly at Lucas and his team.
A cold chill swept through the group.
As if on cue, the doors of the corrupted church creaked open, groaning like a beast awakening from slumber. A dark mist spilled out from within, the heavy stench of blood and rot rolling over them like a suffocating wave.
Wei Jun's voice was tight. "Lucas... this is bad."
Lucas didn't answer. His grip on his Guan Dao only tightened, and his eyes fixed on the gaping entrance of the church.
Lucas's voice was firm as he gave his order. "First, we'll have to finish these creatures. Only then can we go inside and deal with the rest."
But before he could continue, the mage among them spoke up, stepping forward with determination. "No, leader. Please, leave these creatures to us. We'll handle them."
Lucas's eyes narrowed. "No. They're too dangerous—"
But the mage cut him off, his voice steady. "Trust us."
Lucas hesitated, his grip tightening on his weapon. He wasn't entirely comfortable leaving them to face the threat alone, but as he looked into the mage's determined eyes, he finally gave a small nod.
"...Fine. Handle them. But stay alive."
With that, Lucas and Wei Jun turned toward the corrupted church, stepping forward with heavy strides. Behind them, the mage and the two archers remained in place, preparing themselves for the battle to come.
But then—
A chilling laugh echoed through the air.
"Hahahahahaha!"
It was sharp, mocking, and cruel.
"You fools... Do you really think the three of you can defeat me? Me, Ryou Arclight?"
The voice came from above, from atop the largest Emaciated Warden that loomed over the ruined village like a grotesque monument. Slowly, a figure stepped forward into the light.
It was a boy.
No older than Lucas, but twisted in aura. His black, messy medium-length hair framed a pale face, stretched wide with an unnervingly large grin. His black eyes gleamed like bottomless pits, and when he smiled, two sharp vampire-like fangs glinted. He wore old, tattered seminarian robes that hung off his thin frame, giving him a sinister priest-like appearance. In each hand, he twirled a dagger, their blades glinting with a faint, dark light.
The crimson bow archer narrowed his eyes and demanded, "Who are you?"
The boy grinned wider, stepping closer until they could all feel the weight of his presence.
"Monster Tamer. Ryou Arclight. Your nightmare. Your death."
His voice dripped with venom and arrogance. He spread his arms wide as if welcoming them to their doom.
"Call me whatever you like... it won't change your fate."
The three fighters—tightened their stances, readying themselves for the battle. Their hearts pounded, adrenaline surging.
But then Ryou shook his head, clicking his tongue.
"No, no, no. This won't do. Introductions come first. Where's the fun if we don't know each other before I tear you apart?"
His grin stretched even wider, unnatural and grotesque.
Mage's eyes flashed with resolve as he called out, "Yao Jun."
The crimson bow user, added coldly, "Han Rui."
The Ice Bow user, spoke last. "Ren Jei."
Ryou's laughter echoed again.
And then, without warning, the swarm attacked.
The smaller Emaciated Wardens—ten, no, twelve of them—let out inhuman screeches and leaped from all sides, charging straight at the trio like a pack of ravenous beasts.
But Yao Jun, Han Rui, and Ren Jei didn't flinch.
They moved as one.
Ren Jei shifted left, Yao Jun forward, and Han Rui right, forming a tight triangle formation, each covering the others' blind spots with practiced ease.
Yao Jun slammed his hands together, the ground beneath him cracking as molten energy surged. From the fissures, massive figures of glowing rock and magma burst forth—his magma golems. They roared, their molten fists slamming into the ground as they prepared to intercept the charging Wardens.
At the same moment, Han Rui and Ren Jei raised their bows, the strings already pulled taut.
Arrows—one burning with crimson flames, the other shimmering with frost—were nocked and aimed directly at the approaching horde.
Church
Lucas and Wei Jun stepped through the decaying doorway, leaving behind the rising chaos outside. The air inside was suffocating—thick with the stench of old blood, rotting flesh, and something fouler that clung to their throats like invisible hands.
The dim light from the broken stained-glass windows barely illuminated the interior, but what little they could see made their skin crawl.
The walls, once perhaps painted with holy murals, were now cracked and blackened, as if scorched by some unholy fire. Strange symbols had been scrawled across them in a deep crimson ink that smelled far too much like blood. The stone pillars lining the nave were wrapped in chains, some still slick with something wet. Faint whispers echoed through the church—low and disjointed—as though the stones themselves remembered every scream that had been unleashed here.
Wei Jun grunted, tightening his grip on the massive battle axe slung over his back. Lucas's eyes narrowed, his steps light but deliberate as they moved deeper inside.
At the far end, directly across from the entrance, stood a grand throne.
It was massive, crafted from twisted iron and bone, its frame shaped with jagged, unnatural curves. Rusted chains dangled from its arms and back, clinking softly with every faint breeze. And upon that throne, someone sat.
A figure draped in heavy black robes, their face hidden beneath a dark veil. Their hands, however, were visible—thin, skeletal, with long, claw-like nails tapping against the throne's armrests in a slow, rhythmic pattern. The tapping echoed through the silent church like a heartbeat.
Beside the throne stood another figure—taller, broader. This one figure was feminine. She was tall and was standing beside the throne with her hands near her thighs. She was still—no movement in her body. None moved except Lucas and Wei Jun. The air was tense, very tense.
The aura inside the church was very disturbing. They could smell rotten flesh, blood. They wanted to puke but couldn't. They just couldn't but felt like doing it.
But it was what hung before the throne that made Lucas and Wei Jun tense.
A man—barely recognizable—was suspended in the air by thick, blackened chains that looped around his wrists and ankles. The chains disappeared into the dark rafters above, fastened to the ceiling like the strings of a cruel puppet. His body was gaunt, covered in bruises and deep lacerations, blood dripping slowly to the cracked stone floor beneath him. His head hung low, limp, as though life had long since left him.
Wei Jun's breath grew heavy. "This place... it's cursed."
Lucas didn't respond. His eyes stayed fixed on the veiled figure seated on the throne.
The throne occupant's hand stopped tapping.
The room grew colder, as though even the shadows themselves were waiting to see what would happen next.
The body hanging from the chains began to sway, a slow, grotesque oscillation that made the chains creak with each movement. From the shattered windows above, a thin shaft of light pierced the gloom, falling directly upon the figure.
And in that flickering beam, the horror became clear.
His face—if it could still be called that—was unrecognizable. The flesh had been torn away, patches of skin hanging in ragged strips, and parts of the bone beneath were cracked and splintered. It was as though something had gnawed at him, ripping away everything that once made him human. His skull gleamed wetly in the faint light, parts of it missing, exposing the raw, ruined structure beneath.
But even through the grotesque ruin, there was something that gave away his identity.
The golden armor that clung to his broken form—battered, stained with dried blood, but still gleaming faintly beneath the grime. That armor, distinctive and proud once, was the only clue.
Wei Jun stiffened, his eyes going wide.
Lucas's jaw clenched, breath catching in his throat.
In that single, terrible glimpse, they both knew.
It was Tianlei.