Chapter 154: The One Hundred and Fifty Chapter – Cliché
The emaciated pale female necromancer tightened her grip on the staff: “You heretics and zealots who believe in false gods all deserve to die! Tear them apart!”
The ghouls in the tomb rushed out of the graveyard, drooling disease-ridden saliva as they surged over tombstones towards the two.
Skeleton heads, withered and yellow, moved in unison beneath the dull sky, creaking as they advanced, creating an eerie sound.
Veylin screamed in fright, nearly in tears: “So many skeletons, so terrifying.”
Hearing his wife’s terrified cry, Akanis felt a twinge of dark humor. He held Veylin’s hand tightly and said:
“Use Sigma’s blessing to protect yourself while I burn her.”
“Okay.”
Veylin’s frantic blood-red eyes calmed down, and she released the hand of the witch hunter Akanis, pulling out a Sigma emblem, specially bestowed by the Sigma Church.
Veylin lowered her head and said, “Sigma, protect me.”
A transparent white light formed a barrier around Veylin.
Witch hunter Akanis donned his high leather hat, holding a curved dagger in one hand and a short sword in the other, charging toward the female necromancer. Along the way, skeletal warriors swung their rusty blades at him.
He easily dodged and counter-attacked, the skeletal warriors blocking his path falling like dried branches in the woods, making cracking sounds as they hit the ground.
Soon, he had left Veylin behind.
“Indeed a ruthless witch hunter?” The female necromancer commanded the undead creatures to encircle the solitary Veylin while retreating. “Just leave the burden behind.”
The undead creatures advanced toward Veylin but were hindered by Sigma’s blessing; the white light repelled them, making it difficult for them to approach.
The ghouls in the tomb, unable to fulfill their master’s orders, screamed madly.
Witch hunter Akanis stepped on a skeleton warrior’s shoulder, easily leaping over the heads of the skeletons, saying, “You underestimated me.”
What burden? Clearly, she was a sealed vampire progenitor.
Bringing such a dangerous person out to hunt would certainly require strong protective artifacts. If she discovered that she was invulnerable to knives and guns and started to suspect, it would be troublesome.
The female necromancer shouted in anger: “Tear him apart!”
From behind a withered tree trunk, several ghouls sprang out. These creatures, crawling on the ground with long bone spikes in their hands, instinctively roared as they charged toward the airborne witch hunter Akanis.
The stench of decay rushed toward him; Akanis could feel the ghouls’ bloodlust and their fervor for his flesh.
Akanis remained relaxed.
To control the frenzied and bloodthirsty ghouls and keep them obediently hiding behind a withered tree was no ordinary necromancer.
According to the intel, she had been a necromancer for only two years, with no teacher, no legacy, and having avoided being consumed by the out-of-control undead. It was truly a display of incredible talent; it seemed the intel was wrong again.
Facing the attacking bone spikes and the ghouls’ gaping mouths, Akanis chose not to dodge but to charge. What ordinary eyes could hardly perceive, were just a few unobtrusive flashes of his blade.
The ghouls that blocked his path disintegrated in mid-air, heads, hands, and torsos falling to the ground, their remains suddenly igniting into flames, burning fiercely. Of the three ghouls attacking, only one remained.
The surviving ghouls were startled for a moment, staring at the burning remains on the ground, taking several seconds to comprehend what had happened. Then, they turned back and resumed their furious charge toward Akanis’s retreating figure.
After all, the undead do not fear.
But they did not notice the wound on their shoulder, from which flames burst forth, engulfing the running ghoul.
The gray-eyed female necromancer reflected the figure of the incoming witch hunter.
She opened her mouth, her voice trembling: “Corpse Explosive Technique!”
Before her words fell, the leaves surrounding Akanis bulged and then exploded.
A gray-black shockwave slammed into Akanis, sending rotten flesh flying and shattered bones shooting everywhere, temporarily obscuring his figure.
But he reacted swiftly, rolling on the ground and bursting out amid the storm of leaves.
The female necromancer’s gray eyes widened. She had not expected that she had heard of the witch hunter Van Helsing’s fame but had not anticipated his strength.
All her self-preservation and arrangements suddenly seemed trivial in front of Akanis, as if they were mere toys of a child.
Akanis had intended to choke the female necromancer by the throat and bury his short sword in her heart, and to thank her for interrupting his dinner, he would twist the blade to make her die quickly.
But he recalled Veylin’s morbid possessiveness and halted his steps, stopping just one meter away from the female necromancer.
The female necromancer had already closed her eyes, and seeing that Akanis had not struck, she hurriedly reached for her belt.
“Don’t move,” Akanis said. “At this distance, my blade is no different than on your throat. If you move, I’ll chop off your fingers.”
“What do you want?” she gripped her dagger tightly. “I’d rather die than face the pyre; I’m innocent.”
Having been a witch hunter for so long, Akanis had heard hundreds of targets’ defenses.
In their narratives, they were all wronged, their motives pure, suffering societal persecution. Time and again, they chose to embrace society but kept hitting walls until they ended up on this path.
There were those who sacrificed for science, innocent victims of social persecution, and doctors who provided free treatment simply to seek some truth to better contribute to society.
In this world, they were the most innocent.
In light of this female necromancer interrupting his dinner, Akanis intended to let her live a bit longer. He said, “I want your story.”
“Story?”
“Yes, why have you taken this path?”
“Are you going to judge me? Persuade me?” The female necromancer’s tone suddenly grew agitated. “You better not listen, lest you lose your appetite while doing your righteous deeds!”
While taking out a writing board, Akanis swung his dagger at a ghoul charging from the left and swiftly killed it.
“Before I hear your story, stop all these disgusting undead.”
The female necromancer’s resentment erupted through her words:
“In terms of disgust, those of you wearing Sigma emblems and preaching Sigma are far worse. As long as you keep your distance from the undead and don’t provoke them, they won’t casually tie you to a stake and burn you, nor will they drag away your cattle.”
Akanis did not retort, writing a line on the board as he spoke: “Ah, more societal persecution, continue.”
“I hate you! Seeing your smug faces makes me want to tear you into pieces. My father…”
In short, her father’s surgery couldn’t succeed because the doctors were ignorant. The female necromancer discovered that it was due to a lack of understanding of human anatomy while the church strictly forbade dissections. She only wanted to prevent more people, like her father, from dying on the operating table.
So she dissected corpses, but a patient who had pursued her unsuccessfully reported her, leading to her being wrongfully accused by the church as a witch… and ultimately leading her to this point, relying on a tattered book to study and experiment, eventually becoming a necromancer.
“Then you have considerable talent,” Akanis sighed. “Considered a genius, you’ve reached this level in just five months—many necromancer apprentices die at the hands of the undead.”
The female necromancer, dry of mouth, asked, “What are you writing this for? To confess?”
“I’m planning to publish a book,” Akanis said, “The ‘Prostitute’s Advancement Guide’ to be distributed for free to prostitutes?”
“What?”
“Compelling stories to elicit sympathy from clients are a crucial part of a prostitute’s skill set, but many lack the ability to tell a story; their stories are still the same.”
Akanis put away the writing board: “This book can inspire them. It seeks to make clients not just cry below but above. When goodwill is inspired, they’ll dig deep into their pockets.”
The female necromancer was momentarily stunned and then became enraged, shouting: “I thought you had some conscience, some guilt—but you are even more disgusting than the undead! More foul than rotten corpses.”
“Those tragic stories are best left to those who like to wear white, shiny exteriors,” Akanis said. “They love to self-reflect.
“I don’t know how many ‘forced’ witches and cultists have been sent to the pyre. Given that you’ve talked so much with me, you can choose a withered tree behind you; pick whichever looks good to you.
“Once selected, I’ll tie you up and set you ablaze.”
No sooner had he spoken than a cry for help came from behind:
“Don’t!”
Akanis turned his head and saw a young man among a pile of skeletal warriors, pressing a dagger against Veylin’s neck.
The young man looked very young, and judging by his attire, he was a noble.
“Let her go.” The young noble’s face turned crimson. “She is innocent; she won’t harm anyone anymore! My dagger is enchanted, it’s a family heirloom—just a light slash, and your wife will be dead.”
The enchanted dagger shone brightly, pressed against Veylin’s delicate neck, appearing capable of easily piercing it.
Akanis’s scalp tingled; this fool! He did not even realize he was holding a vampire progenitor hostage! That ridiculous dagger, aside from shocking her into a frenzy of slaughter, wouldn’t even cause Veylin to lose a hair.
He gritted his teeth and shouted:
“Get your dagger away from her neck!”
The female necromancer moved, but Akanis was even faster. Without even looking, he swung his curved dagger, and the female necromancer’s finger fell to the ground.
“I told you, if you move, I’ll chop your fingers off. Next, it’s your wrist.” Akanis said coldly. “I hope you idiots understand that within this meter, your life is in my grasp.”
The female necromancer laughed: “Hahaha, who would have thought the cold, famous witch hunter Van Helsing is so devoted to his wife.”
Is this love?
Veylin stopped struggling, looking at Akanis with her blood-red eyes, calling out: “Darling, don’t mind me; execute your justice.”
“Miss.” The young noble pressed the dagger further against Veylin’s neck. “Please allow my rudeness; we can end this peacefully.”
But his dagger trembled nervously.
Akanis was horrified at the thought that if he dragged it too far and frightened Veylin, she might grasp the dagger tightly, and with one forceful tug, turn it into a twisted mess.
That would be a huge problem.
Much bigger than what happened in Yulong City.
“Calm down, let’s talk this out,” Akanis slowly approached the young noble.
“Stop!” The young noble shouted. “Don’t come any closer! Drop your weapons, now!”
“Why should I throw away all my cards?” Akanis asked. “Are you telling me to watch as you escape?”
A shadow moved about ten meters behind the young noble.
This was a shadow that Akanis had set up in advance, but unfortunately, the Sigma emblem that protected Veylin from undead attacks also drove away his shadow; however, it couldn’t shield Veylin from living attacks.
“You can’t kill me,” the young noble said. “I am the firstborn of the Alff family; my servant is watching from a distance. If you kill me, he will relay the message back to my family.”
“Alright,” Akanis suppressed his anger, manipulating the shadow to continue advancing. “I would trade one life for another.”
“First, drop your weapons and bury them.” The young noble said. “Otherwise, with your strength, you could easily catch up to us and kill us all. But without weapons, you would have no means of self-defense.”
“Fine, noble sir.” Akanis threw his curved dagger and shadow blade far away.
The shadow moved further, quicker, almost ready to slice the throat of that damned noble.
A murderous intent came from behind.
A bone spear suddenly shot toward Akanis’s back. He instinctively dodged and caught sight of the enraged female necromancer, who screamed:
“Die!”
The bone spear grazed Akanis’s forearm, leaving him with a scratch, but this startled the anxious young noble. He instinctively thrust the dagger toward Veylin’s neck.
