Chapter 172: Dangers Everywhere
The rhythmic clang of an alarm bell echoed through the streets, its ringing piercing the cool evening air like a dire warning.
Burt moved swiftly, his boots pounding against the cobbled roads as he rushed southward from Pine Street, his body surging with newfound vigor thanks to the artifact belt Abel had given him.
Even after a week of using it, he was still amazed at how seamlessly it enhanced his movements—his strides felt longer and more controlled, and his awareness of his surroundings had sharpened considerably.
Combined with his bracer, the two artifacts made him feel far more capable than ever.
As he sprinted, he weaved around people and caravans on the roads, his gaze flickering between watchful townsfolk who had begun responding to the alarm.
Windows slammed shut, merchants hurriedly packed away their stalls, and civilians scrambled back to their homes, locking doors behind them.
The big bell at the enforcement office rang loud and clear, its meaning already ingrained in the people’s minds—danger.
And yet, something felt off.
Then, just as he neared the southern sector, another group of bells rang out—this time from a completely different direction.
Burt froze mid-stride.
His pulse quickened, a cold weight settling in his gut—two different alarms.
That meant two separate incidents.
His instincts screamed split attack.
His mind raced as he quickly assessed the situation. He knew that Stewart and Jet were stationed closer to the second disturbance, meaning they’d likely be the ones responding. Samir and Jenny, however, were in the south—the same direction Burt was heading in.
His jaw clenched. This would be Jet and Samir’s first real challenge as a lieutenant.
With a sharp exhale, Burt pushed forward.
He had to trust that Stewart and Jet could handle the other incident.
Right now, his priority was the southern disturbance.
The scent of burnt wood and damp soil reached his nostrils as he passed down Fifth Street, the roads eerily emptied by fear-stricken civilians.
The once bustling pathways were now near-deserted, only a few people darting into their homes with wide, worried eyes.
His mind buzzed with thoughts.
Was this related to the strange parasite incident from last time? Or was it something entirely new?
If this was another attack, who—or what—was behind it?
His fingers instinctively curled into a fist as his belt hummed with energy, fueling his strides with supernatural swiftness.
Whatever this was, he’d get to the bottom of it.
…
Elsewhere in Reinhart, where another disturbance had drawn the attention of the officers, an eerie silence settled over the area—broken only by the rhythmic clicking of chitinous legs against stone. Two massive scorpions emerged from a sudden fissure that appeared in the earth, their forms shifting through the dim light like specters of the deep earth.
Their bodies were encased in thick, moss-covered armor, the greenish growth clinging to their segmented exoskeletons as if they had been buried beneath the ground for centuries. Their presence felt ancient, primal—creatures that had no business walking the surface.
Yet, despite their rugged, plated exterior, their underbellies were different—pale and fleshy, exposed in contrast to their otherwise impenetrable shells.
But it was their tails that drew the most attention—long, segmented whips that curled menacingly overhead, the venomous tips glistening with a sickly sheen. Each slow, deliberate movement carried the weight of deadly precision.
Their crimson eyes gleamed, locking onto the officers before them with a cold, predatory focus.
The fissure from which the scorpions had emerged still smoldered faintly, as if the earth itself had been torn open by something far more sinister than mere tremors.
A low, pulsing glow flickered within the jagged cracks, casting unnatural shadows across the ground. The air around it felt wrong—thick with a strange, almost tangible miasma that carried an unspoken warning to any who dared approach.
Jet and Stewart stood firm, their eyes locked onto the ominous crevice. Neither of them had seen anything like this before. The earthquakes had already reshaped Bask in ways they were still trying to understand, but this?
So far, only two scorpions had emerged, their massive, armored forms blocking the road like living fortresses. But there was no telling if more would come crawling out from the abyss beneath them. They had to be quick. Efficient. Ruthless.
Stewart’s cyan-lit tongue flickered through the air, its glow cutting through the darkness like a whip of energy. His voice was firm and steady, but the weight of command pressed upon him.
"Stay in formation! Watch for the tails! They’ll move faster than you think!"
His two officers tightened their grips on their short swords, their knuckles turning white, but they held their ground.
This was their first encounter with creatures of this size, and fear ran through their veins like ice. But they weren’t going to back down.
Across from them, Jet stood with his bronze spear, his stance rigid but not without uncertainty. This was his first real engagement since taking on the lieutenant role, and the weight of responsibility sat heavily on his shoulders.
He could feel the pulse of his artifact ring, a faint warmth radiating from his finger as it synchronized with his spear.
His father had given him this weapon, a symbol of faith in his son’s decision to join the officers. Jet refused to let that faith be misplaced.
He shifted his grip, adjusting the balance of the spear, his eyes darting between the creatures. The scorpions weren’t mindless.
They tested the group’s resolve, inching forward with slow, methodical movements, their barbed tails poised high, ready to strike at a moment’s notice.
Jet inhaled deeply and took a single step forward.
“They’re waiting for us to slip up,” he muttered under his breath.
Stewart nodded. “Then we won’t.”
The lead scorpion let out a sharp, clicking screech—and that was it.
The creatures lunged.
The officers barely had time to react before one of the scorpions whipped its massive tail downward, the sharp stinger plunging toward Stewart’s head. He dodged to the side, his tongue snapping out, wrapping around the scorpion’s leg as he attempted to yank it off balance.
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The second creature went for Jet, lunging with terrifying speed, its mossy legs sending up clouds of dust as it charged. Jet braced himself, his bronze spear spinning in his grip before he thrust forward, aiming for the soft tissue beneath its mouth.
The spear pierced flesh, but only slightly—the scorpion recoiled, screeching as dark fluid oozed from the wound, but it wasn’t fatal.
The battlefield erupted into chaos.
The scorpions moved like lightning, their segmented bodies weaving and darting unpredictably.
The officers dodged and countered, blades flashing in the dark, but the hardened exoskeletons absorbed most of the impacts.
Stewart’s tongue lashed out again, wrapping around the tail of the first scorpion, stopping it from striking one of his men, before pulling it off the scorpion.
He furrowed his brows as the creature thrashed violently, its sheer strength nearly pulling him off his feet.
“Focus your strikes! Aim for the joints or the belly!” Jet shouted, dodging another vicious swipe.
The officers adjusted, their attacks more precise, more coordinated. Slowly but surely, they began pushing the scorpions back.
But the creatures were relentless. Their armored legs skittered across the ground, moving with an eerie coordination that sent shivers down the spines of the officers.
One of them miscalculated a step, his foot catching on uneven terrain—just a split-second opening, but enough.
A scorpion lunged, its massive stinger striking with terrifying precision. The sharp barb plunged into the officer’s chest, piercing through his uniform with a sickening crack.
He let out a strangled cry, stumbling backward as venom began to spread through his veins, his face contorting in pain.
“Shit—fall back! Get him out of here!” Stewart barked, his voice sharp with urgency.
One of the nearby officers rushed to the wounded man’s side, throwing his arm over his shoulder and dragging him away as fast as possible. The injured officer's breaths came in short, labored gasps, his body trembling from the venom coursing through his bloodstream.
Meanwhile, the scorpions showed no signs of stopping. Their glowing red eyes flickered with something almost predatory, their massive tails poised for another strike.
Jet could feel his muscles burning, his breathing sharp as he narrowly avoided another strike. They couldn’t keep this up forever. They needed to finish this.
His gaze darted toward Stewart. The lieutenant met his eyes, nodding silently. They were thinking the same thing.
It was time to end it. They had trained relentlessly for situations like this—now was the moment to put everything into action.
Jet exhaled sharply, his grip tightening around the bronze spear as a shimmering bronze aura flared to life around the weapon. The artifact ring on his finger pulsed, sending a surge of power coursing through his veins, heightening his reflexes, and sharpening his focus. The energy thrummed within him, waiting to be unleashed.
Across from him, Stewart braced himself, his feet digging into the ground as his tongue flew out once more and latched onto the scorpion’s thick, chitinous leg—tensed like a coiled rope. Then, with a powerful jerk, he yanked the monstrous beast off balance, its massive body staggering sideways, legs flailing to regain footing.
The moment its defenses wavered, Stewart's tongue detached in an instant. But instead of retracting, it twisted and warped in the air, reshaping itself into a massive, cyan, translucent gecko—easily rivaling the scorpion in size. The spectral creature landed with a heavy thud, its glowing eyes locking onto the wounded beast with predatory intent.
Jet spared Stewart a glance. The lieutenant, now without his tongue, simply nodded, unable to speak.
That was all Jet needed.
He surged forward, the bronze energy around his spear intensifying, crackling with raw power as he lunged, aiming to deliver the final strike.
He plunged the weapon directly into the creature’s exposed underbelly—a perfect strike.
The scorpion let out a horrible, gurgling shriek, its segmented body convulsing violently as dark ichor gushed from the deep wound. Its legs twitched, scraping weakly against the ground before finally stiffening. With one last shudder, it collapsed into a motionless heap, its thick carapace splitting open as the acidic fluids within hissed against the dirt.
The remaining scorpion hesitated, its blood-red eyes flickering with something akin to caution. It sensed the shift in the battle, the momentum slipping from their grasp.
Jet didn’t give them a chance to recover.
With a sharp twist, he wrenched his spear free from the fallen beast, sending another spray of ichor into the air. He turned, his bronze-colored aura flaring like a wildfire. “Take it down! Now!”
His command was like a spark to dry tinder. The officers, emboldened by the shift in battle, pressed forward with renewed determination. Their strikes were no longer hesitant but precise—calculated. Every movement was sharper, their footwork more confident. They had been on the defensive before, but now, they were in control.
One officer darted forward, slashing through a scorpion’s joint with practiced efficiency. Another drove a blade deep into the exposed flesh between its armored plating.
The creature screeched in pain, its movements growing more frantic, more desperate.
The battle was turning in their favor. Now, they just had to finish it.
…
The air near the cemetery gates in the south of Reinhart was thick with the stench of decay. The scent of rotting flesh and damp soil clung to the wind, making the officers grimace as they took their positions.
Corpses slowly walked around and out of the cemetery entrance, seemingly strolling towards Reinhart. The parasites atop their heads twitched and pulsated, grotesque, worm-like creatures that seemed to be controlling the decayed corpses like puppets.
Their grey, slug-like bodies pulsed unnaturally, their slimy flesh glistening under the dim lantern light as they squirmed and dug deeper into the decomposing skulls they latched onto. The sight was sickening.
Jenny's third eye pulsed with a vibrant green glow, scanning the twisted energy that lingered over the cemetery.
The aura was thick, a miasma of corruption and death, almost tangible in its weight. She clenched her fists. Whoever had performed this ritual had tainted the land itself, twisting death into a mockery of life.
"This isn't just a random outbreak," Jenny muttered, her voice laced with fury. "Someone deliberately did this. We cant let them spill into the town."
Samir, standing a few paces away, gritted his teeth as he clutched his spherical lantern. The yellow flame inside flickered wildly, reacting to the unholy presence before them. "They're controlled, it seems like the parasites are responding to something. Which means whoever did this might still be around."
The officers exchanged glances, the tension thick in the air.
Burt arrived at their side, his enhanced speed allowing him to maneuver swiftly through the streets.
He skidded to a stop, and then scanned the cemetery with a sharp, assessing gaze before looking at Jenny and Samir.
"We neutralize the threat here," Burt said firmly. "We can’t let them spread into the town. If even one of these parasites makes it past us, we could have a full-blown disaster on our hands."
The officers gave a unified nod, tightening their grip on their weapons.
Burt wasted no time. With a powerful leap, he vaulted over the cemetery gate, landing gracefully amid the twisted graves.
His eyes darted across the desecrated ground, taking in the disturbed soil, shattered tombstones, and eerie flickers of dark energy seeping from the earth. This was no simple phenomenon—someone had defiled this place.
The undead husks turned their attention to Burt immediately, their sluggish movements suddenly sharpening.
The parasites writhed, reacting to his presence, their red eyes glowing faintly as if registering a new enemy.
One of the zombies lurched forward at an unnatural speed, its body jerking and twisting as if unused to movement. Burt barely had time to dodge as the creature swiped at him with elongated, blackened nails.
"Fast," he muttered, kicking back just in time to avoid a second strike.
Right outside of the cemetery, Jenny moved like a phantom through the chaos, her third eye pulsing with an eerie green glow. With a sharp nod, another surge of energy erupted from her forehead, striking a staggering zombie square in the chest.
The impact sent the rotting husk flying backward, crashing into the cobblestone wall with a sickening crunch.
The parasite latched onto its head and shrieked, writhing violently before shriveling up like a dried husk, its tendrils curling inward as its influence faded.
"Go for the parasites!" Jenny barked, her voice cutting through the din of battle. "They’re the ones receiving the orders and controlling the bodies!"
Samir wasted no time. With a firm step forward, he lifted his lantern high, the flickering yellow flame inside suddenly roaring to life.
Shadows danced wildly across the cemetery as he muttered an incantation under his breath, his voice a low, commanding whisper.
A shimmering golden chain burst from within the lantern’s mouth, lashing out like a living thing. It wrapped around one of the parasite-ridden zombies, its links tightening with an audible snap.
The creature let out a bloodcurdling screech as the holy flames seared into its flesh, burning away the foul energy that puppeteered its body.
The other officers, now armed with the knowledge of the parasite’s role, moved with renewed purpose. Their blades struck with lethal precision, targeting the writhing abominations clinging to the corpses.
The battlefield became a storm of movement—blades flashing, flames roaring, and streaks of green energy crackling through the air. The scent of charred flesh and scorched parasites filled the cemetery as the officers carved a path through the undead.
Jenny gritted her teeth, her eye flaring again as she prepared another attack. They had the advantage now—but the night was far from over.
Meanwhile, Burt pushed deeper into the cemetery, his mind racing. Who did this?
As he moved past the old mausoleums and broken graves, he suddenly felt it.
Someone had been here.