I Died and Became a Noble's Heir

Chapter 565: Snakes

Jack’s demonic manifestation receded, with the black scales reintegrating into his flesh, his wings retracting and disappearing, and his horns withdrawing into his skull as his stature diminished from seven feet four inches to his normal six feet two inches.

Rhys, Father Caelen, and Brutus stood nearby in the courtyard.

They’d been waiting patiently throughout the transformation and subsequent power test.

The massive minotaur straightened when Jack’s form stabilized, his red eyes tracking his master’s return to human appearance with obvious satisfaction.

Jack’s distinctive yellow-and-orange gaze surveyed the assembled individuals. "We’re moving to Erbeon. I need to find the local lord before heading to the dungeon we’ll be investigating."

He opened a portal without waiting for a response, the familiar crackling gateway stabilizing quickly.

Jack stepped through first, the others following immediately.

The Moonveil Shrine was exactly as Jack had left it.

Shattered stone, scorched earth, the lingering smell of burned flesh.

Night had fallen in Erbeon, stars visible overhead through breaks in the tree canopy that Jack’s combat had created.

Only hours had passed in Erbeon since the Council ambush, the time dilation between Floor 25 and this world meaning Jack’s five days of training had translated to mere moments in relative terms.

Jack’s consciousness reached into his soul space, interfacing with the bound creatures residing there. "Stormfang. Voidweaver. Come forth."

The massive wyvern manifested first.

Then the giant spider appeared, Voidweaver’s eight legs touching down with surprising delicacy despite her substantial size, multiple eyes glowing faint red as she oriented herself to the nighttime forest.

"We’ll be traveling through dangerous territory," Jack explained, his tone making clear this wasn’t optional. "Brutus, carry Rhys. I’ll ride Stormfang. Father Caelen, you’re taking Voidweaver."

The old cleric stared at the giant spider for several seconds, his expression cycling through resignation and grudging appreciation for the creature’s otherworldly appearance.

"I’ve blessed stranger things," he said finally, approaching Voidweaver with careful but confident movements. "Though I can’t say I ever expected to ride one into battle."

"First time for everything," Jack replied without sympathy.

Brutus crouched slightly, allowing Rhys to climb onto his shoulder.

The young mage settled into position, one hand gripping the minotaur’s horn for balance while the other remained free.

Father Caelen mounted Voidweaver with less grace but adequate competence, the spider’s body providing a stable platform once he found proper positioning among her legs and abdomen.

Jack swung onto Stormfang in a single, smooth motion, his agility making the transition effortless. "Stay alert. We’re heading north toward the Hollow of the Sunless Tide, but first we need to make contact with whoever controls the territory around the dungeon. The King assigned me to investigate, which means there should be local forces aware of the situation."

"The corrupted woodlands," Father Caelen’s voice carried concern despite his decades of combat experience. "Nothing survives there long without protection or significant power."

"Then we’ll fit right in," Jack stated, urging Stormfang forward into the darkened forest.

The transition from the shrine grounds to the corrupted wilderness was unsettling.

The trees were wrong.

Not dead exactly, but twisted.

Bark turning dark gray or sickly purple, branches growing in unnatural angles that defied normal botanical structure, leaves withered despite the season being appropriate for growth in this region.

Purple mist hung in the air like diseased breath, clinging to vegetation and ground alike.

The fog appears to be of a magical rather than natural origin.

The mist emitted a faint glow in the darkness, providing sufficient illumination for navigation while simultaneously casting shadows that exhibited an unsettling, autonomous movement.

Stormfang’s ears were flat against his skull, his wyvern-enhanced senses detecting threats that remained invisible to normal perception.

But despite his obvious wariness, they encountered nothing.

No monsters, no corrupted beasts, no evidence of the dangerous creatures that supposedly infested these woods.

Just silence.

Empty, ominous silence broken only by their own movement through the dead forest and the occasional creak of twisted branches overhead.

"This is wrong," Rhys said quietly from his position on Brutus’s shoulder, his voice barely above a whisper as if speaking louder might summon whatever should have been hunting them.

"We should have run into something by now. Corrupted woodlands are supposed to be crawling with twisted creatures."

"Maybe they learned to stay away from areas where Soul Wardens travel," Father Caelen suggested, though his tone carried doubt that undermined the optimistic interpretation.

Jack’s tactical mind cataloged the wrongness, filing it alongside other concerning patterns.

The Moonveil Serpent herd is being "summoned" to the dungeon rather than naturally migrating.

The corrupted forest is empty when it should be teeming with monsters.

The Council’s coordinated ambush at the shrine.

Someone was manipulating circumstances, clearing paths or arranging pieces on the board Jack couldn’t yet see.

They traveled for hours through the twisted landscape, purple mist growing thicker as they moved deeper into corrupted territory.

The ambient light was minimal, with the stars obscured by a dense overhead canopy and the moon’s illumination absent due to the interwoven branches.

Stormfang navigated despite the poor visibility, his supernatural senses tracking safe paths that avoided the worst concentrations of whatever magical contamination saturated this region.

Voidweaver followed close behind, the spider’s multiple eyes providing three-hundred-sixty-degree awareness that complemented the wyvern’s forward focus.

The forest remained empty.

Hours of travel without encountering a single hostile creature, without even seeing evidence of recent monster activity.

The inherent impropriety of the situation weighed heavily on Jack’s consciousness, his heightened perception discerning that the very absence of a discernible threat presented a more profound and unsettling danger than conventional hazards.

Then, finally, they found signs of civilization.

A castle emerged from the mist ahead. A stone fortress constructed in a style Jack recognized from various anime he’d consumed in his previous life.

Tall walls with ramparts where soldiers could defend against siege, watchtowers positioned at strategic corners, massive double doors that could withstand battering rams or magical assault.

But the fortress was under attack.

Snakes.

Hundreds of them, maybe close to a thousand, swarming across the castle’s exterior like a living carpet of scales and venom.

They ranged in size from tiny creatures barely bigger than garden plants to massive serpents as large as trucks, their bodies coiling around stone fortifications as they sought entry points or tried to overwhelm defenders through sheer numbers.

Soldiers lined the ramparts.

At least a hundred visible even in the darkness, torches and magical lights illuminating defensive positions where weapons struck at snakes that climbed too high or got too close to breaching the walls.

But they were losing ground; the sheer volume of attackers overwhelmed their defensive capabilities, despite what appeared to be competent tactical coordination.

And dominating the battlefield was something that made even the truck-sized snakes look small by comparison.

A Disaster-class serpent, easily as large as an 18-wheeler, its body thick as the castle’s support columns.

Green scales covered its massive form, each one harder than steel, gleaming with oily sheen even in the limited light.

Its eyes glowed greenish in the purple mist, intelligence and malice combined in a gaze that tracked the fortress with predatory focus.

The giant snake reared back, preparing to slam its bulk against the castle’s main entrance with force that would likely breach the doors despite their reinforced construction.

Jack raised one hand, signaling his group to halt. "Rhys, get down. Everyone else, hold position."