Netori: Stealing The Hero's Party!

Chapter 888: The King Of Rubble...Or Queen? - Part 1

Getting closer to the rubble that used to be a kingdom, Raven’s mantle fluttered in the strong oceanside winds while his companions followed right behind him. Even from afar, the dark spirit of what once used to be a person could be seen, and now that the party stood by the throne of ruins, the miasmic aura around the creature reminded them of the smoke that oozed out of corruption.

Another pawn of Nerva? Thought the hero, but his theory fell as quickly as it had come up. Using his own corruption, Raven tried to pick up any traces of the same in the vengeful spirit, and yet, nothing came of it. Retreating from the coils of torrential winds around the spirit, the hero lifted his head and looked straight ahead.

"You’re a ghost, aren’t you?" He asked, peering into the burning eyes of the spectre.

Adjusting its neck a little, the spirit lowered its head and leaned forward in its throne of rubble.

"And who are you? Another loud-mouthed betrayer?"

"Betrayer?" The word lingered in the air for a while before the spirit leaned back in its chair and its expression twisted into a grimace. Grunting and groaning with its head twisting around as if a raging bull had taken over it, the ghost of the past began to scream his heart out.

"AGHHH! I WILL KILL! I WILL KILL EVERYONE!" As its gaze lowered on Raven and the others again, however, they already appeared ready to intercept him, which in turn gave it a moment of clarity. "Those cowards never had the spine to fight back. Who are you?!"

Sheathing his weapon, Raven stood tall once more. Giving the spirit a judging glance from head to toe, he still could not discern if it used to be a man or a woman.

"How about we share our stories then? Maybe there’s some way we can help each other?" He offered, his eyes lifting to the dark face.

Yet another moment of tense silence lingered before the spirit finally parted its lips. Its voice also grew somewhat tame, and where once there was a fearsome rage, there was now a look of reflection to one’s own past. The spirit spoke of its nature and the kingdom it used to serve. A proud castle stood in the middle of their kingdom, and with the ocean by their side, most of the trade was that of seafarers.

But for itself, the spirit chose a different path; instead of trade or service to some lord, they marched against monsters and kept their kingdom safe alongside worthy companions. However, the joyous slaughter was eventually brought to an end by the howls of a sea kraken. It ravaged sea paths, killed the innocent, and even crumbled the western walls of the kingdom.

Thus, under great distress, the king sent the spirit and his companions to slay the monsters. Unfortunately, however, the king’s own son or daughter–the spirit could no longer tell– was hungry for valor and renown, and so they decided to accompany them. As servants of the land, they had little say in the matter, and seeing it as an opportunity to bolster his family’s name, the king ignored precautions and had blinded himself with dreams of valor.

Alas, on the journey to the heart of the kraken’s domain, the royal’s demands were the first to break the spirits of the warriors. They hungered for food most exuberant, had a taste for fine wine and fine men or women. The first two hungers were easier to sate, while the others, the warrior, had to offer themselves. Whether the spirit itself slept with the prince or the princess? It remembered not, but the disgust from a time long past still burned within it like the sun itself.

Not long after the kraken was found, the attempts to subdue it began. The beast had many mates and offspring that only added to the chaos of battle. The royal company was the first to buckle and fall to the ship’s deck, devoured by one of the beast’s babies in their entirety. Even now, the spirit remembered the shift inside the kraken child’s belly as the royal struggled to free itself from within; however, the struggle did not last long, as its mother poured her own belly juices into the beast’s mouth to help it digest the human quickly.

While the royal died and so did its companions all around, an unworldly rage took over the spirit’s body. As a barbarian, its anger fueled its strength, and thus the battle continued with only him left to fight. For a whole four weeks, it tussled against the horde of monsters, resting on an island away from their gaze, and in the morning, delivering the skull-shattering strike to kill them one by one.

Like moss, a strange feeling was stuck to their skin. Whatever had happened between the royal and them, it had left them with an eerie sensation crawling all over them. What was worse? They remembered having a partner, a lover, or a wife or a husband, someone with whom the royal had sated their desire with–perhaps even the spirit itself was forced to be involved in the matter, but even after the death of everyone included in the traumatic experience, that anger, that disgust just wouldn’t leave them.

With the krakens dead, the spirit returned to the kingdom, only to be thrown into the dungeon for getting the royal killed. There, their anger festered. So much so, that it wasn’t some negligence or punishment that killed them, but anger itself to the point where their spirit lingered as a vengeful spectre.

"After that, I killed them, each and every one of them!" Declared the spirit, its raging fervor returning to its hollow gaze. "Now you tell me! What is your story and why are you here?"

Despite hearing such a tragedy, a smile rested on Raven’s face. Where the spirit saw an eternal torment as it sat on its throne every day, the hero saw an opportunity–an opportunity to get yet another fierce fighter into their ranks. After all, a person who can kill a horde of kraken by themselves and bring the fall of a kingdom–if dealt with caution–could prove so much more than a mere nuisance.

"Very well then, I will tell you our story." And thus, Raven began relaying to spirit everything that they’ve been through. The spirit listened with great interest, and in its eyes the hero already knew that the spirit had found some common ground in their suffering.

But to convince it to part with its past, well, that would require a little more convincing.