The thin grey fog of Athelei's being seeped through the double doors that led into Lady Karire's spacious study.
With the invasion of eleven Nightwalkers all pouring their efforts together, Lady Karire's defences were being torn open slowly but surely. It would take a while, but the Nightwalkers were confident when it came to how much time they had.
Athelei himself could not completely shift through Lady Karire's array of Mystical Patterns just yet, so he was waiting for the same opportunities the Nightwalkers were waiting for.
Five minutes, then ten, fifteen, twenty.
Time passed as the Nightwalkers shifted around between guarding and invading. They had already slain as many of the knights and guards as they could, sacrificing energy for the lives of their enemies. Unfortunately for them, they could not kill all of the knights, and they were now aware of their miscalculation.
Lady Karire's creation had been greater than expected of a Rank 2 Artist. They had their own Rank 2 Artist, but even he was having difficulties disrupting the numerous pattern chains and sequence structures.
The Artist discovered that Lady Karire's studies were much more advanced than his own.
'Bordering on Rank 3...' He thought to himself.
After thirty minutes, the Nightwalkers realised they no longer had enough time.
"Plan B." One of the Nightwalkers spoke up as a feminine voice shook from her figure.
The other Nightwalkers nodded, acknowledging their miscalculation. Now they had to make more sacrifices and take more risks.
They were going to blow a hole open.
Enough with stealth and finesse.
Unfortunately for them... they had broken enough of Lady Karire's defences for a special kind of Nightwalker to seep through the walls.
There was a flash of bronze Tangible Will and two whip-like tails cracking as it broke the sound barrier. Those two tails looked very fluid in their movements, expanding or thinning at different spots to allow for a greater range of motion. It also bore a crystalline surface that emanated an aura of inevitable corruption and death.
Half of the Nightwalkers were instantly tainted by the ice-like disease of insanity.
A fog-body with the stature of a child had coalesced dead in the middle of the Nightwalker formation. It gifted the tails that sprouted from the child's back with a fine position to strike, which had clearly been utilised.
Five Nightwalkers began chaotically convulsing, morphing into an abstract monster as they wailed and groaned. Their sanity had been severely compromised by the spreading ice.
The six remaining Nightwalkers were the ones capable of reacting, and they were able to dodge or parry the initial crippling strike. Unfortunately for them, they were all Rank 1s. The Rank 2 Artist had been exhausted in his dismantling of Lady Karire's locks, making him a sitting duck.
No words were exchanged as three Nightwalkers sprang forward, determined to blow themselves up.
Chaotic energy welled from within their bodies as they crashed into the tails that lost their crystalline shine.
The three fleeing Nightwalkers had already braced for an explosion, but instead of a shockwave greeting their ears, it was a blood-curdling scream that echoed throughout the entire manor.
AAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHH
The servants who had been hiding from the Nightwalkers all heard this scream and they shivered. Whatever battle was occurring outside was beyond their payload.
The guards who were running to reinforce the weakened defences of the mansion faltered in their footsteps.
'What happened?' They nervously asked themselves before resuming their hurried strides.
Five more horrid cries followed the initial three as the corrupted Nightwalkers were devoured as well. In less than a second, eight threatening Nightwalkers were neutralised.
Flustered, the remaining Nightwalkers truly wished to flee now. They could feel a different kind of threat exuding from the tailed child in front of them. A nonexistent cold sweat ran down their backs when they stole a glance at their predator.
The tailed child had eyes of bronze gazing hungrily at them.
"Shit! Run! Run as fast you can! We're going to be killed!"
Those words were their feelings put into sound. They usually had nothing to fear when venturing with their fog-bodies. If they were cut apart, all they got was a headache. If they blew themselves up to deal devastating damage, they would be out for a few days.
Those had been the only risks they faced.
Now, they felt fear.
The giggles of the tailed child sounded like boss music in their ears. One that was haunting and ominous as it echoed among the statues and carvings that littered the Arthime territory.
They sprinted dozens of metres away in a few seconds, not risking an attempt to blow themselves up in case that would be their final action. They did not know what they were facing, and their previous comrades were slain while they were on the verge of causing destruction.
Human fear governed their minds. It was a panic heightened by the moment and the adrenaline that screamed at them, [Fight or Flight? Flight! Just Flight! Only Flight! RUN!]. It clouded their thoughts as chemicals aplenty brought them cognitive dissonance. And so they fled with their tails between their legs despite knowing they should fight till their last breath.
But as they ran, they suddenly heard a heavy beat of feathered wings. A light of bronze was rapidly growing from behind them. Something was chasing after their puny attempts at fleeing.
It took only a few moments before a gust of wind hammered down their bodies of consciousness fog.
Crack! Crack! Crack!
The sound of a whip signalled three corrupting wounds. The remaining three Nightwalkers were picked off one by one as they wailed and writhed around in insanity. Just like the five before them, they lost their fixed bodies as they lost their minds. They lost control of their physical senses and even their sense of self.
They became balls of screaming mouths and flailing limbs.
The tailed child then put its hands on their hopeless bodies and they were promptly absorbed and devoured.
They were set to never awaken again.
"Mmmm, indeed flavourful. Especially that one Rank 2 Nightwalker... He was a bit more... plump when set apart from the others," Athelei muttered in satisfaction before dispersing into a nigh-invisible fog of dull colours.
His thoughts asked a question he had kept under wraps for the past day or two.
'I wonder what those remnants taste like?'
Athelei had finished enjoying his meal of mint-flavoured Nightwalkers. It was time for a little... variety.
.
.
.
With his wings heightened by Hunter, his bronze Tangible Will, and Gust, Athelei hurried all the way towards the Eastern Wall of Avina.
Faint lines of white smoke lingered in his vision, leading him towards a consciousness-based lifeform. Or perhaps in this case, a consciousness-based existence. Athelei continued to crave for beings to devour, and thus he was surprised by the hundred or so threads of white smoke that lead into the distant darkness.
'Only a few have roamed near Avina, but it seems to be enough to strike fear into the higher-ups,' Athelei observed the scampering knights and guards from high above.
He could see them holding torches or lanterns as they moved around in twos and threes. A platoon could be seen marching out to confront one of the Evolved Undead Remnants and prod their soon-to-be invaders.
'Perhaps Sir Weizhe wishes to gauge his knights' performance to properly prepare,' Athelei made a little conjecture that would most likely be left unanswered if said answers were not served on a silver platter. That was especially so with the mountain of questions he had already prioritised and yearned to be answered.
Athelei decided to fly for a few more minutes and have a taste of the ones further out on the dying plains.
His actions brought him before a chimaera-looking Undead Remnant with four different heads and the body of a cougar. Athelei identified an alligator, a lion, a deer, and a human head, groaning and mindlessly biting at the air. All the heads grew out of the same neck and looked like clay being squished together.
Their bone structures would've been severely disfigured if they were not synthesized out of the fog and smoke of mortal consciousnesses.
The living grass that surrounded the Undead Remnant was swiftly wilting, turning to ash, and then fog, as it was absorbed into the monster's body. Behind the monster lay a long trail of death that Athelei did not need much light to see.
Just by feeling the textures beneath his feet while roaming the dying southwest plains of Avina was enough. Not a single sprout of life could be sensed within the undead's wake.
'Curious,' Athelei thought to himself as he gave the chimaera a poke. "Hmmmmmm,"