In a forest, screams and pleads of pained and despaired voices resounded chaotically.
Red blurs flashed all around, floating about in a chaotic array while screaming for help, freedom, or mercy, but also attacked Conan in a way in contrast to the way they screamed.
The Weepers shrieked loudly, disturbing the serenity of the night. Causing disturbance to the senses of the celestial.
He drew the arrow and shot it at a Weeper. The arrow went through, eviscerating it into particles of spiritual energy, which Conan's body absorbed as naturally as breathing.
The arrow was made out of pure spiritual energy, it killed the weepers who were naturally extremely troublesome to kill, as physical attacks won't harm them.
The arrow he shot moved in an arc, destroying every Weeper it met, going through them without a slight resistance.
He shot more arrows in quick succession, reducing the weepers and absorbing the particles released, however, in his mouth, a blue semisolid orb was forming.
He didn't need spiritual energy anymore as he had an infinite amount within him, so he decided to concentrate the energy and use it for something else later.
Little by little, the Weepers were reduced till none remained, he looked around and enjoyed the sound of rustling leaves, the gloom of the atmosphere, and the...
"Wait a minute..."Conan focused on one spot, the energy radiating from that place was strange. It was radiating life force, a lot of it, but also an absurd amount of negative emotions.
It was a bit far from where he was but he was glad, he found where he was looking for at last. He hummed in satisfaction as he trudged towards the place.
Halfway, he sensed the presence of unknown entities hiding in the dark, waiting to ambush him timely. He slowed down, but continued walking, patiently waiting for them to make the first move, and it seemed that those entities were getting impatient.
An arrow came swiftly at him from the top of the tree, aiming to pierce his head through his earhole. He stepped aside and caught the arrow in his hand at a speed seemingly greater than the arrow.
He looked at the long, plain silver arrow and wanted to study more on it but then noticed a soft click coming from his left leg.
He looked and saw a strange disc-like device, with a line in which a blue glow proceeds in a gradual circle to meet its tail. The curious side of him squinted on seeing how this device absorbed the spiritual energy contained in the atmosphere, he looked carefully to see what will happen when the blue glow meets at where it began.
And soon enough, the glowing blue line met and his vision flashed for a moment, he felt his body being propelled off by an impossible amount of pure spiritual energy. His left leg which he placed on top of the enigmatic disc suffered a major blow.
His body hit a hard surface which broke as a result of impact with him, it didn't particularly feel painful, but the sudden light that came from the disk blinded him for a moment and the wave that came out disrupted his senses and even made him lose control over his spirit for a moment.
"What in..."
He shut his eyes tightly and opened them again, his eyes adjusted to the darkness but not like before when he could see practically everything but now it has gotten darker—It'll return to normal in a few moments though.
It was then, he knew, that he had fallen into a trap, he could have escaped it if he knew what the disk worked for. And that's why he needed more information, what if the thing killed him? What if his babies come across something bigger?
"Haha! Joy's psi-explosives are so good and efficient! Look, a blast and he's dead! Haha!"A gruff voice of one of the ambushers sounded out from the covers.
" That was a mighty blast indeed."
"Wow, that's so cool, brother!"Another squeaked in amazement.
"It's worth the pay! We need to get more of those discs."
He heard cheers and tones of wonder from his surroundings, the entities making them move towards him like he was a dead man already because indeed he hadn't gotten up from the ground yet.
He raised his upper body from the ground with a jolt and saw different men in monastery robes pointing their weapons at him vigilantly, all startled by how he behaved and the fact that he was dead.
They had tested the disc before and the one they tested it on had all their bones crushed, all internal organs burst, and, they became a sludge confined in human form.
They had used it to raid a village, just three of it, and most of the villagers were dead. They even ended up killing almost all of their targets.
Even in this case, the trees close to the spiritual energy blast had broken from their branches and had fallen, making rain of leaves fall on the clueless men.
"I thought you said he's dead!"A man turned to the one who spoke at first.
"I don't expect him to die just like that or I'll be very disappointed. At least now, he won't die without a fight, it's a great honor for a man."The man responded with a deadpan.
"Maybe the pay isn't worth it, and we definitely don't need more of those spi-explosive disks."Another said in disappointment.
"Not dying without a fight is an honor? Brother, that's stupidity, you should run."Another of the men whispered to another on the side.
"Yeah, a man escaping from a fight has the real honor."
Murmurs broke out among the ambushers. All of them marveling as to why Conan didn't die from the blast, he didn't even look like anything happened to him.
Conan stood up and casually dusted the hem of his robe, he stretched his left leg which was now a little bit numb— It'll return to normal after a couple of kicks.
He raised his hands slowly, causing water to rise from the earth, taking shape and freezing into a chair that he sat on and crossed his legs, feeling comfortable.
"Who are you? What god do you serve? And how did you get past my Weepers, you even killed them, how dare you?!"The formidable-looking man among them all spoke. He was burlier than the others, with a huge mattock supported by his large frame.
The night breeze ruffled the bushy hairs of his bare chest and waved his absurd mustache as he stood in front of Conan haughtily. He seemed to be the leader, with frizzy tangled mane running down his forehead to his nape.
"So you owned the weepers? May I know the god you serve first? And how did you own the reapers."Conan calmly replied with questions of his own.
"You came here and you don't know the god we serve? Are you a fool?"The mustache man said, his mustache trembling ever so slightly as he bellowed mockingly.
The others also laughed and mocked. Conan disregarded the disrespect since they were going to die anyway, so he remained patient and waited to get what he came for— information.
"We are the followers of kongieus, the god of satyrs!"The mustached man pronounced.
Conan's mind spun as he spoke "Kongieus? As in, the satyr god of rapists?"His voice was full of questioning.
From what he knew, Kongieus was a god who gains more power from the unwilling spirit of his victims. He is a creator of devil cultivation arts that follow this same method.
'The satyr progenitor huh? I thought he was sealed.'
"Yes!"The mustache man said enthusiastically "But that's not all, the god gave us the power, to control the residues of our victims, that is, the Weepers! And his bloodline!"
The man brought out a jar from a pouch strapped to his waist belt. The jar was translucent with strange markings all over it. Its contents were blurry red and chaotic, with black wisps in between.
He uncocked the bottle, making a popping sound but also making screams of pain and despair flow out along with countless Weeping specters
"Join us! And we shall take our place at the side of Kongieus as his precious Gooses, as we dominate all the females of this plane and—"
"Hey! Hey! It's okay, it's okay... I'm not interested."Conan cut the man short off his words before he could finish.
The man looked at Conan with malice and bellowed "Then you have come to die!"He gestured to the Weepers who were currently floating around.
"Attack! Kill him!"He bellowed, the Weepers listened to his commands but their screams and expression were unwilling.
Apparently, the more unwilling they are, the stronger the control over them will be.
Conan sat calmly in his seat of ice, his composure in mutual with the still darkness of the forest—utterly calm. His serpentine eyes narrowed and he hummed.
The Weepers swarmed towards him as the ambushers— the Men of Kongieus— laughed mockingly at him, hoping to have a good show.
What show is better than seeing a man die, pleading as his spirit gets ripped out of his body? The men laughed, thinking their night won't be that bad after all.
Conan on the other hand wasn't disturbed. He just raised his left hand, with ripples of spiritual energy gathered in the tip of his thumb and middle finger.
He snapped and a visible wave of energy erupted from him, startling the men and also ruffling the trees, making huge amounts of leaves rain.
But the most significant effect of the single snap was the small cyclone of blue and fiery blue spiritual energy that materialized in the air and rapidly grew in size.
In the middle of the cyclone was a rift that revealed the endless colorful chasm underneath, a chaotic array of vibrant rays flashing intricately in the background.
The Cyclone whirled and started sucking in the weepers, one by one, or sometimes in groups. The ambushers also got pulled in by the vortex but they reacted on time, all latching onto trees as though their lives depended on it— because, literally it did.
The suction force on the ambushers wasn't as much as it was on the Weepers though, as the ambushers weren't the target, not yet. But yet, they all seemed scared of the fact that a man created a cyclone with a snap of his fingers.
The mustache man stood in silence and mouth agape. He was someone who loved reading about ancient cultivation as subject, in which he learned about soul cyclones, a method an immortal uses to devour the soul essence of dead souls of high quantity at once.
Immortals strengthen their immortality, by absorbing essence from the dead souls, and convert them into their soul force.
But that doesn't mean that mortals couldn't use soul arts like the immortals, but they can't absorb soul essence like the immortals. Mortals refer to it as Force Arts.
And they are rare. the sects that practiced Force Arts in the cultivation era were not much at all, and most weren't even humans.
"I can't believe I'm wasting my precious time on you filths."Conan was thoroughly vexed and was running out of patience, while his ambushers stood with agape mouths, till all the Weepers were gone and the cyclone closed, vanishing like it was never there and revealed the sitting Conan.
The Cyclone actual was not a soul cyclone, it was a channel way to his spiritual dimension and any mortal cultivator in the "profound Entity Stage" or above could do the same—for absorbing huge amounts of spiritual energy at once because one rises through the stages, the more energy required to proceed.
"Thanks for the supper..."Conan said, his serpentine eyes sweeping the men with his gaze, thinking of the most efficient way to get rid of them, without wasting time.
The men of kongieus looked with trembling hearts. Even them that were indoctrinated to dominate, knew that they had no chance.
Who knew their night would be this bad?