The fatigued rhythmic sound of Fóntas's boots striking the cracked pavement echoed through the desolate streets, each step weighed down by the quiet desperation of a world in ruins. The once-thriving city, now reduced to ash and broken stones, seemed almost peaceful in its decay, except for the faint hum of energy in the air.
Father Mwange walked beside her, his silence more unnerving than any words could be. His staff was clutched tightly, its segmented form locked in place, but his demeanor had shifted there was something darker in his eyes, something more than the usual solemnity.
Fóntas glanced over at him. "You've been quiet," she muttered, breaking the silence.
He didn't respond at first, but then, almost in a whisper, he said, "Prayer requires silence."
Fóntas snorted. "Then maybe we should start praying for some answers, because this world's broken."
Mwange only nodded, a subtle motion, his eyes narrowing as if he were contemplating something that couldn't be spoken aloud.
Chime...
Suddenly, a strange sound reached Fóntas's ears. At first, it was subtle a distant chime, like the bells of a church ringing through the hollow city. The tolls were slow and deliberate, reverberating through the cracked streets, each toll ringing heavier than the last. But something wasn't right.
The bells weren't supposed to be working let alone tolling like that. And then, beneath the chimes, there came a sound a guttural chant, thick with distortion. It wasn't a language Fóntas recognized, but the malevolence in the tone was unmistakable. It was a voice that carried a promise of destruction, a voice that had no place in the world of the living.
Father Mwange stiffened beside her, his grip tightening on his staff. His lips moved in silent prayer, but even that seemed to tremble against the unnatural sounds.Fóntas halted, her instincts screaming at her to stop. The Divine Sight flared in her vision, and the system's cold, mechanical voice interrupted her thoughts.
[WARNING]
Debuff Detected – Unholy Aura Active:
Proximity to source may reduce stamina regeneration. Caution advised.
[ALERT: Greater Unholy Aura Detected]
Stamina regeneration reduced by 30%. Movement speed slightly impaired.
The weight of it hit her like a physical blow. Her breath hitched, and her muscles began to feel heavier. The air around her was thick with malice, and the further they moved, the harder it became to draw a full breath.
The Unholy Aura was suffocating, pressing in on her, and she could feel her strength beginning to drain already. Something—no, someone—was ahead. Something that was already aware of them.
Mwange's gaze shifted forward, his eyes narrowing as if he were searching for something unseen. "It's close," he muttered, the calm in his voice betraying a tension Fóntas could almost taste. He raised his staff, the base shifting and transforming into its deadly chain form.
Fóntas didn't need to ask what he meant. She could feel it too. There was a presence here, something that didn't belong to the natural order.
As they rounded the corner of a dilapidated church, the source of the Unholy Aura came into view.There, in the center of the ruined courtyard, stood the [Hollow Cleric] it's body skeletal, gaunt, and wrapped in tattered robes that seemed to wither as they touched the ground. The creature's face was a hollow mask of bone, its eye sockets glowing with a sickly, green light. The very air around it seemed to warp and twist, as if the world was bending to its will.
The Hollow Cleric stood motionless, one hand raised in a silent prayer, its voice chanting dark words that seemed to echo from beyond the veil of death. Fóntas's fingers twitched around the hilt of her Grave Daggers, and she could feel the pulsing energy within them an energy that reacted to her emotions, her will. But the fight wasn't about to be won by just charging in.
The cleric didn't even acknowledge their presence, continuing its chant as if they were insignificant like an annoyance, a small bug on the edge of its peripheral vision. The cleric's strength was beyond anything Fóntas had encountered before, and it didn't even seem to care about her.
She clenched her teeth, knowing she would have to push through the overwhelming sense of powerlessness the creature was projecting.
"Move," Fóntas muttered to Mwange, her voice steady despite the fear that clung to her. "I'll hold it off."
Mwange didn't argue. His face, normally so calm, was now hard resolute. He stepped forward, raising his staff high.
Fóntas lunged, her Grave Daggers flashing in the low light as she aimed for the creature's chest. But as her blades sliced through the air, the Hollow Cleric barely moved. With a simple flick of its hand, a barrier of dark magic appeared before it, deflecting her strike with barely any effort.
Fóntas staggered back, the force of her failed attack rippling through her arms. The weight of the Unholy Aura seemed to sap her strength even further.
The cleric didn't even look at her. Its hands remained in their prayer position, the chant unwavering.
[ALERT: Debuff Strengthened ]
Prolonged exposure to Unholy Aura will reduce your stamina regeneration by 50%.
Her stamina continued to drain with every passing second. Fóntas gritted her teeth and took another step forward, her muscles trembling from the effort.She struck again, aiming for the creature's legs this time, hoping to destabilize it. But once more, the same barrier flicked into place. Her daggers bounced off with a resounding clang.
And once again, the cleric didn't even acknowledge her. Its prayer continued, as if nothing more than a fleeting annoyance had crossed its path. To the Hollow Cleric, she was nothing but an insect to be ignored.
Father Mwange moved in, attempting to break the creature's concentration with a violent sweep of his staff. The chain whipped through the air, aimed directly at the cleric's head. But the Hollow Cleric reacted instantly, swatting the staff aside with a burst of dark energy that sent the priest stumbling back, forced to recover his footing.
It was clear the creature was no longer paying attention to them as threats. It was an overwhelming presence that regarded them with nothing more than contempt, as if they were unworthy of its full focus.
Fóntas could feel her body growing weaker, the effects of the Unholy Aura already starting to impede her movement. It wasn't just the stamina drain she felt a deep, sinking sense of dread inside her chest, as though something was clawing at her soul.
But she refused to back down.
With a growl of frustration, Fóntas surged forward, her daggers raised. This time, she wouldn't allow herself to be ignored.
She thrust the blades forward with all her might, but again, the Hollow Cleric didn't flinch. A barrier formed instantly, and her daggers clanged uselessly off it.
Fóntas stumbled back again, her arms aching from the failed strikes. She could feel her frustration building, but the more she fought, the more it became clear the cleric was playing with her. To it, she was nothing more than a bug it had been told to ignore.
The Hollow Cleric seemed to sense her desperation. Its chanting grew louder, the power in its voice reverberating against the very walls of the ruined courtyard. A wave of dark energy rippled outward, crashing into Fóntas like a physical blow. She barely had time to react before she was sent sprawling to the ground.
[WARNING]
[Debuff Detected – Corrupted Touch]
Strength reduced by 20% for 30 seconds.
Fóntas gasped for air, her chest tight with the weight of the energy pressing down on her. She could feel her body rebelling, the world around her seeming to blur with the force of the attack.She staggered to her feet, blood dribbling from her mouth. She had no time to recover, no time to breathe.
But the cleric's eyes flicked past her, toward a new distraction Father Mwange, now recovering from the blast. The Hollow Cleric shifted its stance ever so slightly, but it didn't break its chant. It was treating them as if they were beneath it no more than a minor inconvenience in its eternal cycle.
Fóntas clenched her fists, refusing to give in. With renewed determination, she charged again, this time aiming for the cleric's exposed side. Her daggers flashed through the air, but again, the creature's magic whipped into place, swatting her away like a fly.
The Hollow Cleric didn't even glance in her direction. Its focus remained locked on its prayer, its body rigid with a silent, deadly resolve.
The battle continued, Fóntas fighting with every ounce of her strength, but the Hollow Cleric remained unyielding. Its power seemed to grow with each passing second, and Fóntas could feel the distance between her and victory widening. Yet, despite everything, she refused to be silenced.
The creature may have seen her as a bug, but she wasn't going to stop until it learned the price of ignoring her.
The fight dragged on. Fóntas's strikes became more erratic, her body more strained. The Hollow Cleric barely acknowledged her presence, continuing its chant as though she were nothing more than an irritating speck.
Father Mwange fought beside her, his staff cutting through the air, but even his formidable attacks were easily deflected by the cleric's dark magic.
Each time Fóntas tried to land a blow, the barrier would form, deflecting her efforts with ease. She couldn't help but feel insignificant, like a small, helpless child trying to break through an impenetrable wall. But she wasn't a child anymore. And she wasn't about to let it think that she could be ignored forever.
The battle stretched on, the unholy power pressing down on them with every passing moment. And all Fóntas could do was keep fighting, keep pushing forward no matter how insignificant it seemed to the Hollow Cleric.