Leon stared, transfixed, as the spirit; a figure of bright white light, rose upward from the corpse. The gleaming soul swirled with the ambient magic, drifting higher until it was drawn inexorably toward the center of the circle, where a small, half-buried spirit lamp waited.
The soul streamed into the lamp like liquid starlight, and the wooden frame of the artifact began to glow, illuminating the ground with radiant warmth. The runes on the earth flickered once more before fading entirely, signaling the ritual's completion.
Leon wasted no time. He strode to the center of the circle and dug through the soil, uncovering the spirit lamp. As soon as his fingers brushed the wood, the light pouring from it dazzled his eyes, forcing him to squint.
"Whoa…" he muttered, holding the glowing artifact up to get a better look. The soul inside the lamp was far brighter than anything he'd seen before, shimmering like a beacon. "It's so bright. Does that mean… the place he wants to return to is close by?"
Lola didn't respond immediately, her usual sharp voice conspicuously absent.
Leon tilted his head, curious about her silence but unwilling to dwell on it for now. He turned toward the corpse of the Flame Guardian Knight, still kneeling, now an empty shell. A twinge of envy flickered in Leon's heart as his gaze lingered on the magnificent armor.
"That's some impressive gear…" he muttered to himself, eyeing the gold-inlaid plates and the masterfully crafted halberd. 'It'd be a shame to leave this treasure lying around in some cursed ruin.'
He approached the fallen guard carefully, laying the body flat on the ground out of respect. Gently, he slid the halberd aside, its weight causing it to thud heavily into the dirt. Then, with a bit more enthusiasm, Leon began working to loosen the straps and clasps of the armor.
The plates were heavier than they looked, but Leon's hands were practiced. As he fiddled with the joints, he considered the possibilities. 'Even if I can't wear it myself, this armor would make one hell of a display piece at home… Or I could sell it to some rich noble. The kind of money this could fetch…'
Just as he managed to unfasten a shoulder guard, Lola's voice cut through his thoughts. "You might not want to do that."
Leon frowned, irritated at the interruption. "What's the problem now? Some kind of magic curse on the armor?"
"Not exactly," Lola answered, her tone knowing. "The armor of the Flame Guardian Knights contains a magic-forbidden field. Only those who survive the Trial of the Blazing Sun can wear it without harm. If you try to wear it without the proper spirit… well, let's just say it'll be like strapping yourself into a furnace."
Leon paused, a cold knot forming in his stomach. "A furnace?"
"Exactly," Lola said with a hint of amusement. "The armor feeds on the strength of the wearer's soul. If your spirit isn't strong enough, it'll burn you alive from the inside. But feel free to try 'after' you fulfill our agreement. I'd hate for you to roast yourself before you take me back to Rolandar."
Leon groaned, his dream of parading around in the legendary armor crumbling before his eyes. "Figures…" he muttered, reluctantly releasing the chest plate.
Still, even if he couldn't wear it, the armor was too valuable to leave behind. It would make an excellent conversation piece or better yet, he could find someone with a stronger spirit to purchase it. Wealthy nobles had a strange taste for dangerous artifacts, and this set was sure to fetch a fortune.
With renewed determination, Leon patted the knight's cold shoulder and whispered, "Sorry, big guy. If I can't wear it, someone else will. But don't worry, I'll make sure it doesn't go to waste."
He began gathering the armor, stacking the pieces carefully to avoid damaging them. 'After all,' he thought with a grin, 'I've got a warhorse now. Might as well make him carry something worthwhile.'
As he worked, the magic lamp continued to glow beside him; a silent reminder of the soul that had willingly given its light for one final task. Leon glanced at the lamp one last time and offered a quiet, heartfelt thanks.
Then, with a satisfied sigh, he hoisted the armor over his shoulder. "Alright, let's get out of here. We've got a long journey ahead and a lot of gold waiting for us at the end."
Leon pulled the completed pathfinder from his pouch, the crude tool humming faintly with magic. It wasn't much to look at, a tangle of metal, wood, and string; but it worked. Turning toward Corvis, he motioned to the blond boy. "Bring the warhorse over, will you?"
Corvis gave a nod, his lantern bobbing slightly as he went to retrieve the restless animal from where it waited. Together, the two of them hefted the lifeless body of the Flame Guardian Knight onto the horse's back. The knight's armor clinked softly with each movement, its once-dazzling luster dulled by dust and time.
Leon exhaled, wiping sweat from his brow. "We'll carry him out and find a place to bury him properly. Feels like the least we can do, right? After everything…" His voice trailed off, a subtle hint of respect creeping into his tone. This undead knight had given them his soul willingly, an act of nobility, even in death.
Once the body was secured on the horse, Leon turned and scooped the fallen halberd from the ground. The weapon's weight nearly threw him off balance, forcing him to adjust his stance with a grunt. The steel glinted under the faint glow of the spirit lamp, the intricate engravings along the blade catching the dim light.
He turned the weapon over in his hands. "Lola, can I at least use 'this'? Or is it cursed too?"
"No restrictions on that one," Lola replied, her voice echoing lightly in his mind. "But without knowing how to manipulate magic, you'll be swinging it like a glorified club. That thing's meant to be controlled by spellcraft, and frankly, it's 'much' heavier than any ordinary weapon. You'll wear yourself out before you ever land a proper hit."
Leon grunted, adjusting his grip on the halberd as his arms began to tremble under its weight. "Yeah, no kidding…"
Lola's amused voice cut in. "You know, Corvis might be better suited for it. At least he can tap into the autonomous magic formula hidden inside. With the right spell, he can guide it from a distance; like having a ghostly hand smack your enemies with it."
Leon glanced toward Corvis, who stood nearby, watching him struggle with the oversized weapon. With a reluctant sigh, Leon handed the halberd over. "Alright, kid, it's all yours. Just don't drop it on your foot."
Corvis accepted the weapon with a grin, testing its balance with far more ease than Leon had managed. "This thing's heavy," he remarked, "but... I think I can work with it."
Leon rolled his eyes, securing the rest of their gear onto the horse's saddle. "Let's get moving. We've wasted enough time here."
The two trudged forward, Corvis following close behind with his lantern in one hand and the halberd slung effortlessly over his shoulder. His gaze shifted toward the spirit lamp glowing in Leon's hand, brighter than any magic crystal lamp he'd seen. "Is that really the thing that'll get us out of here?" he asked, tilting his head curiously.
Leon nodded, glancing down at the lamp's ethereal glow. "Yeah. It works by binding the souls of the dead to guide us out of this cursed land. It's like... following breadcrumbs made from ghostlight."
Corvis frowned, skepticism etched across his face. "If it's that easy, why didn't any of those legendary wizards make it out of here? You know, the ones who came to Atias and never returned?"
Leon shrugged, keeping his eyes on the path ahead. "Maybe they didn't have the right souls. Or maybe they just weren't as lucky as us."
Corvis didn't look entirely convinced but held his tongue, choosing instead to follow Leon in silence as they weaved through the thick forest. The path grew more treacherous with each step, roots snaking across the ground and jagged stones poking through the undergrowth.
The journey was far from smooth. Without griffins to swoop in and clear the way, every encounter with the undead became a battle for survival. Corpses, restless and mindless, stumbled from the shadows, forcing Leon and Corvis to fight their way through the cursed wilderness.
Leon swung his sword with grim determination, cutting down those undead that Corvis managed to lift off the ground with his magic. Corvis's spells proved invaluable, keeping the zombies airborne just long enough for Leon to strike them down with brutal efficiency.
The worst encounter, however, came when a massive undead tiger emerged from the underbrush; a skeletal beast, its flesh long rotted away, leaving only a monstrous frame of bones and sinew. It let out a ghostly roar that sent the warhorse into a panic, nearly ripping free from Corvis's grip.
Leon's heart raced. He wasn't wearing heavy plate armor, and the leather-and-chain mail he had wouldn't stand a chance against the tiger's claws. His head was exposed, and if he tried any fancy footwork, the beast would tear him apart before he could even blink.
"Corvis!" Leon shouted, keeping his stance wide and waving his sword to draw the tiger's attention. "Hit it with something—'now!'"
The tiger lunged, claws flashing in the dim light, and Leon braced for impact. But before the beast could reach him, Corvis muttered a quick incantation, his eyes glowing faintly. With a flick of his hand, the enchanted halberd lifted from the horse's saddle and shot through the air like a javelin.
The weapon pierced the undead tiger's skull with a sickening 'crack', driving it into the ground with unstoppable force. The once-mighty beast collapsed, the halberd pinning it like an insect under glass. Its head split open with unnerving ease, as if the blade were slicing through soft butter.
Leon exhaled, his legs nearly giving out beneath him. "Damn," he muttered, brushing a hand through his sweat-soaked hair. "That thing's sharp."
"Lola wasn't kidding," Corvis said, eyeing the fallen tiger with awe. "That halberd's no joke."
Leon clapped him on the shoulder, still catching his breath. "Good job, man. Let's not stick around to see if it has any friends."