Chereads / The Phantom Masquerade: Weaver of Worlds / Chapter 9 - Chapter 9:Hard fought

Chapter 9 - Chapter 9:Hard fought

The night vibrated with a palpable tension, every heartbeat in the city syncing with an unseen drum. The soldiers, clad in light armor that glinted under the twin moons, moved swiftly through the cobblestone streets.

Usually hardened by years of service, their faces were now drawn with fear and apprehension.

Their orders were clear: maintain order, protect the citizens, report any unusual activity, and most importantly save the lives in need.

Yet, the shadows cast by the moonlight seemed to grow longer and darker with each passing moment, and more than one soldier glanced nervously at the alleyways and rooftops, half-expecting a nightmare to leap out at them.

"Did you hear?" whispered one soldier to his companion as they hurried down a narrow street, the clang of their armor echoing off the stone walls, clanking about against the backdrop chaos that heaved throughout the city. "They say people are seeing monsters... horrible things lurking in the shadows."

"I saw one myself," the other replied, his voice trembling. "Just a glimpse, but it was enough. It was like... a shadow, but alive. Moving between the buildings. And some people... they've already been taken...."

"Then this is bad, we will have to report this to Lord Baelor" another soldier muttered, his hand gripping his sword hilt so tightly his knuckles turned white.

The soldiers nodded grimly, picking up their pace, their boots pounding against the ground.

They wove through the panicked crowds—men and women clutching their children, shopkeepers desperately pulling down their shutters, and the occasional beggar screaming incoherently about the end of days.

"A prophecy is about to commence! The end of the days! No race will be spared as such, we are the fortunate ones to perish first, spared from the horror that is to come!" Yelled the beggar as he walked down against the flow of the crowd, his eyes fanatic.

"Please, help us!" a woman cried, clutching the arm of one of the soldiers. Her eyes were wide with terror, and she shook as if cold. "They're coming... they're everywhere!"

"We're doing our best, ma'am," the soldier replied, trying to sound reassuring though his voice betrayed his fear. "Just stay inside, lock your doors, and don't let anyone in."

But as they pressed on, something more sinister made itself known.

The leading soldier, Donber, kept his eyes forward, his lazy, indifferent demeanor replaced by the urgency of the moment. His yellow hair was damp with sweat, and his typically half-lidded gaze was now sharp and focused.

Donber was a Tier 2 swordsman, tasked with the safety of the city, he was the one that was called by Baelor just now, the acting commander under Lord Baelor's order.

"Report!" Donber barked as they jogged through the narrow streets, his voice a whipped crack of authority.

"Southside clear, for now!" one soldier gasped, his breath labored. "But we've lost contact with the patrol in the west! No one's answering!"

"We've seen things," another soldier chimed in, his voice barely above a whisper. "Monsters in the shadows... but when we get close, they vanish. And some of the men... they're gone, Donber. Just... taken."

Donber's jaw tightened. "Stay sharp. We reach the wall and then regroup. Lord Baelor needs to know everything."

As they pressed on, the atmosphere grew heavier, the shadows darker. A cold wind whipped through the streets, carrying with it the scent of something foul, something rotten.

The soldiers exchanged nervous glances, but kept their pace, their fear driving them forward.

Then, without warning, something slithered from a nearby drain—a tentacle of pure darkness, pulsating with malevolent energy.

*BOOM!*

It moved faster than they could react, snatching a soldier off his feet and pulling him into the drain with terrifying strength.

His scream cut through the night, then was abruptly silenced as he was dragged into the depths below.

"Defensive positions!" Donber shouted, his voice like steel as he drew his sword, its blade gleaming in the moonlight.

The soldiers quickly formed a tight circle around him, their weapons ready, eyes wide with fear and determination.

But no amount of training could prepare them for what they were about to face.

The darkness struck again. Another tentacle shot out like a cannon, coiling around a soldier's leg before yanking him off his feet.

"Damn!!!"

He slashed desperately at the tendril, but his blade passed through the dark energy as though it were nothing but mist.

"H-help!!!"

His cries for help were cut short as he was dragged into the drain, his blood splattering across the cobblestones.

To this, in a split second, Donber moved like lightning, swinging his sword with all his might.

The blade severed a tentacle that had wrapped around his arm, the cut sending a shockwave through the night. The air boomed under the slash as the sword made contact with the darkness tendrils.

*Boom!*

The ground groaned and cracked beneath, as the sword successfully separated the tendril into two.

The severed piece flailed wildly before dissolving into black smoke, but the main body of the creature remained intact, its malevolent energy swirling with unnatural darkness. Somewhere hidden.

The tentacle whipped out again, this time with a vengeance.

It smashed into the side of a building with the force of a battering ram, the stonework crumbling under the impact.

The entire structure groaned before collapsing inward, dust and debris filling the air.

*BOOM!*

The shockwave from the collapsing building sent soldiers tumbling to the ground.

Donber gritted his teeth, forcing himself to stay upright as the ground shook beneath him.

The soldiers scattered, diving out of the way as the tentacle brought down another house, the sound of crumbling stone echoing through the street.

"Silver Slash!" Donber roared, channeling his energy into his sword.

The blade shimmered with a silver aura as he swung it in a wide arc, sending a crescent-shaped wave of energy slicing through the night.

The Silver Slash tore through the tentacle, the energy cleaving it in two with a resounding *crack*.

The severed ends writhed in the air before dissolving into black smoke, but more tentacles emerged, each one larger and more menacing than the last.

"Fall back! Fall back!" Donber ordered, his voice strained as he deflected another blow with a skillful parry.

*Boom!*

The sonic boom quaked under the impact.

The tentacle recoiled, but only for a moment. It surged forward again, smashing into the street with the force of a cannonball.

The cobblestones shattered, sending debris flying in all directions.

"Steel Barricade!" a soldier shouted, raising his shield as a protective barrier of energy formed around him and his comrades.

The tentacle crashed against the barrier, causing it to shimmer and crack under the strain.

The soldier grunted with effort, holding the barrier in place as the dark energy pressed down on them.

But the soldiers were being picked off one by one, their screams mingling with the sound of crumbling buildings as the tentacle tore through the street.

It was as if the very ground beneath them was alive, seething with malevolence.

One soldier, caught in the open, was hit by a tentacle that slammed him into the side of a building.

The impact was so powerful that the wall collapsed, burying the soldier in rubble.

Another was wrapped in a tentacle and lifted into the air, his sword falling from his grasp as he was slammed into the ground with bone-shattering force.

The cobblestones cracked under the impact, the soldier's body limp as the tentacle coiled around him, dragging him into the drain with sickening ease.

Donber fought with everything he had, summoning every ounce of strength and skill.

He unleashed a flurry of attacks, each one more powerful than the last. "Storm Cleaver!" he bellowed, his sword glowing with an intense blue light as he swung it downward.

The energy exploded outward in a powerful shockwave, creating a crater in the street and sending chunks of debris flying into the air.

The tentacle was blasted backward, its form wavering as if it was momentarily disrupted.

But the tentacles were relentless. Each swing of Donber's sword sent sparks flying as the blade clashed against the dark energy, but the tendrils were too many, too powerful. They whipped around him, smashing into buildings, tearing through the street like it was made of paper.

Entire sections of the city were being reduced to rubble, the air thick with dust and the smell of death.