>The Full Moonlight Curse effect: 35 hours remaining!
For nearly two day, Bain and I had remained cloistered within the church's barracks.
We'd established a rotating watch schedule, monitoring the undead horde's movements outside and snatching brief rests.
During our surveillance, we made a startling discovery: Voidwalkers were also present.
Fortunately, we moved with the stealth of shadows, avoiding any noisy and unnecessary sound that might .
Our rations, surprisingly edible, sustained us, and the warmth of the barracks offered a stark contrast to the chilling reality outside, a haven amidst the encroaching undead.
With ten minutes until shift change, I rose from my cot, readying myself.
Then, a frantic pounding echoed through the tunnel – Bain, breathless and ashen-faced, burst in.
"Sir! Knights… they're inside the church!" he stammered.
"Which knights? Part of Lance's raid?" I demanded clarification, my voice sharp.
Bain, speechless, could only offer a trembling, inadequate response.
His pale complexion spoke volumes; he'd witnessed something truly horrific.
Whatever it was, I had to see it.
"Come," I commanded, leading him through the tunnel towards the church's altar.
The air was thick with the stench of blood, mingled with dust and the acrid tang of sweat.
The scene that met our eyes was harrowing.
Numerous knights, their bodies mangled and drenched in crimson, lay near death at the church's center.
Those less grievously wounded were gaunt and hollow-eyed, their minds shattered by the horrors they'd endured.
One knight, registering our arrival, drew his sword, his gaze a terrifying blend of rage and terror.
I recognized him – one of the many who'd mocked at me when Lance had publicly ridiculed my application to join his raid.
But the arrogant mockery was a distant memory now.
His trembling frame, his broken spirit, evoked not fear, but profound pity.
His threat was nonexistent; I only felt compassion for his ravaged state.
A terrified knight stutter, "Who...who are you? Are you...undead?" His voice trembled with a palpable fear.
"Silence," I commanded, my tone sharp and urgent. "Your loud noise will attract the undead elite. They hunt the careless Knights. We risk annihilation if we're not careful."
His reply was a furious, "Shut up! Die—"
I preempted his attack, unleashing a Return to Earth spell.
A crushing wave of gravity slammed him to the ground.
The moonlight curse weakened my magic, but the effect was sufficient to subdue his frenzy.
"I will not repeat myself," I stated, my gaze unwavering. "One more outburst, and I will eliminate you. It's a more expedient solution than allowing all of us to perish due to your recklessness. Is that understood?"
His hostile snarling subsided, replaced by a defeated quietude.
His surrender was evident when he relinquished his sword.
"I...I'm sorry," he whimpered, his voice choked with remorsefulness. "Please, spare me."
Deactivating the spell, I assessed the injured knights.
A healer was among them, but their grievous wounds cast doubt on their ability to provide aid.
From my system inventory, I retrieved several potent restorative potions.
"Bain," I instructed, handing him the vials, "attend to the healers first. Their recovery is important."
"Yes, Sir Alstair!" Bain responded, swiftly distributing the potions.
The potions proved miraculously effective.
Pain receded, bleeding ceased, and the healers swiftly regained consciousness and their healing abilities.
The other injured knights watched in stunned amazement.
However, the crisis was far from over.
"Assist your comrades," I addressed the revived healers.
"Stop the bleeding, tend to those suffering from shock. If you desire safe place and food, then prioritize your comrades recovery. We cannot afford to leave fallen knights behind."
The healers, initially bewildered, quickly grasped the urgency of my commands, their heads nodding in agreement.
While healers frantically worked to revive the fallen knights, a warrior, who had earlier attempted to attack me, slowly rose, only to collapse again, his strength utterly depleted.
"Where are Lance and the rest of his strike force?" I asked.
The knight trembled, his face contorted by a horrific memory.
"It was a catastrophe...utter devastation...Everything crumbled in an instant. Initially, our assault team dominated the battlefield, decimating the undead hordes," he stammered, his voice barely a whisper.
"But when the full moon rose, bathing everything in its eerie luminescence, it was as if the apocalypse had begun. Our strength… it vanished. Even A-rank knights suffered grievous wounds fighting common undead! Then, from the shadows, a relentless barrage rained down, obliterating our ranks one by one!" His body racked with sobs,
he continued, "The blood...the screams of agony and despair...We scattered, fleeing for our lives, hunted relentlessly by a terrifying undead elite wielding a death-dealing blade!"
I could scarcely fathom the horrific ordeal Lance's strike force had endured under the curse of the full moon.
The addition of Dreadspires and Voidwalkers, each capable of slaughtering scores with a single blow, made the carnage almost incomprehensible.
Of the hundreds of knights I'd initially witnessed in Lance's command, perhaps only ten to twenty percent survived.
It was a scene of utter chaos.
"You will remain here. Silence is mandatory. Do not disturb Bain or myself. Obey my instructions without question. Any defiance will result in your immediate demise. Is that understood?" My words hung heavy in the air.
Heads nodded rapidly; hushed affirmations barely escaped cracked lips.
Good.
I needed to maintain focus on my primary objective: the annihilation of the Dreadspires and Voidwalkers.
As the injured knights received treatment, I directed Bain to distribute rations, water, and blankets.
Two hours crawled by.
The recovery was agonizingly slow, but gradually, I witnessed a glimmer of hope as their condition improved.
Nourishment and warmth revitalized their bodies, fostering healing.
Then, a beacon of hope – a new system notification arrived, offering a fragile promise of reprieve.
>The Full Moonlight Curse effect: 33 hours remaining!
>The Full Moonlight Curse return to Crescent Moonlight Curse due to diminish of Moonscar's power!
>Warning! The Crescent Moonlight Curse had affected your Magician Power!
>Warning! Your Mana power decreased 50%!
>Warning! Your Mana damage decreased 50%!
>Warning! Your Magic Barrier Defense decreased 50%!
As I expected, The Crescent Moonlight Curse had diminished in potency, followed by its time remaining.
A potent surge of magic, liberated from the weakened curses, coursed through my veins, a revitalizing tide.
Those injured Knights in the church, still on their health regaining process, experienced a similar restorative influx, accelerating their healing.
While the magical restoration remains incomplete, we are no longer crippled by the debilitating depletion of our previous state.
The vigil continues, awaiting the complete diminished of the moonlight's curse influence.
Suddenly, a violent assault shattered the church's quietude.
A furious pounding on the heavy oak door reverberated through the sanctuary.
"Open up! Open this damned door!"
The raw, desperate urgency in the shout identified the speaker instantly: one of the knights, undoubtedly seeking refuge.
The insistent, almost destructive battering commanded the attention of everyone within.
"It's me! Lance!"
Ah, the culprit was revealed: Lance, his entry as forceful and unrestrained as his personality.
Bain and I cautiously approached the door, anticipating the cacophony Lance would undoubtedly unleash.
But something felt amiss.
The pounding ceased, yet a palpable malevolence emanated from beyond the oak. Instinct propelled me towards Bain, yanking him back to create a safe distance. Moments stretched into an eternity.
Then, with a thunderous crash, Lance's spear splintered the church door, the sound a brutal symphony of destruction.
He stood framed in the wreckage, a figure drenched in gore, a savage roar tearing from his throat.
"What in the hell are you doing here?!", Lance shout in anger.
His blood-soaked form staggered towards his battered comrades, a grotesque parody of concern twisting his features.
"Recovery? Food? Shelter? How is that possible?! You're all traitors! You sabotaged my team! Your cursed guild and that stupid pig stole my victory on defeating Moonscar!", Lance point at me with rage.
His accusations were unreasonable, a desperate attempt to deflect blame.
A significant annoyance finally erupted among the knights due Lance's rage.
"Silence, Lance! Stop heaping this on us!" one retorted.
"The curse of the moonlight altered everything! No one could foresee this! You forced us onward, disregarding our safety!" another chimed in.
A third added, "Your reckless youth blinded you to the peril! You prioritized speed over survival!"
Lance's face, crimson with fury, contorted into a mask of rage.
"Silence! All of you, despicable betrayers!" he screamed, his voice cracking.
He brandished his broken spear, the point dripping crimson.
"My team didn't fail! I'm the academy's finest! I excelled at every trial! You traitors are to blame! Confess – who orchestrated this?!" His malevolence was palpable as he advanced, a predator stalking its prey.
I could not allow this frenzied display to continue.