The loud crash of the splintering wooden door echoed unnervingly far through the grey mist, shattering the deathly silence of the fortress walls. Ghastly wails rose from nearby ghouls in response. Seeing the skull markers rapidly converging on his mini-map and hearing the faint, menacing growls, Filder couldn't help but tense up.
The ghouls inside the barracks barely had time to react. Ashina, wielding her long blade, slashed at the neck of the nearest one. A jet of dark blood sprayed the wall, painting the room in macabre purple-black hues.
Another ghoul lunged instantly, its jaw unhinged grotesquely all the way to its ears. A bite from that would tear off a chunk of flesh.
Ashina sidestepped with effortless grace, simultaneously twisting her blade.
Fuelled by terrifying strength, the strike sheared off half the ghoul's head. Putrid blood gushed from the gaping wound, quickly pooling on the floor.
"ROAR!"
Drawn by the commotion, a horde of corrupted soldiers flooded the corridor. Their sickly white eyes rolled back, they surged forward in a packed, shambling mass.
The slaves brandished their farming tools, swinging them like stage props, but none dared step forward. Monsters were terrifying enough, but monsters clad in heavy armor? Unthinkable.
"Shit! How many got infected?" Filder cursed under his breath.
"Flames!"
Ashina summoned her dragon-wolf. Its massive form nearly blocked the entire corridor.
Pinpricks of magical energy coalesced like a flowing star river. The dragon-wolf opened its maw and exhaled a torrent of ghostly blue fire. The ghouls in the corridor were instantly engulfed, visible only as writhing, twisting silhouettes within the inferno.
"Such terrifying power..."
The slaves, previously torn between fleeing or fighting, were stunned. The battle that had erupted moments ago was over in a flash. A few glimpsed the consumed figures; the rest could only stare at the ashes on the floor.
"So this is the power of the God-Touched? Pity the loot got burned too." Filder's confidence surged. Time to be bold. "Make as much noise as possible! Lure the nearby ghouls here to be destroyed!"
Following Filder's command, the slaves clanged their tools against walls and stones. Ashina and her dragon-wolf efficiently dispatched the converging shamblers.
Soon, the area around the barracks was cleared. Filder gained a deeper appreciation for the God-Touched.
"Now, find anything valuable," Filder declared, his greed finally laid bare with a sharp smile. "Weapons, armor, coins – especially coins."
Just as he dispersed the slaves, one came running back, breathless with excitement.
"Milord! We found survivors!"
"Ah?" Filder's reaction held no joy. Instead, his gaze swept the surroundings with complex calculation. "Ashina, recall your wolf. Now's not the time to reveal our strength."
Exposing a God-Touched before they were fully developed was suicide. His stepmother *would* send assassins to kill him and claim Ashina for another.
The slaves seeing it was less critical; they were under his thumb, and a single thought could end them all. *Survivors, though... they might know where the valuable supplies are hidden.*
The survivors had barricaded themselves in a hidden bunker within the wall. Purifying potion splashed on the door offered scant protection against the mist. Hearing living voices gave them the courage to open up.
"Thank the Valkyries! I thought we'd be stuck for a week, forced to eat each other's excrement!" A burly officer cracked a grotesque joke, adjusting his uniform before flashing Filder a smile. "Hmm, let me guess... a newly knighted lordling? I'll be sure to report your deeds to Baron Bull."
"Think nothing of it. Merely lending a hand." Filder tilted his head, trying to peer past the soldiers blocking the bunker entrance. The officer had ten men crammed inside.
"Where's your retinue?" the officer asked, his eyes dismissively sweeping over Filder's slave 'soldiers' clutching farming tools.
Filder shrugged. "I'm no knight. I am Baron Filder."
"Oh? *That* Baron Filder? The one without a single guard? Your messengers mentioned your name when they brought donations." The officer's expression grew increasingly strange. His face cycled through several emotions before he shot a meaningful look at his men. A smirk played on his lips. "Milord Baron, we've long heard of your... kindness. Perhaps you could do us one more favor?"
*This tone is all wrong.* The original owner *was* kind to a fault. Filder raised an eyebrow, feigning innocence. "Do tell."
"We got drunk. Forgot to light the Penance Lamps. Let the mist flood the barracks... lost control. Big trouble." The officer spat. "Baron Bull's brutal. We'll be executed for sure."
*This is way above my paygrade.* "So..." Filder's smile turned predatory. "You want to join me?"
"Hahaha!" The soldiers burst into harsh laughter, tightening their grips on weapons. "We're deserting! But we need a noble's life savings. And killing you means no one knows we exist for a while."
"This is how you treat your savior?" Filder was furious. His original plan involved recruiting the survivors or, if uncooperative, killing them to find the supplies. But being preemptively threatened was deeply aggravating.
The burly officer sneered. "If we hadn't run out of Penance Lamp oil, we'd have fought our way out days ago! You're nothing!"
Filder let out a sudden, sharp laugh.
"What's so funny?" The officer raised his saber, puzzled by Filder's calm.
"Funny thing is," Filder said, his voice cold, "I was planning to loot this place anyway. Killing you lot just removes the witnesses. Ashina, now!"
A soldier beside the officer lunged, dagger aimed at Filder's heart.
In the blink of an eye, a blur of ghostly blue flashed past. The soldier's arm was wrenched off as easily as pulling a leg from a grasshopper.
*Clang!*
The air froze. Only the clatter of the fallen dagger broke the silence. The soldier collapsed, clutching the spurting stump, screaming in pure agony.
"My arm! MY ARM!"
The massive, ghostly blue dragon-wolf filled the corridor, its jagged, armored form as intimidating as a tank.
"MONSTER!" The soldiers recoiled in terror, several visibly wetting themselves.
"What the hell?! I thought Baron Filder had no backing! That he was a useless waste?!" The burly officer gaped, wishing he could flay alive whoever spread that rumor.
"Ashina, cripple them all," Filder commanded, licking his lips. The original owner was a saint; he was not. "Slaves! A chance to test your nerve! One silver coin for every man you kill!"