One person in control, commanding a “follower” that possessed almost no self-awareness and could mutate. The pieces snapped together in Nolan’s mind like a completed puzzle. It was them. There was no mistake.
That damned pairing was a “Guide” and an “Apostle”. In his previous life, it was this very cult that had been one of the masterminds behind plunging the Kingdom of Elfin into the abyss of civil war.
Grinding his teeth, Nolan fixed his gaze on the middle-aged man, who still wore that false smile. The sight of him made Nolan feel sick. Not physically; psychologically.
“Tch. So it’s you guys. Scums of the Nihility Cult.”
The moment the words “Nihility Cult” left his mouth, the man’s smile froze completely. The shock on his face was genuine, without a trace of pretense.
The Nihility Cult operated in secrecy, usually lurking behind the scenes. Across the continent of Vaughn, they were elusive, rarely seen. Most common folk had likely never even heard of them. And when they did reveal their fangs, they left no survivors.
Yet this dirt-poor-looking rural mercenary actually recognized them?
“Just who are you?” the man asked, narrowing his eyes.
Nolan loathed these lunatics. At this moment, he had no desire to waste even a single word on them. He knew the “Guide” himself possessed limited combat ability. The real threat was the “Apostle” he had just slain—now revived once more.
“You think you’re worthy of asking? Deal with your man-made freak first, then it’s your turn.”
So-called Apostles were humans who had been completely brainwashed and implanted with “alien blood.” They came in many forms and answered only to a single master—the “Guide.” They had no shared traits, except one: they were all grotesque and violently unstable.
The monster had to be dealt with first.
Nolan shifted his gaze to where the bald brute had fallen. There was no bald brute anymore. Only a pool of dark red blood remained, proof that he had once existed. Standing within it was a shadow Nolan had never seen before, a monster covered head to toe in dark green lizard scales. Over two and a half meters tall, its muscles bulging grotesquely.
If it were merely a lizardman, Nolan would not have been so tense. But this thing defied all logic. Where its head should have been was a ferocious lizard’s skull with a gaping maw. And inside that maw, lodged grotesquely upside down, was the original human head of the bald brute. Its hollow, lifeless eyes stared directly at Nolan.
Its left arm remained a thick human limb, but its right had twisted into three repulsive green tentacles, slick fluid dripping continuously from them. From its right shoulder sprouted a massive, constantly rotating eyeball, along with half of a grinning mouth. The entire form looked like a lizard had begun devouring a human, only for their genes to fuse mid-meal into an unspeakable mutation. Behind it, a long, thick tail lashed the ground irritably, each strike leaving deep gouges.
That was an “Apostle”, the Nihility Cult’s most infamous weapon of war—living calamities created by fusing human bodies with monster flesh.
The middle-aged man—the “Guide”—recovered from his shock and looked at Nolan once more, his expression returning to calm.
So what if he was well-informed? A mere Silver-rank mercenary could never be a match for an Apostle. Now that his identity had been exposed, there was no need for pretense.
He raised his hand and pointed at Nolan from afar, delivering his verdict. “In the name of the Nihility Cult, annihilate the enemies of the Formless God!”
The inverted human head on the Apostle let out a low, guttural murmur, as if a prisoner finally freed from its shackles had been granted permission to kill. It moved, charging straight at Nolan.
Nolan narrowed his eyes. The pressure radiating from this creature was unmistakably at Gold rank.
Faced with the Apostle’s earth-shaking charge, he did not retreat. Instead, he stepped diagonally forward. Lowering his body, he swept Mountain’s Resonance along the ground, aiming straight for the exposed ankle revealed during the charge.
The Apostle’s reaction was far faster than before. Its twisted tentacle arm lashed downward.
Nolan had anticipated this. The moment his strike failed, he shifted immediately, twisting his wrist. The heavy blade reversed from a downward cut into an upward slash, precisely deflecting two of the tentacles aside.
But the third tentacle struck like a cunning viper, slipping past the blade and lashing hard into his abdomen. Bang! A burst of agony tore through Nolan’s midsection as the blow lifted him off his feet and sent him flying backward.
Midair, he twisted his waist by force and tapped the cave wall with the tip of his sword, bleeding off the impact and stabilizing himself.
Those tentacles were fast and powerful. The Apostle did not pause after landing a hit. Its massive lizard head snapped open, spewing a stream of dark green liquid like a high-pressure jet, an acid spray.
The grappling hooks on Nolan’s Arcane Lock Boots shot out, anchoring firmly into the rock face and allowing him to move freely along the vertical wall. Like a gecko, he darted across it at high speed, narrowly evading the highly corrosive spray.
Where the acid struck the stone, it sizzled violently, white fumes rising in curling wisps.
Nolan sprinted along the rock wall, constantly shifting positions, searching for an opening to counterattack.
Below, the Apostle had become a mobile turret. Its tail, tentacles, and acid attacks came one after another, relentlessly suppressing him. For a time, the cavern echoed only with the monster’s roars and the sharp clang of metal striking stone.
Nolan’s situation was extremely dangerous. He was like a lone skiff caught in a raging storm, liable to capsize at any moment. He focused all his attention, refusing to miss even the smallest opening. Every dodge, every parry, was executed with absolute precision. Like a seasoned matador, he was provoking a maddened bull. With minimal cost, he wore down the opponent’s stamina while gradually guiding the battlefield toward a specific direction.
The middle-aged “Guide” stood at a distance, arms crossed, watching coldly. The ease on his face slowly gave way to a trace of seriousness. He had seen through it.
This young man looked as though he were being overwhelmed, forced into a desperate struggle. But in truth, he was leading the Apostle by the nose. Every evasive movement was deliberate, not aimless retreat but careful manipulation.
The Apostle was powerful, but nearly mindless, fixated only on the target before it. And this young man was steadily drawing it farther from the unconscious young dragon while inching closer to where the Dimensional Banishment had taken effect. He was stalling.
The Guide understood Nolan’s plan. The old soldier would be returning soon. He intended to hold out until his ally came back, turning the fight into two against one.
Calm judgment and seasoned experience. This was not someone facing an Apostle for the first time.
A cold smile curled on the Guide’s lips. “The Apostle may have no brain, but I do.” He suddenly raised his voice, shouting to the Apostle still chasing Nolan, “Forget that insect! Grab the dragon first!”
The order was given. The half-human, half-lizard monster abruptly halted its pursuit. Its massive lizard head slowly turned toward the far corner, where the silver-haired girl lay motionless.
Nolan’s heart sank. He knew what the Nihility Cult was capable of. There was nothing they wouldn’t do. Whatever they intended for that young dragon, it was something he had to stop. If nothing else, doing the opposite of what they wanted was always the right choice.
The Apostle began to move, its heavy steps carrying it straight toward the corner, ignoring Nolan completely.
Nolan stopped evading. He leapt down from the rock wall and landed heavily on the ground. He did not harass, did not feint, did not scheme. He simply walked forward in silence, step by step, placing himself between the Apostle and the silver-haired girl. He gripped Mountain’s Resonance with both hands, the heavy blade held horizontally before his chest.
Behind him lay the hope of the future. Before him stood the enemy of his past life. With his own body, he formed a line of defense, one that would never yield.
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