Zoe was quick to start handing out weapons. There were a large number of fancy weapons in her inventory, but almost all of them were Corrupted. Zoe still didn’t really understand what that meant, but it wasn’t anything good. During her extremely brief stay in some sort of nonhuman prison—well, technically all the inmates were Human ‘monsters’—she teamed up with a fairly powerful guy that everyone else called a ‘soul eater.’ Even that guy wanted nothing to do with her Corrupted weapons, instead only wielding them through a defeated guard captain he puppeted around with magic.

  Unfortunately, that left Zoe with only four potentially usable enchanted weapons. I really ought to go shopping for more fighting and killing things type equipment at some point. Now was hardly the time to think about shopping, though, so she hurried up and sorted the list.

  /Weapons/Uncorrupted

  > Demonic Ice Sickle

  > Scythe of Loathing

  > Embittered Venom Strike

  > Scepter of Disdain

  Back then, the only one Zoe herself could properly wield was the stupidly named ‘Demonic Ice Sickle.’ That was no longer the case, though, as she’d both moved well beyond level 25 and now ascended to Rank E. The letter ‘E’ still felt depressingly low, but anything was better than always seeing a big fat ‘F’ looming at the top of her entire status.

  Out of the four, only one of them was still beyond her advancement. That was the beautiful and deadly looking Scepter of Disdain, which required a whopping Rank C to be act as anything more than a regular hunk of metal. “Hey Stella,” Zoe said, “You’re Rank C, right?”

  After a brief pause, her comrade in Demonhood and business management nodded. “Great.” Drawing the Scepter of Disdain from her inventory, she offered it to Stella.

  The other Demon only took one look at the glorious tool of death and warfare before shaking her head, though. “That’s a real nice polearm you’ve got, but it’s really not my style.”

  Disappointed, Zoe shoved it back into her invisible and intangible inventory. Damn. I really wanted to see what it would actually do. Also, wait—does she not want it because it’s Disdain and not Passion, or does she not like blade-on-stick weapons in general? Questions for later. It only took a couple seconds for her to pull out the Embittered Venom Strike and toss it over to Sasha.

  The sizzling, toxin-laden spear was the truly a perfect weapon for her friend. Acid, venom, afflictions, and all things corrosive, toxic, and foul were already baked into the Lycan woman’s path of core evolutions. She was also best suited for brutal fights at close range, so a spear in general was a good choice.

  It was the same weapon Zoe had loaned out during their mutual prison break, and Sasha caught the haft with ease. “Thanks.”

  The only one left, then, was Millie. Zoe wasn’t sure if the girl would even want the last weapon she had to offer—she was pretty sure the girl used a bow. She doesn’t have one on her right now, though, so surely having some kind of weapon can’t hurt. Zoe decided to refresh her memory at the same time that she brought the Demonic Ice Sickle out of her inventory.

  Identify!

  [ENCHANTER]

  Level 40 | Rank E

  An ordinary Human with a tendency to make ordinary things slightly less ordinary.

  -Alignment-

  > Life

  > Wind

  -Strengths-

  > Acuity

  > Perception

  -Weaknesses-

  > Time

  > Power

  Right. Despite running around with a bow, Millie’s primary class was Enchanter. Zoe still knew very little about what that even meant, and for the second time, she wondered what was up with one of her ‘weaknesses’ being listed as time, of all things. Maybe I’ll figure it out while we’re fighting monsters.

  Millie eyed the weapon with a heavy dose of skepticism. “That thing’s gotta be some kinda cursed, Demonic relic, yeah?”

  Zoe frowned. “Well I’m pretty sure it’s not cursed, and I don’t think I’d call it a ‘relic,’ but—“

  “Yeah, no thanks,” Millie cut her off, “that thing is super Demonic. No way am I touching that, uh, no offense.”

  “None taken.” Zoe shoved it back in her inventory. Millie was already much better when it came to tolerating Demons than the median Human in this world, or at the very least, in the Nordvask kingdom. Zoe wasn’t exactly well traveled yet.

  Now that she had both reached Rank E and exceeded the level requirement by 12, she had a new weapon to try out for herself. After putting away the Demonic Ice Sickle, she switched it for the last remaining weapon that wasn’t Corrupted—the Scythe of Loathing.

  [SCYTHE OF LOATHING]

  Rank D

  Does the mower scorn the grass? Probably not, but this is a weapon of Disdain, so it’s no surprise that the a bitter and sharp hatred suffuses the very metal. Every soul sundered against the Scythe of Loathing’s edge adds power to a temporary enchantment. Along with moderately enhancing the blades cutting power and slightly increasing its range, the accumulated power can be unleashed all at once to inflict a single, devastating strike.

  -Attributes-

  > 100% Efficacy at Rank D

  This book was originally published on Royal Road. Check it out there for the real experience.

  > 130% Affliction Efficacy at Rank D

  > 78% Quality

  Zoe made sure to refresh her memory on the weapon’s description. It was the first time she’d be using it, which obviously meant she wanted a proper understanding of how it was supposed to function. It’s a rampage, kill-streak kind of mechanic. Nice. The only unfortunate part was that she had no idea how quickly the stacks of the ‘temporary enchantment’ would fade away. Guess we’re gonna find out soon. Also, that’s a seriously edgy description.

  Lilith seemed to agree. “Yeah, the wording is definitely a bit over the top.”

  By this point, though, Zoe had gotten pretty used to the system randomly throwing in all kinds of different flavor where there really didn’t need to be any.

  “So… What are we about to do?” Sasha asked.

  It was a decent question. Assuming the Inquisitor wasn’t lying, for some reason—and Zoe didn’t think that was likely—then the Revulsion cultists had done something to somehow summon or create a horde of blight monsters. That fit perfectly with what she and Stella had discovered just hours earlier at the town hall.

  That was more evidence in the Inquisitor’s favor—so far as telling the truth about an imminent monster horde—and they’d already established how much of a disaster the whole thing could quickly become. “We’re going to do our best to protect the rest of the town,” Zoe said, “which mostly means doing what we can to stop an unnecessary number of people from dying.”

  Zoe was well aware that she wasn’t much of a role model. On some level, she understood that she was often selfish, immature, petty, vindictive, and a lot of other nasty little adjectives. She wasn’t a total psychopath, though, and sitting by to see an entire town overrun by ghouls wasn’t something she would let herself do—especially when she had a decent array of abilities for both healing and combat.

  Everyone else looked similarly resigned. “Where do we even start?” Millie asked.

  That’s also a good question, Zoe mused. It wasn’t like ghouls were already pouring into the streets. How were they supposed to defend a whole town? There were only four of them, and if Zoe turned out to be halfway decent at stopping the Blight from spreading, she couldn’t stick to a single area around the outer wall.

  Blossomfell might be a small town, even by the standards of this new world, but it was still way too big with way too many people for a four-person wall defense to be effective. Fortunately, it became readily apparent that they weren’t limited to just four.

  The Inquisitor had done a pretty good job at getting people awake and on edge, and the news seemed to be spreading fast. All up and down the streets in the distance, in the residential parts, people were throwing possessions into packs, carts and bags, and many groups were already hustling off in the same direction. Towards the very center of town, Zoe realized.

  Unlike most, however, she could spot a couple people here, there, and elsewhere who looked like they were hastily gearing up for a fight. Guards and adventurers, she reasoned, or even just people who feel like they have the skills that could help defend the rest. She found that the whole thing was weirdly inspiring to witness.

  “We group up with everyone else in the town square,” Stella said, her tone serious and bearing no disagreement. “Specifically, we’ll head to the side closest to the abandoned mine. That’s the direction that blast of mana came from, as did the Inquisitor.”

  That, and also the part you left out about it being a literal cult lair. Zoe nodded. “Sounds reasonable, I guess?”

  The others also gave their assent. With nothing else to do and a rather urgent calling, the group of four broke into a run. They weren’t exactly sprinting, but it was no casual jog, either—and given the influence of stats, that meant they were all clipping along at what Zoe assumed would easily have been a competitive pace at the world level back on Earth.

  Zoe grimaced. Assuming this is going to be a horde of those Blighted Ghouls—something which seemed likely—I really hope I can cure anyone who gets infected.

  _____

  Lord Darius Loch froze to a complete stop. The gaggle of gifted and talented adventuring students behind him slowed down as well, relief surging through their spirits. Even Liliana’s Rank C minder was starting to take a hit to his stamina.

  “Sir, why are we stopping?” Andric asked. The other, lower rank members were all catching their breath. “Did you find any monsters?”

  The alchemist rubbed his chin. It was faint, having spread outwards for some distance, but the magic signature was unmistakable. Lord Darius instantly found himself rather annoyed. Basil assured me he had the Revulsion cult issue under control. I should know better by now than to entrust anything of importance to an adventurer.

  The black sheep of House Blodmane’s main branch had been causing him more grief than was usual, as of late. For a Rank B, the man was wildly inconsistent. Admirably competent one day, a blithering fool the next. The Disdain Cultist had done a commendable job uncovering and securing the elder temple, and Lord Darius had been pleased enough that he decided to finish up the demonic core vessel that the younger man begged him to create a year prior.

  The resulting artifice was a work of true art and alchemical innovation. Not content to stop at mere rank and quality, the former soldier had imbued his creation with a number of unique attributes. The internal, spacial storage system should have rivaled the finest of storage rings, and the so-called ‘Heart of Alchemy’ should have ensured the man would have unparalleled control over his eventual monster evolutions.

  He should never have let the item leave his sight.

  Rather than wait to perform the ritual in a controlled, reasonable manner with Lord Darius’s oversight, the impulsive, reckless fool had roped his other cultist lackeys into an ill-considered attempt to perform the ritual using the central altar they’d uncovered. And—of course—whatever they’d done had knockoff effects that succeeded in waking up one of the entombed Scions.

  Breaking into the sanctum once had been challenging enough. That alone had taken months, and getting through the incomprehensible elder warding encasing the Scions themselves was an order of magnitude more difficult. The powerful alchemist and enchanter had eventually succeeded—only for the entire temple to rage against him the moment he collapsed the wards and shattered the tomb of stone. The entire place had henceforth been determined to kill him—well, to a degree that far surpassed the initial scale of its aging defenses—and Lord Darius considered it fortunate to have gotten out alive at all.

  He had no idea what might have happened to the freed Scion, and he was once again facing what seemed like an insurmountable barrier to any progress.

  So, with all that being said, his first reaction upon learning that Basil’s foolishness had inadvertently triggered the awakening of an additional Scion was pure joy. But, as always, things didn’t continue to work out quite so smoothly. The newly risen Scion stumbled straight into Basil’s little ritual at the same time a High Paladin did, and by all accounts, the intensity of their conflict damn near killed her.

  Yes, it was certainly true that he couldn’t hold Basil to blame for the arrival of the High Paladin. Lord Alexander was sent on behest of a High Priestess, so there was well and truly nothing the wayward adventurer could have done to prevent discovery. That being said, if the fool had abandoned his ritual and engaged the Paladin properly from the start, Lord Darius had no doubt he would have triumphed.

  But that would have been too sensible for Basil Von Blodmane, and the cultist elected to instead continue his ritual, sacrificing not only his own followers but nearly destroying the precious Scion at the same time.

  And then, after the Scion stole the fruits of their labor right out from under Basil’s nose—a fact that tickled the alchemist’s spirit to this very day—the fool tried to bind her as a Demon, as if such a thing had any chance of working. All he accomplished was driving her off into the dark and inhospitable emptiness of the frozen wastes, all when he could have brought her straight back to the Loch Estate in Verdanport.

  And now, judging by the subtle wave of blighted revulsion mana washing outwards through the forest, he’d failed to stamp out the local Revulsion Cult. Turning to face the group of motley apprentices, Lord Darius pinched the bridge of his slender nose. What was the question, again? I believe someone asked if I found monsters.

  “I suppose you could say that the answer is yes.” He sighed. “So. Who’s ready to go take down a cult?”