Eternal Undying Chronicles

Chapter 67 New Month, New Me

The mansion was silent under the eerie night sky. Shadows flickered across the broken walls, and the curtains swayed lightly in the gentle breeze, barely disturbing the heavy, tense air within.

The pillars stood fractured, their once grandiose forms now mere ruins, with shards of broken ornaments scattered across the cold floor.

Carrisa tightened her grip on the katana, her lithe form moving with the grace of a seasoned warrior. Each step was deliberate, soundless, her sweat-slicked hair clinging to her porcelain skin. The tension between her and the unseen enemy hung thickly in the air.

She lifted her hand, the silent command clear to the three women flanking her. Argint, her piercing eyes glowing with cold determination, was poised to strike.

Her claws extended, glinting in the pale moonlight filtering through the shattered windows. Elizalina, wielding a blade forged from her own blood, stared ahead with unwavering focus, ready to defend at all costs. Amena lingered in the shadows, her torn maid uniform revealing delicate skin, yet the naginata in her hand signified her readiness for battle.

With a subtle glance, Carrisa communicated her plan to them. Each woman offered a brief, resolute nod, affirming their unity.

"Reveal yourself at once. I assure you, any attempt to best us will be in vain. It is in your best interest to surrender now and spare yourself unnecessary suffering," Carrisa's voice echoed through the mansion, aloof and laced with calm authority.

Her words stirred a new wave of tension among the group. The assailant, responsible for tearing Amena's attire in such a humiliating manner, was lurking nearby, watching them from the darkness.

Argint's eyes flared, her claws at the ready. Before she could act, a voice slithered through the air, resonating like a sinister chant. It was dark, yet charismatic, dripping with malice that sent shivers down their spines.

"You cannot stop me... submit to my will," the voice hissed, reverberating through the decayed mansion. A massive magical presence accompanied the voice, suffocating the atmosphere as they braced for what was to come.

Their backs were to the mansion's grand entrance, the final barrier between the intruder and the outside world. The oppressive energy in the room grew as a figure materialized from the darkness, as if the grim reaper himself had come forth from the abyss.

Carrisa smiled, raising her katana slightly. "So, you've finally decided to grace us with your presence. I implore you, do not make this any more difficult than it needs to be. Surrender, and I assure you, your end will be swift and painless."

Her aloof words carried no weight with the figure cloaked in the shadows.

"Pain is nothing. I seek only victory," came the cold response.

The figure was clad in an imposing black outfit, the dark fabric absorbing the dim light around him, turning him into a living shadow. His hood was drawn low, casting his face in deep darkness, but his piercing violet eyes shone through, gleaming with malevolence. Intricate dark metals adorned his gauntlets, their sharp, claw-like fingers gleaming wickedly as they caught the moonlight.

His cloak, flowing like the reaper's shroud, trailed ominously behind him, completing the terrifying figure.

Argint scowled, her lip curling in distaste. "Seriously? That edgy look? Let's just get this over with already."

Her voice was low, but her intentions were clear. Her body tensed, ready for the fight to come.

"By all means, try," the figure spoke without urgency, his voice dripping with condescension.

With a sudden roar, Argint surged forward, her claws slicing through the air with astonishing speed.

"After what you did to Amena, I'm going to rip you apart!"

Their clash was immediate and thunderous. The hooded reaper met her attack head-on, his metallic fingers intercepting her claws, creating a blinding shower of sparks. The force of their impact sent shockwaves through the mansion, splintering the already cracked floor beneath their feet.

Argint snarled, pushing harder. "You better not be smirking under that hood," she growled, glaring into the shadow where his face should be.

The figure remained silent, but his violet eyes gleamed with a cruel glint. He twisted his body, avoiding Argint's follow-up strike just as Elizalina and Carrisa coordinated their own attack from his blind spots. The reaper anticipated their moves, his cloak swirling as he spun to grab Argint by the arm, hurling her towards the other two women.

Argint, however, grounded herself, pulling against him with all her might. Rather than being thrown, she dragged him closer, swinging her claws toward his face. He moved with her momentum, his sharp fingers tearing through her crop top, revealing a sliver of alabaster skin.

He chuckled darkly as her face flushed with embarrassment. "Such a shame," he sneered, his voice tinged with amusement.

Behind her, Elizalina stifled a giggle while Carrisa pressed a palm to her forehead, visibly exasperated by the situation.

"Focus, ladies. We cannot afford distractions in this battle," Carrisa's tone was stern, cutting through the momentary lapse in concentration.

The hooded figure took advantage of the brief pause, stepping back to reposition himself. Argint growled lowly, her eyes narrowing with fury. She was done playing games.

"Let's try that again," she muttered darkly, her simmering rage barely contained as she prepared for another strike.

Elizalina and Carrisa nodded in unison, regrouping and ready to renew their attack. The hooded reaper remained a menacing silhouette, his violet eyes the only thing visible beneath the shroud of darkness. The battle was far from over, and each of them knew it.

Carrisa took point once again, her katana raised with precision. She sighed inwardly, noting the absurdity of the situation—yet another skirmish where torn clothing exposed the women's delicate skin, adding unnecessary embarrassment to an already tense fight. Battles like these had become all too common over the past month, but none could allow this opponent to escape.

With a final punch, Argint sent the reaper crashing into the walls, his body still restrained by Elizalina's blood. He groaned, but the fight had left him unable to resist any further.

"That's enough for today," Carrisa declared, her tone calm and commanding. "We have triumphed once again."

Argint, covering her torn clothes, glared down at the reaper. "We've got you now, sleazeball."

The reaper, his body chained, chuckled darkly. "Oh, and I would've gotten away with it too if it weren't for you meddling women."

Carrisa approached him, crouching by his side. "Alicarde, while I commend your self-control, there are areas where you have undoubtedly gone too far."

The dark outfit vanished in a shimmer, revealing Alicarde's mildly irritated expression. "I have no idea what you're talking about. I was just trying to leave, but you keep getting in my way. All my enemies are out there."

He lowered his head, his frustration evident. "Yet, here I am. You won't even let me leave the mansion after sundown."

Elizalina undid her hemomancy, releasing him with an air of calm.

"You must understand, Alicarde, that we prohibit your departure because you are prone to seeking out conflict. We cannot allow you to jeopardize your safety."

Alicarde rolled his eyes. "And I've told you all before, I'm fine. I passed last week's psychological evaluation, didn't I? I've been meditating, learning self-control. I'm not going to look for trouble; I'm just going to deliver justice."

He cast a quick glance at them. "This time, I showed enough restraint—I didn't lose control, didn't give in to anger or negativity. I even held back on my attacks, didn't use any innate abilities."

His gaze shifted to Argint. "If anything, you all had the wild card—using a battle technique."

Argint placed her hand on her chest, shooting him a sharp look. "Lust is a negative emotion. And for the record, why the hell were you trying to strip us, you pervert?"

Alicarde scoffed, unbothered. "You won't let me leave. You won't let me die. I had to relieve my frustration somehow."

Argint glared at him, confused. "I have no idea what that even means."

"He's referencing a movie," Amena said calmly, stepping forward, her naginata still in hand.

"The condition was clear. If you could defeat us and make it to that door, we would allow you to pursue the underworld and Zagarath."

Elizalina sighed, her stern gaze unwavering. "Your mental stability was understandably compromised, but attempting to strip us—however it came about—is utterly depraved."

Carrisa extended her hand, helping Alicarde to his feet. Her voice was soft but aloof.

"Despite tonight's events, I must admit you have shown some progress. While your mental state is far from ideal, you have gained sufficient self-control. After tonight, you are free to do as you please."

Alicarde's eyes widened in surprise. "Wait, really? I can go after them, and you're not going to treat me like I just escaped an asylum?"

Amena, ever stoic, glanced at him. "We never treated you as though you were an escaped mental patient."

"Yeah, right. It felt like you were one step away from shoving me into a straitjacket," Alicarde retorted with a smirk.

Argint, still covering her torn clothes, eyed him with suspicion. "Did you really have to grope me?"

Alicarde shrugged nonchalantly. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

Argint's eyes narrowed, but she decided to drop the matter, deeming him not worth the effort.

Alicarde grinned at her retreat. "I've got to admit, the Reaper's vestments are even more powerful than I thought. Every day I discover a new enchantment, and now I don't even have to worry about my clothes getting ruined."

Carrisa smiled lightly, her words measured. "I am pleased that you are satisfied. The armor is enchanted, after all. It will grow with you and develop new properties as you do."

"When do I get to learn battle techniques like Argint's [War Wolf] or your [Eternal Edge]?" Alicarde asked eagerly.

Argint gave him a serious look. "When you've mastered the basics properly. Do not put the cart before the horse. Once you're ready, I'll teach you."

Alicarde shrugged, still impressed by her fist technique, [Grimgrowl]. "Sure, okay."

He let out a long breath, relieved that he was finally free to venture out at night. His mental state had always been worse after sundown, as though some murder-obsessed madness gripped him after his encounter with Warth. But now, a month later, he was doing better.

The events of the past month had been surprisingly peaceful. Alicarde felt as though he had crossed a significant milestone in his growth and had become a better version of himself.