Chapter 197: Chapter 197: The Harbinger Steps In

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​That night, the Forest of Lamentation held its breath.

​A pitch-black fog descended from the sky, hanging heavy like a shroud of death sweeping across the horizon. The blackened trees surrounding the castle swayed stiffly without wind—not from a breeze, but from the massive pressure weighing down the atmosphere. The air suddenly felt thick, clogging lungs with the sharp scent of sulfur and iron. Thump, thump, thump. The hearts of those still living beat erratically, triggered by a primal instinct warning that an apex predator had arrived.

​Dayat stood firm before the gates. His silver-blue armor blazed bright, cutting through the nocturnal gloom. The purple-green sword in his right hand hummed shrilly, its vibration rattling his arm bones, as if the weapon itself were shivering with excitement—or perhaps terror.

​Beside him, Dola held her ground despite her bandaged shoulder. Her white cloak fluttered stiffly. Her eyes narrowed, staring straight at the vortex of black mist beginning to solidify in the air.

​"How many, Dola?" Dayat’s voice was low, nearly a growl.

​Dola didn’t answer immediately. She swallowed hard; her throat felt parched. "Only one."

​"Huh? One?"

​"One... and that is more than enough."

​Whoosh! The fog before them exploded, swirling into a giant funnel. From the heart of the vortex, a figure drifted down with a terrifying elegance.

​A soiled white dress stained with dried blood swept the ground. Long, matted black hair veiled her face, leaving only fingers with sharp, curved black claws visible. Wabil of Plague.

​However, there was no crooked smile on her face tonight.

​Tap. Her feet touched the stony ground. Black dust scattered around her as if the earth itself rejected her presence. Her hair parted slightly, revealing pupil-less white eyes that now glowed with a cold fury capable of freezing blood.

​"I have played around for far too long," her voice was raspy, heavy, and came directly from her pale lips—no longer the telepathic whispers she usually employed.

​"Only you. Six weak creatures." Wabil stepped forward. Crack! The ground beneath her feet shattered instantly. "And my army—thousands of lives I gathered with great effort—you destroyed them time and again."

​Dola didn’t flinch, but her fingers clenched until her knuckles turned white.

​"I came before with good intentions. I offered a way out. I was even willing to let you keep breathing." Wabil stopped exactly twenty meters from the gate. "But you rejected it. Did you think you were strong enough to defy me?"

​Dayat raised his sword level with his face. "I don’t care. And I’m going to kill you."

​Wabil tilted her head. Her movements were jerky, like a broken doll. "Hmm... let us see."

​Zrak!

​She didn’t glide; she didn’t walk. Wabil lunged, becoming a black shadow that cleaved through space in a blink. Dayat was already in his stance, but Wabil didn’t attack. She bypassed Dayat, Dola, and Lunethra like a bolt of lightning.

​Heading straight for the backyard.

​"KANCIL! LOOK OUT!" Dayat roared until the veins in his neck strained, but he was too slow.

​Wabil appeared before Kancil like a ghost manifesting from thin air. The boy startled, but his months of training kicked in, allowing him to raise his Desert Eagle. However, before the trigger could be pulled, Wabil had already touched two fingers to Kancil’s chest.

​Only her index and middle fingers.

​"Poor child," Wabil whispered directly into Kancil’s ear. "Unfortunately, you must die."

​Kancil wanted to scream, but the sound caught in his throat. Splat... a pitch-black stain spread rapidly from the point of contact, crawling up his neck, face, and arms. Clang! His beloved Desert Eagle fell to the ground.

​"Bro... Brother... Dayat..." Kancil’s voice broke; his fading eyes watched Dayat running frantically toward him. "Run... you... have to run..."

​Thud. Kancil’s body collapsed. His entire skin had turned perfectly black. His eyes remained wide open, but the light of life within them had vanished, staring blankly at the fog-covered sky.

​"KANCIL! NO!" Loy and Riri screamed hysterically.

​Instead of running, they charged blindly. Bang! Bang! Bang! Their Glock 19 and Glock 26 spat lead incessantly. But the bullets simply passed through Wabil as if she were made of smoke.

​"You two," Wabil turned slowly. "Braver than I thought. A pity."

​Loy leaped forward, firing until his barrel ran hot. One bullet somehow managed to graze Wabil’s shoulder—it didn’t wound her, but it made her shift slightly. Loy used that opening to swing the butt of his pistol at Wabil’s head.

​Crack! Wabil caught Loy’s wrist in mid-air. Her slender fingers gripped like an iron vise. Snap! Loy screamed as his bone fractured. Without warning, Wabil thrust her left hand into Loy’s chest. Those black claws pierced through armor, flesh, and bone until the tips emerged from his back.

​Loy coughed violently, spraying fresh blood onto Wabil’s face. His weary eyes sought out Riri. "Ri... ri..."

​"LOY! NO, DON’T!"

​Riri ran blindly. She even forgot to fire; she only wanted to reach her friend. Wabil pulled her hand from Loy’s chest with brutal force—the boy’s body fell lifeless. Before Riri could touch Loy, Wabil’s black claws were already embedded in her stomach.

​Riri’s steps stopped instantly. Her hand was still stiffly outstretched toward Loy’s corpse. "Loy... I’m... coming..."

​Wabil retracted her claws. Riri fell right beside Loy. Two small bodies lay side-by-side in the backyard. Their hands were almost touching, only inches apart, but they would never reach.

​Dayat arrived the exact moment Riri’s body hit the ground.

​His steps froze. The world seemed to stop spinning as his eyes fell upon the three bodies scattered on the earth. Kancil. Loy. Riri. Three children he had raised with his own hands. Three children he had promised a future in this castle.

​Now they were silent. Eternal in death.

​Their blood seeped out, pooling on the backyard soil they had just cleaned that afternoon. No more laughter from Riri. No more spirit from Loy. No more Kancil.

​Dayat didn’t scream. He didn’t cry. But deep inside his chest, something shattered into a thousand pieces and exploded into pure, unadulterated wrath.

​Wham! The Mana-Circuits beneath Dayat’s skin glowed fiercely—not green, not purple. But a blinding white.

​His silver-blue armor underwent a radical transformation. Lines of energy surged, emitting a light capable of blinding the naked eye. The visor on his face cracked from the pressure of the energy overflowing from within his body. His HUD flickered wildly: Heart rate: 200 bpm. Energy: 400%. WARNING: Overload imminent.

​The purple-green sword in his hand no longer hummed. The weapon shrieked with a high-pitched, agonizing frequency, shattering the remaining glass windows of the castle. Eeeeee!

​And Dayat lunged.

​Wabil turned, her eyes widening slightly. For the first time, there was doubt on the Harbinger’s face. "You—"

​Dayat gave her no opening. Slash! His blade cut vertically. Wabil dodged, but this time she wasn’t fast enough. The white energy blade grazed Wabil’s arm. Thick black blood dripped to the ground.

​Wabil stared at her wounded arm. "You... managed to hurt me?"

​Dayat didn’t answer. He attacked again. And again. His movements became a blur.

​The Adaptive Combat Matrix was fully active. Dayat was no longer a man; he was a measured storm of energy. Every movement of Wabil’s was read with absolute Maiden precision. When Wabil tried to touch him, Dayat had already shifted. When the plague exploded from Wabil’s body, Dayat’s energy shield held it back with a resounding thud.

​Dayat countered with lethal maneuvers. The sword in his hand transformed into an energy spear that he hurled at the speed of sound. As Wabil dodged, Dayat had already manifested a Pulse Rifle in his left hand. Boom! The energy blast sent Wabil reeling.

​Dayat lunged forward, a pair of energy daggers appearing in his grip. Stab! He plunged them into both sides of Wabil’s body simultaneously. Wabil screamed—this time, it was a genuine cry of pain. Black blood gushed out.

​"Stop it, damn you!" Wabil unleashed a massive wave of plague. Dayat was hurled back until he slammed into the castle’s stone wall. Crash! Yet, as if feeling no pain, he rose again in an instant.

​The battle raged brutally. Dayat managed to corner the Harbinger. Wabil’s white dress was now tattered, soaked in her own black blood. But such power demanded a heavy price.

​The Adaptive Combat Matrix roared at the back of Dayat’s neck, injecting cold streams of calculation that made every nerve taut. At this moment, he was no longer merely human; he was a mathematically measured storm. Every breath and muscle twitch of Wabil’s was read with absolute Maiden precision. As soon as Wabil lunged, Dayat shifted by a hair’s breadth, letting the attack cleave only empty air.

​Bzzzt—Boom!

​Black plague erupted from Wabil, but Dayat’s energy shield held it back with a thud that rattled his chest. Dayat didn’t let the opening go to waste. With fluid micro-movements, the sword in his hand elongated, transforming into a roaring energy spear. Zing! The spear was thrown at the speed of sound.

​As Wabil evaded, Dayat had already manifested the Pulse Rifle in his left hand. Click-clack!

​"Eat this!"

​Boom! A blast of pure energy sent Wabil skidding across the ground. Dayat lunged, a pair of energy blades emerging from his wrists. Stab! The light blades drove into both sides of Wabil’s body at once. Wabil screamed—not a boastful cry this time, but a genuine shriek of agony. Foul, thick black blood poured out, soaking the ground which began to rot.

​"Stop it, you wretch!" Wabil roared, unleashing a gargantuan wave of plague from her entire body.

​Dayat was thrown, his body hitting the stone wall with a heart-wrenching Crack! Rubble dust shrouded his form, but as if his pain receptors had been severed by the system, he rose again instantly. His glowing bluish eyes glared sharply at the Harbinger.

​The battle continued with sheer brutality. Dayat had cornered Wabil. The white dress worn by the plague-bringer was now in shreds, stained by her own pitch-black fluid. But then, something shifted. The air around them suddenly became static, making hairs stand on end.

​Wabil stopped evading. She stood tall in the center of a dense black vortex. The blood flowing from her wounds stopped—not because she was healed, but because she had frozen her own life flow. She wiped the trace of black blood from the corner of her lips, then stared at Dayat with empty white eyes. No more smiles. No more anger. Only a cold void.

​"Hmm, you think you can win?"

​Wabil’s voice changed, becoming deeper and echoing inside the skull. The black fog around her thickened, spinning wildly like a storm ready to grind anything to dust. The ground beneath her feet began to split—creak—not from physical impact, but from the gravitational pressure she was manipulating.

​"I’ve played enough."

​Dayat attacked again. The energy spear cleaved through the fog. But this time, Wabil didn’t flinch. She caught the tip of the spear with one hand. The energy weapon capable of piercing Death Knight armor was stopped dead, vibrating violently in her grasp, then—Pling!—shattered into dim light particles.

​Dayat manifested the Pulse Rifle and pulled the trigger repeatedly. Wabil simply raised her palm. The shots left only tiny scratches on her skin, which was as pale as a corpse. Step by step, Wabil approached, each stride cracking the castle’s floor tiles.

​"I am not like a lowly Lich," Wabil said coldly. "I am Wabil of Plague."

​Dayat attacked blindly—sword, spear, daggers—he threw everything he had. But Wabil broke them all with sheer strength. Every move Dayat made was read and countered with a blow that was far harder.

​"And you..." Wabil caught Dayat’s wrist. Her grip felt like a searing iron clamp. "...are nothing more than a human borrowing a Maiden’s power."

​Dayat struggled, but Wabil pulled him close. Thud! A punch slammed into Dayat’s gut. He coughed, fresh red blood spurting from his mouth. Boom! A strike to the chest made his silver armor crack a thousand times, the purple-green lines on the surface of his suit flickering unstably. One final blow to the head sent Dayat flying, crashing into the castle wall until it collapsed.

​Dayat tried to rise, but his hands were trembling violently. His knees felt weak. Crunch... His armor finally gave out, the silver-blue particles vanishing into the air, leaving him defenseless.

​Wabil walked closer, slowly. She was in no rush to enjoy this sight.

​"I admit, you managed to make me bleed. In a thousand years... this is the first time a human has been able to wound me this deeply. But, this is the end."

​She stood over Dayat. Out of the corner of his eye, Dayat saw Dola lying unconscious, while Lunethra leaned weakly against a pillar, gasping for air. Wabil raised her hand, her sharp black claws glinting, ready for the final sweep.

​"I will give you a swift death. Consider it my gift... for the entertainment you provided."

​Dayat looked up. Though his face was drenched in blood, his weary eyes still burned with an unquenchable flame. "I... am not... afraid of you..."

​"Tsk, I know." Wabil smiled gently, a smile that cut to the soul. "That is what makes you so interesting to destroy."

​Her hand swung down.