The Hated Hero: Sigil-Powered Warrior-Chapter 28: Venom

The black puppet emitted a faint purple glow. It worked!

A moment ago, as the daggers went flying towards the brute in black armor, Immanuel stirred his mana and willed it to rush towards the Explosive Clone sigil. He thought to alter the type of explosive in the puppet.

But is it even possible? he thought. Then, just as black flames reduced his daggers to ash, the sigil on his forearm glowed bright purple, and the black puppet emitted a faint purple glow.

The man said no word, only flashing Immanuel a grin. Thick black tendrils emerged from his shadow behind him and shot towards Immanuel and the black construct.

Got him!

As the tendrils were about to reach Immanuel, he leapt off the construct, kicked it towards the armored brute, and disappeared.

The tendrils pulled the construct to within striking range of the brute’s axe. But just as the puppet was about to meet the brute’s black flames, it detonated, engulfing the hallway in a thick black cloud of suffocating smoke.

The brute wheezed and coughed within the black smoke cloud, ensuring that he would be found in no time. Meanwhile, Immanuel, having assumed shadow form, seemed to thrive within it, crawling without any hint of struggle. 𝕗𝚛𝚎𝚎𝐰𝗲𝗯𝗻𝚘𝚟𝚎𝗹.𝕔𝐨𝕞

But the armored brute had just pulled off another trick, it seemed, even as he struggled to breathe. The area darkened—smoke was still visible—and from every direction, more thick tendrils emerged, surrounding and blocking Immanuel.

Shit!

Immanuel tried to rush past a number of the tendrils in front of him, only for them to react to him faster than he could move in shadow form. One after another, in rapid succession, the thick tendrils whipped him. Each one cracked against his pitch-black form like claps of thunder and inflicted enough pain and, for some reason, heat, to stop his advance.

In no time, parts of Immanuel’s human form peeked out through his shadow form. His groaning and grimacing marked how much pain the tendrils subjected him to, and when it had become too much, he backed away to a spot without tendrils, shaking all over.

He reverted to human form and fell to the floor. He let out a cry, which was cut off as the smoke entered his nostrils almost immediately. He coughed and wheezed as he rolled, the smoke removing even the slightest bit of relief that the act of breathing would have offered.

Through the pain, he willed his mana to stir within the depths of his being, only to feel none.

Shit. I’ve run out, it looks like.

The armored brute stomped towards Immanuel from deep within the smoke. This time, his face, and the rest of his head, was covered with a black, full-faced helmet. He no longer coughed nor wheezed while in the cloud of smoke.

"You really thought you had me with that trick of yours, did you not?" the brute spoke, his voice distorted and beastlike through the helm.

Shortly, two wooden spider-like constructs landed in front of the fallen Immanuel as the armored brute was still on his way to him.

The man in black armor raised his axe. "Here to help him, are you, Priscilla?"

The answer came in the form of a glowing blade that pierced into Immanuel’s shoulder, pinning him to the floor. Searing pain shot all the way down his hand. Shit.

The brute chuckled. "I thought so."

Another blade was raised. "That blade pinning your shoulder down is coated in deadly poison, the only antidote to which only Priscilla knows," said the armored brute.

When, at last, the brute caught up, the wooden constructs moved aside to let him through. His feet stopped in front of Immanuel’s face.

He descended, then pulled Immanuel’s head up by the chin. "Now, we shall see who the man is beneath that mask."

The brute reached over to the back of Immanuel’s head. He felt around for the strings that secured his mask to his face. But, after a frustrated grunt at not finding the knots to undo, he grasped Immanuel’s mask and tore it off of him, snapping the strings that secured it and revealing Immanuel’s agony.

His face had become white as snow. His eyes were shifty with nausea. His lips trembled as black drool was starting to run down the sides of his mouth. Soon enough, Immanuel puked black sludge, and black tears fell from both eyes.

"You..." the armored brute growled. "You’re not wearing your cloak."

He knows about the conspiracy.

He looked back and roared. The smoke had cleared. "Hey! We have Immanuel Maier! He has sigils on him! The rumors are true!"

A figure leapt up and landed in the patch of darkness on the hallway, far behind the armored brute. The figure stepped forward,eventually revealing herself as the puppet mistress, Priscilla.

Her eyes widened in disgust when she saw what had happened to Immanuel. "Justus... W-Wasn’t the order just to capture him if we find him? Are we both not here for a document?"

A document...

Justus, the armored brute, rose and roared at Priscilla. "You have the antidote, idiot! Come fix him up while I bind him!"

The constructs moved aside to make way for Justus and Priscilla, leaving the sword stuck to Immanuel’s shoulder.

But neither antidote nor bondage would be necessary. Before they could move even an inch towards Immanuel, bright white energy enveloped Immanuel and seemed to put him in a trance.

"Someone is healing him!" Justus roared as he and Priscilla looked around them.

A moment passed, and Immanuel’s eyes and mouth no longer produced any more black tears and black puke.

Finding no healer, Justus, Priscilla, and the two wooden constructs with them raised their weapons at Immanuel. They capitalized on his ongoing healing, his trance-like state, and his prone position on the floor—he was still pinned down by the sword that ran through his shoulder.

Just as their weapons were mere inches away from Immanuel, the bright white light that enveloped him dissipated. The sword that pinned Immanuel was forced out of his shoulder by an unseen energy that also patched up that wound. The color of Immanuel’s face returned, then his consciousness.

Mana stirred within him. Sigils glowed, and he made his move.

The body remained prone on the floor, allowing every single weapon to hit it. But the body never shed even a single drop of blood despite how much force backed each strike that hit. And it never showed even the slightest hint of a pained grimace—only a blank expression.

"What in the..."

The body shrunk until it was just skin, then disappeared into thin air.

From the darkness, Immanuel grinned. I spent no mana to create an explosive, only willing the existence of a clone that would shrink after it’s hit.

Just as Priscilla turned to the darkness behind them, massive dark tendrils shot out and tightened around them in one fluid motion before pulling them back. That’s how I spent the mana for the explosive instead!

With the tentacles tight around their limbs, they were unable to fight back, and Immanuel used this opportunity to interrogate them.

"What document are you after?" came Immanuel’s eldritch voice in his present form.

When neither one answered, Immanuel tightened his hold on all four of them. Priscilla grimaced, while the brute seemed emotionless even as his armor was starting to dent. He heard and felt something snap, but neither one cried in pain. Must be a puppet.

"This will be the last time I will ask you again: What document are you after?!"

When neither one answered, Immanuel further tightened the tendril around the four. He heard something crack. And something felt unbearably cold.

The tendril wrapped around Justus had turned to ice and was cracked all throughout. Another tendril reached for Justus, but part of it also froze as it was about to wrap around the brute.

Interesting. More tendrils emerged in the darkness. They smacked the tendrils that appeared first—they were not Immanuel’s.

Justus shook, adding one more crack to the tendril and shattering it into multiple shards, freeing him.

He strode towards Priscilla with his axe raised. "Shut your eyes!"

The tendril wrapped around Priscilla was starting to freeze solid, and Immanuel pulled her and the puppets back into the depths of the patch of darkness before tossing them to the wall across them.

With immense power backing the toss, Priscilla burst through the wall. The impact shattered her puppets to multiple pieces.

Justus lit up in a menacing red aura as he looked around for Immanuel. "Show yourself, Maier!"

But it seemed that Immanuel was gone; there was nothing around Justus but debris. With Immanuel’s summoned tendrils gone, Justus had also removed them from the scene.

Justus turned and was about to rush out of the area when two monks in black landed in front of him. One was armed with a wooden staff while the other was armed with a dagger. Despite suffering numerous injuries, the black monks stood face to face with him.

Their bold stance could not hold; Justus’s cold aura sent them shivering in no time, forcing them to back away. But with each step back they took, Justus advanced to keep them in the cold.

They’re still alive?!

A torn bit of spell scroll fell off of one of the monks in black. One edge was burnt, indicating that it was once part of a spell scroll which burned immediately upon use.

That bit of scroll... so he healed me?

Regardless, Immanuel acted. He rushed towards Justus in shadow form. The monks struck together once, flipped backwards, and ran, goading Justus into chasing them.

Immanuel summoned black tendrils with the Reach Sigil as he moved. With these tendrils, he tossed a volley of black throwing daggers at Justus, who pursued the monks the moment they ran.

Teleport out of here! Or you’ll blow up with him!

The daggers hit Justus’s black armor and bounced off of it. Then each of the daggers exploded, one after another, enveloping the entire hallway in a massive blaze.