Daughter of Death - A Necromantic LitRPG

The sleepy hours of earliest morning were hounded by torch-toting guardsmen patrolling the streets for any signs of skulduggery. In the easterly commoner’s district, foul beasts of darkness crept along the walls like ivy. A chill that threatened to freeze the very soul could be felt even in the comfort of a warm bed.

Helmach marched through the streets like some kind of revenant, wreathed in a black shawl that did little to conceal his identity - or the massive weapon on his back. His mind was aflutter with doubts and grievances. A total of 14 Acolytes had perished during the surprise raid from Baccharum’s thugs. Some of his most trusted followers had departed from the world without being given the chance to utter their last words.

He felt ashamed. Not a single tear had been shed for any of those irreplaceable allies. Helmach had long struggled with the erosion of his humanity, becoming ever more reliant on his faith as a defence to avoid slipping into madness. Or, perhaps he was already mad? No. That couldn’t be the case. He was still alive. The blood in his veins boiled with each passing day, but even still, his mind resisted the pull of oblivion.

Morgana was his sole light in a world that was drawing closer to the darkness. Her words could always calm him. But her influence was like a drug. He craved more of her forgiveness for every minute that passed when the two were separate. Minutes he would spend alone, with his ever-darkening mind.

A silhouette wandered out from the alleyways into his path. Moonlight reflected from its chalk-white hair, lending it the impression of a phantom come to haunt him in the dead of night. But it was no spectre, as much as Helmach would have preferred one.

Lieze. The murderer of his sister; the architect of his woes, stood there defiantly, as if daring him to leap forward and cut her down with a single blow. His emotions were caught in flux - fury, despair, fear - as they exchanged purposeful glances. Eventually, he sighed.

“...Come to turn yourself in?” There was no humour at all to his joke. It was a cry for help, “I’ll gladly escort you to a guardhouse and wrap up your execution before the sun rises, if it pleases you.”

“Won’t you draw your sword?” Lieze asked.

“Have you suddenly developed standards for killing?” He answered, “Did you offer the same respect to Noma when you butchered her? Somehow, I think not.”

“No.” She replied truthfully, “I kicked her into a hole. She barely had time to scream.”

“Ah… so finally, you admit it.” Helmach sounded relieved, “That’s wonderful… that’s truly wonderful…”

The weight of his sword was unbelievable. It was as if the weapon was purpose-made to be as unwieldy as possible. With both hands, he gripped the oversized handle. As the edge slid from its harness, he had to lean down to free it completely, allowing the blade to cross over his head and land on the ground with a wrought screech that could have woken the dead. For a moment, he seemed like nothing more than a beast, nearly crawling on all-fours.

Helmach Lawain

Level ??? Swordmaster (!???!)

HP: ??? / ??? MP: ??? / ???

BODY - 19 / MIND - 3 / SOUL - 11

“Truthfully, a part of me has always hoped that Noma could still be alive.” He continued, “-Do you know how agonising that is? Forcing myself to grasp at hope, knowing full-well I was only setting myself up for disappointment?”

“You make it sound like I’m at fault for that.” Lieze countered, “You dogs of the Church are all the same. Idealists and ‘heroes’, convinced that a righteous attitude will guarantee them victory.”

“Righteousness?” Helmach repeated the word as if it was his first time hearing it, “No… my love is anything but righteous. My love is fury. The crimson tide of unending slaughter; conflict separated from honour or ideals. That is why the Lord is my saviour. He has granted me purpose where once there existed only a lust for bloodshed.”

“Hm.” Lieze almost smiled, “It seems like the two of us are fated to disagree on every matter.”

“Yes… just as Fanrae is fated to remain in eternal conflict with those who would eradicate all life to achieve their sickening goals.” He muttered, “May this blade be the end of it.”

At some point, their battle had begun. Lieze had placed herself into an intentionally compromised position, knowing full-well that a single blow from Helmach’s sword would more than likely kill her on the spot. He seemed aware of her strange gambit, relenting from charging forward to survey the situation.

Allowing a hand to free itself from the weapon’s grip, Helmach began a practised chant beneath his breath. Golden light poured from his gloved palm, taking the form of a gargantuan spear that seemed to shimmer under the yellow lamplight.

Technique Observed (+21%)

Grabbing the weapon, Helmach swung his arm with incredible speed, sending the javelin hurtling towards Lieze far too quickly for her to consider evading it.

MP - 553/570

HP - 148/165

Her mind moved faster than her body. Blood spurted from Lieze’s fingers as they curled around the barbs of her stave, sending waves of excruciating pain through her body. Simultaneously, a globule of blood flew out from her Bag of Holding, forming a thin shield around her just in time to dampen the light spear’s impact. Despite her efforts, however, the spell tore cleanly into her shoulder, burning with holy light.

HP - 113/165

A litre of her blood supply had been consumed, and the fight had only just begun. Helmach was a pragmatic man. He wasted no time materialising yet another javelin while Lieze was recoiling from the blow.

Technique Observed (+12%)

-But just as quickly, he found his casting interrupted by a searing pain in his back. Something not entirely unlike his own spear had been planted mere inches from his spine, eliciting a cry of pain as Helmach’s attention was suddenly split in half. As he spun on his heels, yet another assailant had appeared from the shadows.

“...Margoh Drayya.” As the scarlet spike in his back disintegrated, he spoke the girl’s name with venom in his tone, “I see you’ve inherited your father’s propensity for stabbing his enemies in the back.”

“How very like a maggot of the Church, to act as if he has any honour while celebrating torture and humiliation.” Drayya retorted, “Be at peace knowing your death will at least be swift.”

Throwing caution to the wind, Helmach tore towards Drayya with his sword poised to strike. As he closed the distance between them, however, a number of silhouettes leaped from the shadows - grotesque lumps of veiny flesh - wrapping around his body with sickening ease.

One, two, three; Fleshbags assaulted him in disconnected waves, immobilising his limbs. The worming touch of their cold flesh activated some helpless instinct in Helmach’s mind, broken by a surge of pain as yet another [Blood Spike] tore through the bed of suffocating skin into his gut.

Technique Observed (+7%)

As Lieze prepared another [Blood Spike] of her own, Helmach was suddenly embroiled in a stunning display of light. From his very core, a searing heat wave cast plumes of steam into the surrounding air as the Fleshbags assaulting him disintegrated completely, becoming little else but flecks of ash in the midnight wind.

Without wasting a beat, Helmach closed the remaining distance between himself and Drayya, preparing an overhead strike which threatened to cut the girl in two. From the distance at which she stood, Lieze could almost glimpse the sudden look of terror in her eyes. There was no time to hit Helmach with another [Blood Spike], and even if she did, the attack almost certainly wouldn't stay his hand.

Just as the greatsword descended, however, the blade was frozen in the air, quickly enough that the weapon’s sheer weight could have easily broken Helmach’s wrists. An exclamation of surprise wormed its way up through his core, but no sound escaped from his throat. He was paralyzed. Not by fear, or inaction, but by something darker still.

Taking the opportunity to reposition herself, Drayya immediately sprinted over to Lieze’s side.

“Hah…” She gulped down a breath, “That was a little too close for my liking…”

Helmach never registered the words, nor that Drayya had even escaped his grasp to begin with. He was more concerned with the terrible chill that was making his blood freeze, and the fact that he could no longer breathe despite his best efforts. It felt as if the air itself was constricting around his body.

The world was fading. Lieze and Drayya’s conversation, which suddenly seemed so far away, was overtaken by the slowing echoes of Helmach’s heartbeat shaking his eardrums.

“What is this? This terrible thing…” His thoughts raced, “How depraved and irresponsible… leashing a beast of such terrible power… does the Order know no restraint?”

The Wraith’s incorporeal form crushed his body. In the whistling air, he could glimpse terrifying expressions. The will of a creature not entirely of their world.

“Am I to die…?” The realisation struck him all-too-late, “No…”

Something burned in his palm. Beneath the leather glove radiated a heat so profoundly addicting that not even the Wraith’s otherworldly chill could oppose. Something was calling to him. A voice he knew too well.

“No…” If he was capable of shedding tears at that moment, he would have, “I won’t…”

He was going to die. The Wraith’s death-grip would squeeze the life out of him without offering so much as a chance to escape. His thirst for vengeance would remain unsatisfied. Was it the fate of those who resisted the world’s evils to experience such tragic ends, he wondered? Helmach was so incredibly tired of his suffering. He wanted to die. But not on such pitiful terms.

“My Lord… forgive the sins of this lowly lamb…” Within his oxygen-starved brain, a prayer was uttered, “I know not what I do… but my faith remains unwavering…”

His hand tingled in expectation. Something was growing from his palm - a twisted mess of spindly thorns, drawing blood as they sank greedily into Helmach’s flesh. The Wraith could sense that something was amiss. The quieting life in its grasp was burning with a renewed flame, resisting the slow embrace of death. Though its body was immaterial, the long-forgotten sensation of pain forced its hold to weaken.

“...Drayya.” Upon noticing that something strange was happening, Lieze shook her peer’s shoulder, “What’s happening?”

“I… I don’t know.” It wasn’t something she wanted to admit, but the truth was inescapable, “It shouldn’t be possible to escape the Wraith’s grasp…”

“Order it to retreat! Something isn’t right…”

Reluctant to allow Helmach his freedom, Drayya begrudgingly recalled the creature. The earthen tendrils sprouting from Helmach’s palm creeped over his brigandine like a parasite while foul visions of death assailed his mind. It was no mere spell he was casting, as Lieze and Drayya understood better than anyone else.

“Those thorns-” Drayya took a step back, “It can’t be… the Blackbriar!?”

“What manner of lunacy is this…?” Lieze was dumbfounded, but quickly regained her senses, “-He’s paralyzed for the moment! We can’t let this opportunity go to waste!”

MP - 536/570

HP - 96/165

She flinched as her stave once again drew blood, summoning the second - and final - litre of blood from her Bag of Holding. Simultaneously, Drayya reached for another small vial on her waist, conjuring a [Blood Spike] of her own as the madness in front of the two unfurled.

Helmach, meanwhile, found himself beset by a storm of emotions. Disgust. Hatred. He had sullied his servile, god-fearing body with the touch of something dark and corrupting. He knew the power well. It was one he had sworn to condemn but was forced to rely upon in his hour of need. A wicked pain assaulted him as thorns punctured every inch of his body, but at the same time, unbelievable strength coursed through his aching muscles.

As a pair of scarlet javelins were sent hurtling towards him, his blade moved faster than his mind could possibly comprehend. Two lightning-quick slashes struck down the projectiles with unerring accuracy, sending droplets of blood scattering every which way. It shouldn’t have been possible for a mere human - even one of his considerable might - to wield such a massive weapon as if it was a shortsword.

“Helmach!” Lieze exclaimed, “What’s the meaning of this!?”

Her tone was comical. His transformation had been so sudden and antithetical that she almost sounded worried for him.

“You don’t know…” Helmach spoke through clenched teeth, his voice barely audible, “You really have no clue, do you?”

“What’s that supposed to mean!?”

“It matters not…” He dismissed, “However repulsive this power is… I would gladly lend my soul to darkness if it guarantees your death.”

“Lieze.” Drayya took hold of her wrist, “We need to retreat. This is beyond us.”

She was correct, as much as Lieze didn’t want to admit it. Helmach hadn’t merely communed with the Blackbriar. He had somehow materialised its grotesque form into the material world. To see the once-righteous Acolyte relying on the very deity he so opposed revealed the single-mindedness of his hatred for Lieze.

“But…” She lowered her head, frustrated, “...Yes. You’re right.”

“Another day.” Drayya promised her that much while commanding the Wraith to cover their escape, “There will always be another day.”

She didn’t have time to respond. Drayya was so utterly convinced of their imminent defeat that she simply dragged Lieze along with her, who peered over her shoulder just as Helmach charged with greatsword held high towards the incorporeal Wraith.