Days passed.
The battlefield, once soaked in blood and fury, now lay silent. The wreckage of towers, shattered bones of the fallen, and charred earth served as a grim reminder of the massacre that had consumed the island. A thick fog clung to the ground each morning, as if the land itself was in mourning.
One by one, the bodies were buried.
Gnolls—both adult and child. Acolytes. Dorothy. Kristine. Even the enemy Nagas.
The two surviving baby that is protected by acolytes till the end whimpered softly as Jayson fed them, his hands shaking. The tiny baby, unaware of the magnitude of the sacrifice around them, became the only warmth left on the cold soil of the fortress. The rest... gone. Forgotten by the world, but carved into the soul of those who remained.
Vanthelis stood in front of the last grave.
"Dorothy..."
The name caught in his throat. He didn't finish.
He had dug every grave himself. He didn't allow Ishlar or Jayson to help. He needed to feel the weight of every shovelful of dirt, the resistance of the soil. It was his burden to carry.
He looked at his reflection on the smooth obsidian slab he had placed as a marker.
Red eyes. Gaunt cheeks. A heart barely beating.
He opened his system, half-expecting nothing. Maybe it would crash, disappear—maybe it was just a cruel joke.
[System Interface]
Ishlar Level up to level 20 you level up and got a ultimate skill and a random item
Vanthelis – Level 3
Items: Heart of Tarasque; Wraith Pact; Enchanted Mango; Ring of Health (Cooldown: 2 Days); Naga Queen's Crossbow; Princess Naga's Scimitar
Skills: Morph; Repel; Sunder
Acolytes: Jayson
That difference.
That brutal, bitter difference.
He sighed again, pressing his forehead to the altar.
"What have I done?"
The wind whispered back, hollow and dry.
"You're leaving?" Jayson asked, his voice trembling slightly.
Vanthelis stood at the Necropolis gate, dressed in a plain shirt and pants, He looked tired his eyes have a very big black colored because of lack of sleep, his hands wearing a golden ring and a small bag on his back.
"I should be going to look for answers on what we are even fighting for. I don't know why is fate is cruel. Maybe it's mocking me. But I need to go. Alone."
Jayson hesitated. "But Ishlar—"
"Let him rest. He's done enough. He'll protect you... and the babies." Vanthelis smiled toward Jayson as he put the Helm infront of Jayson letting him protect it.
Vanthelis turned his back to the two. Ishlar simply nodded, sitting beside the altar where the bones of the dead were stacked like relics.
"Make sure the babies don't become monsters, Jayson," Vanthelis whispered. "We failed the last ones. Don't let that happen again."
And with that, he left.
Three Days Later – Gesir City
A stark contrast.
If the Necropolis was death, Gesir was life.
Bright banners fluttered in the salty sea breeze, the smell of roasted meat and ale filled the streets, and people laughed—real laughter. Merchants shouted over each other. Swords clashed in duels between would-be heroes.
This was the City of Dreamers.
The Adventurer's Guild loomed tall in the center like a temple. Made of white marble and gold accents, it stood proud against the backdrop of the sky.
Vanthelis with his Cronus form goes to look for a ship and after a while waiting.
He boarded a small ship headed toward the city, blending in with a group of merchants who believed him to be a noble envoy.
Upon arrival, he shed the morph quietly in a dark alley. His true form emerged—bloodstained boots, hollow cheeks, sunken eyes.
No one noticed. In Gesir, everyone wore masks.
He walked past an adventurer arguing about a job with an ogre merchant. Past a bard singing songs of dragons. Past a child begging for copper coins. All of it felt... distant.