The Legend of Randidly Ghosthound

Two Lancers sat on the hill over B’s Crossing, scanning the horizon for threats as the sun crept up and stretched into the day into wakefulness. They were not alone on their high outlook. A few surveyors combing through the hills for the best real estate spots observed them occasionally, but largely gave the two a wide berth; if the Order Ducis was the political entity that had the Ghosthound’s blessing, the Lancers were his army.

For all that some political entities had flirted with anti-Ghosthound sentiments, none of them were willing to stand up and antagonize an actual opponent, which the Lancers were definitely willing to be.

Both of these two lancers had come because they had heard through their vague information network that the Ghosthound had been dining here, but had been too late to actually see him. They felt some manner of disappointment, but neither were a very strong example of their kind. They were freshly born, content to follow the lapping waves of cohesion that came from their connection to the Crusade, rather than striking out on their own like the more powerful Lancers. They were still one of many

Neither had yet decided what sort of individuals they would like to become without the support of the Crusade. Even the word, individual, seemed hollow and ominous in their minds. They spoke it as little as possible, instead focusing on concrete tasks. Protection, patrol, examination… those were safer topics.

For now, they stood in silence, words unnecessary. They just waited for the sun to creep higher and for more impulses to come to them. They were reaction, incarnate.

To their surprise, something did arrive and sent their senses tingling. They felt it through the network of Lancers before it arrived, even some of the overwhelmingly powerful individuals amongst their number sending out warning ripples of alarm. Both of the two stiffened to feel the tension. What approached wasn’t categorized as a bad thing, but the uniformity of Lancers' surprise made them nervous.

It came slowly, first swirling about their heels with lolling tongues and bright eyes of anticipation. Then the change breathed a humid exhale on the back of their necks and laughed as they shivered. Then it sank into their skin, leaving the two powerless to resist the change that came over them. One leaned forward, a sharp pain tearing its way out of its midsection. The other couldn’t stop moving its fingers, its weapon becoming near scalding.

Yet never for an instant did it consider releasing the serviceable ax.

Their armor darkened and their limbs lengthened under the influence of this force. The duo’s steeds huffed and pawed at the ground, nervous due to the display. And soon they were affected too, the settling mist covering the two horses and sharpening their edges, adding smolder to their eyes. From horses, they became hellhounds.

Across all of Expira, the Lancers of the Baleful Crusade housed remnant spirits of the Nether Beasts. Something primal and violent seeped into their pure spirits, tipping the group, just slightly toward aggression. Their explosive power increased.

With a roar, the left of the duo hopped down off his horse and allowed a massive spined tail to erupt from his lower back. Ichor dripped off the stinger and sizzled against the dirt ground. Blood and ripped skin drizzled down after it. As for the other Lancer, his back cracked as the muscles of his shoulders bulged outward. His arms lengthened further and his fingers tightened around the shaft of his ax.

In fact, he couldn’t loosen his fingers. Shadows whispered between Lancer and ax for several seconds, the blade widening and darkening as the Ghosthound’s Skill adjusted his weapon. His eyes widened. For a few moments, his ax became the center of his existence. It seemed to whisper of all the violence it could accomplish.

The transformation lasted for several minutes. Afterward, as the neural network of the Lancers was abuzz with their newfound martial capabilities, the two looked at each other. Gradually, the compulsion of the Ghosthound’s Skill faded. The one with the spined tail allowed a slow grin to come across his face. “What a day it is. I feel… strong. Stronger than I have in quite some time. And from this power, I believe I have finally discovered my true name.”

“I was thinking the same,” The other Lancer hefted their new weapon. More than anything else, it closely resembled an executioner’s ax. The edges of the weapon curled up like a confident smile. “I feel like myself, for the very first time.”

“You go first, what’s your name?” The tail Lancer said, feeling suddenly shy about the whole name situation.

The ax user nodded decisively with clear eyes; the new spirits running through his body had given him perspective and confidence. He raised his head and spoke. “I will be called… Death Axe!”

The tail Lancer looked blankly at the other for several seconds. He quickly began to sweat. Although Lancers didn’t possess particularly developed emotional senses, Death Ax eventually realized something was wrong. He attempted to rub his jaw on the top portion of his ax. Unfortunately, the new weapon meant that instead, he gashed himself in the temple. He wiped away most of the blood with his hand before speaking. “Err… is it not a good name?”

“Oh. No, it’s not that. What a name, just wow.” The Lancer found himself speaking more in a single sentence than he had for the last week. He sucked in a breath and blew out his cheeks. Only when the other Lancer continued to look at him with concern did he finally admit the truth. “Actually… I was thinking that my name would be Death Tail.”

*****

Congratulations! You have completed the Throne of Nether Homage III Path! You march forward, with an army of restless spirits at your back. Yet the deeper you go into this land of Nether, the more insidious the shadows become. A vast and antagonistic force spreads its horrifying claws across this area. This expanse, too, is filled with dead souls burdened by regrets. By some other influence has weaponized these dormant bundles of emotion into a poisonous bog. Walk forward carefully, lest you get contaminated.

Randidly felt the Path completion notification take him to a project world again, but this one simply showed him a rough-looking grey path in the middle of a foggy moor. However, as soon as he arrived in the projection, his eyes pulsed with an inner light. He understood the danger; complex Nether flows covered the whole of the Path in front of him.

Randidly smirked and took a step forward. Sure, this is dangerous to a dabbler in Nether, but I’ve been honing myself for too long to get caught up in this.

Congratulations! You have fought your way forward, advancing on this quest to find the original throne of Nether. Your army sharpens its blades on the strange stagnation ahead of you, clearing a Path. Primordial Nether Juju (M) +200! The shift in your Nether has accelerated.

Congratulations! You have completed the Throne to Nether Homage IV Path! From the abandoned wilderness, you wade deeper into the miasma and find the exposed bones of a city. Most of the taller buildings have ossified and collapsed, but you can still see some of its shape amongst the ruins. Yet you pause, feeling a more sinister danger lurking ahead.

Again, the projection shifted. Randidly walked among those abandoned buildings, the Nether flows having swollen into something more caustic and violent. He traced the lines that attempted to weave a net for him and snorted. Randidly’s perception moved outward and began to work through the intervening distance.

This Path was difficult, but not impossible. Soon, the knot in this abandoned village unraveled and revealed the reward.

Congratulations! You have broken through to a deeper layer of this mystery! Dreadful Alacrity (A) +250! Your Nether flows have become increasingly smooth. Change continues to bubble up from the base of your Nether Core, hinting at a more influential transformation that will be forthcoming.

Congratulations! You have completed the Throne to Nether Homage V Path! The darkness condenses into physical forms in order to fight against you. However, your own momentum and the force of the army that you bring behind you manages to overpower all opposition. Compared to the pulsing heart of darkness, the force in front of you doesn’t manage to slow you down.

You arrive at the core of an ancient empire, a place where Nether once ruled. You can feel the dried remnants of the energy pathways, a hint of the old energy still trickling through them. In an ancient hall built of granite, you find a specter staring at its own shadow. Without looking up from the darkness, it raises its sword in challenge- if you want to proceed, the only option is overcoming this adversity.

Randidly fell into the new projection, feeling exasperated at how labor-intensive these Paths were proving to be. He stabilized his mind and began to attack the Nether flows in the projection. Very quickly, he began chewing on his lip. Compared to the previous attempts, the fifth Path in the sequence possessed a high degree of difficulty. Yet as Randidly toiled, he felt himself improving.

Compared to the others, this one was much more useful for improving his own Skill. His mind hummed and began to overheat as he exhausted possibility after possibility in order to proceed. But eventually, the dark figure that symbolized the opposition broke apart into separate Nether flows and Randidly pierced his way forward.

Congratulations! You walk into the grand hall of this place, looking around at the high walls and the stark architecture. This is a place that has not seen another living soul in quite some time. However, as you approach the final room, you see a pulsing orb of light. Intelligence +300!

As you approach the pulsing orb of light, it activates of its own accord. You hear a voice begin to speak. Welcome. If you are hearing this, I suspect that you are Randidly Ghosthound. Very few others possess your potential with Nether; none should receive this message before you.

I have a few things to say. But most importantly, I owe you a favor. You freed me from the frontlines. Perhaps it was an action done without thought, but it deeply affected my life. For that, I am grateful. We have encountered each other in the past, but it was never the right time to reveal our connection; only when you possess the requisite Nether understanding will my gift to you become clear.

But as a small part of the repayment I owe you, I offer one truth: Do not trust Solomon Rex.

Visit and read more novel to help us update chapter quickly. Thank you so much!