Azure Scepter

Page 2

"So I need some supplies as compensation."

Trier looked calmly into the knight's eyes until the knight could no longer bear it and looked away.

Seemingly to ease the awkwardness, Sir Harlan asked, "When do you plan to depart?"

"Half an hour later."

Trier always believed in planning before acting, so he systematically and methodically summarized his plans and all possible contingencies in his mind before leaving his room to go to the first floor of the hotel to get supplies.

He planned to travel to the tomb of Paladin Cord at the northern end of Beaver Town, where he could advance to Paladin status through a special method. As she left the room, Fythia appeared angry, bowing her head and pretending not to see Trill; the nun, on the other hand, seemed very worried, but stood far away.

The first floor of the hotel was crowded with townspeople, mostly women and children. Some town guards and young men who had been hastily armed stood guard at the doors and windows with various weapons. However, the shrill screams coming from the street were like a saw, torturing their nerves again and again, making them tremble all over.

The elderly garrison captain grumbled as he tried to appease them, while the obese priest stood on the table, incessantly preaching the redemptive doctrines of the Radiant Lord. The halfling innkeeper sat calmly behind the counter, wiping glasses as if everything outside was normal.

Trier pushed through the crowd to the counter and made a request to the hotel owner based on the list in his mind. He specifically asked for the wine that had been used for his "alcohol therapy".

The halfling quietly took all the items without offering any discounts.

“Young man, I can tell you’re a seasoned adventurer.” Before Trier finished his inspection and was about to leave, the halfling boss suddenly tapped the table with his knuckles. “But you’re being too reckless. Even with all this stuff you’ve brought, going out now is just suicide. Those undead will definitely follow the scent of blood from the wound on your shoulder.”

"Thank you for reminding me." Trier put on his chainmail, picked up his finely crafted longsword and spear, nodded politely to the halfling, and then left the main building of the inn without looking back, walking to the tightly closed courtyard gate.

The time traveler gently braced himself against the door, then suddenly pushed off the ground. The moment the door opened, he immediately lowered his body and crouched down along the uneven brick wall, disappearing into the shadows.

Generally, the undead dislike light and prefer darkness. Therefore, in areas where the undead are present, most people will stay away from the shadows to avoid being caught off guard by their ambush. Under normal circumstances, this is a very sound decision, because all undead creatures possess dark vision of at least 20 meters, so concealing themselves in shadow is pointless.

However, Trir, as the master of creating and improving the undead, knew not only the "general case" but also the "special case"—the undead transformed from the blood plague did not possess dark vision, and their perception was far lower than that of normally generated undead; most of them did not even possess a sense of smell.

He once conducted an experiment: in a quiet, dark environment, the limit of perception for a zombie transformed from the blood plague is a pitiful 12.3 centimeters. This means that it would not notice even if a living thing walked past it.

After confirming that it was safe to proceed, Trier began to observe the surrounding environment:

The town now presents a scene of apocalypse.

At the southern end of the street, a large horde of zombies was besieging a three-story house. From a third-floor window, an elderly townsman was frantically throwing things down, when a ghoul clinging to the windowsill suddenly grabbed his wrist, and he screamed as he tumbled into the horde. Amidst the chilling sounds of tearing flesh, the old townman desperately managed to squeeze a hand out of the horde, only to have it devoured by a zombie the next moment.

In an alley not far from the townspeople's corpses, several crazed survivors were setting fires and killing others. A mother was captured on the spot while trying to protect her baby. The firelight illuminated the mob leader's gaping jawline, making his teeth appear exceptionally red. His bulging eyes were bloodshot, and although he wore an exquisitely made wool coat, he looked more terrifying than a zombie.

The sounds of maniacal, unrestrained laughter mingled with the ripping of flesh, the agonizing vomiting of patients mingled with the screams of the dying, and the biting cold wind provided the final echo for this decadent symphony. The air was thick with the stench of despair and blood, the nauseatingly sweet smell of blood even overpowering the putrid stench of the concentrated negative energy.

"You don't even have a main class right now. If you're discovered by a large group of undead, you're doomed..." Trier warned himself. "Stay calm. Don't get involved in things that aren't your business. This isn't a game. You only have one life."

Tragedy was unfolding everywhere in Beaver Town, but Trier forced himself to ignore it, and thus his journey proceeded smoothly. Drawing on his past gaming experience and understanding of the undead's habits, he moved at his own pace, like a shadow, traversing half the town without a single undead noticing his presence.

[Stealth operation a great success!]

[Through practice, your stealth skills have greatly improved; Stealth +3]

[WARNING: Your skill level cap is closely related to the class level to which your skill belongs. The background class-related skill level coefficient is 1. Your current stealth ability has reached its cap.]

Soon, he arrived at his destination—the shrine, where the tomb of Paladin Cord was hidden beneath the shrine.

Choosing a main class in the game is not easy; it's often the first challenge players face. Even the warrior, with the simplest entry requirements, requires players to undergo at least a month of military training, or read relevant class training books and invest a lot of experience, or have their skills recognized by relevant personnel (even if unwillingly), or master at least two of the following specializations: [Proficiency in Military Weapons], [Proficiency in Simple Weapons], and proficiency in any type of armor or shield.

Paladins are among the most difficult classes to join. There are only two paths to becoming a paladin: either be inspired by a mystical calling and take an oath, or gain the recognition and inheritance of another paladin and take an oath. Moreover, to become a paladin, one must at least be a good person in the general sense.

Regarding the former, Trier has only seen fewer than thirty players who have been inspired over the years, and without exception, they are all people of extremely high moral character and perfect personality; while the latter tests the player's random background - those who can take up jobs are all people with noble or religious backgrounds.

However, there are always exceptions—the Tomb of Paladin Cord in Beavertown is a prime example of an extreme exception.

In the game's third major expansion, "The Call of the Worm," the Kingdom of Orko had been reclaimed by humans, and Beaver Town was naturally rebuilt on the ruins. At that time, a player who had transformed herself into a high-ranking succubus happened to be wandering around the area. Out of curiosity, she seduced a passing priest of the Lucky Lady on the ruins of the Radiant Shrine, and after a night of pleasure, she drained him of his life force, leaving him a dried-up corpse.

It turns out that the priest was actually a deranged serial killer with a long history of evil deeds, while the succubus, having punished a great evildoer at the shrine, gained the approval of the paladin Kod's soul and successfully obtained a paladin's part-time position...

Trier didn't consider himself a good person, but he was at least a little better than a succubus and more human than a succubus.

“In short, all I need to do is eliminate one evil spirit near the shrine, find the mechanism in the confessional, and enter Paladin Cord’s tomb through the secret passage to take the Paladin’s oath,” Trier thought. “Beaver Town lacks many things, but it certainly doesn’t lack evil.”

"I have 1 hour and 3 minutes until I become a ghost. Considering the need to find the mechanism and potential accidents, I have 30 minutes to find the sacrifice." The time traveler calmly calculated his time resources, gently putting down his backpack. "Let's do some preliminary preparations first."

Suddenly, a short, sharp rebuke came from inside the shrine—

"Get out of my way, you fool!"

With a loud bang, the shrine doors were suddenly flung open, and a gaunt woman dressed in the robes of a Radiant Church novice priest stumbled out, followed closely by two zombies. The zombie at the front, transformed from a church guard clad in fine plate armor, suddenly reached out, its blood-stained iron gauntlet grabbing at the woman's ankle.

The woman closed her eyes in despair and screamed almost hoarsely, "tfg,juk,lik!"

"Dominate the dead." Trier instantly understood the incantation; it was the most basic spell used by the Necromancers.

The two zombies froze on the spot as if a pause button had been pressed. Although the church guard's outstretched hand was firmly clamped on the priest's calf, and his open mouth was only an arm's length away from the tender flesh, the zombie did not bite down.

"I did it! I did it!" the trainee pastor laughed excitedly. "They weren't lying to me! I'm a spellcaster now!"

“You know, Rick, it was really hard to trick you into drinking that contaminated wine. You’re smart, but not smart enough. Truly smart people know to choose the right side.” The novice pastor’s face flushed as she kissed the walker’s pale cheek. “With you, my standing in the church will definitely rise significantly. We can achieve something great together!”

"Roar." The zombie roared unconsciously.

“Materials delivered to our doorstep, cultists from the Silent Whisperers,” Trier thought to himself.

He quietly approached the shrine and silently slipped into the shadows around the corner. Then, Trier subtly adjusted the angle of his sword to prevent the reflection from revealing his position, before bending his knees and bending his waist, pressing himself against the wall, patiently waiting for the enemy to come to him.

"Thump, thump." He heard his own heartbeat through the distant ringing in his ears.

"I'm a little nervous," the time traveler thought to himself.

“Come on, my dear, let’s go meet up with the rest of the group. I remember there’s still a group of lumberjacks up north who refuse to surrender. It’s time to bring them eternal peace. Oh, and you go first.” The cultist’s flippant voice came from behind.

The novice pastor, or rather the Silent Church cultists, were very cautious. She chose to have the church guards, the zombies, lead the way, while she and two other zombies followed behind.

This was a fatal mistake, because dazed zombies were completely ineffective as an early warning system.

Trier listened to the footsteps and calculated the distance to the other person in his mind.

Closer, even closer...

"Crack." The cracked stone wall creaked as the iron gauntlet gripped it, and the zombie-like church guard trembled as it moved forward, leaning against the wall like a giant beast. The next moment, it seemed to sense something, and suddenly turned its head, its empty gaze passing over the corner of the wall, meeting Trier's eyes.

The time traveler suddenly raised his longsword.

The undead's towering figure completely concealed the deadly attack.

The cultist had barely caught a glimpse of the sword's gleam when a gust of wind, carrying the chilling smell of rust, swept over her! She instinctively reached out to block, but the buzzing blade grazed her, its cold edge instantly pressing against her delicate neck. Before she could react, Trier's sword-wielding hand swiftly slashed!

Blood splattered everywhere.

The trainee pastor's eyes widened in shock, then the crimson blood gushing from the cut flowed down the blade, splashing onto the ground like a water balloon suddenly punctured. She tried to say something, but all her syllables turned into a desperate "hmph," dissipating along with the bloody bubbles that kept rising from the wound.

A clean and swift surprise attack, precise as a textbook. In the blink of an eye, the novice priest was slit in the throat with a single sword stroke.

The cultist fell backward with a thud, but his well-defined fingers gripped Trier's calf as if in revenge. The transmigrator initially didn't think much of it, but the next moment he was suddenly pulled hard and stumbled!

He then remembered that his strength had reached an astonishing 8 points due to the weakening effect of the blood plague.

Trier struggled to break free, but just as he managed to twist his way out, the zombie with a face full of blisters next to the cultist suddenly reached out and grabbed him!

He immediately regained his stance, taking a slight step back with his right foot, forming a perfect T-shape with his heels. He then parried with his sword, bending his knee to deflect the powerful attack. The zombie lost its balance and instantly collapsed to the ground like a vicious dog pouncing on a baseball, sliding down the sword's edge.

With a dull thud, Trier felt as if he'd been slammed head-on into a speeding dump truck. Even though he'd absorbed most of the impact, his arms were still tingling and numb. He was just about to deliver the finishing blow when another gust of wind howled from behind him.

The church guards were bypassed!

A flash of anger crossed Trier's eyes. Without dodging or avoiding, he pushed off the ground, twisted his waist, and turned around, actually charging into the plate-armored undead!

Just before the collision, he suddenly ducked under the undead's armpit and then kicked it hard behind the knee.

"Crack!" With a tooth-grinding sound of bones breaking, the tall undead figure suddenly stopped, and the next moment a longsword full of blood was pierced through his throat. Trier pushed forward with both elbows and suddenly spun the sword out.

The sword, like a saw, snapped the church guard's neck, twisting his head a full 180 degrees! Before his head had even finished turning, the body was violently knocked over.

Amidst the blood mist, Trier's face contorted in a ferocious grin as he relentlessly dragged his sword, the severed neck blade, enveloped in a sweet, cloying aura of blood, slashing down with deadly force.

Final strike!

"die!"

The herpes zombie had just half-risen from its prone position when a vicious blade came crashing down with a gust of wind. Its upper body was off the ground for less than half a second before it slammed back down with a thud—severed in two! Countless swarms of putrid flies burst out from the severed wound.

The streets returned to silence, with only the buzzing of flies in the air.

Trier's hands, gripping the sword, trembled violently. He leaned on the sword like an old man, his chest heaving, his head bowed, panting heavily. Just then, out of the corner of his eye, he caught a glimpse of a metallic reflection.

There are people!

Startled, he instinctively slid to the left to avoid the center line, and at the same time, he suddenly raised his longsword, which he was holding in reverse, and thrust it lightly in the approximate direction—a gliding strike.

With a sudden jerk of his wrist, Trier abruptly pulled to the side to deflect the force, and the immense impact of the attacker instantly transformed into a dull, bloody cutting sound.

Click!

The icy blade finally stopped less than a finger's width from his nose, its chilling aura penetrating to the bone. He felt a stinging pain in his eyes—the tilted guard had blocked the opponent's powerful blade, while his sword tip had pierced the opponent's right eye precisely.

It was a tall man wearing standard guard chainmail. A white ribbon, symbolizing a member of the Silent Whisperers, was tied to his left arm, and a rusty iron chain was tied to his wrist below the ribbon: in the Kingdom of Orko, this meant that the person had received systematic combat training, was proficient in at least one combat style, and could be called a warrior.

With a flick of his wrist, the soldier crashed to the ground, splashing mud everywhere.

Trier wiped the warm blood from his nose with the back of his hand, his bloodshot eyes coldly scanning his surroundings. At this moment, due to the heavy shock from the battle, blood was flowing from his eyes, nose, mouth, wounds, and even his pores, but he paid no heed. The transmigrator grabbed the spear beside his backpack, stepped over the soldier's corpse, and strode towards the novice priest.

The cultist remained in the same position as when she fell to the ground, and the wound on her neck was still hissing and bubbling with blood. However, she now held a round glass bottle containing a colorless, viscous liquid—Holy Water No. 9.

"Last-hitting is a good habit," he thought.

The next instant, the spearhead revealed its sharpness, and the blood-stained brown wooden spear pierced the priest's throat with a soft thud. The novice priest's feigned death failed, and he abruptly opened his eyes, his terrified and desperate gaze meeting two blood-soaked eyes.

Trier spat out a mouthful of blood, grinned maliciously, and said, "Since they all deserve to die anyway, I might as well use them as my stepping stones."

The cult member stared in horror. A few seconds later, she stopped her last struggle, her hands gripping the gun fell limply, and the body remained still.

Several golden specks of light burst from the corpses of the walkers and cultists, flying straight toward Trier.

Chapter 3 Oath

Only then did Trier breathe a sigh of relief; those golden dots were experience points. He quietly summoned his character panel. While waiting for the panel to appear, he glanced at the battle log.

[Shadow hiding successful]

[Raid confirmed, critical strike threat confirmed *3, critical wound confirmed, target's fortitude saving throw failed]

[Target dead, xp+300]

[Target dead, xp+200]

[Target dead, xp+200]

[Target dead, xp+800]

[The execution was successful. You greatly shocked Fred, and you gained partial information about the "Fearful Slaughter" specialization.]

[Execution successful. Your superb martial arts skills intimidated Fred, and you gained additional information about the "Fearful Carnage" feat.]

[Execution successful. Your cruelty has chilled Fred to the bone. You have gained full information on the "Fearful Carnage" specialization.]

[You have acquired the feat: Fearful Carnage]

[Fearful Carnage: You have turned killing into a horrific performance. Any non-friendly entity who witnesses your killing must make a Will save based on the difficulty of your Intimidate skill; failure will result in entering a state of Trembling and Fear.]

[Final Slash successfully activated. You have gained partial information about the "Final Slash" feat.]

[After a fierce battle, your sword weapon usage (general) +2 and polearm usage (general) +1]

[You have single-handedly slain a warrior who has undergone rigorous system training]

[Main Class Available: Warrior]

The ruthless killings provided a full 1500 experience points.

“To accumulate 17 points of immunity to physical attributes, relying solely on becoming a paladin to obtain 2 points of holiness immunity isn’t enough.” Trier stepped over the corpses scattered on the ground, reached for his backpack, and said, “I have plenty of experience points; I can perform a small transformation ritual.”

“The ceremony cannot be held after the inauguration, as this could lead to the breaking of the vow.”

He planned to perform a ritual called "Bone and Blood Extraction." This ritual was originally used to strengthen the bodies of undead such as ghouls; performing it on living people would cause damage due to the excessive accumulation of negative energy. However, time was of the essence, and Trier couldn't worry about that now.

He swept a clearing in the street with his spear, and then began drawing the ritual magic circle.

In The Azure Scepter, a spell can only be successfully cast if at least three conditions are met: First, there must be a spell form, or constraint, as the final cause. This constraint can be a drawn diagram in reality or an abstract law existing in the spellcaster's mind. Second, there must be matter as the active cause. This matter can be a physical entity or the intangible magical wind. Finally, there must be a "principle" as the active cause, or prayer to the gods.

The biggest difference between spellcasters and ordinary people lies in the second point: the connection between ordinary people's consciousness and the dream world is extremely sparse, so the language rules and diagrammatic models in their minds are difficult to exist as forms of constraints on motivation. However, this also means that as long as the corresponding form is drawn in reality, anyone can cast spells when there is an abundance of magical wind and "principles".

This skill is generally referred to as a ritual, and Trier has always been a master in this field.

At this time, due to the outbreak of the blood plague, the town was full of dead people, so the negative energy elements and the principle of death were particularly abundant in this place.

"The best sacrifice would actually be a living person, but considering that I'll be taking up the Paladin class later, there's a risk if my faction shifts too much, so I'll just use a fresh corpse as a substitute."

With the materials he had prepared in advance in his backpack, Trier quickly completed the drawing of the magic circle.