The Hunt for the wraiths
The remnants of the Kramar spirits, now dead, exuded a chilling stench that only heightened the eerie atmosphere of the already grim cemetery. The air itself seemed to shudder with malevolence.
Yet, Oliver felt strangely light-hearted.
His Forest’s Favor had now risen to 4!
The Kramar spirits were easier to eliminate than he'd expected. The key factor was his enchanted longsword, imbued with fire magic. Hector, being a rare light mage, had a natural affinity for dealing with these ethereal monstrosities, providing an even stronger counter to them.
With the two of them, and the support of Violanda, the other mage, and the knights — including Andre, the red-haired shield knight — the Kramar were swiftly dispatched. As they fought, Oliver occasionally cast a spell to finish off the spirits, claiming their final breaths and earning valuable Forest’s Favor.
Boom! Fire magic erupted, and stones rained down from the sky.
[Forest’s Favor +1]
[Forest’s Favor +1]
[Forest’s Favor +1]
…
The number kept rising until it finally stopped at 8, and the number of Kramar they'd slain was far beyond a dozen — easily twenty or more!
It turned out that more evil spirits were emerging from the forest as they pressed forward, steadily eliminating them. Eventually, they reached the very lair of the Kramar.
Before them, hidden within the dense forest beside the cemetery, stood what appeared to be a cellar.
"Let's go. We need to check it out!" Hector said, dismounting and taking the lead with a torch in hand.
"Hold on, you magician! Why are you always rushing ahead?" Andre called out, following quickly behind.
Violanda and Oliver followed closely as well.
The cellar was clearly of human design, its crumbling stone walls lined with torches. Hector tapped his wand, casting Identify.
A faint glow illuminated the bricks, and Hector nodded. "As we suspected, this place was built no more than three years ago. In that time, the Cult of the Silver Circle has raised so many Kramar... who knows how many lives they've claimed?"
He sighed and continued down the passage, his pace steady.
Oliver watched with admiration. Hector, a full-fledged wizard who had passed the trials of the Mage Tower, had access to all kinds of magical abilities. The variety and utility of his spells were impressive. By comparison, Oliver, still in the early stages of his magical training, had mastered only a few offensive spells. Utility spells like Identification were still a bit out of reach for him.
After walking a few minutes, they reached the cellar's lowest level, but it was eerily quiet. No cultists, no leaders. Just the remnants of their presence — some scattered belongings and a mess of old, discarded supplies.
"They covered their tracks well. No trace left behind," Hector muttered. "But I think Arcanus’s vault might have something to help us."
He opened his hand, and from it flew a butterfly made of pure light. Its wings fluttered, and it disappeared into the night.
This, Hector explained, was a magical item from Arcanus — a Whisper Butterfly, a rare treasure from the Mage Tower, and it had the power to track down hidden information. Hector had no doubt it would lead them to something important.
"If the butterfly doesn't find anything useful," Violanda said with a grin, "at least we've already struck a serious blow to their plans. We’ve killed at least twenty Kramar. That’s a big win. We’ve saved the town, at least."
Oliver and Hector nodded. Today had been a success. The town was safe, and Oliver's Forest’s Favor had risen to 8.
He could hardly wait to visit the forest and see what kind of extraordinary changes awaited him with his newfound powers.
Aside from the rewards, there was also the loot: the corpses of the Kramar were worth a fortune. Even with the six of them splitting the spoils, Oliver estimated he'd make a good sum — at least ten gold coins. That was no small amount!
After a long night of hunting, they returned to the town at dawn, the remains of the Kramar in tow. Their fetid stench immediately caught the attention of the townsfolk.
Andre and the other exceptional individuals had already slipped away to avoid revealing their true strength, leaving only Hector, Violanda, and Oliver to take the credit for the massacre.
The townspeople cheered, praising them endlessly.
"My gods! Lord Stark, you truly are a hero! You saved our town!" Gavin, the tavern owner, rushed forward and hugged Oliver warmly.
With the spirits gone, he was relieved to know he wouldn't have to close down his tavern for long, as the people could now safely return.
"Lord Stark, do you remember me? You must come to my tavern for a drink!" another tavern owner, Jennifer, called out from the crowd, waving enthusiastically. She flashed a flirtatious smile, subtly lowering her neckline as she caught Oliver's eye.
Gavin shot her an annoyed look, muttering under his breath.
The whole town was in an uproar, welcoming Oliver and the others like heroes. Even the local lords came out to offer their gratitude.
However, not everyone was pleased. Among the cheering crowd, a few faces stood out, grim and dissatisfied. It was none other than Walter, the steward of the Avery family — the same man who had once tried to buy Oliver as a slave.