Chapter 11: Echoes in the Hills

Low-hanging clouds veiled the sun as Reziel and the expedition ventured deeper into the western hills. The road was little more than a narrow track now, winding through rugged terrain dotted with scraggly trees and sharp outcroppings of rock. A chill wind swept through the pass, carrying the scent of damp earth and looming rain.

Sir Galland rode at the head of the column, flanked by two scouts who kept wary eyes on the crags above. Aria Highwind stayed close to Reziel, her posture alert; her chestnut mare navigated the rocky path with careful, steady steps. Behind them, a line of knights on horseback and a single supply wagon rumbled forward. Hoofbeats echoed off the stone walls, the sound flattened by the oppressive stillness of the hills.

Reziel tugged his threadbare cloak tighter around his shoulders. The air felt charged—like the moment before a storm. He couldn't ignore the faint prickle at the back of his neck, as though the Forbidden System was reacting to something ahead.

Probably just nerves, he told himself. But if the cult's fortress is near, I doubt they'll let us waltz in unopposed.

A few hours into the ride, one of the scouts raised a hand in a silent signal. Sir Galland halted the column, and the knights quickly quieted. Reziel craned his neck, trying to see what the scout had spotted.

"Tracks," the scout said, dismounting to crouch near a patch of disturbed earth. Jagged footprints marred the muddy ground. "Looks fresh—maybe half a day old. More than one person."

Knightly eyes flicked to Reziel. He stared at the footprints, heart thumping. Cult lookouts? The group drew around Sir Galland, who consulted briefly with Aria and the scouts.

Galland's hushed voice cut through the tension. "We continue, but with utmost caution. If the cult has patrols, they likely know we're here."

A ripple of unease passed through the knights, but they nodded in grim agreement. The order was given to proceed—slowly, weapons unlatched and senses on high alert.

Before long, the narrow path widened into a small clearing. Nestled against the cliff stood a crumbling stone structure—a half-ruined watchtower overgrown with vines. The old fortress Reziel expected was nowhere in sight, but this tower looked like it might have once served as an outpost or sentry station in ages past.

Aria lifted her spear, eyes narrowing. "It's on high ground. Could be a vantage point for enemies."

Sir Galland surveyed the structure, then called for a brief halt. "We can't just ignore it," he said, voice low. "Half our force will remain with the wagons. The rest of us will investigate."

Reziel exhaled. Of course we are. A few months ago, he'd have turned tail at the thought of searching abandoned ruins for lurking cultists. Now, he found himself dismounting alongside knights as if it were a natural routine.

Galland split them into two squads. Aria led one group—Reziel included—around the base of the tower. Another squad circled the far side. The plan was simple: converge on the main entrance from different angles, clearing each floor methodically.

Vines and moss coated the tower's crumbling exterior. The wooden door had rotted away, leaving an open gap into darkness. Aria stepped in first, spear raised. Two knights with torches followed, illuminating a circular room full of debris—broken furniture, a collapsed table, tattered banners that might have once borne a crest.

Reziel's heart thudded. He felt the System's presence pulse faintly, as if sensing danger or dormant magic. Could the cult be hiding something here? He scanned the shadows.

"Clear," one knight murmured after a sweep of the ground floor. Sir Galland's squad joined them, and they pressed upward via a spiraling stone staircase. The steps groaned underfoot.

The second floor was a single, open chamber that reeked of damp and decay. A shattered window let in a slice of light, revealing a sprawl of old crates, faded parchments, and abandoned cots. The knights spread out, rummaging carefully for any signs of recent use.

Suddenly, a knight near the window stiffened. "Commander," she called, her voice echoing. She lifted a torn piece of cloth from among the crates—a scrap of dark purple fabric with a symbol embroidered in silver: a crescent moon entwined with spidery runes.

Aria's eyes narrowed. "That's definitely not from the old kingdom. Could be the Circle of Twilight's insignia."

Sir Galland inspected the cloth, his features grim. "So they've been using this place as a waystation. Keep searching."

Reziel's pulse quickened. If the cult was here recently, we're close to something. He rifled through a nearby crate, coughing at the dust. Fragments of parchment fluttered out—mostly ruined by moisture and time. He picked one up, scanning the half-legible scribbles in a strange script reminiscent of the runes on the cultists' robes.

…temple… sealed… f… System…

His heart jolted. "Sir Galland, look at this," he muttered, offering the water-stained parchment.

The Knight-Captain frowned, then passed it to Aria. She traced a fingertip over the cryptic words. "It mentions a temple, something about being sealed, and it references the 'System'—albeit faintly." Her voice trembled with muted excitement. "This could confirm they're studying old rituals here."

Reziel swallowed. A temple? Could that be the real fortress, or part of it?

Before they could discuss further, a knight posted at the stairwell tensed. "I heard something above!" he hissed.

All eyes snapped upward to the rickety ceiling—there was a third level. Sir Galland motioned for silence, then signaled them to advance. Weapons drawn, the knights crept up the stairs.

The third floor turned out to be the tower's top level—largely open to the elements, with missing roof sections. Wind whipped through the broken walls. Half-collapsed rafters crisscrossed overhead, forming shadows in the gray light.

No sooner had Aria's squad entered than a hooded figure dropped from the rafters with inhuman agility. A swirl of blackish-purple energy crackled around them—a clear sign of cult magic. "Knights! You dare trespass?!" the figure spat, voice distorted behind a cloth mask.

Reziel's adrenaline spiked as two more robed figures emerged from the corners. They were hiding up here the whole time. The cultists brandished short staffs etched with runes, arcs of menacing violet flickering around them.

Sir Galland barked, "Take them down! Don't let them escape!"

A burst of magical bolts rained toward the knights. Aria spun her spear in a controlled arc, a shimmering golden barrier flaring briefly to deflect the blasts. Reziel dove behind a collapsed column, heart hammering. So they did have lookouts. The cult must have sensed their approach, or perhaps they'd left watchers behind.

One cultist lunged at a knight, staff crackling with energy that singed armor and flesh on contact. Another hurled a wave of shadowy flame across the floor, forcing two knights to scatter. The third cultist clashed with Sir Galland, who parried with a swift slash of his sword that left sparks dancing in midair.

Reziel peeked from his cover, ignoring the throbbing in his wounded side. A wave of fear mingled with the System's undeniable pull—conflict feeds it. He spotted an opening behind one of the cultists who was locked in a duel with Aria.

Host Condition: Elevated Stress

Skill: Dark Rupture (Tier D) recommended.

Reziel swallowed. He wasn't at full strength, but if he timed Dark Rupture correctly, he could tip the scales. Rising from behind the stone debris, he extended his arm. Violet sparks flared around his palm, forming a dense, swirling orb of negative energy. The rush of power sent a jolt through his veins—both exhilarating and terrifying.

"Aria, move!" he shouted.

She sensed his warning and ducked aside just as Reziel loosed Dark Rupture. The sphere slammed into the cultist's flank with a thunderous boom, hurling him into a half-collapsed wall. Splinters of stone and dust flew everywhere. The cultist slumped, groaning, staff clattering from his grasp.

Reziel's legs nearly buckled from the exertion. He clutched his side, gasping. A swirl of System text hovered at the edge of his vision: Mana dangerously low. But the immediate threat to Aria was gone.

Meanwhile, the other two cultists were still engaged. Sir Galland and a knight cornered one robed figure near a broken parapet. Another knight fell to one knee, struck by a crackling hex. The robed woman stood over him, staff raised for a finishing blow.

Reziel caught Aria's eye. Without words, they moved in tandem—she lunged forward, spear tip glowing gold, while Reziel mustered what remained of his strength to conjure a smaller Dark Pulse. The combined assault rattled the cultist, who whirled on them with a snarl. A violet shockwave erupted, sending Aria reeling. Reziel managed to hold his ground—barely.

Before the cultist could press the advantage, Sir Galland flanked her from behind with a swift sword strike, disabling her. She crumpled, staff slipping from limp fingers.

Across the tower, the final robed figure hissed in alarm. Seeing both comrades subdued, he raised his hands. A swirling glyph formed in midair—a teleportation attempt, perhaps. "We'll meet again, knights," the cultist spat, voice tinged with hatred.

"Stop him!" Galland roared.

Three knights rushed in, but the cultist's glyph flashed with a sickly light. The air distorted, and he vanished, leaving only a ripple of arcane afterimages. A tense silence followed, broken only by the wind.

With the battle ended, the knights secured the two unconscious cultists. Sir Galland knelt beside one to check for lethal injuries while Aria helped a wounded knight to his feet. Reziel leaned against a broken parapet, fighting dizziness as he struggled to steady his breathing.

Galland's gaze swept the battered tower. "We have at least one prisoner," he said, voice grim. "We'll question them about the fortress's location."

Aria exhaled, her spear tip lowered. "They might know about that 'temple' the scroll mentioned."

Sir Galland nodded. "Agreed. This ambush proves the cult is deeply entrenched. Let's hope we can extract something useful." He turned to the group. "Check the upper area for any more documents or signs of ritual activity. Then we'll return to the main column."

While the knights rummaged for clues, Aria approached Reziel, worry creasing her brow. "How badly are you hurt?"

He shook his head, swallowing. "Just winded. The side stings, but I'll live."

Her gaze lingered on him, noticing the faint violet flicker that still danced around his fingers. "That was quick thinking, using Dark Rupture. You likely saved two knights back there."

He managed a half-smile. "Glad I could… help."

Privately, though, he felt the System's demand for conflict pulling at him. Even now, fresh from battle, a twisted sort of hunger throbbed in his veins, urging him to keep pushing for more power. I have to stay in control, he told himself. I can't let it drive me into endless fights.

Moments later, a knight called out, "Found something!" She produced a weathered metal box from behind a collapsed beam. Inside lay a cluster of parchment scraps bearing runic diagrams, partial incantations, and scribbled notes in that same half-legible script referencing "unsealing a sanctum."

Aria and Sir Galland scanned the notes, exchanging uneasy glances. "This matches the mention of a temple or a sealed location," Aria said. "They're definitely studying something out here—maybe an ancient shrine."

Reziel stared at the runes, heart thumping. The phrase Ritual of Severance did not appear outright, but references to "unbind," "transfer," and "consume" peppered the text. Could it all be connected to removing or harnessing the System?

The battered cultists on the floor remained silent, unconscious or feigning it. Reziel suspected they'd face a grueling interrogation soon. Perhaps these notes will fill in the gaps—and maybe lead us straight to the fortress.

With the tower cleared, the knights moved swiftly to rejoin the wagons below. The sun hung low in the sky now, casting a sullen orange glow over the rugged hills. Sir Galland organized a secure perimeter around the base of the tower while the scouts went ahead to find a suitable campsite.

Reziel watched as two knights dragged the unconscious cultists to be bound in the wagon under guard. Their presence felt like an ominous weight—tangible proof that the Circle of Twilight was no mere rumor but a relentless force.

Aria paused by Reziel's side, scanning the horizon. "We'll likely press on until dusk. The fortress can't be far if they've stationed watchers here."

He nodded, clenching his cloak against the chill wind. "Then let's hope we find them before they regroup."

She turned to him, expression resolute yet laced with concern. "No matter what happens next, stick to the plan. Don't take unnecessary risks. We all saw how draining Dark Rupture can be."

"I'll try," he said, forcing a wry smile. "But if the cult's determined to snag me, I might not have much choice."

Aria placed a gauntleted hand on his shoulder. "You have us now. Remember that."

Her words sent a subtle warmth through Reziel. A sense of guarded hope flickered—perhaps he wasn't facing the cult alone anymore. He nodded, then turned his attention to Sir Galland's raised voice, calling them onward.

As the knights formed up again, Reziel settled onto his horse with a wince. The day's trials gnawed at his stamina, but the promise of answers—about the "temple," the "unsealing," and possibly the means to free himself from the System—spurred him forward. The tower had yielded crucial clues and a fresh prisoner to interrogate. But it also confirmed that the Circle of Twilight was poised to strike from the shadows at any moment.

Keep moving, he told himself. Stay alive. Don't let them claim the System—and don't let it claim me.

With the orange sun dipping below the jagged hills, the expedition pressed on, resolute knights and a wary System host forging deeper into unknown territory. Ahead lay hidden cult strongholds and dangerous rites—a test that would challenge Reziel's body, mind, and the fragile bond he shared with the Forbidden System.