Winters Bite 5 (2/2)

It would appear the Stalker was standing on top of some sort of frozen body of water, like a lake or pond. It was impossible for her to tell how deep it actually went, as the ambient light wasn’t strong enough to penetrate more than a few meters beneath the surface. She wasn’t sure what the dead body was doing in there, but it was by no means the only one. Every time she brushed the fresh snow aside she was greeted with another person’s corpse. They were all overwhelmingly dwarven, but humans, elves and gnomes could also be seen here and there. She also couldn’t help but notice how remarkably well preserved they were. They looked so unblemished and untouched by time that she felt it wouldn’t be at all surprising if they suddenly sprang to life.

“Ktktktktkt?”

Or at least that’s what she thought, until one of them opened its eyes and stared into her own.

*CRASH*

“Hraaaaah!”

“EEEEK!”

It then suddenly burst from the ice with a loud noise while hissing, eliciting a rather girlish scream from Drea as she leapt a few meters backwards. She watched in pure shock as the corpse climbed out of its icy prison while some sort of black mist began to seep out of its pale skin and drape over its body. When the dreadful miasma dissipated a second later, what was left was a creature very different from the human soldier that rose from the ice.

It still retained a humanoid shape, but the flesh had become extremely lean, gangly and decomposed. Overall, its appearance was closer to that of a malnourished doppelganger than a person, with only the minimal amount of meat covering its bones. It had blue skin and claws instead of fingers and toes - two on each foot and three on each hand, much like Drea. It had a head of shoulder-length black hair, a complete and total lack of anything resembling a nose, and eye sockets that glowed with an eerie white light.

Whatever clothes and armor were on the original body were now gone, transformed by the strange mist much like its flesh. The clearly undead thing wore a pair of weathered leather braces that covered its wrists and forearms and a matching pair of greaves rested  on its shins and calves. Its shoulders, collar and the lower half of its face were all wrapped up in a rough brown fabric that was much too big to be called a scarf, and dangled over its protruding spine like a short cape.

“Blood…”

A low voice like a thousand whispers washed over Drea from all sides.

“Maim… Kill… Destroy…”

The undead creature shambled around aimlessly in a drunken manner as it kept spewing threatening words. The way it acted made it seem like it had forgotten the Stalker was even there. The demoness didn’t miss this opportunity and immediately circled around its back and pounced at it. The Assassination Skill had went off without a hitch, allowing her to decapitate the vile thing while also ripping its body to pieces in the blink of an eye. It didn’t even let out a sound as it collapsed to the snow and dissolved into a weird black sludge that began seeping into the ice.

“SKREEEEEEEEEE!”

Once the last of its liquefied remains disappeared, however, the area was bathed in a high pitched scream that could only be described as ‘angry.’ There was a sudden eruption of ice and snow near Drea as another body already wreathed in a black smog leaped out of it. It charged straight towards her as the miasma fell off its flesh, revealing a creature identical to the one she had just executed. It leapt through the air directly at her, only to find its head, torso and shoulder impaled and then ripped apart by the claws and scythes on the Stalker’s left side.

A third corpse then popped out of the ice and rushed her in much the same manner, but was just as easily defeated. Then a fourth, fifth, sixth and seventh followed suit one after the other, all of which took on the same appearance as the first one. And then, surprisingly enough, the eight one actually managed to avoid being skewered on the first hit. It still died immediately afterwards, but each subsequent attempt lasted that little bit longer against the Stalker. And then, on the fifteenth try, one of them actually managed to get a clean hit on her, ripping out a sizable chunk of her left thigh with its claws.

It was at this point that Drea’s suspicions were confirmed. Rather than multiple beings of the same species, what she was faced with was the same creature that came at her again and again, no matter how many times she defeated it. And the reason it had managed to injure her wasn’t because opponent had suddenly gotten faster or anything like that. Even if it was surprisingly spry for its bony build, it was still objectively slower than her.

The reason why it managed to land a hit her was because it was learning and adapting to her attack patterns, movement and all around fighting style. At a rather frightening pace, too. Once Drea realized this, she began to vary her attacks as much as possible. This approach kept her from sustaining any more injuries for a while, but it became apparent it couldn’t last. She wasn’t too worried, though. Her extra limbs still gave her a biological advantage that was impossible to overcome, no matter how skillful at dodging her opponent got.

It was a notion that was shattered somewhere around the 30th time that it emerged from the ice, as the undead being appeared sporting a new appendage. It was a slender limb poking out of its upper back that had two elbow joints and was tipped with a blade made out of bone. It was at this point that Drea realized this thing wasn’t just getting used to her movements, but was actively studying them and making them its own. That was probably also why it had claws and black hair strangely similar to hers, as it had somehow or another decided to copy those parts of her first. The Stalker had never seen or even heard of such a being, but the eerie features, body-snatching habit, shapeshifting ability and battle mimicry led her to a singular conclusion.

She was fighting some sort of undead doppelganger.

Or to be more precise, it was an Icebound variant of a Mirror Wraith. This type of malicious being was born of doppelgangers that either practiced necromancy or led what other members of their species would deem excessively violent lives. Boxxy actually had a high chance of coming back as one of these after its death if Mortimer didn’t personally show up to collect its stubborn soul. That was assuming, of course, that some shadowy government-run organization didn’t make the mistake of bringing it back to life in some misguided attempt to further their own agenda.

Unfortunately for Drea, she had no idea what this thing truly was, nor did she know of a method that would make it stay dead. This was hardly surprising, as Mirror Wraiths had become all but extinct after the Silent War very nearly wiped out the raw materials needed for their creation. This was a completely new opponent for her, and it was adapting to her faster than she was to it.

As the fights dragged on, Drea found it harder and harder to land a decisive blow on her opponent. That would’ve been bad enough in and of itself, but the prolonged duels also meant that the wraith was starting to land hits on her. Admittedly they were only at the level of scratches or gashes, but any wound received from an undead being carried with it a deadly consequence - the undead disease known as the Blight. The plague was gradually making her grow weaker and more lethargic, to the point where the wraith was actually starting to match her in terms of speed.

At around the 45th time it emerged from the ice, the Mirror Wraith and the Stalker were more or less on equal footing. The undead being had grown four scythes and a sturdy carapace of its own by this point, resulting in what was essentially a twisted reflection of Drea’s partially crippled form. It even had a pair of gigantic mandibles jutting out of the sides of its head as if it were trying to mock her nervous ticks.

The two of them then engaged in another exchange of blows that was more akin to dancing than fighting, with neither one landing any clean hits. Or at least not until Drea was able to seize an opportunity to rush in and decapitate her opponent for the upteempth time. However, what she perceived as an opening turned out be bait for a trap. The wraith had taken advantage of its pseudo-immortality and had willingly offered up one of its bodies to create an opening in the Stalker’s defenses. This allowed it to slice clean through her right arm at the same time that its own neck was severed.

Drea screamed in pain and surprise and reflexively leaped backwards. Her amputated limb rolled around on the ground while dripping with viscous blood for a few moments before rapidly evaporating into thin air. Another explosion of ice and snow later and her hated opponent was already back to full strength while she was left in a clearly disadvantageous position.

This made the Stalker very rapidly reconsider her approach. Initially she planned to fight this thing until it ran out of bodies. She was making good progress up until now, as by her estimation the stubborn zombie had already used up somewhere between half and two thirds of the available corpses. It had also more or less reached the limit of what it could copy from her, yet she was still more or less decisively overpowering it. Under the circumstances she couldn’t help but feel confident she could outlast it, so long as her stamina held out.

It was a plan that was proven to have been so optimistic it bordered on the naive.

Her opponent charged at her much like it had done until then, but it was painfully obvious that confronting it would not be a smart decision. With that in mind, Drea began running from and actively evading the wraith in an effort to buy herself some time to think. She was inwardly glad she decided against trying to use her webbing against it, as it would have probably found a way to copy those as well and use them to entrap her.

But the more she tried to rethink her approach, the more it became apparent her skillset was terribly ill-equipped to deal with this undead, completely unlike those she considered her allies.

For example, if Fizzy were here, she’d instantly purify this entire lake with her holy magic and rob the body-hopping specter of any suitable vessels, perhaps even destroy it outright. Xera would just burn away both ice and corpses with her flames, while Kora would be able to outlast it with sheer endurance and physical force. Drea wasn’t sure exactly what Ambrosia’s spriggan body was capable of, but it was a fair assumption that some uppity graverobber wouldn’t be much of an issue.

Boxxy, on the other hand, was so flexible that this wouldn’t even register as a challenge. That Mimic could produce a near-infinite number of attack variations through its world-class shapeshifting skills. The rotten wraith would never even get the chance to get used to so many methods of murder before it ran out of fuel. That was assuming the Mimic didn’t just annihilate it over and over from afar with its Warlock magic without giving it a chance to get close. Or that it didn’t simply blow the whole place to smithereens with its explosives.

But Drea could do none of those things. Sure, she was better at stealthy assassinations than anyone else in Boxxy’s inner circle, but this Howling Chasm was specifically designed to counter such a skillset. Perhaps… she had already done enough? Surely even her master would understand her predicament and not inflict some kind of punishment for her incompetence if she were to fall here and now. The only thing the Stalker could do at this point was return to her master’s side and relay the information she had gathered. After that, Boxxy could easily find its way to this place and gobble up that detestable wrath like it was nothing.

… Huh. I guess I could try that, couldn’t I?

The Stalker suddenly stopped giving her opponent the runabout and turned on her heel to face it. She wasn’t sure whether her new idea would work. Just the opposite, in fact. It was a notion so idiotic and reckless that it made that desperate dash through the field of elementals seem like a pleasant stroll through a garden. But at the same time, it was one more thing she could try, and she felt like she couldn’t face her master with her head held high unless she really did give it her all.

Well, she was far too shy to face her master at all unless she was ordered to, but that was besides the point.

The Mirror Wraith sensed that something was up and skid to a halt. It lowered its body and circled around the Stalker, its own set of mandibles chittering to mirror Drea’s own. The undead was ultimately the more aggressive of the two, so the staredown didn’t last long before it made a move. It approached her with a light footed zigzag pattern, completely unlike the blind charges it attempted during the initial series of duels.

Drea turned her left side forward in preparation to receive the incoming attack. She wasn’t sure whether she could pull this off one handed, but this thing was rather inept at dealing with things it saw for the first time, so her odds were definitely good. She also had only about 200 HP remaining after having her limb torn off, meaning this would likely be her last chance. She needed to make it count, which was why she was quietly proud of herself for holding her webbing back for so long.

She raised her good hand towards the incoming wraith and let loose a spray of sticky spider silk from her palm. As expected, the creature had no idea how to deal with it and was wrapped up in it in the blink of an eye, causing it to fall and skid across the ground. It tried to cut through its bindings with its imitation scythes and claws, but the Stalker quickly moved in and secured all of its limbs by tying them together. She then applied a liberal coat of webbing, wrapping her opponent up completely until it resembled the world’s most repulsive bagworm.

It struggled, hissed, screeched and writhed around, but Drea would not give it the opportunity to break free. She mercilessly stabbed it over and over through the white cocoon until it stopped moving and its body began melting into sludge yet again. The viscous liquid began to soak clean through the webbing as it attempted to return to the frozen lake underneath. The Stalker half expected something like this to happen, but it wasn’t a problem. Or rather, it was precisely what she hoped would happen.

Drea then screwed up her courage, picked up the sloshing lump of spider silk and, in an act that would surely make Boxxy recoil in horror, poured the black sludge into her own mouth. The scent hit her first, followed closely by the horrible taste. She now understood firsthand why her master had nicknamed the lich Valeria ‘Nasty’ back in the day.

When the stuff hit the back of her throat, however, her body immediately reacted. It was actively rejecting this bizarre stuff, which it displayed by convulsing violently against her will. Drea had to use every ounce of her remaining strength to swallow even a single mouthful, but that was her limit. She dropped the rest of it on the ground, and bent over while retching, gagging and dry-heaving from the horrific aftertaste.

Now freed from her grasp, what was left of the black sludge returned to the ice and sought out another host. The Mirror Wraith emerged from the ice once more a while later, but it became immediately apparent that Drea’s stupid idea had paid off. The decomposing humanoid still had the same arachnid shape as before, but it actively struggled to maintain its balance and stay on its feet. The manner in which it was stumbling around was much more severe than the first time the Stalker saw it, almost as if she were watching a newborn doe learning to walk.

Seeing this, the demon immediately attacked it, wrapping it up with her webbing much like she had done before. She guessed she could only get away with this technique a few more times before her adversary devised a counter of it, but that would be enough. Her first attempt at devouring her opponent may have failed since she had underestimated how vile this thing tasted, but she knew its flavor now.

By the Gods, she knew it so well that she doubted she would ever be able to forget it.

That was fine though. This amount of suffering was a small price to pay if it meant earning Boxxy’s approval. If she overcame a challenge specifically tailored to counter her way of fighting, then there was no way that endlessly pragmatic creature would fail to be impressed. And so, with such optimistic thoughts in mind and a silent prayer for her soon-to-be-dead tastebuds on her lips, Drea resumed her meal with only the slightest bit of hesitation.

The area guardian of the Howling Chasm has been slain.

To the victor go the spoils.

The Howling Chasm can now be accessed freely for the next 24 hours.

Several minutes later the only things left of the prolonged confrontation was a corpse-and-crater-filled frozen lake, a few piles of soppy webbing, a tightly shut golden treasure chest.

Well, that and one violently convulsing Stalker who could do nothing but writhe around on the ground in agony while stubbornly clinging to the last few digits of her HP.