Chapter 11:
I Am The Prophesied Apocalypse - Volume 1
Camp was set on a patch of level ground just off the road, ringed on three sides by trees. The carriage was pulled in close, its wheels chocked, and a small fire burned low at the center of the makeshift camp.
The merchant had taken up a spot near the carriage with his bedroll and a blanket that looked far too soft for someone sleeping outdoors.
The Crimson Spear worked with practiced efficiency—Aiden and Darren were laying extra stones around the fire, Lyris had vanished into the trees to set snares, and Nyra, the magician, was checking the edge of the camp with slow, deliberate steps, staff in hand.
Morgana, had already build her tent and was now relaxing by the fire.
“First watch,” Aiden said, glancing up from the fire. “Nyra and… Morgana. You two good with that?”
Nyra nodded without looking at her. Morgana shrugged. “Fine by me. Just don’t start crying if I scare off all the monsters.”
“Try not to scare off the rest of us while you’re at it,” Lyris muttered as she passed by, carrying a coil of wire.
Morgana smirked. “No promises.”
The first stretch of watch passed in silence, the two women taking opposite sides of the camp’s perimeter. Nyra’s steps were measured, each movement deliberate; she had the air of someone who could wait in the same spot for hours without complaint.
Morgana, by contrast, leaned against the trunk of a thick oak, idly chewing a strip of dried meat she’d pulled from her satchel.
The magician finally broke the quiet. “You fight recklessly.”
Morgana raised an eyebrow. “That so?”
“You throw yourself into the middle of enemies, overextend your weapon swings… You’re lucky those goblins weren’t smarter.”
Morgana tore another bite from the meat and spoke around it. “Or maybe I’m just good enough to get away with it. Ever think of that?”
Nyra’s expression didn’t change. “Good fighters don’t rely on luck.”
Morgana gave a low chuckle. “And careful ones don’t tend to win against a dozen opponents. But sure, keep giving me the lecture. I’ll be sure to ignore it thoroughly.”
The magician didn’t reply, but Morgana could feel her eyes on her for a moment longer before Nyra turned back to her patrol route.
Cheery company, this one.
She waited until Nyra was far enough away, then reached into the folds of her cloak. The air grew faintly cold as she willed the familiar shape into existence.
Black mist curled from her runed arm, coalescing into the thick, black leather-bound book with her name embossed in silver across the cover. She flipped it open, scanning the crisp script until her eyes fell on a section that hadn’t been there before.
[Skill Gained: Crude Throw] – Throw a weapon or object with enhanced force and accuracy. Works even with improvised projectiles.
[Skill Gained: Evasive Scuttle] – Sudden burst of erratic movement, making it harder for enemies to land a hit for a short time.
[Skill Gained: Goblin Sense] – Passive. Heightened awareness of ambushes and traps set by small or cunning creatures.
[Skill Gained: Brutal Strike] – A single heavy attack that ignores a portion of enemy armor.
[Skill Gained: Savage Roar] – Short-range roar that boosts your own attack speed while unnerving nearby enemies.
[Skill Gained: Thick Hide] – Passive. Minor resistance to slashing and piercing damage.
Morgana read them twice, lips twitching into a slow, self-satisfied grin. “Not bad for an afternoon’s work,” she murmured. Guess even low-rent pests like goblins have their uses.
She flicked through the pages one more time before snapping the book shut. The black mist reclaimed it, seeping back into the intricate runes on her arm until not a trace of it remained.
Nyra passed near her again, glancing briefly at the strip of meat still in Morgana’s hand. “You’re eating during watch?”
Morgana shrugged. “Might as well. If something jumps us, I’d rather face it with a full stomach. Ever try fighting hungry? It’s depressing.”
“That’s not exactly the discipline expected of a guard.”
Morgana smirked. “Relax. If anything comes at us, I’ll save you a piece.”
Nyra’s eyes narrowed slightly, but she moved on without answering. Morgana watched her retreating figure, chewing the last bite slowly.
She’s either going to hate me by the end of this trip or start respecting me. My money’s on hate.
The fire crackled quietly in the distance, the others settling into rest. Morgana let her gaze roam over the treeline, shadows deepening as the night air cooled. Every few minutes she thought she heard the faint rustle of something in the undergrowth, but nothing emerged.
Shame. Wouldn’t mind another skill or two tonight.
She settled back against the tree, cloak drawn around her, hiding her demonic features.
The hours crawled by, the fire burning lower until it was more ember than flame when she heard the first rustle and dismissed it as an imagination.
Nyra’s patrol never faltered, each step placed with the same measured care as the last, eyes scanning the treeline for anything out of place.
Morgana remained against her tree, half-lidded eyes fixed on the dark horizon, outwardly relaxed but alert under the surface.
The faint rustle came again. This time, she knew it wasn’t her imagination.
Nyra froze mid-step, staff angled slightly toward the sound. “Something’s moving.”
Morgana pushed herself upright, brushing crumbs of dried meat from her cloak. “Finally. I was starting to think the forest got the memo and decided to leave us alone.”
A low, guttural growl answered from the shadows.
Two shapes broke from the treeline, thin, hunched creatures with mottled skin and too-long arms, moving low to the ground like predators. Their eyes glowed faintly in the moonlight, fixated on the camp.
Nyra took a step forward, staff lifting. “Wake the others—”
“Or,” Morgana interrupted, her voice sharp with amusement, “we deal with them now and let everyone keep their beauty sleep. You know, for efficiency’s sake.”
Nyra glanced back at her, expression unreadable. “We’re two against two. If they’re scouts, others might follow.”
“Then let’s make sure they don’t have time to send an invitation.” Morgana’s lips curled in a slow grin. “Lucky for us, it’s nice and dark out.”
Without waiting for agreement, she stepped away from the tree, one clawed hand rising as she focused on the space between her and the intruders.
I wanted to test out this skill anyway...
Shadows from the treeline seemed to bleed together, pulling toward her palm in thin tendrils that coiled and twisted.
The air chilled, the darkness condensing into a long, sleek spear of pure black, its edges shimmering faintly with an otherworldly gleam.
The two creatures hesitated, their growls faltering as the weapon formed.
“Ever see what happens when you piss off the night itself?” Morgana asked them, voice carrying just enough to cut through the quiet.
Before they could decide whether to run, she hurled the weapon.
It didn’t fly, it streaked forward like it had been fired from a siege weapon, a blur of black cutting through the pale moonlight.
The first creature didn’t even have time to cry out before the spear hit, punching clean through its chest and pinning it to a tree with a wet crack. The impact left a smoking hole where the weapon had struck, the edges seared as if burned from the inside.
The second creature froze, its gaze flicking between the corpse of its companion and the shadow still clinging to Morgana’s fingers.
“Your move,” she said.
It chose poorly, lunging forward with a hiss. Morgana stepped into its path, the scythe already swinging up in a vicious arc. The blade caught the creature mid-lunge, cleaving it from groin to shoulder in one smooth motion, efectively cleaving it in half.
The body crumpled at her feet, steam rising faintly from the wound. She watched as two new glowing orbs enter her body. She didn't know what kind of creatures they were, but she was happy with the additional skills.
Nyra lowered her staff, eyes fixed on the tree where the first corpse hung skewered. “That… wasn’t magic I recognize.”
Morgana smiled faintly. “Guess you don’t know all the tricks in the book.”
Nyra’s gaze lingered on her for a long moment before she turned back to scan the treeline again. “We should keep moving around the perimeter. Just in case. And put these corpses away from the campsite.”
“Sure,” Morgana said, wiping the scythe’s blade on the grass before shouldering it again.
And here I thought watch duty would be boring.
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