Steampunk: Sixth Era Epic-Chapter 785 - : Crimson Snow

Chapter 785 -785: Crimson Snow

The incessant notifications only added to Shard’s astonishment. “Verdant Blessing” was likely a power left by Tree Father, probably because it couldn’t bear the heavy aura of death on Shard, so it gave him a “cleansing” of sorts.

The subsequent insights he had into so many Spirit Runes also showed just how powerful the Ancient Gods were. A simple blessing nearly added eight Spirit Runes to Shard’s collection.

“Did I lose out, or did I actually gain?”

Shaking his head, he couldn’t afford to delay since the half-hour started from the moment the door opened. Feeling the surging and ample life force within him, Shard took a step forward.

The mist dispersed, and the light around him dimmed immediately. As the biting wind blew, Shard looked up to the valley’s night sky, to the blood-red moon that seemed as if it would drop from the heavens at any moment.

It wasn’t a blizzard nor was it the black snow that carried the Instant Death Curse. What drifted in the night were flakes of crimson snow. The ground was completely dyed red, and the goose feather-like red snowflakes continued to increase the thickness of the snow beneath his feet.

A blood-red night, silent and eerie. Even the most horrifying stories couldn’t capture such a dreadful scene. Everywhere he looked was pierced by that glaring red, and even the air carried a faint scent of blood.

This scene, enough to drive a person of the strongest resolve insane, was the “Crimson Snow” phase of the Valley of Dead Silence, one of the four types of snowfall that occurred there. During this weather, the valley would rarely enter into a night, and in this time, some strange visitors would come calling. Perhaps it was a Humanoid Relic, maybe an Evil Spirit Demon, or something even more terrifying.

“Aside from the safest Little Snow, it seems I’ve experienced all the weather here,” Shard reflected.

The Crimson Snow itself had no Curse; it only dirtied one’s clothes, so Shard wasn’t immediately attacked this time. In the quiet night of the valley, he could see more clearly the firelight by the library entrance in the distance.

Having hastily activated the key, he was still dressed in his somewhat thin autumn clothes. The cold seeped into his body with the raging wind, but his vigorous life force made Shard feel not so much as a chill.

With one hand shielding his face, he bent forward and trudged through the snow.

The black night concealed untold horrors, and the Whisper Element was more concentrated around him than ever before, more frightening even than an agitated Interstice. Shard dared not light up Silvermoon’s radiance to call for the witches to come for him, fearing that something else would respond to his summons.

He waded through the crimson snow, taking deep and shallow steps, while a rustling sound came through the violent snowflakes. Shard felt as though something was watching him, but he didn’t dare to look around.

After about ten more steps, a hoarse voice came from beside him:

“Young man, save me.”

His peripheral vision swept to the side, where an old woman with graying hair and a face full of wrinkles, practically naked, was lying in the snow, reaching out to him. She seemed even older than Granny Cassandra, with a hoarse voice and an exhausted look that plainly spelled “on the verge of death.”

[Relic.]

“She” whispered softly, and Shard nodded without heeding the voice, continuing to walk on. But the old woman was persistent and caught up to him, grabbing hold of Shard’s ankle with such heft that he almost thought his right foot had sunk into the earth.

“Young man, save me.”

Shard kept his mouth shut without giving any answer, suddenly lifted his right leg, pulled it out of his boot, and then with one bare foot, he took off running.

“Save me, save me~”

The hoarse voice followed closely behind, as if the disheveled old woman was floating right behind him. Shard didn’t know what kind of Relic this was, let alone guess its Trait, so he didn’t even dare turn his head to see what was behind him.

He quickly covered half the distance, with the glow of the bonfire amidst the Crimson Snow getting closer. But ahead in the snow, another figure appeared, a standing silhouette. It was only upon getting closer that Shard could see it was a gentleman with a stiff countenance and a melancholic gaze, dressed in a proper black suit, leaning on a cane, with a silver badge resembling a compass hanging on his chest:

“Do you need… help?”

The tone was devoid of any emotion, and, to Shard’s surprise, it was actually spoken in the Demon language that Dr. Schneider had used. Shard was startled and also regretted that the doctor wasn’t by his side.

He changed his direction to bypass the strange man, and the persistent calls for help that had been following him disappeared after Shard saw the man.

In the short distance that followed, Shard encountered a merchant hugging a basket, a woman hiding in the shadows, and a headless little girl holding a balloon that looked like her own head.

Shard could only confirm that the merchant was a Relic, but he couldn’t tell what the latter two were. Seemingly out of fear and caution, these strange “people” didn’t attack Shard directly but tried to communicate with him in various ways, all of which he avoided.

It was only a few minutes’ journey, but when Shard stepped through the Witch’s set warning ritual at the entrance and into the large hall of the Gadis Library, lit by the bonfire, it felt more taxing than his travels through the Interstice in Midshire Fort City.

“Back again, hmm?”

When the bonfire’s light fell on Shard, he didn’t hear any voices welcoming him. The Red Dragon Witch was still in Slumber in the wall’s ice coffin, the shrine on the pile of old books bathed in the light of the fire, but next to the bright bonfire, there were no signs of Miss Orland nor Miss Becky Samuel from Zaras Academy.

The great hall of the library was even more dilapidated than when Shard last visited; moreover, there were some new sword marks and clear signs of heavy impact on the walls. A section of the ceiling’s stone tiles was missing, revealing the recessed bedrock behind, and the floor below was covered with rocks and rubble as if a fierce battle had occurred.

Hesitating for a moment, he first went to the ice coffin to confirm that Miss Fiona Drago was still Sleeping, then approached the bonfire, which was as warm as ever, only the Saffron Moon that hovered over the flames was gone.

“Where have they gone?”

The luggage by the bonfire and the supplies that Shard had brought last time were still there but had been heavily used. Apart from that, there was a stone altar with five indentations, presumably for sealing the “Nameless Ritual Book,” but he found no notes or other clues left by the witches.

In the shadow of the bonfire, Shard unexpectedly found some trampled bloodstains. Without bothering to gather them, he took a wine bottle out of his pocket:

“Blood Brew!”

The bloodstains automatically flew into the bottle, and Shard hastily corked it. After shaking it gently, he realized the liquid inside was scarce, but upon removing the cork, there was still a faint scent of wine.

Using Sorcery, he drew out the “Blood Brew” drop by drop and let it fall into his own eyes. As expected, very faint red traces appeared in the air, and the bright marks indicated the witches had ventured deeper into the library ruins.

Shard hesitated for a moment, picked up a torch by the campfire, ignited it, and went off to track.

He had been worried that this half-hour mission would be mostly spent searching for traces of the witches; however, shortly after leaving the hall and rounding a bend in the ruined corridor, he could see the faint light of a fire. Hurrying over, he found that the corridor had collapsed at the end, turning it into a dead end. To continue, one would need to go through a broken opening in the sidewall.

In front of the collapse, Miss Orland sat next to a glass bottle containing a little fireball, sweating profusely while facing a skinny fellow in a black robe.

Miss Orland lay on the other side of the bottle, covered with her black cloak, eyes tightly shut without the slightest movement.

Hearing the footsteps, Miss Samuel immediately turned her head and saw Shard holding the campfire torch. She shook her head, signaling him not to approach; Shard realized then that the man in the black robe was a Humanoid Relic.

“Miss Orland is unconscious? What’s the situation now…”

He hesitated and stopped moving, but then proceeded forward again. Only upon getting closer did he notice three parallelly placed cards between Miss Samuel and the black-robed person. These cards were a size larger than Roder Cards and seemed to be face down, each back displaying a sandy-yellow question mark.

The man in the robe had a jaundiced face and a bald head; upon Shard’s approach, he turned to Shard:

“Do you wish to join the game as well?”

The man’s voice was very strange, resembling the sound of a reptile’s belly rubbing against the sand. Being watched by him, Shard instantly felt a great mental pressure; it was clear the man’s level was no less than Sage Level.

“What are the rules?”

“I’m a Diviner, three sets of cards, three in each set. You may choose one card from any set to divide your fate. This lady has reached the last set if you wish, you can take her place…”

“Don’t take my place; if you choose incorrectly, you will be haunted by the curse of fate!”

Miss Samuel urgently intervened, but Shard still sat down; he couldn’t afford to waste much time. There were many matters to attend to: not only did he need to liberate the Nameless Ritual Book, but he also had to continue the story that hadn’t been finished last time and learn techniques from the witches to overcome Joey Barton.

“I’ll choose the last card for her, but I don’t think you are a Diviner—this is clearly a game of chance.”

He handed the torch to Miss Samuel, whose glasses under the firelight made her look especially haggard.

“Choose one out of three, right?”

He confirmed.

“Yes, one out of three but since you’re choosing on behalf of someone else, if you select the card that harbors misfortune, you’ll both be cursed with misfortune.”

Shard snorted, squinted his eyes at the three cards in front of him, and swept his right hand above them, looking quite proficient, though he actually didn’t feel anything:

“This one.”

He pointed to the one on the left and flipped it over without waiting for the other’s reaction. However, the card was blank.

“What does this mean?”

Shard asked, and the black-robed Diviner snatched the card back:

“Consider yourselves lucky.”

The man stood up and retreated into the shadows which the firelight could not illuminate and disappeared.

“What just happened?”

“The weather changed from Crimson Snow to Red Snow without any sign. Briony and I have encountered this situation countless times—more horrifying than what’s written in the Academy’s records.”

Miss Samuel spoke in a low voice. Seeing Shard’s gaze turn towards Miss Orland, she continued:

“We ran into a demon, and though we temporarily repelled it, we no longer have the strength to fight again. So we had to temporarily leave the hall and hide here. But later, something terrifying arrived…”

She suddenly covered her head:

“Sorry, I can’t even dare to remember what it was. Briony is unconscious, but she hasn’t any injuries; I can’t wake her.”

Shard handed some water to Miss Samuel, then took Miss Orland’s hand, which was soft and warm, while “False Immortality” could not take effect:

“Do you feel anything?”

[Wait a moment… This half-elf’s spirit is rotting; she must be healed quickly.]

“Spirit rot? That’s no simple injury.”

Shard shared the findings with Miss Samuel, then suggested:

“Let’s go back to the campfire first. The demon you mentioned has left; it was safe when I came by earlier.”

He helped Miss Samuel to her feet, seeing her poor condition, he then stooped down and proactively carried the unconscious Miss Orland. The witch, with elven lineage, though only a bit shorter than Shard, was unexpectedly light.

Miss Samuel, holding the little bottle with the flame, led the way with the torch, and together they returned to the campfire by the hall’s entrance.