Chapter 47: Scent of Blood

The moment Joan laid eyes on the water ghoul, she immediately recalled the terrifying legends recorded in books about corpse-eaters. It was said that the world’s first corpse-eater originated from a tyrant who was addicted to human flesh, and upon his death, his insatiable craving for living flesh and blood brought him back to the realm of the living.

The gaunt, hunched form of a corpse-eater was deceptively frail; in truth, not only were they swift, but their strength surpassed what they possessed in life. Their razor-sharp claws could easily tear open a victim’s belly and yank out their intestines. Yet more dreadful than brute force was the virus they carried—anyone lacking robust constitution who was scratched or bitten would be instantly paralyzed, unable to move, and even if they managed to escape, they would inevitably be tormented by illness afterward.

Precisely because corpse-eaters were nearly impossible to approach due to their infectious bodies, Flint had forbidden Joan, Roger, and Conti—who lacked heavy armor and shields—from confronting them directly. Instead, Tom and Dick, sturdy warriors clad in armor and wielding shields, remained by his side, fearless of the ghouls’ poisonous claws.

The old dwarf stood at the center, kite shield in hand, flanked by Tom and Dick on each side. The three heavily armed warriors raised their shields, forming a wall of steel that blocked the ghouls rushing at the front. They then swung their weapons with crushing force. The war hammer and battle axe, both hefty instruments, shattered the skeletal ghouls, splattering foul blood across the field.

While the dwarf uncle and nephew, together with the Dindale brothers, repelled the assault, the three hiding in the trees were far from idle.

Roger continuously fired shots, the flash of his hunting rifle lighting up the night, and with each bang, a ghoul was blown apart by the heavy lead shot.

Conti cast a spell, conjuring a blazing sphere, and remotely rolled the fireball through the densest clusters of ghouls. The ghouls shrieked in agony, fleeing in terror.

Joan concentrated on her "Mage's Hand," an invisible force gripping a dagger and stabbing ghouls from a hundred feet away, leaving them no chance to retaliate. As she focused on her spell, a sudden furious roar erupted beneath her.

Joan looked down, and Flint's guess proved true. A ghoul, smaller and craftier than the others, had crept past the defensive line formed by Flint, Dick, and Tom, using the cover of the bushes to reach the base of her tree. The wily creature was about to climb up and launch a sneak attack when Jamie, catching its foul stench, sprang forward and bit its throat, slamming it to the ground.

The ghoul and Jamie grappled fiercely, rolling through the grass. Joan wanted to help Jamie but hesitated, afraid of harming her companion. At that moment, countless writhing vines shot from the grass, entangling both Jamie and the ghoul. Meanwhile, a gunshot rang out from the opposing tree, and the ghoul's skull exploded.

Joan gave Roger a thumbs-up, praising his marksmanship. Roger grinned, patting his rifle, indicating that it was this trusty weapon that had dispatched the sneaky ghoul in time. Conti dispelled the "Entangle" spell, and the wild vines swiftly withdrew into the earth. Jamie regained her freedom and stood guard beneath Joan’s tree, sniffing warily for any other ghouls lurking nearby.

The six people and one dog worked in perfect harmony, and in less than half an hour, all the water ghouls were wiped out. Joan, Roger, and Conti descended from the trees, using Jamie’s keen sense of smell to track down the ghouls that had fled into the thicket, rooting them out one by one to eliminate any future threats.

Once the ghouls were eradicated, Conti sounded a whistle to summon the fairy siblings. Cece and Jerry returned, leading their horses, and upon seeing the blood-soaked, chaotic scene, their faces turned pale with fright. But when they learned that the ghouls occupying the unfrozen lake had been vanquished, they immediately broke into joyful smiles.

Just then, a gale swept across the opposite shore, carrying with it a sickly-sweet, nauseating odor.

“Hey, do you smell something strange? It’s absolutely disgusting,” Roger asked, pinching his nose and turning to his companions.

Jamie sniffed in the direction of the wind, then suddenly barked furiously.

Joan, familiar with Jamie’s habits, recognized the urgency and instantly realized trouble was brewing. She quickly warned everyone to grab their weapons, for a foe even more dangerous than the ghouls was about to appear.

Roger and Conti scrambled back up the tree, while Dick, Flint, and Tom gripped their weapons tightly, eyes fixed on the source of the stench.

From the forest came the crackling sound of breaking branches—a tall, thin figure moved swiftly through the night-shrouded woods, its body swaying as it ran, like a drunk on the verge of collapse, yet somehow maintaining a bizarre balance. In the blink of an eye, it burst from the trees and stood before Joan and the others.

The creature was hunched and twisted, neither human nor beast, with a flat face dominated by a massive, hooked nose. From head to toe, it stood nine feet tall, its long, muscular arms and enormous claws oddly disproportionate to its gaunt frame. As it ran, its upper body leaned forward, claws dragging along the ground, resembling a giant green-skinned ape. Except for a tangled mane atop its head, reminiscent of waterweed, the creature was entirely hairless. Its gray-green skin was covered in rough bumps and swollen lumps, like a thick layer of moss, and it sprinted naked through the woods, unleashing a series of piercing shrieks that echoed and overlapped.

Upon seeing this bizarre monster, Joan immediately thought of a legendary creature and hurriedly warned her companions, “Beware! That’s a troll!”

Despite its thin frame and elongated limbs suggesting frailty, the troll possessed astonishing speed and strength. It charged at Tom in an instant, swinging its long arm and sending its claws whistling through the air.

The young dwarf’s face went pale, but he mustered his courage and raised his shield high. The troll’s claws struck the shield with a dull, thunderous boom, cracking the steel barrier. Tom tumbled backward, rolling helplessly across the grass, his sturdy arms numb from the force that transferred through the shield, nearly losing all sensation.

The troll’s murky eyes gleamed with murderous intent as it scrambled on all fours towards Tom, reaching out to seize the dwarf’s throat. A dart flew just in time, striking the troll’s face and embedding deep within its left eye socket, forcing it to pause its pursuit.

Joan, controlling her "Mage's Hand," had hurled the dart without pausing to check the result. She then immediately used her magical grip to seize Tom’s ankle, dragging him back with all her might to pull him away from danger.

A flash of lightning illuminated the woods, followed by the whine of a bullet leaving the chamber. The troll’s belly exploded with a bowl-sized hole, spurting thick green blood. Despite being struck by Joan’s dart and Roger’s bullet, the creature’s expression showed no pain. It reached up, grasped the dart embedded in its eye, and yanked it out, swallowing the bloodied eyeball attached to the tip without so much as chewing.