Witch King 2 by Nick Harrow

Author:Nick Harrow [Harrow, Nick]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: MMO litRPG role playing steampunk quest gamelit, action hero dark gritty epic harem dungeon core, coming of age sword sorcery dungeon core demon, men&#8217, s adventure video game adaptations wizard, supernatural fantasy magic occult legends thriller
Publisher: Black Forge Books
Published: 2019-10-07T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 18

I STEPPED OVER THE threshold into the darkness and crashed right into Jaga’s back. The witch on my back let out a yelp of surprise and slithered off me. My weight shoved the riverboat captain forward into Aja, who grabbed hold of Ayo to keep from falling. Unfortunately, that slammed Ayo into a mercenary, which set off a chain reaction of shoving and shouting as the whole group stumbled forward.

“What’s going on?” I couldn’t see a damned thing. My eyes hadn’t adjusted to the darkness yet.

“Look,” Ayo whispered, her voice low and tight with tension.

The swirling shadows made it difficult to make out any details of my surroundings. The only light was an uncertain crimson glow emanating from crystals embedded in the stone floor at irregular intervals. The low ceiling made me want to duck my head to avoid banging it, and the strange designs carved into its surface were already giving me a headache. Still, everything more than a few feet away was a charcoal smudge. I had no idea what had frozen my team in their tracks.

“We don’t have time for this shit,” I sighed and moved to the front of the pack. I was about to chew Marku a new asshole for stopping the show when my tongue froze to the roof of my mouth.

An army of spectral figures stood at attention in the shadows ahead of us. They stretched across the width of the entry to the necropolis, eyes burning, teeth white as stars in the darkness. The shadows stiffened and their hollow stares fixed on me.

“Well,” I said. “Fuck.”

When the ghosts didn’t surge to tear me limb from limb, I took another step forward. Maybe they weren’t hostile, just curious. We had just charged into their home, after all.

The specters responded with a step of their own and bared their teeth. Those on the edges of the front line advanced farther than those in the middle to form an arc across the passage. On closer inspection, they looked less like people and more like empty skins dangling from threads. Their toes barely brushed the floor, and their faces were hollow and misshapen. What I’d taken for teeth were tiny beads of phosphorescent tainted senjin bubbling up through cracks in their flaccid lips.

Creepy.

We couldn’t stand here waiting for the mutants to run up our asses. We had to keep moving.

We also couldn’t charge headlong into an angry pack of ghosts.

Fuuuuuck.

“We need to get through here.” I addressed the ghosts, trying my best to sound kingly and shaman-like. “Let us pass, restless spirits.”

The crowd shuffled forward, their bodies fluttering like pennants. As they advanced, their ranks parted down the center of the passage. A slender figure approached me through the gap, a crown of silver light on her brow and motes of tainted sacred energy flickering like fireflies around her.

“What mortal dares to intrude upon the holy grounds of the grave city of Amankala?” she asked in a sing-song tone with an ugly, rasping undercurrent. Her

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