A Gamer's Guide to Piracy : The Horror
Chapter 3 : Hide and Seek
The event [Family Reunion] has begun !
You are level 19 and thus have 2^19 = 524288 domain points
Warning ! The dourikis of the royal guards are way higher than the duke's guards, who were in reality peasants, barely armed. Previous zombies would be decimated. Monsters' levels are increased by 10. To adjust and keep the base cost of one point per zombie, points are divided by 10^2.
You have : 5 242 domain points.
"How did the domain system get activated?"
[You are one of the crown princes of this castle, of course it is your domain ! Enjoy, it won't happen again!]
Select your monsters :
Level 10 - Zombies (1 point):
Mindless reanimated corpses driven by an insatiable hunger for flesh. Slow but relentless, they overwhelm with sheer numbers.
Level 10 - Ghouls (5 points):
Twisted creatures that lurk in the shadows, ghouls feast on the dead and possess an unnatural agility. Their touch induces paralysis, leaving victims helpless.
Level 10 - Cairn Wraith (5,000 points):
An ethereal being haunting ancient burial grounds, immune to conventional weapons. Its presence chills the air, and it can only be banished through powerful, mystical means.
Level 10 - Harpies (100 points):
Winged creatures with razor-sharp talons, harpies swoop down to snatch their prey. Their haunting cries strike fear into the hearts of those below.
Level 10 - Werewolves (2,500 points):
Cursed beings that transform under the light of the full moon. Possessing incredible strength and agility, they are vulnerable only to silver weapons.
Level 10 - Medusa's Spawn (6,000 points):
Offspring of the Gorgon, these serpentine creatures petrify their victims with venomous bites. Avoiding direct eye contact is the key to survival.
Level 10 - Chupacabras (1,800 points):
Elusive creatures known for draining the blood of livestock. Chupacabras are swift and cunning, leaving behind a trail of desolation.
Level 10 - Mimics (50 points):
Shapeshifting entities that disguise themselves as inanimate objects. Unsuspecting adventurers may fall victim to their deadly ambushes.
Level 10 - Wendigos (8,500 points):
Supernatural beings driven by an insatiable hunger for human flesh. Wendigos possess strength that grows with each victim they consume.
Level 10 - Gorgons (9,500 points):
Monstrous creatures with snake-like hair and the ability to turn their prey to stone with a single gaze. Their lairs are filled with the statues of those who dared cross their path.
Auguste was about to acquire a Cairn Wraith to haunt the castle at night, as well as two harpies and a few ghouls to place around the castle in the forest, in case any of the castle's residents were thinking of fleeing - but someone knocked on the door.
"It's me, Auguste".
Auguste recognized his half-sister's voice. He beckoned her in. In the dimly lit chamber, the half-sister of the recently returned prince emerged like a nocturnal goddess, her alabaster hair flowing in ethereal strands down her shoulders. Each strand caught the flickering candlelight, turning the white strands into shimmering silver. Her eyes, a smoldering gaze beneath delicate arched brows, held a magnetic intensity that drew the onlooker into an uncharted realm of desire.
Draped in a provocative BDSM ensemble, the dark leather whispered secrets of unspoken fantasies. The corset, meticulously laced and embracing every curve, accentuated her slender waist with a tantalizing firmness. As the leather contours journeyed downward, the revealing ensemble unveiled thigh-high boots, each adorned with intricate buckles that accentuated the graceful curve of her legs. The soft sheen of leather embraced her like a second skin, inviting the gaze to explore the subtle nuances of her form.
The subtle jingle of dangling chains accompanied her every move, a symphony of restrained desire that echoed through the room. Adorning her ensemble, these chains whispered promises of liberation and captivity in the same breath, adding an audible layer to the visual allure. The play of shadows on her fair skin created a sensuous chiaroscuro, emphasizing the delicate contrast between the ivory tones of her flesh and the deep, rich hues of her provocative attire.
Despite the suggestive nature of her outfit, an air of elegance and poise enveloped her every gesture. Her movements, seemingly choreographed by a hidden artistry, radiated a nonchalant grace that defied the overtly sensual nature of her attire. The room, now charged with an unexpected tension, bore witness to the enigma she embodied—a magnetic force that compelled attention and stirred intrigue.
As her gaze met that of the recently returned prince, a subtle smile played upon her lips, an unspoken invitation lingering in the curve of her mouth. It was a silent beckoning, a call to unravel the layers of complexity that shrouded her enigmatic persona. The combination of her stark white hair, the provocative leather, and the irresistible allure she exuded created an ambiance that hung in the air, leaving those who beheld her with a profound sense of fascination and an unspoken yearning for more.
"Auguste…"
Agathe's sultry voice sent shivers down his spine. His sister had always been... peculiar. As the chief tormentor of the castle, she remarkably flourished in a role she mastered with uncanny skill. Towards him, she had always been angelic, yet she could be formidable with the political prisoners cruelly brought back to the castle by their father.
Reflecting on the days when, despite her angelic facade, Agathe executed their father's cruel orders with chilling precision, he couldn't help but recall the stark contrast. Her voice, typically gentle with him, took on a seductive tone when she wielded authority over the captives in the castle. It was a disconcerting duality that revealed the complexity of his sister, a dichotomy that both fascinated and alarmed him.
The peculiar dynamic between them had always existed, swinging between sibling complicity and the cruelty displayed towards the captives. Agathe excelled in her role as a tormentor, a position she seemed to have embraced with disconcerting ease. It was a facet of his sister that he couldn't quite comprehend, sparking a curiosity mixed with apprehension towards this woman who could be both angelic and ruthless.
"My beloved sister, how may I be of service to you?"
"I am aware that our elder brother orchestrated your abduction."
"So do I", added Auguste.
The room quivered with an uneasy stillness as the siblings continued their unsettling exchange. "What plans churn in that mind of yours, little brother?" The elder sibling's voice echoed like the distant wail of a ghost in the oppressive stillness.
Auguste, his gaze unfaltering, sniffed dismissively, his senses sharpened by the shadows that clung to him. "I shall mete out a retribution befitting their sins," he murmured cryptically. "I have transformed into an artist of vengeance, honing my craft in the crucible of unspeakable realms. I've witnessed the macabre, emerged altered. I am no longer tethered to mere humanity; I've transcended its feeble constraints."
The air itself seemed to thicken with an otherworldly chill as Auguste's revelation lingered in the room, casting a pallor over the dim-lit space. The transformation within him whispered of grotesque secrets and the birth of an entity untouched by the humane, an artist of the arcane and the unholy. The sinister promise in his words left an indelible mark, a foreboding prelude to the horrors that awaited those who had wronged him.
In a sudden shift, both siblings burst into laughter, the room echoing with the discordant melody of their mirth.
"Lmao - imagine if we were really this serious ! Haha, can you believe we're actually doing this? I mean, seriously! Playing with them is gonna be a riot, sis, but hey, let's not take it too personally, right?"
Auguste chuckled, his laughter a bit unhinged, like a kid about to pull a prank. "Life's like a friggin' playground, and we're just messing around with the other kids, you know? Today's my turn to be the troublemaker, and I'm gonna mess their game real good."
His eyes gleamed with mischief, and he continued with a carefree tone, "I'll be the maestro of this chaos orchestra, playing tunes that'll make 'em scream and shout. And you, sis," he grinned, "what role do you wanna play in this crazy show? Cheering from the sidelines or jumping into the mess with me? It's gonna be one hell of a playdate!" Auguste's laughter echoed, filling the room with a juvenile energy as they stood on the brink of their wild and chaotic game.
"Oh, hold up, bro. Before we dive headfirst into this family circus, spill the beans. Did you cook up that whole Perona Massacre at Duke Perona's mansion? I need the lowdown before I decide which side of this messed-up game I'm jumping into. 'Cause, you know, family's gonna kick the bucket one way or another, might as well be on the winning side," she declared, her tone a strange mix of nonchalance and curiosity as she sought to untangle the web of their impending family chaos. Auguste, grinning like a mischievous child, leaned in, ready to share the secrets behind the twisted spectacle they were about to unleash.
Auguste leaned back, a mischievous glint in his eye, and began to unfold the tale of his recent past.
"So, Agathe, here's the deal. I was captured by this nutjob, Dr. Fritz, a real mad savant. Dude was playing with things he shouldn't, and he decided to make me his little guinea pig. Injected me with something, and bam, here I am, feeling like I've got the power of a friggin' devil or something."
Agathe's eyes widened with a mix of intrigue and apprehension. "Probably a devil fruit, you know, the kind that turns normal folks into freaks with crazy abilities. You know the stuff we heard about in bedtime stories? The ones that give you powers but curse you in some twisted way?"
Auguste chuckled, the madness dancing in his eyes. "Exactly, Agathe. But hey, I'm not complaining. I've got this power now, and it's like I've become a walking, talking carnival of chaos. You'll see, when we get this family showdown rolling, I'll be the star of the show."
Agathe, still absorbing the bizarre revelation, raised an eyebrow. "So, what's your power then? Spill it, little bro. I need to know what kind of crazy cards we're holding in this game of ours." As she awaited his response, the room seemed to crackle with an otherworldly energy, a prelude to the twisted power that Auguste claimed to possess.
Auguste stood in the dim-lit chamber, surrounded by the haunting glow of arcane symbols etched directly in the air, that resembled a cryptic amalgamation of otherworldly sounds. As he began to chant, the syllables dripped from his lips like venomous honey, each aberrant combination of letters and special characters an eldritch echo that resonated through the very essence of reality. The air thickened with an unsettling stillness, and the temperature plummeted as Auguste invoked an ethereal being of pain.
"Ya na kadishtu nilgh'ri stell'bsna Nyogtha, K'yarnak phlegethor l'ebumna syha'h n'ghft,, Ya hai kadishtu ep r'luh-eeh Nyogtha eeh, s'uhn-ngh athg li'hee orr'e syha'h, I summon thee, dread Cairn Wraith," he intoned, the words twisting reality with their eldritch resonance.
The chamber seemed to warp, and an otherworldly energy pulsed from the symbols, permeating the atmosphere with a malevolence that clawed at the fabric of existence.
As the final incantation echoed, a ghastly figure materialized—a Cairn Wraith, its form a grotesque tapestry of spectral agony. Ethereal tendrils of anguish wove through its incorporeal silhouette, and its presence exuded a profound sense of torment. The strange glyphs on the floor flickered with an eldritch glow, amplifying the horrific aura of the conjured entity.
Agathe, still clad in her provocative leather ensemble, observed the grotesque spectacle with a perverse delight. The twisted symbols on the floor flickered, casting an eerie glow that accentuated the wrongness of the scene. As the Cairn Wraith materialized, its ethereal form resonating with spectral agony, Agathe's morbid fascination intensified. The eldritch language and bizarre characters echoed in the chamber, creating a surreal ambiance that clashed starkly with her sensual attire. The Cairn Wraith hovered above the ground, a manifestation of pure pain and suffering. Its visage, a grotesque distortion of tortured souls, emitted an otherworldly wail that transcended the boundaries of mortal terror. Its ethereal form seemed to warp reality itself, casting a morbid shadow that stretched across the room. The air pulsed with a palpable malevolence as
Agathe, witnessing the horrifying spectacle, shivered not only from fear but from a twisted pleasure—an unholy fascination with the eldritch horror that now awaited its master's command. Unable to resist the allure of the otherworldly entity, Agathe reached out with just the slightest touch, her fingers grazing the surface of the Cairn Wraith. A sharp jolt of pain shot through her, an electrifying sensation that mingled with the pleasure of witnessing the eldritch horror. The clash of agony and delight painted a peculiar tableau of sensuality and the supernatural, leaving Agathe caught in the throes of a pleasure that bordered on the forbidden. The strangeness of the situation heightened as her touch became a nexus of pain and ecstasy, a bizarre communion with the spectral being that defied the boundaries of the mundane and the macabre.
Auguste really did not think it was normal to do that type of sound and moan when a wraith touched you. But, well, who was he to judge his sister. His best friend was a voice, and he had enslaved the other one.
The spectral veil between life and death trembled. The castle's soldiers and servants, mere mortals caught in the tendrils of a dark fate, were oblivious to the impending horror that crept silently through the corridors. The specter, a Cairn Wraith, clung to its Undead existence with a relentless will, its form ethereal and twisted by hatred and pain. As the clock struck the witching hour, the first echoes of the ethereal presence reverberated through the stone halls. The soldiers, once stalwart defenders of the castle, found themselves ensnared in a nightmare. The Cairn Wraith, a manifestation of dread, drifted with an unholy grace, its inky robes billowing like shadows cast by an unseen horror. The soldiers, their weapons useless against the incorporeal foe, screamed in despair as the chilling touch of the Wraith drained the warmth from their mortal bodies.
Lily Perona sighed. She was getting used to it. Screams of horror were becoming the soundtrack of her existence. At least the spectre recognized her: he even waved at her before continuing to mow down guards with his enormous rusty metal scythe. In desperation, the guards tried to pierce it with their blades, which only passed through the creature's ethereal body without effect.
The castle, once a bastion of power, echoed with the desperate cries of the doomed. The spectral invader, impervious to the physical realm, cut through the defenders like a scythe through wheat. The soldiers' attempts at resistance were futile, as the Wraith glided through them with an eerie silence that struck terror into the hearts of those who witnessed its ghastly presence.
King Luvneel and his eldest son, the last survivors in the wake of the supernatural onslaught, stood in horrified awe. The Cairn Wraith, an abomination borne from sorcerous decadence, lingered amidst the carnage. The air itself seemed to curdle with an unnatural dread as the Wraith, fueled by twisted sorcery, turned its ethereal gaze towards the king and his heir. They heard steps behind them.
"Well well well, if it isn't dear daddy and big bro…".
Commodore Bounce, a seasoned officer of the Marine stationed on the Isle of the Luvneel Kingdom, received an urgent plea for help from the beleaguered castle. Without a moment's hesitation, he bolted from the marine base, his sturdy boots pounding against the earth. The night air carried a foreboding chill as he raced through the moonlit forest, his keen eyes scanning the shadows for signs of danger.
As he sprinted through the dense woods, strange and ethereal figures flickered in and out of view. Flying women, their forms wreathed in an otherworldly glow, danced through the air. Undead men, their eyes hollow and vacant, walked with an eerie purpose among the trees. Commodore Bounce, leading his contingent of proud marines, knew no fear. The monsters, however, did not share his bravado, launching a sudden assault on the marines.
"Weapons ready, men! Stand firm and give them hell!" barked Commodore Bounce, his authoritative voice cutting through the night. The marines, disciplined and unwavering, engaged the supernatural assailants. Swords clashed, bullets pierced the air, and the eerie forest echoed with the sounds of a battle between the living and the supernatural.
Having dispatched the strange creatures in the forest, Commodore Bounce and his marines reached the castle gates. The sight that greeted them within was a tableau of horror. Lifeless bodies lay strewn across the once grand halls, their faces etched in agony. The air reeked of death, and an unsettling silence hung over the castle like a shroud.
As Commodore Bounce and his marines ventured deeper into the accursed castle, the air became thicker with an oppressive malevolence. The flickering torchlight cast dancing shadows that seemed to whisper of unseen horrors lurking in the corners. The oppressive silence was broken only by the haunting echoes of their footsteps against the cold, stone floors.
The twisted remnants of the once-grand hallways bore witness to the gruesome aftermath of the spectral onslaught. Lifeless bodies, their features contorted in agony, lay scattered like discarded toys. The walls seemed to pulse with a dark energy, as if absorbing the anguish that permeated the very essence of the castle. The marine contingent, accustomed to facing mortal foes, felt an uneasy tension settle over them as they advanced into the heart of the haunted fortress.
Upon entering the main chamber, the magnitude of the horror unfurled before them. The Cairn Wraith, a spectral embodiment of suffering, hovered in the center like a macabre puppeteer pulling the strings of the deceased. Commodore Bounce, despite his stoic demeanor, felt a shiver crawl down his spine at the sight of the twisted specter. Its presence defied the laws of the living, a grotesque fusion of death and malevolence that whispered of ancient, forbidden magic.
"By the seas, what devilry is this?" exclaimed Commodore Bounce, his voice tinged with disbelief.
As the marines clashed with the Wraith, the air crackled with an unnatural energy. The ethereal foe glided through the onslaught, its form untouched by conventional weaponry. The marines' shouts of defiance were drowned by the haunting wails of the specter, echoing through the desolate halls like a lamentation of the damned. The specter, an ethereal manifestation of malevolence, seemed impervious to the physical realm. Undeterred, the brave commodore drew his sword, attempting to strike down the eldritch foe. The sword, however, passed through the Wraith as if it were smoke.
By the depths, it's like fighting shadows! Keep firing, men! We won't be claimed by these cursed spirits!" shouted Commodore Bounce, his voice strained by the surreal nature of the battle. The marines, their resolve tested by the spectral foe, unleashed a relentless barrage of bullets, each shot a desperate attempt to pierce the veil between the living and the dead.
In a surge of determination, Commodore Bounce activated his Devil Fruit powers, a unique ability allowing him to materialize guns from his hands. Bullets erupted in a rapid barrage, surprising both the Wraith and the marine himself. To his astonishment, the ethereal foe recoiled from the onslaught. The cold steel of the supernatural firearms spat bullets into the darkness, each impact sending ripples through the Cairn Wraith's insubstantial form.
"Stand back, men! My devil fruit can hurt this damn thing!" shouted Commodore Bounce to his marines, who joined the assault with renewed determination. Amidst the eerie symphony of gunfire and otherworldly wails, Commodore Bounce's relentless assault with his Devil Fruit-empowered guns proved to be the spectral foe's undoing. The ethereal form of the Cairn Wraith writhed and contorted in agony as each supernatural bullet found its mark. An unearthly howl echoed through the desolate halls, and for a brief moment, the malevolent presence of the specter seemed to waver.
Yet, as the triumphant reverberations of victory hung in the air, a haunting silence settled over the castle. The once-proud marines, now weary and battle-worn, surveyed the aftermath. Lifeless bodies, frozen in the twisted throes of agony, bore witness to the toll exacted by the spectral onslaught. The stench of death permeated the air, and the oppressive stillness spoke of a victory steeped in sorrow.
Commodore Bounce, standing amidst the carnage, felt the weight of the bittersweet triumph. The Cairn Wraith, defeated but at a dire cost, lay scattered like dissipating shadows. The haunting realization gripped him – the castle, once vibrant with life, now stood as a solemn mausoleum. The victory over the supernatural foe was a hollow one, for the toll on the living had been immeasurable.
"Whatever", said the commodore. Justice has been delivered.
A scream interrupted his musing.
In the dimly lit chamber, Prince Auguste and Princess Agathe stood as an eerie tableau of discord, their attire clashing in a sinister dance. The regal garments adorned Auguste, the once-young scion now veiled in malevolence. Beside him, Agathe's provocative leather attire whispered of a darkness that mirrored her twisted delight.
Laughter, a macabre symphony, echoed through the haunted halls, reverberating amidst the eldritch aftermath left by the Wraith's insidious visitation. The air itself seemed to cling to the remnants of spectral malevolence, casting an otherworldly pallor over the chamber.
King Luvneel, once a figure of pride, now wore a mask of devastation as he confronted the progeny he had inadvertently nurtured into agents of malevolence. He taught them everything, even how to terrorize ! He was the best dad ! The eldest brother, harboring a clandestine loathing that had burgeoned into treachery, recoiled at the sight of Auguste, the very kin he had betrayed to slavers.
"Father, brother, you look so sad. Why? We just played a little game," Auguste's words, infused with unsettling innocence, contradicted the gruesome scene unfolding. His regal attire, an incongruity with the eldritch blade he brandished, hinted at the malevolent purpose that belied appearances.
As the confrontation unfurled, the air became pregnant with an eerie tension. Agathe's laughter, a dissonant melody, underscored the malevolent spectacle. The eldest brother, ensnared in the web of his own deceit, stammered in disbelief. "You sold me to slavers, dear brother. Now, it's my turn to play," Auguste replied with a chilling grin.
Auguste's supernatural prowess manifested in a nightmarish ballet. Deceptively childlike movements masked a deadly precision as the eldritch blade traced grotesque patterns in the air. Each calculated strike served as a conduit, siphoning the life force from the King and the eldest brother, their essence greedily absorbed by the insatiable weapon.
Agathe, her laughter spiraling into unhinged rapture, observed the grim spectacle with perverse delight. "Look, Agathe! Daddy's fading away, just like in our games," Auguste exclaimed with glee, his voice now tinged with madness. The regal chamber transformed into a theater of horror as the once-mighty king and his treacherous heir succumbed to the eldritch blade's ravenous hunger.
The killings unfolded in a grotesque choreography, a dance of death orchestrated by Auguste's eldritch blade. It cleaved through flesh and bone with unnatural ease, painting the chamber in visceral strokes of blood. The anguished cries of the King and the eldest brother were lost in the perverse laughter that echoed through the haunted corridors.
Blood, thick and glistening, adorned the chamber as life force drained from the dying monarchs. The eldritch blade pulsed with a sickly glow, its thirst for stolen vitality momentarily satiated at the grievous cost of regal lineage. Agathe, a willing accomplice in this nightmarish symphony, reveled in the horror that unfolded before her, a witness to the crumbling demise of the once-proud house of Luvneel.
The eldritch blade, now saturated with the stolen life force, marked the tragic end of an era, etching the annals of the kingdom with the horrors wrought by its own blood. The once-resplendent legacy lay shattered, leaving only a chamber of carnage as a testament to the malevolence that had consumed the House of Luvneel.
Commodore Bounce strode into the throne room, the echoes of battle still ringing in his ears. His proud marines, battle-hardened and resilient, flanked him as they entered the heart of the castle. The sight that awaited them was a tableau of horror, a grim tapestry woven with the threads of tragedy.
Blood-streaked and silent, the youngest prince, Auguste, stood alongside Princess Agathe and the survivor of the Perona massacre, the pink-haired daughter of the Duke. The usually vibrant chamber now bore witness to the aftermath of a malevolent dance, the air heavy with an unsettling stillness.
Bounce's keen eyes, accustomed to reading the nuances of warfare, scanned the scene. The three figures before him, despite their survival, were not untouched by the chaos that had unfolded. Their smiles were absent, replaced by an eerie stillness that set Bounce on edge.
The once-majestic throne room, now stained with the residue of violence, held the corpses of the fallen king and eldest prince. They lay in an apparent coma, their life force drained by an unseen force. Bounce, though perplexed by the absence of overt wounds, hesitated to inquire about their demise, sensing an unspoken malevolence lingering in the air.
"Soldiers ! Bring the new King to the infirmary ! Faster than that !"
Please leave reviews to tell me what you think of this story! They motivate me to write, and I schedule chapter releases according to the reviews! Also, tell me about the pairings you want - if you want any !
