Chapter 71: Swamp Shadows and Twisted Roots
The Moorthal Marsh was not a place anyone visited willingly.
Its mists slithered like vengeful spirits, its waters thick with decay, and its trees loomed like the broken ribs of ancient beasts. The deeper Isaac and Lira ventured with the archaeological team, the more it felt like the world itself was trying to forget this place existed.
"Why does everything here smell like regret and rotting shoes?" Lira muttered, smacking away a mosquito the size of a muffin.
"It's a swamp," Isaac replied. "But yes, this one has emotional issues. Possibly abandonment trauma."
The two had been hired to escort a team from the Royal Arcanum University—five nerdy researchers who treated cursed stones and ancient burial pits like birthday gifts. Their objective: locate the lost shrine of Seluriel, the flame goddess who had been erased from history.
On the third day, they found it.
A sunken altar marked with spiral glyphs and rusted offerings. The air was sharp with the scent of blood memory. Isaac placed his hand on one warped symbol.
[System Notification – Memory Echo Detected][Seluriel's Final Stand – Fragmented Vision Available]
He and Lira both staggered as a vision overtook them.
A battlefield under moonlight.Seluriel ablaze with glory.And a man in golden robes… kneeling before her—before driving a dagger into her back.
"That's him," Isaac said grimly, the memory fading.
And then—he appeared.
Roots twisted up from the muck, forming a crude throne. Atop it stood a pale man with a smug grin and robes that had way too many unnecessary layers.
He removed his mask slowly. "Ah. The flamebearer. Just as she feared."
"You're the one who stabbed her," Isaac said. "Leader of the Spiral Cult. Do you always monologue in entrance scenes?"
"Silence!" the man intoned dramatically, robes fluttering despite the lack of wind. "I was her High Flamewarden, but I saw truth in entropy! I chose evolution. I chose—"
Isaac sighed. "Here it comes."
"—the Spiral! I shattered temples! Corrupted relics! Hollowed out gods! I am the new age! I am—"
[Skill Activated: Soulpiercer Sight – Rank A]Target: Spiral Cult Leader[Status Displayed]
Strength: 106
Agility: 44
Endurance: 58
Intelligence: 165
Willpower: 142
Charisma: 7
Luck: 53
Isaac slowly raised an eyebrow, then pulled up his own for comparison.
Strength: 487
Agility: 486
Endurance: 586
Intelligence: 664
Willpower: 496
Charisma: 487
Luck: ???
He blinked.
Then looked back at the cultist.
"...You sure you're not a tutorial miniboss? I've seen bread with more threatening stats."
The cultist frowned. "Wha—"
"If I flicked you, you'd take psychic damage from the emotional betrayal."
"You insolent whelp! You stand before the culmination of centuries of divine entropy!"
"I once fought a cursed cabbage with better Willpower."
The cultist's robes puffed dramatically. "I AM THE SPIR—"
[Skill Activated: Armament Phantom – Rank S+]
I create sword
[Passive Aura – Moonflame Rebirth: Ritual Resistance -70% Active]
Isaac took one step forward and swung.
The cultist vanished in an instant—no explosion, no scream—just a poof of ink, robes, and unmet expectations.
Lira blinked. "...That was it?"
Isaac sheathed the phantom blade. "He talked for longer than he existed."
She stifled a laugh. "I think his Charisma score cursed his fate."
"Charisma 7," Isaac said. "That's the personality of a wet sock."
They stood there for a beat, letting the silence return.
"Honestly," Isaac added, "I expected more. Like backup dancers. Or a dramatic last spell."
"Maybe he used up all his mana on that entrance monologue," Lira mused.
"Or maybe," Isaac said, walking away, "he was just a very loud footnote."
And thus, the final betrayal of Seluriel was avenged—by a man with better stats, better timing, and infinitely better hair.