Pestilence: Rise Of The Pure Undead-Chapter 732 - Operation Arid Soil Part Forty-Three

732: Operation Arid Soil : Part Forty-Three

732: Operation Arid Soil : Part Forty-Three

Be it the tricksters, butchers or heretics, all were small groups without a firm hold anywhere, naught but wanderers, no different from roaming bandits with no place to call home, the illusionist had it easier than the other two on account of not believing in any violent or for having beliefs that horrified the strongest groups, but still, the stigma of the time when they had participated in an attempt at a coup to seize power still remained, and most of the believers had instead defected, or become street rats, petty thieves and nothing more.

The butchers however, servants of the youngest Undeviginti, could simply not fit in with the rest, advocating for the slaughter of all that moved, in quite a literally manner, as just like their patron sun would obliterate anything that dared moved too quickly whilst under its light, they targeted all that could move, so unlike some jokes that ran through the four other faiths, standing still would not save you from them.

For the servants were even more tyrannical than their solar idol.

Despite their murderous tendency and wish to commit mass slaughter upon the desert, it wasn’t them who were burdened with the title of ‘heretics’, the followers of Sanguine Undeviginti were more adept at remaining hidden and waiting for the right time to strike, their red star was the opposite to Watchful Undeviginti, and every time its time as sovereign came, it would rise up all of the remains stacked up at the bottom of the desert to lay siege upon the cities mostly populated by followers of its antithesis, and naturally, its believers sought to do the same.

They might be dubbed insane like the butchers, and it might not be false, but their madness was much more controlled and focused than that, they were not over-eager to tear them apart, and would never attack unless Sanguine Undeviginti was present, waiting for when their vapour was strongest, and when they had a pretty inexhaustible amount of allies.

Due to this, servants of the watchful one resided in cities that were much more heavily defended than most.

Though, when the pale red sun wasn’t present, the heretics were pretty much harmless, they wouldn’t even attack easy targets apparently, simply bid their time and prepare for the next time, with the ultimate goal to completely eliminate the watchful star, which was the one reason why they were called heretics.

Ir’Houwl overlooked the camp that had been reported to her, and indeed, for the livings who could not sense ife force, it was very well hidden, the worshippers only had bones and dried hide to work with, but they had managed to create something that looked perfectly natural by pilling sand upon their creation, in fact, if all sanguine followers were that competent in the creation of such camps, there may be many more that the livings had missed whilst acting as her scouts.

“Do your thing and set up a mirage” she ordered Cheops and the arm-bearers with him, they were the backbone of the minor lord’s plan, whether or not their mirage was convincing enough to not be seen as such did not matter, either others had no idea that something was happening, or they did and assumed it was just the illusory worshippers.

Soon enough, a veil of pink vapour formed around the area, concealing the happenings to anyone outside of its radius, meanwhile, the cleansing followers were made to walk around in plain sight whilst the undeads moved in on the camp.

Obviously, the usage of so much vapour close-by alerted the heretics, and around twenty of them soon emerged out into the open, much like the butchers, all of them over pale red robes even if they did not possess a decorated weapon, in fact, none was wielding any weapon at all.

All were garbed into ample robes with wide hoods that covered their faces, but one was wearing a much smaller hood instead, and a mask as well, an iron mask bearing depictions of Sanguine Undeviginti and a horde of bone-puppets, the masked follower rose their hands ever so slightly from hanging by their side, and two sickles with curved blades that formed a somewhat circular shape manifested into the palm of theirs hands, woven out of pale red vapour and nothing else.

A fellow dual wielder, it seemed.

Recognising Ir’Houwl as the leader instantly, the red-robed living pointed one sickle toward her whilst looking around, most definitely aware that their side was overwhelmingly outnumbered.

“I do not know who or what you are, but by solar grace, I challenge you to a duel, so that we may settle this dispute without unnecessary damage” the voice was partly muffled by the mask and gave the impression that their voice was even more threatening than it was.

Naturally, this was an appeal to the way people operated in the desert, unless they were mortal enemies, killing anyone was considered a great waste as it wasn’t like they could actually reproduce rapidly, the dreadful heat was said to kill the majority of newborn babies, and the casualty caused by the environment stayed high no matter the age.

Not identifying Ir’Houwl as a follower of Watchful Undeviginti, the red-robed leader thus concluded that this matter would be best settled through a duel.

Now, Ir’Houwl did not care for how things usually went down here, but she needed to take rational decisions and think of the risk to reward ratio even in situations where victory was assured either way.

“Very well, I agree, but you shall all sign a little piece of paper if I win, alright?”

The masked heretic tilted their head to the side, not quite certain what that implied or if it was some sort of idiom, in any case, they began walking forward, raising both sickles up like they were some sort of praying mantis.

The undead unsheathed her blade, hearing her soldiers betting on whether or not she was going to use the red sand in this fight, or how long it would take her to defeat the living.

Ir’Houwl did not know who exactly it was that had put this sort of thing in their skulls, but she made a mental note to visit a few people once she was done with this realm.

When the scimitars of black stone were revealed in their full glory, she noticed the eyes of the living squinted in interrogation at the unfamiliar appearance of the weapon, the runes inscribed on the sides being especially odd to one who did not know of any such thing.

But rather than wasting air questioning this, the faithful one lunged forward.