Chapter Seventy-Seven: Untouchable

Upon hearing the shrill sound of the whistle, everyone inside the tent was instantly awakened. The warrior and the wanderer, Maple Leaf, hurriedly grabbed the light armor hanging nearby and donned it. Thankfully, it wasn’t heavy armor—otherwise, the battle would have ended by the time they finished putting it on.

The cleric, Gentle Breeze, had already gotten up and walked over to lift the tent’s flap. She peered outside and said, “It’s too dark. I can’t see anything. Even the campfires have gone out.”

At that moment, the entire convoy stirred into action. Compared to Maple Leaf and his companions, several martial artists were already clad in armor, sleeping and waiting in accordance with Roya’s regulations.

Suddenly, another scream pierced the restored tranquility.

Zhao Xu quickly rolled up his scroll. Although the spell transcription into his mind had been interrupted, it wouldn’t affect him too much. However, the scroll was now useless for casting.

Another terrifying wail followed.

Chaotic, tumultuous sounds erupted all around.

“Run! I can’t take this anymore!”

“What’s happening—?”

Upon hearing these dreadful cries, the cleric Gentle Breeze was stunned. Her hand, which had just lifted the tent flap, fell limply to her side.

“Be wary—it’s undead,” Zhao Xu said after a moment’s thought.

If it were merely a pack of wolves prowling at night, they wouldn’t have overwhelmed those outside so thoroughly.

In the face of such danger, Zhao Xu quickly cast a first-level Arcane Protection from Evil upon himself.

This spell lasted one minute per caster level—enough for his purposes.

It granted him a +2 bonus to defense and saving throws against evil foes, a 10% improvement. More importantly, the spell offered protection against mental domination and other assaults by evil creatures.

By now, everyone had hurriedly finished arming themselves. The bard grabbed a nearby torch, lit it, and prepared to step outside.

Zhao Xu quickly stopped him and whispered, “Your performance ability has reached level three, right? If possible, start singing as soon as we get outside. Choose the ‘Bolster Morale’ song.”

The bard glanced at Captain Maple Leaf, who nodded his approval. The bard then nodded in return.

“Chanting” was the bard’s supernatural ability, empowering all allies who heard his song. Even if the bard stopped singing, the effect endured for five rounds.

The warrior Maple Leaf took the lead, holding his round shield aloft, and guided them outside.

The entire encampment now looked as if a storm had ravaged it; several tents nearby had been toppled by people fleeing in terror.

Their torch became the only spark of light along the creek.

The bard, Antarctic Frog, began to sing, his voice timely reaching their ears.

[Adventurer Midsummer receives the bard’s chant ‘Bolster Combat’—+1 morale bonus to saving throws against charm and fear effects, +1 morale bonus to attack and damage rolls. Lasts for at least five rounds.]

Only now did Zhao Xu and the others barely discern a figure, faintly visible in the gloom—a robed person stood about ten meters ahead.

“A wraith!” Having witnessed such terrifying creatures in his previous life, Zhao Xu cried out.

He hadn’t managed to warn everyone to close their eyes before he felt a sting in his own, which quickly faded, as though he’d been struck by some force.

[Adventurer Midsummer suffers the wraith’s ‘Horrific Visage’ attack. Fortitude check: 7 + D20 = 7 + 11 = 18. DC 18. Success—avoids 1d4 Strength damage, 1d4 Dexterity damage, 1d4 Constitution damage.]

Seeing this result, Zhao Xu nearly exclaimed in relief.

His fortitude score of seven included two points from his cleric class, two from Constitution adjustment, two from his Protection from Evil spell, and one from the bard’s chant.

Even so, he’d had a fifty percent chance of being afflicted. Thankfully, his roll succeeded by a narrow margin.

Otherwise, taking damage to those three core attributes would have left him severely weakened.

“My primary attributes are damaged,” the wanderer groaned in pain after failing his saving throw. “Constitution hit me hardest—lost four points. I’m down to just five HP.”

“So am I,” the bard murmured, though he continued singing to bolster their combat strength.

Zhao Xu kept his eyes fixed on the wraith ahead. In his previous life, such a creature had nearly wiped out his party, and he still recalled the fear.

Just looking at the entity within twenty meters meant suffering its assault.

Luckily, he’d just succeeded in his saving throw, so for at least twenty-four hours he’d be immune to the effects of “Horrific Visage.”

The warrior remained at the front, shield raised, trembling but not daring to advance.

The humanoid wraith turned to face Zhao Xu and his companions, sneering coldly, its sinister visage half-hidden, as if it straddled the boundary between the spirit world and reality.

Suddenly, in the weak torchlight, Roya emerged, gripping his greatsword with both hands, and slashed straight at the wraith.

The cold gleam of the sword cut through the night, slicing into the wraith’s body without resistance, as the creature made no attempt to evade.

If one abandons evasion, no matter how high their defense, they suffer a -5 penalty to Dexterity, and only certain bonuses apply.

Roya’s expression shifted from exhilaration to shock; his trusted sword felt as if it had struck nothing but air, passing through without the slightest obstruction.

It was as though the wraith didn’t exist in the physical world.

The convoy’s guards and attendants who witnessed this scene were terrified, some nearly losing control of their bowels.

To them, the wraith seemed as unstoppable as the legends foretold.

“Run! Without magical weapons, you can’t harm a wraith,” Zhao Xu shouted.

At his words, Roya’s face turned pale.

He realized all his power was slipping away, and the countless scars marking his efforts would turn to ashes tonight.

Reluctant as he was, Roya turned to flee.

The wraith, which had been facing Zhao Xu and his group, sensed Roya’s attack, and turned back with a contemptuous glare, fixing its gaze on the retreating Roya.

A mysterious force shot from the wraith’s eyes—silent, invisible, leaving no trace—yet Roya, with his back to the wraith, collapsed as if struck by an unseen arrow, falling to his knees, unable to move.

The four players who saw this bizarre scene felt their legs weaken; even the bard, whose song was meant to inspire courage, sang with a trembling voice.

Roya was merely a martial artist, his level higher than theirs, his hit points greater than even the warrior Maple Leaf.

If he fell so easily, any one of Zhao Xu’s party could be next.

“Don’t worry—Roya isn’t dead yet. You only die when your hit points drop below -10. That was the wraith’s ‘Corrupting Gaze’ attack. Failing the Fortitude save means suffering 2D10 damage and 1D4 Charisma damage.”

Zhao Xu hurried to reassure them, lest they scatter in panic and be picked off one by one.

Hearing that it was a Fortitude save, the warrior at the front relaxed slightly. He’d just passed his Fortitude check, resisting the wraith’s “Horrific Visage” attack.

That success gave him a bit of courage.

Suddenly, the wraith, having felled Roya, flew straight toward them.

With its perfect maneuverability and flight speed, the distance of less than ten meters posed no obstacle.

None of them possessed magical weapons—none could harm the wraith.

Zhao Xu began chanting a spell.