Ash. The Legends of the Nameless World. Progression Gamelit Story by Kirill Klevanski (ink book reader .txt) 📕

It was dark before, but it seemed to get even darker now, as if the shadows themselves came alive, breathing, undulating, and devouring every ray that accidentally wandered into the dead, cursed woods. It crept closer and closer until it was basically stuck to the Circle.

Ash retrieved a wooden rosary from under his shirt and placed it between the thumb and forefinger of his left hand. He raised it to his chin and began to whisper a spell. To anyone else, it might’ve looked like he was praying, when in fact, he was embedding the Circle with his most powerful warding charms. Alas, he had never fully understood them, so they weren’t as strong as they could’ve been.

The black fog spreading across the ground suddenly began to split into hundreds of tiny spheres – dark fairies, the filthy creatures. They came to the sleeping children, conjuring the most terrible nightmares in their innocent little minds. Individually, they weren’t particularly dangerous, but there were at least a thousand of them now. There was an entire army of these vile, fanged creatures with leathery wings. They resembled bats more than they did their forest cousins, with which they shared only common history and ancestors.

“Ah, so there you are,” said a melodious, mesmerizing voice. “I expected a more… impressive-looking fellow, I’ll admit.”

An unnaturally tall man stepped out of the darkness. Eight feet tall and as thin as a spear, he looked like an inept drawing of a novice apprentice. Who was drunk. And working in pitch darkness.

On his head was a gray, wide-brimmed hat that hid his face, only occasionally allowing his left eye to twinkle with a crimson glow. His long hair flowed as if it was resting on water, but Ash felt no wind, only a dead calm.

Helmer came closer, and through the slits on his torn coat, the same color as his hat, Ash saw eyes and smiles of terrible creatures. Dozens of pupils and hundreds of fangs peeked through the numerous holes. The demon walked smoothly as if he were walking on clouds instead of the ground. Empty sleeves of his coat fluttered behind him, and in his hands, folded across his chest, he held a bleeding sphere – a Demonic Essence. Little nightmares danced around his feet, flashing their toothy grins at the mage. A long piece of cloth separated from the coat, holding a small, simple burner. The flame dancing on the wick had a mystical purple glow.

The demon sat opposite the mage. He reached out to the side, causing the fairies to stir. Soon, a bottle of expensive wine rolled down them like from some surreal conveyor belt.

Helmer pulled a cup from the pocket of his coat and picked up the bottle by sending forth another ribbon of his coat to bring it to him.

“Not bad,” he said, having tasted the wine. “You’re awfully rude, ignoring me like that.”

Ash continued to move his lips soundlessly, sometimes shaking his rosary. The staff that lay on his lap flashed red every now and again, runes appearing and disappearing whenever a spell would become active. But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t overcome Helmer’s power. The Circle began to weaken, cracks spreading over it like cobweb. Blood was pouring from his nose.

“Oh, dear, I apologize about that,” Helmer drawled and waved his hand. The pressure immediately disappeared.

Ash exhaled sharply and spat blood. He began to breathe more evenly, feeling the weight subside. The cracks instantly disappeared and the Circle shone with its faint, fiery glow once again.

“Want some?”

“I don’t drink wine,” Ash replied. Despite the fact that he was pale as chalk, he was smiling once again. But only a fool would be deceived by his kind, naïve smile. And Helmer was no fool.

“Understandable.” The fairies spun again, taking the bottle away. “I’m not a big fan of strong spirits either. I prefer virgin blood, but it’s hard to come by these days.”

“I hear the Crystal Forest is full of them.”

The demon made a strange sound and adjusted his hat.

“Maybe I’ll visit our long-eared friends, thanks for the tip.”

“Oh, I’d love to hear a ballad about a demon whose jewels were adorned with arrows.”

“Are there any more like it?” Helmer asked, genuinely interested. “I collect legends and poems about myself. They’re so fun.”

“Really now? How do you do that?”

“Simple!” the demon exclaimed with a smile. “I go to a bard’s house, cut off their head, and then take it with me. Sometimes, when the melancholy takes over, I make it sing. Sometimes, I make the heads sing in chorus.”

Ash didn’t comment. For him, severed heads weren’t something shocking. Even singing ones.

“You’re a fun fellow.” Helmer grinned. Instead of teeth, his mouth held the same nightmares as the holes in his cloak. “But, as they say – business before pleasure. I still have to conjure nightmares for little children, whisper sweet nothings into the ears of maidens, and make young men stray from their path, and so on and so forth, so here you go.”

As if nothing had happened, the demon reached through the Circle and threw a black flute at the young man’s feet. At the same time, the rosary crumbled to dust and Ash began to wheeze again. Helmer abruptly pulled back his hand.

“Pardon, I forget that the others aren’t so powerful.”

“It’s all right.” Ash smiled, wiping blood from the corner of his mouth with the back of his hand.

Helmer slapped his knee. The fairies stirred and began to gradually retreat into the forest.

“Bear in mind, help will come only once.”

Ash looked at the flute, then back at him.

“Why are you giving me this?”

“Why? Well, you’re a young knight on a mission to save a princess! The daughter of king… Ga… Galahad? Gorgon? Garangan! That’s the