Chapter 184: “The Final Attack of the Ender Missionaries”

This novel is translated and hosted on bcatranslation.

Dog, the enormous and fearsome beast, let out a roar that echoed like the clang of shattered metal, resonating through the decaying wooden walls of the cabin. The mysterious figures, clad in tattered black robes resembling austere monks in penance, recoiled in surprise. Their shock deepened when the monstrous hound began speaking in clear, human-like sentences.

Shirley, with a mighty swing, hurled the chain to which Dog was attached, launching her formidable partner at the nearest intruder, whom she identified as one of the “Enders.”

Shirley knew the basics about these Enders. They weren’t ordinary zealots; their beliefs and practices were extreme. Unlike most who worshiped a god or deity, these Enders revered subspace, a mysterious realm or dimension. Shirley was puzzled by the sudden rise of this cult in Pland and their interest in her, but this was no time for contemplation.

Having grown up in harsh environments, battling dangers in narrow, grimy alleys, Shirley learned a crucial lesson: overthinking in the face of imminent danger could be fatal. Immediate, decisive actions were key to survival.

Dog, with his imposing size, shot through the air like a cannonball, colliding directly with the cloaked assailant. The harrowing sound of flesh and bone clashing filled the room, sending a robed figure flying backward, crashing into a wall before crumpling to the ground.

With a forceful yank, Shirley pulled Dog back to her side, preparing to unleash him on another opponent. However, the black-robed attackers quickly regrouped. Their combat skills were evident, and they appeared more seasoned than the Suntists Shirley had faced before. Undeterred by her unorthodox fighting style, they dispersed swiftly, trying to avoid the airborne beast.

One of them barely dodged Dog’s onslaught and turned to Shirley, raising his hand menacingly. His voice, filled with malice, proclaimed, “You will be drained!”

Teetering on the edge of fear and anger, Shirley retorted with visible annoyance, “What nonsense are you spouting?!” Using her body’s momentum, she swung the chain again, sending Dog crashing into the vocal Ender, knocking him down.

Amidst the chaos, Shirley felt a sudden change within her. Weariness crept in, and her head buzzed. An overpowering rage consumed her, urging her to attack recklessly. This surge of emotions left her disoriented and off-balance.

The ominous sound of splintering echoed through the air. Shirley’s eyes darted to the source, horrified to see the Ender she had just downed rising to his feet. Fresh blood stained his robes, and bones protruded unnaturally from his body, indicating severe injuries. Yet, despite such grievous wounds that would incapacitate any normal person, he stood with unwavering conviction. Raising both arms skyward, he declared fervently, “We are not constrained by the frailties of mortal flesh!”

Hearing this declaration, a wave of vigor and determination spread among the other Enders. To Shirley’s growing horror, their bodies began grotesque transformations. Their skeletal structures bulged and twisted, sprouting bony spikes and sinewy tendrils resembling deadly weapons. As their flesh tore and reformed, their visages grew even more monstrous. Shockingly, amidst their palpable pain, these zealots seemed to derive a perverse pleasure, raising their voices in fervent cheers, screams, and chants as they lunged toward her.

Shirley muttered incredulously, “What nightmarish sorcery is this?!” Without hesitation, she swung the chain, directing Dog at the closest Ender. Though he didn’t fall instantly, his transformation was interrupted. Concurrently, an intensified weariness gripped Shirley, along with a more acute surge of aggression.

She was tormented by phantom sensations—unseen jaws gnawing at her muscles, as if her sinews were being wrenched from her bones.

“These zealots willingly embrace the abyss!” Dog’s urgent voice echoed in Shirley’s mind. “Their utterances and beings are tainted by the void! Silence anyone who speaks. Strike anyone who chants! Do not meet their gaze and shut out their incantations!”

Barely a heartbeat later, a flash of danger flickered in Shirley’s peripheral vision. Instinctively, she tried to evade, but a bony protrusion grazed her arm, drawing blood. She retaliated with a chain swing, but her movements were slower. Her surroundings darkened, shadowy tendrils encroaching on her vision.

Sensing her vulnerability, another Ender raised his arms, his voice dripping with malevolence as he chanted, “May thy wounds never heal…”

“Silence!” Shirley couldn’t afford to lose focus now. As her strength waned, determination flared within her. Clenching the chain with renewed resolve, she braced for the next onslaught. She was determined to prevent the completion of whatever dark ritual these fanatics were performing.

A sharp, intense agony radiated across Shirley’s back, making her gasp in pain. “Back off!” she roared, using her chain to hurl the newly transformed Ender, resembling a grotesque, spiny creature, against the cabin’s rickety wall. As she did, another jolt of pain struck her from behind, as if a spear-like bone protrusion had pierced her from an unexpected angle. If not for her almost demonic resilience, a product of her symbiotic relationship with Dog, she might have been skewered at that moment.

She staggered forward, her steps faltering. Just in time, Dog lunged at the aggressive Ender, spewing a noxious mix of dark fire and corrosive acid. Although the attacker was momentarily repelled, Shirley’s body betrayed her. She shook uncontrollably, her back pressed against the wall for support. Blood streamed from her fresh wound, and her muscles convulsed sporadically.

The sinister aura and abilities of the Enders were clearly affecting her. While the infusion of demonic strength had fortified her against many threats, the Enders’ curse was wearing her down. Her blood bubbled and sizzled, her ears filled with unsettling sounds, and her limbs jerked involuntarily. The gash on her arm emitted a smoky haze, and instead of healing, the flesh around it twisted grotesquely, while the pooling blood seemed almost sentient.

She suspected the injury on her back mirrored this gruesome state.

Coughing up blood, Shirley sneered with a hint of wicked amusement, “All this, and only three of them down.”

“It could’ve been much worse,” Dog retorted, his voice tinged with fatigue. Being Shirley’s primary shield against the Enders’ corruption, he bore the brunt of their attacks. “These aren’t ordinary fanatics. They’re elite zealots. Facing them is like storming a heavily guarded sanctuary. Considering the odds, we’re doing alright.”

Shirley, her face smeared with blood, defiantly raised her head, her eyes burning with fury as she addressed the encircling Enders. “Look at these grown monsters, teaming up against an innocent girl like me. You ought to be ashamed. What did I do to deserve this?”

Three menacing Enders remained, each having undergone horrific transformations. Their skeletal, twisted figures draped in frayed robes gave them an eerie, haunting appearance, especially under the cabin’s dim lighting.

Despite Shirley’s defiant challenge, the Enders remained silent, much like a predator wouldn’t respond to its prey’s pleas.

Grimacing in pain and spitting out more blood, Shirley surveyed the room. The aftermath of their brutal confrontation was evident everywhere. Yet, what struck her was the haunting silence outside. No guardians stormed in, and no concerned neighbors raised alarms. A quick peek out the window confirmed her suspicion: the streets were shrouded in a ghostly mist, an unsettling stillness hanging in the air.

It dawned on her that the house was likely encapsulated within a supernatural “shield” or “barrier,” a precaution the Enders had taken before their ambush. They planned this meticulously, and now, signs of destruction were everywhere.

The walls bore cracks and were close to giving way. Her only wardrobe was crushed in the chaos, its wooden panels reduced to splinters. Scattered debris included remnants of her meager possessions—clothing, a small drawer with spare change—now stained with corrupted blood and marred by acidic burns.

Her treasured oil lamp suffered a similar fate, shattered, leaving shards strewn about.

Gazing at the wreckage of her humble abode, Shirley lamented, “I didn’t have much to start with, and now you’ve destroyed even that.” Her body finally succumbed to the battle’s toll, and she slowly descended towards the cold floor. Even in her weakened state, her spirit remained unbroken. She glared at her adversaries, one of whom poised with a bony spike for the death blow. “Mark my words, you fiends. Before the end, I’ll make sure you’re drenched in my blood…”

As the Ender’s malevolent weapon hurtled towards her, something miraculous happened—time distorted. The deadly spike, moments from sealing her fate, moved as if through thick molasses, its trajectory creating a mesmerizing trail of blurry afterimages before freezing mid-air.

Suddenly, the room was bathed in a vivid green glow. Within this eerie illumination, a plump skeletal bird wreathed in emerald flames began spiraling menacingly. Its arrival was accompanied by a shrill, garbled female voice resonating throughout the room—

“Our champions are locked in combat… Successful teleport initiated!”

The very fabric of the room quivered, resonating with a mysterious force, as though the realms of reality and the supernatural had momentarily merged in response to this unforeseen intervention.

For those that just want to support me, you can follow the link to paypal donating. Sadly you won’t be able to get the benefit of reading ahead 

[Table of Content]

[Previous Chapter]

[Next Chapter]