Chapter 25: The Hag in the Sewers

Thick, vibrant life energy filled the fetid sewers, carving out a small, breathable haven where Naomi could finally catch her breath.

Ambrose only needed one glance at the idol before him to tell that it bore at least three kinds of blessings: regeneration, poison immunity, and unfettered movement. Not only that, all of them were wide-area enchantments. It was enough to make even a lich jealous.

This was the nature of divine relics—something so powerful that even a random mortal could wield it to miraculous effect. This statue would be worth at least a million gold on the open market.

That said, druidic relics had to be recharged by sacred rites and rituals every now and then. If someone else were to claim it, its powers might be depleted within a matter of months.

But no matter how potent such a relic was, Ambrose couldn't enjoy any of its benefits.

For the undead, the divine power of Sylvanas was even more dangerous than the sewer's miasma.

The stench and filth merely made Ambrose uncomfortable, but that natural green barrier around the idol would corrode his undead body as if it were acid.

After all, the undead were fundamentally opposed to the natural order of life, and were anathema to Sylvanas himself.

"The idol of Sylvanas can purify the sewers' toxins," Ambrose said. "It probably breaks illusions too. That's your trump card for saving your kin, isn't it?"

Naomi took several deep breaths before replying. "Yes. I've come down here many times, but by the time I reached the place where my people were last seen, they were already gone. The idol's protection keeps me safe, but I need your help to find them."

The druid clearly had no ill intentions in mind, so Ambrose saw no reason to break their contract, especially not when Alkhemia would gleefully seize his assets for "breach of magical ethics."

"Then let's get a move on," Ambrose said. "Take me to where they disappeared."

Illusions always left traces. If he could identify what kind of creature had created it, tracking down the missing druids would be much easier.

Naomi led the way, holding the idol of Sylvanas. With its blessings, the toxic air and filthy water didn't bother her at all. To speed things up, she even transformed into a sleek black panther, with the idol clenched gently between her teeth. Ambrose had to cast Flight just to keep up.

Before long, they reached a relatively open area, a sort of buffer zone with a wide stone floor, still surrounded by filthy channels reeking even worse than the entrance.

Yet oddly enough, the ground was spotless. There were no corpses, no blood, nor even a cockroach in sight.

"I've come here several times," Naomi said. "There's never been anything."

But before Ambrose could start his inspection, countless crimson lights suddenly flickered to life all around them.

Naomi barely had time to react before the lights rushed toward her. Her natural aura, brilliant in the dark sewers, was like a torch that attracted the attention of every hungry monster for miles.

She froze for a second, and understandably so. The idol had always repelled the sewer creatures before. Why were monsters daring to charge her now?

𝕗𝕣𝐞𝐞𝘄𝐞𝚋𝚗𝗼𝘃𝗲𝗹.𝚌𝕠𝚖

Ambrose, however, didn't hesitate.

Two beams of frost shot from his palms, carving icy lines through the air. The first wave of attackers froze solid before they even reached Naomi.

Only then did she see what they were: rats, huge ones, each the size of a wolf, their mangy hides covered in sores and tumors that seemed ready to burst. Just looking at them made her eyes itch with phantom contagion.

Ambrose kept firing Ray of Frost, sweeping the area until every last mutated rat was nothing but a block of ice.

Naomi stared, wide-eyed. Sure, Ray of Frost was a basic spell, but channeling it continuously at such speed wasn't something ordinary magicians could do.

She instinctively edged closer to Ambrose for reassurance, only for him to immediately backpedal two steps.

"Careful," he warned. "I don't want to be offered up as a sacrifice to Sylvanas."

Naomi flushed with embarrassment. A druid, seeking safety from an undead? Ridiculous. She quickly changed the subject.

"What were those things? I've never seen them before."

Ambrose crouched beside one of the frozen corpses. A scalpel appeared in his hand, and he began to dissect the mutated rat with clinical precision. The wet sound of tearing flesh made Naomi avert her gaze in horror.

Ambrose, of course, was unfazed. This level of gore barely registered.

Fur, muscle, veins, nerves, organs, bone—he stripped each layer methodically, then extracted the rat's lingering soul for inspection.

"I think I know what your people ran into."

"You do? What?" Naomi asked quickly.

Ambrose pointed at the mangled corpse. "These rats were magically altered. That kind of handiwork is usually the sign of a hag."

"A hag?" Naomi blinked in confusion.

"You've never heard of hags?" Ambrose said. "Don't druids scare kids with stories like ‘Behave or a hag will get you'?"

Naomi bristled. "We druids don't frighten children with horror stories. That's something you undead would do!"

"That'd be pretty stupid," Ambrose replied. "The undead don't have children."

Naomi: "..."

The naive druid girl was speechless. Just moments ago, she'd almost felt that Ambrose was powerful and dependable. Now she silently recited the teachings of Sylvanas: the undead truly are irredeemable.

"Anyway," Ambrose continued, "hags are monsters originally from the spiritual plane who crossed into the material world long, long ago. The nine kingdoms still tell tales about them: cruel, ugly crones who delight in tormenting mortals.

"They often use magic to twist living creatures into servants, which is exactly what happened to these rats. They're venomous and aggressive, though not terribly strong. Ordinary folk could kill a few, but without an antidote, they'd die from poison soon after. Even in death, these things spread disease."