The lurkers of the fog were powerful, but there was something different about this particular one.
The others worked in groups, came back to life slower, and were not as strong or tenacious. And because of that—some time ago—Mordred believed this was their leader and thought defeating it would cause the rest to die… but he was wrong. Very wrong.
The real leader was more sinister than he thought, sending out its underlings instead to deal with them.
Mordred even fought and destroyed the reanimated skeleton of a human at some point, and remembering that scene made him shudder involuntarily.
"Where is it?" Mordred groaned, gritting his teeth.
If they didn't find the source of the fog and destroy it soon, then they would all lose their lives.
The less powerful wraiths were already beginning to reform.
Mordred was lost. The death of the wraiths came with a disturbing aftermath. The fog within them spread outwards upon their destruction, and the illusion effects took hold, confusing the hunters and separating them.
Now that they were lost within the fog, their efficiency as a team was no more. Everyone was forced to face their own tide of bone-cum-fog wraiths, and survive until they found an exit.
Mordred looked around, gazing at the numerous bones flying around and coming together like a madman's macabre art. It was horrifying to say the least, though his mind was too strong to be shaken by it… yet.
Mordred took a few steps back and vanished into the fog, leaving behind the bones and scent of death.
As he moved, traveling through the fog—searching for his fellow hunters, and a way out of the fog—he thought back to the Reflection he had received for slaying the powerful bone-cum-fog wraith, and his gaze fell on the bone armor.
'Reflections are only obtained after killing an Aberrant… So how come?' Mordred thought sincerely.
He had received a Reflection due to him landing the finishing blow the last time they slayed the powerful Aberrant, just before the hunters got lost in the fog. So If the creature was already dead, and they were only being reanimated by another Aberrant creature somewhere else, how did he receive a Reflection then?
Was the reanimated skeleton being granted a new life each time?
…Or was there more to all this?
Mordred's brows furrowed as he stared ahead, his movements carrying a graceful cadence as he accelerated.
The fog had existed ever since they arrived in that area of the wastelands. However, it had only gotten thicker when they killed the Aberrants.
The Aberrants, seemingly, had spawned from nowhere and attacked them. They were lucky to still be alive and were trying to find their way out.
The hunters had left their encampment in hopes of acquiring new Reflections and food, but they had run into these deadly opponents.
Most had left knowing that they might not return. After all, the wastelands were no place for the weak, and some were there exactly because of that, ironically.
Mordred's mind was still churning with the thoughts of the bone-cum-fog wraith Aberrants. Their unique nature baffled him, and he was trying to understand what he could from them.
His thoughts strayed as he moved. Regardless, that didn't mean he was less alert to what was happening around him.
Mordred's sword flashed, drawing a thin line through the fog and passing through a skeletal wolf, resulting in its collapse as its Crux was severed.
Mordred continued to travel, searching and killing at the same time.
As he moved, he glimpsed a light in the distance and sped up, feeling a familiar energy as he approached the light.
'A Dungeon?... That makes more sense now.' Mordred pondered. 'If the origin of the fog was to be anywhere, it would definitely be here—or at least have a high chance of being here.'
Mordred slowed down as he approached the Dungeon with caution, holding his sword tightly in one hand. His bleeding side stung from time to time, but his armor was doing well keeping the wound from expelling too much blood.
A few tens of meters ahead was a purple light, and as Mordred reached close proximity to it, he finally made out the outline of the Dungeon.
His sight was graced with a massive, circular ripple in reality, spanning about twenty meters in diameter.
The Dungeon had a fierce purple glow to it; but Mordred—as well as every other hunter, or learned person—knew that it was just the uniqueness of the Dungeon that caused the color.
The color of a Dungeon didn't determine its rank or danger level like some believed. Rather, it was the density of the energy around it.
This Dungeon had weak fluctuations of Mana, so it was probably a low leveled one.
"Now where is that bastard," Mordred muttered as he lingered in the periphery of the fog, making sure he wasn't out in the open. The Dungeon's Mana was strong enough to push back the fog, clearing the area around it.
Mordred didn't know much about his enemy, so he thought it wise to remain hidden.
He looked around, narrowing his eyes into slits and scanning the area like a hawk. He was alert, his guard raised to the max; yet, he failed to sense the figure standing in the fog behind him.
"My, you really are a handsome one. Why don't you be a good boy and let me straddle that pretty face of yours… nice and slow."
Mordred flinched the moment the voice spoke, and he was already shooting to the side even before the voice ended their statement.
Mordred's heart raced, the cogs in his mind rattling.
'How come I didn't sense her presence?!' Mordred thought, his heart palpitating in shock as he stared at the feminine figure obscured by the fog.
His senses rarely fooled him—something he prided himself in—but for the first time in a very long time, Mordred felt… fear?
'This isn't natural,' he came to a conclusion almost immediately, and the feeling of trepidation vanished like smoke in a gale.
A look of surprise appeared on the face of the figure in the fog, and she let out a pleasant laugh, walking forward confidently towards Mordred.
"You've passed the test splendidly," she said, her voice echoing melodiously with each word.
"Veltrissa was right about you." The figure came into view, and Mordred's eyes landed on her bewitching visage.
"Now allow me to introduce myself," she said, paused, then continued.
"...I am Anastaria Vulkaryn, the Eldritch Queen of Desecration!"