My Free Will System: Transmigrating Into My Favorite Immersion Game

Lord Thane's words hung in the air, thick with a bold promise

"Resurrection is forbidden and it goes against the law of the world," he said, his voice smooth and persuasive, "but it's not impossible. King Alaric now holds that power, Varric.

He can bring her back—Guinevere. All you have to do is join us. Not only will you have your wife back, but Alaric will grant you more power, enough to protect her from anything, from anyone."

For a moment, Lord Varric faltered. His grip on the axe slackened slightly as the name of his beloved echoed in his mind. "Guinevere..." he whispered, the vision of her face flooding his thoughts.

The possibility of seeing her again, of holding her once more, was a temptation that gnawed at the edges of his resolve. He could feel the weight of the past, the memories of a life that had been ripped away from him, tugging at his heart.n/o/vel/b//in dot c//om

Sensing the hesitation, Thane's expression remained calm, but behind his back, hidden from Varric's view, he clenched a black dagger and drove it into his own side.

He winced as the blade sank into his flesh, but his face betrayed no pain, only a dark, calculating satisfaction. The sacrificial act set something in motion, a pulse of dark energy that began to seep into the air around them.

As Varric stood, lost in thought, his axe began to thrum loudly, shaking in his hand as if reacting to the evil that was about to unfold. The vibration snapped him out of his daze, the weapon almost seeming to scream at him to focus, to remember who he was and what he stood for.

"I see," Varric said, his voice regaining its strength. "I was foolish to even consider it." The resolve in his eyes hardened, the memories of Guinevere now fueling his determination rather than his doubt. "Thane, surrender your wand, any other weapon in your possession, and yourself. Maybe then, I'll let you live."

Thane scoffed, the corner of his mouth curling into a contemptuous sneer. "I take that as a no, then."

Varric's eyes narrowed, his patience nearly at its end. "You have five seconds."

But Thane was already moving, his confidence unshaken. "No need for that," he replied, his voice dripping with malice.

Varric felt it before he saw it—the sudden, oppressive wave of dark energy that radiated from Thane's body. The air grew heavy with a malevolent force, thickening like a poisonous fog.

Thane's laughter broke the silence, growing louder, more maniacal as the sinister aura engulfed him. His feet left the ground, and he hovered above the ground, his figure bathed in shadow.

The dark energy coiled around him like a living thing, tendrils of black mist writhing and twisting in the air. Those who were watching, the onlookers with weaker wills, began to shudder, their hearts pounding with an instinctual fear. The darkness seemed to whisper to them, gnawing at the edges of their sanity.

Varric tightened his grip on his axe, the weapon's glow fighting back against the encroaching darkness. But even he could feel the shift in the air—the unmistakable presence of demonic energy.

"Demonic energy," Varric muttered, his voice laced with both recognition and disdain. Thane had crossed a line that few dared to approach, a line that put him beyond the pale of human decency.

Thane's laughter echoed across their battlefield, a chilling sound that promised destruction. "You should have accepted the offer, Varric," Thane taunted, his voice now layered with a sinister edge. "Now, you will face the true power that I have embraced. This world will tremble, and all will fall before us!" Find your next adventure on m_v l|e-NovelBin.net

Varric's eyes burned with a renewed fury. Whatever darkness Thane had embraced, whatever twisted power he now wielded, Varric knew one thing: he would not allow this corruption to stand. With a roar, he raised his axe, the  light flared in defiance against the growing darkness.

Elias and Queen Seraphina approached the castle gates, the ominous silence weighing heavily on them. The once grand entrance, typically bustling with life and activity, now resembled a tomb. As they neared, they found bodies strewn across the cobblestone path—soldiers, their eyes staring vacantly at the sky, frozen in death.

Elias knelt beside one, checking for any signs of injury, but there were none. Their skin was cold, their faces locked in expressions of terror, but not a single wound marred their bodies.

"They have no visible wounds," Elias observed, his voice hushed but tense. He glanced up at Seraphina, who had gone pale. "But they're surely dead."

Seraphina's heart pounded in her chest as a deep, unsettling dread settled over her. "I have a bad feeling about this," she whispered, her voice trembling as she looked at the lifeless faces of men she had once known, men who had sworn to protect her.

Elias's expression darkened, his jaw tightening with grim resolve. "Your husband is possessed, Seraphina. He wants to crumble the kingdom, tear it apart from within. Of course, you would have a bad feeling."

As they pressed on, the scene only grew more horrifying. Bodies were scattered throughout the castle, not just soldiers but also maids, servants, and even merchants—people Seraphina recognized from her daily life. Their lifeless forms lay contorted in the corridors, their skin ashen, veins darkened, as if the very life had been drained from them.

Seraphina's steps faltered as she passed a familiar face, a merchant who had once offered her daughter a trinket in the market square. Now he lay in the hallway, his cheerful smile replaced by a grotesque rictus of death. She pressed a hand to her mouth, fighting the wave of nausea and sorrow that threatened to overwhelm her.

Finally, they reached the throne room. Elias paused for a moment, steeling himself before pushing the heavy doors open. A chilling cold wafted out, sending shivers down both their spines. The air inside was frigid, unnatural, as if the warmth had been sucked out of the very walls.

King Alaric sat lacklusterly on the throne, his posture slouched, eyes glazed over with a sickly dullness. He looked more like a puppet than a man, a mere shadow of the king he once was. But what truly caught their attention was the scene before him.

Lady Selene knelt on the cold marble floor, clutching the pale, motionless body of Lady Isolde to her chest. Lady Isolde's skin was ghostly white, her veins nearly black, and her eyes—once vibrant with life—were open but vacant, staring into nothingness.

"Isolde!" Queen Seraphina cried out, rushing to Lady Selene's side. She knelt beside her, gently touching Lady Isolde's face, her heart breaking at the sight. "What happened to her?"

Lady Selene's grip tightened around Lady Isolde's body, her own face pale and strained with grief. "I don't know," she murmured, her voice barely above a whisper. "I just got here too... She was already like this when I arrived."

Elias cursed under his breath, his fists clenching in frustration. "Damn it, we were late."

Lady Selene looked up at him, her eyes glistening with unshed tears. "You're right on time," she said, her voice hollow. Her gaze flickered briefly to King Alaric, who remained motionless on the throne, and then back to Elias. "But it might already be too late for her… but who knows. She is still alive, where there is life, there is hope."

Elias's eyes narrowed as he studied the king, searching for any sign of the man he once knew. But Alaric's eyes were empty, devoid of the fire that had once made him a formidable ruler. The cold that filled the room seemed to emanate from him, it was a palpable aura of death and despair.

Seraphina, still holding onto Lady Isolde's cold hand, looked up at Elias, her eyes pleading for answers. "What do we do, Elias? How do we stop this?"

Elias took a deep breath, his mind racing as he tried to piece together what had happened. "First, we need to figure out exactly what we're dealing with. If Alaric is possessed, then whoever—or whatever—is controlling him has turned this place into a nightmare."

He stepped forward, closer to the throne, his voice steady but edged with urgency. "Lady Selene, you said you don't know what happened, but you must have seen something. Anything could help us."

Lady Selene shook her head, her expression one of helplessness. "I swear, Elias, I don't know. I felt a dark presence as I approached the castle, but by the time I got here, Isolde was already like this, and the king... he's been like that ever since."

Elias turned to Seraphina, determination hardening in his eyes. "Whatever demon this is, it's using Alaric to spread death. We need to stop it, and quickly."

Seraphina nodded, though fear still gripped her. "What if we're already too late?" she whispered.

Elias's gaze softened, and he placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. "We're not too late, Seraphina. Not yet. We still have a chance to save what's left. And I swear, I'll do everything in my power to stop this."

He turned back to the throne, where Alaric sat and steeled himself for the incoming battle.