ALL NOVEL Chapter 275 Death of Garik D
Eir and Mist led the two girls down the cobblestone streets toward Garik’s hideout, the worn soles of their boots scraping softly against the cold ground. They kept a steady pace, their eyes flicking to every shadow, every movement around them. The two rescued dwarven girls, barely clinging to their newfound resolve, followed closely behind, still haunted by the pain they had endured but driven by a need for vengeance that had taken root deep within them.
The Shapers District, where Garik was hiding, was far removed from the slums where they had found the girls. This area was known for its intricately crafted stone buildings, adorned with carvings that spoke of the skill and pride of the dwarves who lived there. The Shapers District was home to a form of dwarven nobility—though not nobility by blood, but by craft. Here, only the most skilled hands were allowed to reside there and most were unwelcome.
Despite the pristine surroundings, Eir and Mist received cold, suspicious stares from the residents of the district. The two sisters and their companions were clearly out of place, their rough appearance a stark contrast to the neatly dressed artisans and craftsmen who populated the area. However, Garik’s hideout was remote, tucked away from the main thoroughfares, and as they approached, the number of people they encountered dwindled. Soon, they were alone, the only sound was that of their footsteps and the occasional whisper of the wind through the narrow alleyways.
As they arrived at the nondescript mansion where Garik was hiding, Mist knelt down, pressing her hand against the cool stone of the ground. Moments later, a mole emerged, seemingly made of the very earth itself. Its small, beady eyes blinked up at her as it made a series of soft, chittering noises. Mist nodded in understanding, whispering a quiet thank you to the creature. The mole waved one of its tiny paws in response before burrowing back into the earth, disappearing as quickly as it had come.
The two dwarven girls watched the interaction with wide, confused eyes, unsure of what to make of it. It wasn’t every day that one saw someone commanding animals with such ease, and the sight left them momentarily speechless. However, there was no time for questions, and they continued to follow Eir and Mist as they approached the side door of the mansion.
The door was a heavy, reinforced piece of metal—installed to keep out intruders. Eir stepped forward, raising her hand and muttering an incantation under her breath. A dark sigil formed in the air, glowing ominously before attaching itself to the metal door. The sigil pulsed with dark energy, and the metal began to rust and crumble before their very eyes. Within moments, the once-imposing door had disintegrated into dust, as if it had weathered away over centuries in the span of seconds.
Eir and Mist led the girls inside, stepping carefully over the remains of the door. The interior of the mansion was eerily quiet, the silence almost oppressive. They found themselves in a kitchen, the air thick with the scent of stale food and lingering smoke. The room was a far cry from the grandeur of the hotel from the previous world, with dirty pots and pans strewn about and a thick layer of grime covering the countertops. It was clear that those who occupied this mansion cared little for the maintenance of their surroundings, focused only on their own convenience.
Eir walked to the door that separated the kitchen from the rest of the mansion, her expression calm and cold. She raised her hand once more, casting another sigil. This time, a green mist formed in her palm, swirling and coalescing before she blew it through the crack beneath the door. The mist moved with purpose, seeping into the mansion and spreading through the halls like a living entity. Once she was satisfied, Eir closed the door and turned to the girls.
“We need to wait,” she said, her voice calm but firm. “The mist will need time to do its work. In the meantime, are you two hungry?”
The girls stood still, their eyes downcast, not responding to Eir’s question. They had been through so much, and the idea of eating seemed almost foreign to them. Mist, however, knew better. She stepped forward, her tone gentle but insistent.
“If you don’t eat anything, you won’t have the strength to get your revenge,” Mist said softly. The words seemed to strike a nerve, and after a moment of hesitation, the girls began to move, searching the kitchen for something to eat.
They found some bread, fruit, and dried meat—simple fare, but it was more than they had seen in days, maybe weeks. They tore into the food with a desperation that spoke to their long days of starvation, shoving the bread and meat into their mouths with trembling hands. As they ate, their eyes glistened with unshed tears, a mix of sorrow and a burning desire for vengeance kept them going.
Eir watched them with a mix of concern and understanding. “Be careful,” she cautioned, her voice soft. “You’ll get a stomach ache if you eat too much too fast after being malnourished for so long.”
But the girls didn’t seem to care. They continued to eat, heedless of Eir’s warning. The food was their only comfort in this moment of uncertainty, a brief respite from the horror they had endured. Mist sighed, exchanging a glance with her sister.
“They’ll need your healing again if they keep that up,” Mist said, her tone resigned but understanding. Eir nodded, knowing that she would indeed have to step in if the girls overdid it.
After they had eaten, the girls looked at Eir and Mist, their expressions one of gratitude. They were thankful for the food, and for the opportunity to take revenge, but they were also terrified of what Eir and Mist could do. They had never seen such a thing and from dwarven women no less. It might have made sense if they were elves who thrived off lingau.
The waiting felt like an eternity, the silence weighing heavily on them all. Eir kept her focus on the task at hand, her mind already planning their next move. Mist, ever the pragmatist, busied herself with preparations, checking the weapons she had laid out and ensuring that the girls were in a condition to do what would come next.
Finally, after what seemed like an age, the sound of coughing and retching began to filter through the door. The green mist had done its work, filling the mansion with a toxic vapor that would weaken Garik and his men, making them easy prey for what was to come.