Aetherios System [Slow Build OP MC, Isekai LitRPG/Cultivation] Chapter 219: Book3: Chapter 70: Convergence

Read chapter 219 of Aetherios System [Slow Build OP MC, Isekai LitRPG/Cultivation] by TTReynolds on NovelPedia.

Book3: Chapter 70: Convergence Chapter 70: Convergence Mijra was only a peak Mortal-tier soldier. Six months ago, that had seemed impressive enough to earn her a place in the Urhara ranks. Back then, people in her village had called her gifted, and praised her hammer arm and stubborn spirit. But compared to the true talents scattered across the continent, she was nothing. Barely average. Still, she had pressed on, determined and stubborn, strong-willed in the eyes of a few. Now… all of that resolve was ash on the wind. Her legs shook beneath her armor, her throat a tight knot. Behind her, the village smoldered, leaving nothing but blackened homes and the stench of blood. A mountain of bodies loomed high in the center square, a grotesque altar of Urhara’s dead, with crimson pooling at its base. The soldiers to either side of her shifted nervously, but she could see the same terror etched into their faces. It didn’t matter how scared they were. This was their duty. Even dead, those villagers were citizens of Urhara, and their bodies could not, must not, be left to fuel the abominations that stalked them now. The things that came from the dungeon breach weren’t just monsters. They were nightmares, beasts stitched with flesh and horror. Sure, they looked humanoid in posture, but were insectoid in shell, with bladed claws, wings, antennae, each warped further by some other beast’s features. They contained fangs where they shouldn’t be. Eyes in places no eyes should exist. One of them lunged at her. Mijra swung her hammer with a grunt, the blow cracking chitin and snapping its head sideways. Another pounced on the soldier to her left, dragging him down in a squelching spray of blood. His scream tore through her ears as he died. She pivoted, desperate to help, but an explosion of compressed air aether blasted through the street. The shockwave hurled her off her feet. She tumbled across the dirt, and came to rest yards away, face-to-face with the pile of corpses. A hundred glassy eyes stared back at her, accusing, lifeless. She gagged and tore her gaze away, forcing herself upright. The battle line had already broken. The beasts tore through her comrades like parchment in a shredder, claws were rending at flesh, mandibles cracking bone. Screams filled the night, then cut off one by one. Her hammer was gone. Panic sprang in her chest, but she forced her shaking hands to move, searching frantically. A discarded sword lay half-buried in rubble near a collapsed house. Beside it, a dagger. She seized both, it felt awkward in her grip compared to the comfort of her hammer, but it was better than nothing. She turned back—and froze. The battlefield had gone silent. Every one of her comrades was down. Their sergeant, too. Twenty soldiers had been ripped apart and strewn across the street like butcher’s scraps. Beasts hunched over the corpses, chewing and feeding. The wet sound of tearing meat filled the stillness. “Mother did say they would be drawn to helping each other,” A voice spoke. The sound slid down her spine like a witch’s nails over a cauldron, Mijra spun. Four figures stood at the base of the corpse pile, each of them watching with a kind of detached amusement. They were different from the others, their appearance closer to human, closer to her. Their faces were near-perfect, beautiful even, except for the teeth. Their teeth were too sharp, and they had too many. Their skin shifted into chitinous plates that gleamed under moonlight. Antennae twitched on their foreheads. Insectoid wings flexed lazily at their backs. Each was monstrous in her own way, but there was something eerie about their resemblance to women. “Oh look, sister,” one said, pointing a clawed finger at Mijra. Her smile stretched wider than a normal human’s should allow. “They left one for us. How kind.” Mijra’s hands shook, but she raised the sword anyway. If this were her end, she would face it proudly. She would fight. Her arm never made it up past her chest. The w