Dim, oppressive, dangerous—such words were often used to describe the Underdark, but they fell short of the full truth.
This was an expanse far vaster than the surface world, possessing its own unique ecology and laws. Among these rules, one stood above all: whenever you caught sight of skeletons and black roses, you had to prostrate yourself upon the ground. Only by humbling yourself like an insect might you survive.
Do not even think of fleeing. The black rose would hunt you down and add you to the ranks of the dead.
Yet recently, someone had dared to challenge the majesty of the skeletal remains and the rose.
Natural, wide, level spaces were rare in the Underdark. Most tribes scraped by like burrowing rats within a maze of endless tunnels.
Only colossal powers with massive populations possessed the means to remodel underground caverns, raising monolithic structures that allowed legions of their people to thrive.
Beyond those strongholds lay a terrifying realm where the strong devoured the weak.
A convoy bearing the crest of the skull and black rose made its way through the winding subterranean tunnels. They were an ore transport team hauling raw metal dug from various veins, lightly refining it on-site before shipping it to the City of Quicksilver to be cast into ingots.
Minerals had always been a specialty of the Underdark, except now the mistress of the City of Quicksilver was making them her own personal commodity.
Dozens of rotting zombies slowly dragged massive cargo wagons. Iron chains pierced directly through their flesh and hooked into their spines, treating them no better than beasts of burden.
Judging by their garments and half-rotted faces, these zombies appeared to have been raised from drow elves.
The wagons held more than just ore; atop them rode two zombies clad in leather armor and wielding long whips, resembling svirfneblin. Svirfneblin had once been slaves to the drow, but who could have guessed the tables would turn so completely in death?
Just as the zombies hauled the wagons to a fork in the road, two massive shadows dropped without warning from the ceiling of the tunnel.
Long, bristling legs drove downward, impaling several drow zombies pulling the carts.
They were two spiders roughly the size of ore wagons, except where their heads should have been rose the upper torsos of drow elves.
Driders—monstrosities born when drow elves were fused with giant spiders through an exquisitely vile ritual.
These horrors inherited not only an elf's natural agility, but also many traits of giant spiders. Just moments ago, the pair had lain in ambush along the tunnel's ceiling, leaping down only when the wagons passed beneath them.
The two driders acted with ruthless precision. After stomping several drow zombies into pulp, they slashed their scimitars toward the svirfneblin zombies.
Retaining the upper bodies of elves, the driders wielded their curved blades with exquisite finesse, hacking the svirfneblin zombies atop the wagons into minced chunks in the blink of an eye.
Having slaughtered every escort, the driders swung their weapons again, wrecking the wagon wheels.
This way, even if undead reinforcements from the City of Quicksilver rushed over, it would take them hours to clear the broken wagons and reopen the passage.
Attacks like this had been going on for several days.
The ingot production of the City of Quicksilver had taken a severe hit, daily output dropping by at least fifteen percent.
This was the drow elves' counteroffensive. No one knew where these dark-skinned folk had suddenly found the courage to rebel, nor where they had acquired so many driders.
Regardless, the drow struck like ghosts and vanished just as quickly, causing endless trouble for the City of Quicksilver.
This time, however, things went a little differently.
The instant the wagons were smashed, a trap spell seemed to trigger. A flash of azure light flared, and a Death Knight clad head to toe in black heavy plate materialized before the driders.
"A Death Knight?!"
The two driders did not panic. Had a whole squadron of Death Knights appeared, they would have turned and bolted without hesitation, but a solitary one was hardly a threat.
During their previous raids, they had crossed paths with Death Knights from the City of Quicksilver before, and found their prowess to be nothing special.
Cruelty and malice were inherent to drow nature, traits magnified tenfold once transformed into driders. Confirming that only a single Death Knight had come to reinforce the convoy, the two driders lunged forward together.
Venom and webbing sprayed simultaneously from both sides, covering virtually every possible angle of evasion.
The driders' venom was violently corrosive, capable of melting the Death Knight's armor clean away, while their webbing was intensely sticky, designed to bind the Death Knight's body entirely.
Once trapped, severing the Death Knight's head would finish off this high-ranking undead for good.
They had used this tactic to take down several Death Knights before, executing it with seasoned coordination.
Yet this time, their trick completely failed.
The venom splashed against the black heavy plate without a single hiss, sliding harmlessly to the stone floor. The armor suffered not the slightest scratch.
Meanwhile, the flying cords of sticky white thread were intercepted by a spear. With a swift twist of the shaft, the Death Knight spun the webbing into a tangled knot.
Before the two driders could recover from their shock, the web-wrapped spear whipped violently across the face of one of the monsters.
Despite the thick cushioning of silk, the blow snapped the drider's neck with a sharp crack, sending its massive bulk rolling sideways through the air to slam heavily against the tunnel wall. With its neck broken, the drider convulsed violently, its eight spider legs scraping frantic sparks across the stone that illuminated the gloomy tunnel.
The firelight revealed the black rose embossed upon the Death Knight's breastplate, as well as a striking pair of mismatched eyes.
The Death Knight's left eye was the pale blue common to the undead—the cold glow of soul fire. But the right eye burned a blazing, fiery orange, as though a furnace raged perpetually within.
The surviving drider knew it was in deep trouble. This Death Knight was no ordinary foe. Without hesitation, it abandoned its half-dead companion, scuttling backward on its legs with frantic speed.
The dexterity of those spider legs far surpassed anything human. The drider retreated as fast as an all-out sprint, opening a gap of a dozen meters in the blink of an eye before plunging into the shadows.
Upon crossing into total darkness, the drider seemed to dissolve, melding into the shadows and fleeing into the distance.
The Death Knight fixed her fiery orange eye on the depths of the gloom. In her sight, the drider vanished into the shadows only to become a clearly visible silhouette fleeing further away.
"Mother was right. This eye of mine really can see through everything."
Only a few days after her birth, Melina had been entrusted with an important mission by Queen Rose: capture the mastermind pulling the driders' strings and put an end to the City of Quicksilver's recent troubles.
Though Melina lacked combat experience, her body and soul had been crafted with meticulous refinement.
Her right eye could see through any concealment; she wore the finest magical plate armor; and she possessed a unique steed grown from a living sussur tree.
Those three advantages alone were more than enough to crush these driders.
Not to mention, Melina's physical form had been fashioned from the corpses of three legendary orcs, giving her strength and agility that far exceeded the baseline for a Death Knight.
Given time, she might even stand toe-to-toe in an even match against Gareth the Headless Horseman.
For now, Melina was still young and green, and unmasking this mastermind was meant to be her trial.
Overflowing with gratitude toward the mother who had granted her life, Melina was determined to accomplish the task with flying colors.
Once the drider had put ample distance between them, Melina summoned her mount and set off in pursuit.
She had intentionally let the creature run. As long as she trailed it, she would surely find the puppet master, right?
"I'm so smart!" Melina chirped happily.
Yet after chasing it through dozens of kilometers of labyrinthine underground passages, Melina arrived in a wide, hollow cavern. The moment she entered, dozens of driders dropped from above, surrounding her on all sides.
The drider that had fled in panic earlier now sneered smugly. "Hahaha! Did you really think I didn't know you were following me?!"
Melina's eyes went wide with shock. Her flawless plan had been seen through?
She demanded loudly, "How did you notice?! I stayed so far behind!"
The drider mocked, "Idiot! Don't you know how far the sound of hooves carries? This is the Underdark—sound travels for a dozen kilometers!"
Melina flared with indignation. "I'm not an idiot! I'm super smart!"
Believing victory was already in hand, the drider continued jeering, "Hahaha! What a fool. As dumb as a newborn infant."
The other driders joined in with malicious laughter; there was nothing they relished more than trampling someone's dignity.
Yet right in the middle of their wild laughter, a black tempest erupted, tearing straight into their ranks.
Melina had spurred her steed, launching into a ferocious charge.
The bloated lower abdomens of the driders burst like waterlogged bladders under her spear, exploding into flying limbs and severed parts. A single charge crushed and slaughtered over a dozen of them.
The remaining driders attempted to spit webs to pin Melina down, only to discover in terror that their webbing sputtered out a short distance before drooping limply to the ground.
A drider shrieked in horror, "Our Web spells aren't working! What's happening?!"
Half of a drider's webbing was biological instinct, while the other half was guided by magic to ensure accurate targeting. Yet the driders suddenly found that the mana within them was completely suppressed, rendering them unable to cast spells at all. Their silk squirted out like the unspeakable affliction of a middle-aged man—short and pathetically weak.
Not only was their Web spell rendered useless, but they couldn't even escape. The magic that allowed them to meld into shadows was likewise nullified, completely unavailable.
It was only when the last drider was skewered on Melina's spear that, in its dying moments, it finally recognized her mount. That eerie blue luminescence—wasn't that the unmistakable aura of a sussur tree?
How could an undead knight be riding a mount made of sussur wood?!
Melina gave him no answers. With a flick of her spear, she shredded the drider into dozens of bloody pieces.
Surveying the field of mangled corpses, Melina prepared to smile in satisfaction, only to freeze as realization struck.
"Oh no... not a single corpse is intact! I can't even use Speak with Dead now. How am I supposed to find the mastermind?"
For the first time in her life, Melina began to doubt her own intellect.
*Am I... really an idiot?*
Chapter 245