Round Fourteen: Sacrifice

But Moriel had already fallen to the ground before they could approach.
As Forty-Seven rolled by, his claw severed all the ropes binding Moriel, freeing the female mage.
Moriel didn’t even have time to pull out the item from her mouth. Her slender arms moved swiftly, making a multitude of indescribable gestures. At the same time, the magical patterns across her body seemed to come alive, arranging and shifting with her movements—
A pale, ghostly shadow shot out from between Moriel’s hands. It moved with terrifying speed; vaguely, it resembled the skeleton of a human-like creature with only an upper body. It swung its pale, blurred arms at the Rat Queen, only to discover in frustration that it couldn’t reach her. After unleashing it, Moriel ran away without looking back.
The creature paused in the air in anger for a moment before exploding with a loud bang. A circle of white mist spread rapidly from its center, covering most of the cave in an instant, including the Rat Queen. The torches on the walls flickered under the force of the terrifying magical energy but did not go out. If not for Forty-Seven quickly reaching out with his claw and pulling Moriel’s slender waist back, she too would have been affected.
After the white mist cleared, there was complete silence. The rats lay dead everywhere, none spared. Blood flowed from all their orifices; it seemed their internal organs had been shattered.
The slaves carrying the Rat Queen were also dead. One or two who were strong enough, or lucky enough, to survive Moriel’s magic were barely alive, crushed under the Rat Queen’s weight. The Rat Queen coughed up blood, her body oozing blood as well, yet she continued to curse viciously.
“Sacrifice… gods… kill…”
A magical projectile shot from Moriel’s fingertips, punching a hole in the Rat Queen’s stomach.
“Pah!” Moriel threw the item from her mouth onto the ground and strode toward the Rat Queen lying on the ground.
“Why did you, filthy and stupid creature, capture me?” Moriel stared at her coldly.
“Sacrifice… sacrifice…” The Rat Queen spat blood, her small eyes filled with fanaticism. “Intruders who offend the gods… die!”
“Idiot,” Moriel frowned, hesitated for a moment, then stepped back as far as possible from the Rat Queen’s body. She murmured a few indistinct syllables before bending down and placing her hand on the Rat Queen’s greasy, straw-like head.
A moment later, she pulled her hand back and eagerly searched the ground for something. Finally, she pointed at a pool of sewage and cast another spell. The water quickly became crystal clear, with all impurities settling at the bottom. Moriel quickly dipped her hand into the water and began scrubbing vigorously.
The red lights on Forty-Seven’s head had been extinguished several times by the Rat Queen’s attacks, but they lit up again now. At first, the lights wandered randomly, as if scanning the cave, but soon they all focused on Moriel’s graceful figure.
Pretty figure. But lacks exercise. Forty-Seven only calmed down a bit when Moriel turned around to wash her hands.

He creaked as he adjusted his joints. Unexpectedly, the strike that he thought would shatter him caused only minor damage, not even affecting his transformation. The coldness from the flame within him intensified further, no longer confined to the core, but began to flow through his body like water, occasionally spreading to his peripheral parts. For some reason, Moriel wasn’t aware of this, perhaps because she hadn’t paid attention.

Forty-seven began complex twists and transformations again. By the time he stood up, Moriel still hadn’t finished washing her hands.

“That spell of yours is quite good. Can you install one on me?” Forty-seven shook his arms a few times, feeling the coldness within him gradually subside.

Moriel rolled her eyes at him. She seemed about to stand up but suddenly returned to her kneeling position, quietly covering her chest with one hand.

“I never knew about that trick either,” she said sarcastically. “When you came in that giant spider form, I almost didn’t recognize you—much more pleasant to look at than now.”

“You should use different bionic forms to adapt to different environments.”

“Hmph, is this what you’ve been talking about with your transformations? I think it’s far worse than those druids!” Moriel spoke with disdain. “I’m surprised you weren’t shattered by that strike—those stinky rats’ only claim to fame is their subsonic magic. Unless the objects have exactly the same density, they all disintegrate due to varying vibrations. It’s amazing you’re still intact.”

“Oh, that’s a topic you should study,” Forty-seven said. He vaguely felt it might be related to that flame core. The more he studied it, the more complex it seemed, but he decided to skip it for now. “But do you need me to make your vision system a bit blurrier?”

“Hm? Why?—You stupid tin can!” Moriel was stunned for a moment before realizing what had happened. She stood up abruptly and stepped closer to Forty-seven. “You idiot! I’m not uncomfortable standing naked in front of a table, even if that table has eyes!”

“Oh, I was wrong,” Forty-seven conceded. “Respected master, then could you please tell me what information you detected from that fat woman?”

“That’s none of your business—it’s about that temple.” Moriel looked around for something to cover herself with but found everything filthy and disgusting. “The appearance of the temple has upset the ratfolk… They wanted to migrate, but the rat queen received a divine command to stop outsiders and purify those they capture for sacrifice…”

Moriel murmured thoughtfully to herself, “The information that follows is completely unreadable. It’s baffling—everything seems hidden in fog, unclear, yet clearly unsettling… What god would want these guys to do their work? Perhaps that temple isn’t just about a banishment sphere. This journey is bound to be interesting…”

“I agree with you,” Forty-seven said, extending his hand with the needle between two fingers.

“What’s this? Where did you get this junk?”

“This thing killed the ratfolk elder who led his followers to attack us, which is why our companions might still be being chopped to pieces in the swamp right now.”
“Who did it?”
“I don’t know, I didn’t see. Really.”
“Hmph…” Moriel didn’t reach for the needle. “Keep it! Even magic won’t yield any information from it. Let’s go. I think I can sense a way out—instead of crawling around with you. I’m sick of this place!” She didn’t take a torch but picked up a fairly clean stick, which then began to glow—brightly, but without any heat.
“Oh, yes, wait… I also have a question for this rat queen.”
Forty-seven casually picked up a broken shield and approached the dying rat queen.
“May I ask you how to launch a subsonic attack?”
The rat queen no longer had the strength to scream. Her mind seemed damaged by Moriel’s magic; her gaze was unfocused, yet she remained insane.
“Hmm… Then why are you so fat?”
Forty-seven waited for a moment.
“Well, that joke isn’t funny.”
He raised his arm and drove the shield into the rat queen’s head as if using a knife to cut cake. Then he turned to chase after Moriel.