I Become A Mob Character In A Novel

[Third Person's POV]

The mirror shimmered and faded, leaving Bathia Ignis in the dim, candlelit chamber. Her lips curved into a satisfied smile as she turned away, her mind already working through the intricacies of her newly gained advantage. The Heart of the Dead God was a prize she had long sought, and now, it was almost within her grasp.

She moved gracefully through the shadows of her lair, her long robes trailing behind her like a wisp of smoke. The chamber was filled with arcane symbols and relics of immense power, each carefully arranged to amplify her dark magic. Her eyes gleamed as she approached a central altar, where a blackened tome lay open, its pages inscribed with forbidden knowledge.

But she ignored everything and went toward the corner which only had a single handmade portrait on a simple, unadorned easel. The portrait depicted a young boy with striking features and hauntingly familiar eyes. His expression was one of determination and innocence, a stark contrast to the dark and foreboding atmosphere of Bathia's lair.

She reached out, her fingers lightly tracing the boy's face on the canvas, a rare softness crossing her features.

"All for you, my dear Alaric," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "Soon, everything will fall into place, and your legacy will be fulfilled."

Bathia Ignis turned away from the portrait, her resolve hardening once more. The Heart of the Dead God was not just a tool of immense power; it was a step closer to her ultimate goal. The ritual, the Key of Endless Night, and the merging of planes—all were a means to an end, a way to bring her long-departed husband back to life.

Her eyes glinted with a dangerous determination as she gazed upon the darkened tome on the altar. The secrets contained within its pages would be the final pieces in the intricate puzzle she had been assembling for years. The Heart of the Dead God was but one of the many powerful artifacts she needed to gather, and with each piece she obtained, her power grew exponentially.

As Bathia meticulously planned her next move, her mind wandered to the complex web of alliances and rivalries within the cult. She knew that the Elder would not easily part with the Heart, but his desperation would drive him to make concessions. She would ensure that her role in the upcoming ritual was indispensable, binding him further to her will.

Turning her attention back to the portrait of Alaric, Bathia felt a surge of emotion. His loss had been the catalyst for her descent into the darker arts, and every action she took was a step toward bringing him back. The merging of planes would create the perfect conditions for his resurrection, and the power of the Key of Endless Night would ensure its success.

She whispered an incantation, and the candles in the room flickered and dimmed, casting long shadows that danced across the walls. The atmosphere grew heavier with the palpable sense of ancient, forbidden magic. Bathia's lips curled into a dark smile as she felt the energy coalesce around her, ready to be harnessed and directed toward her ultimate goal.

"Prepare yourself, Alaric," she murmured, her voice echoing softly through the chamber. "Soon, we will be reunited, and our enemies will tremble before us."

She made her towards the chest and carefully placed the artifact she had taken out back inside. She closed the chest and sealed it with a series of intricate gestures, ensuring that only she could reaccess its contents. Bathia Ignis straightened up, her expression hardening with resolve.

She knew that the path ahead would be fraught with challenges, but she was more than willing to face them for the sake of her beloved Alaric.

As she exited the chamber, her mind was already strategizing the next steps. She needed to gather more power, secure the loyalty of her allies, and neutralize any threats that could jeopardize her plans. The ritual involving the Key of Endless Night was crucial, and its success hinged on precise timing and flawless execution.

Bathia's lair was situated deep within a secluded mountain range, hidden from prying eyes by powerful wards and enchantments. The cult members under her command were fiercely loyal, bound to her by dark pacts and promises of power. She had spent years building this network, and now it was time to reap the rewards of her meticulous planning.

As Bathia Ignis stepped out of the chamber and into the winding corridors of her lair, she allowed herself a brief moment of reflection. Her obsession with Alaric had consumed her entire existence. The death of her beloved had set her on a path of dark ambition, and every spell, every ritual, had been a step toward her ultimate goal: his resurrection.

The secluded mountain range that concealed her lair was a testament to her efforts. Hidden away from the world, it was fortified with ancient wards and enchantments that kept intruders at bay. The cult members who served her were more than mere followers; they were bound to her through dark oaths and the promise of unimaginable power.

The Key of Endless Night was her most prized possession. It was said to hold the power to merge planes, to tear the veil between the living world and the realm of the dead. She had acquired it after a series of treacherous encounters and ancient rites, its power vital for the resurrection she sought. But the Key was not the only tool she needed.

There were other elements to consider, other pieces of the puzzle that required careful planning and execution.

As Bathia made her way through the dimly lit corridors, her thoughts turned to the heart of 'that' particular god. It was a crucial element in the ritual she was preparing. The god in question was an ancient deity of shadows and forbidden knowledge, whose heart was said to be a source of immense power. Securing it was essential for ensuring the success of the merging of planes.

It was said that the heart's dark energy would amplify the ritual, making the resurrection of Alaric not just possible, but inevitable.

Bathia had learned of this god's heart through forbidden texts and cryptic prophecies. It was rumored to be hidden in a sacred, uncharted location, protected by both magical and physical barriers. Finding it would require more than just power—it would need cunning, resourcefulness, and perhaps even alliances with unsavory entities.

She reached the grand hall, where her most trusted lieutenants awaited her. Their faces were masked in reverence and anticipation. They knew the importance of the tasks ahead and were prepared to follow her every command.

"Contact our agents on the human continent, I want information on Princess Raven's whereabouts and her unknown helper if it even exists. I want everything reported to me immediately," Bathia commanded, her voice low but authoritative. "We cannot afford any surprises or delays. The success of our plan depends on every piece falling into place."

Her lieutenants nodded in agreement and dispersed to carry out her orders. Bathia watched them go, a flicker of satisfaction crossing her face. The pieces of her grand design were slowly falling into place, but there was still much work to be done.

She moved through the grand hall, her steps echoing off the cold stone floors. The chamber was adorned with dark tapestries and intricate runes, each a testament to the forbidden magic she wielded. Her eyes lingered on a large map spread across a table at the far end of the hall.

It detailed various locations of interest, including potential sources of power and hidden relics that could aid her in her quest.

Bathia approached the map, her fingers tracing the lines and symbols marked on it. Her focus shifted to the regions where her scouts had reported sightings of potential magical artifacts and ancient texts. These items would be crucial for enhancing the ritual and ensuring its success. She had already dispatched teams to secure some of these artifacts, but there were many more to obtain.

As she reviewed the map, her thoughts turned to her next major objective: acquiring the heart of the ancient deity of shadows and forbidden knowledge. The heart was said to be located in a hidden sanctuary, accessible only through a series of complex trials and guarded by powerful wards. It was a challenge she relished, a test of her skills and determination.

The trials would require not just brute strength but also cunning and strategic thinking. Bathia knew that she needed to prepare thoroughly, gathering additional resources and allies if necessary. She was willing to make deals with those who had the power to help her achieve her goals, even if it meant aligning herself with questionable entities.

With a final glance at the map, Bathia turned and exited the grand hall, making her way to her private study. The study was filled with ancient tomes and grimoires, each containing knowledge of dark arts and forgotten rituals. She had spent countless hours poring over these texts, seeking any advantage she could find.

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[To Be Continued]

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