Chapter 32 | Transmigrated Into a Poor Girl, Armed Myself With Heavy Armor

A massive gray shadow pressed forward like a mountain.

A heavy bear paw slammed sideways with tremendous force.

The Ghoul was sent flying backward as if struck head-on by a carriage, dark bodily fluids spraying into the air as it flew.

Rosie stepped forward, bringing her blade down in a fierce strike that split the head of an incoming Ghoul in two.

The moment she withdrew her sword, she flicked the buckler in her left hand, deflecting a claw aimed at her throat before sweeping her blade across, sending another head flying.

On the other side, the woman moved with light, nimble steps, her rapier tracing sharp lines through the air as it pierced eye sockets and temples of Ghoul after Ghoul.

Every thrust struck a fraction of a second before a claw could touch her, followed immediately by a quick retreat to reset the distance.

The battle had begun suddenly, and it ended just as quickly.

In her grizzly form, Alysia was thick-skinned and immensely strong; the Ghouls couldn't breach her defenses at all.

Rosie and the woman worked together to harvest the remaining Ghoul heads.

When the grizzly crushed the skull of the final Ghoul with a single paw, the corpses scattered across the street began to rot and dissolve. Dark fluid flowed through the cracks in the cobblestones, unleashing an indescribable stench that lingered in the chilly air.

The grizzly snorted. Then, amid a hazy cloud of light and mist, the slender, black-cloaked figure stood in her place once more.

“Alysia, looks like you found yourself a good helper this time.”

The woman flicked off the liquid clinging to her rapier, sheathing it at her waist with a sharp clang.

She then bent down to recover any usable bolts from the dissolving corpses, deftly shaking off the grime before sliding them one by one back into the quiver at her lower back.

Alysia ignored her banter and raised her head. “Hunter Vera, tell me what you know.”

Rosie picked up a scrap of cloth and wiped her blade clean from hilt to tip.

Her gaze darted quickly between Alysia and Vera. So the two of them were old acquaintances?

Just a moment ago, they were snapping at each other and trading barbs like bitter enemies.

Vera slid the last bolt into her quiver and dusted off her hands.

“I don't know much either. It took a while to travel from Dawnguard Keep to the Northern Kingdom of Norman. I only beat you here by two days.”

“And your informant?” Alysia asked.

Vera spread her hands. “Dead. But the last raven letter he sent mentioned someone—Countess Elizabeth.”

Alysia repeated, “Elizabeth.”

“Isn't that who we're looking for?” Rosie looked at the elf.

Vera's eyes immediately flicked between the two of them. “You're looking for her too?”

Alysia nodded. “A human noble trafficked the person I's searching for to the Countess.”

“Human trafficking.” Vera let out a snort. “Classic vampire behavior. Line their pockets while satisfying their appetite.”

Rosie cut in to ask, “You said earlier that this plague wasn't caused by vampires. Then who could it be?”

Vera walked over a few steps and stopped beside a Ghoul corpse that was rapidly decomposing, nudging the liquefying remains with the toe of her boot.

“These Ghouls aren't normal vampire thralls. They're feral ghouls, mutated after being infected by the plague.”

“Is there a difference?” Rosie asked, curious.

“Normal Ghouls have low intelligence, but they can still communicate and follow their master's orders. But these...”

She gestured with her chin toward the remains on the ground.

“...have turned into bloodthirsty monsters driven purely by instinct. They attack any living creature on sight, and anyone injured by them gets infected. Once someone fully turns into a feral ghoul, not even a High Priest of Light can cure them.”

Rosie looked down at the dark fluid splattered across her armor. “Didn't you just arrive two days ago? How do you already know all this?”

Vera looked at Rosie and said with complete confidence, “I'm an expert.”

“Uh, alright then, Lady Expert.”

Rosie offered an awkward smile.

Alysia stroked her chin thoughtfully. “A plague that can affect vampire thralls? Could it be...”

Vera nodded. “That's right. There's something deeply wrong with this plague.”

She gave a cold laugh.

“The public can't tell the difference between a Ghoul and a feral ghoul. As long as someone claims 'the Dawnguard let vampire thralls get out of control again,' the blame falls straight on us and the vampires!”

Rosie's gaze darted back and forth between them before she offered a practical suggestion. “Since we're both looking for the Countess, why not team up? Strength in numbers, right?”

Alysia fixed her eyes on the hunter. “Help me find her, and I'll drop the matter of you badmouthing the Harpers today.”

Vera clicked her tongue. “You're as petty as ever.”

She turned to Rosie. “Elves are all petty. You shouldn't have stuck your nose into this to tag along with her.”

Rosie shrugged. “I took her coin, so I solve her problems. I've been paid, so I have to see it through.”

A touch of admiration entered Vera's eyes. “Principled. Ever consider joining the Dawnguard? There's good money in it.”

Rosie chuckled. “Thanks for the offer, I'll think about it.”

“Smart girl,” Vera replied with a hint of amusement in her voice.

Alysia didn't join their exchange.

Her gaze drifted past the low rooftops lining the street, settling on the towering gray stone complex at the center of the inner city.

“We should search inside the castle,” she said.

Vera followed her gaze toward the castle, then shook her head, her tone growing more serious.

“The castle is probably the only place in the inner city with living people left, but they attack anything that comes close. As for how I know... best not to ask.”

Alysia fell silent for a moment before coming to a decision. “I'll go inside to scout.”

Vera didn't look surprised. In fact, it was as if she had been waiting for Alysia to say exactly that.

“I was waiting for you to say that. Follow me—let's head to a safe place to settle down first.”

Alysia said nothing and fell in step behind her.

Rosie followed close behind.

Under Vera's lead, the trio skirted past swarms of feral ghouls roaming the inner city streets, crossed several blocks, and scaled a half-collapsed wall, finally coming to a stop before a manor house near the castle.

Overturned furniture was piled outside the manor's main entrance, forming a makeshift barricade.

“The former owner reinforced this place, and there's a clean water well in the backyard. We can safely use it as our stronghold.”

Vera inspected the door to ensure it hadn't been tampered with before pushing it open.

“In you go.”

Rosie and the elf followed her inside. The main hall was a bit chaotic, but there were no corpses.

“What happened to the people here?” Rosie asked.

“They turned into feral ghouls, so I lured them outside and cleared them out. Every last one.”

Vera shut the door as she spoke, walking toward the nearby staircase.

“Let's go upstairs. It's better up there.”

Alysia followed without a word.

Rosie glanced around, suppressing the urge to rummage through the drawers and cabinets, and followed them up.

The second floor of the manor was spacious, featuring several windows boarded up with wooden planks.

Alysia found a random chair, sat down, closed her eyes, and began meditating.

Rosie sat on a chair against the wall, resting her sword across her knees.

Unbuckling the shoulders of her brigandine armor to relieve her stiff shoulders, she rummaged through her pack for a small whetstone, laid her blade across it, and began sharpening it with steady strokes.

Vera set down her repeating crossbow, unclipped the magazine, and began reloading it with bolts.

After a while, Alysia stood up, walked over to a window with fewer wooden planks, and said, “Rosie, help me open the window. I'm going to scout the castle.”