Lifestealer: Cursed Healer [A LITRPG Isekai Survival]

Entisse popped her head out into the hallway as Symon left the servant's quarters he'd been about to fall asleep in. She'd taken out her braid, allowing her long, stark white hair to cascade down. Honestly, it could do with a good brushing, not that he would say anything. From within the chaotic bird's nest on her head emerged two pointed ear tips, which twitched slightly with each rhythmic thud from upstairs.

She glanced at him before raising her vision to the ceiling, then her large eyes traced the noise further down the hallway. "What is that? Did something make it through the barrier?" she asked. There was a faint note of confusion to her words, but not any fear.

"I don't think so, I'm pretty sure it was always inside and only woke up now. Are you able to fight?" He'd been pretty confident that nothing was hiding in the manor, but now it would be down to him and the still weakened Entisse to deal with the unknown threat.

"Always," she hissed. She tilted her head to the side, a frown slowly growing. "I do not sense any blood, not even a little. At this distance, it should be clear to me." Whatever it was, he would have had to take a circuitous route out of the hallway, up the main stairs, and then into the upper hallway to reach whatever was making those stomping noises, but the actual vertical distance between the two floors wasn't that much.

"Shit, okay, do we have a plan? I distract, you kill?" he offered. He had his sword in one hand and the dark grey thread of seize dangling from the other, but whatever was coming sounded heavy. He doubted it was something he could beat quickly, but hopefully, Entisse could help.

"Very well." She pointed to the middle of the hallway. "Remain obvious."

He nodded and quickly stepped to the middle, stretching his body and giving his sword a few practice swings once he was in position. Meanwhile, Entisse made her own preparations.

She hunched down onto all fours, her long limbs spreading out and keeping her body flat against the floor like a pancake. All of a sudden, she scrambled straight for the wall, her claws digging into the old stone as she shot straight for the ceiling. The unnerving movements reminded him of a spider, her spindly form bracing against the opposite walls to keep herself lodged against the ceiling.

With the only light source being the dim light spilling out from his room, she practically vanished into the gloom.

<Creepy little fuck…> Keelgrave said, which Symon had to admit within he saw where the spirit was coming from. Her movements were sleek and predatory, her body undulating like an insect as she wove herself into place.

What must have been footsteps continued pounding on the floor above, their pace quickening as they worked their way down the hallway. He'd be able to see what it was once it reached the main foyer.

"Can you sense anything about it?" Symon thought back.

"Hmm, pretty strong mana source… the fine details break down fast with distance, but I think there's multiple."

Judging by the multiple rhythmic, slightly out-of-sync crashing steps, Symon agreed. It was either that, or one thing with a lot of legs.

"God, I hope it's not a giant mama centipede…" he whispered to himself.

It wasn't long before he found out. The noises travelled the main foyer, and began walking down the stairway towards the entrance to Symon's hallway.

Thankfully, it wasn't an even-more-giant giant centipede. Instead, what looked like two knights burst through the door. Their plated helms swivelled to face him in unison, and they immediately began marching directly for him. The armour was well made, smooth but coated in a thick layer of dust and pollen. It very vaguely reminded him of the guards the Baron had brought with him, though these ones were missing their capes or any other cosmetic features.

The armour covered up any trace of the men beneath, but they must have been both tall and muscular to fill out the large suits of steel. They were at least six feet tall and appeared to be identical, both height-wise and in every other respect. The only difference between them was their weapons: the one on his left had a single large sword, while the other had a shorter one and a shield.

Symon's sword hand gripped his weapon tightly while he stretched the other one out, sending the thread as far forward as possible. It would be invisible to everyone else.

"Any chance we could talk this out? We aren't here to steal anything, if that's the problem?" Symon asked, taking a few slow steps back to keep them out of his range, and hopefully also the inverse.

Neither of them responded, continuing to march for Symon as he backed away. Well, guess there's only one way to settle this, he thought as he continued pulling back. It wasn't a retreat, though.

He kept his eyes locked on the armoured knights, careful not to give the game up by glancing away. The moment they passed an invisible threshold, Entisse struck.

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She dropped down from the ceiling, landing on the shield-bearing knight's back and wrapping herself around them like a rabid monkey. She raked her claws across the front of the chestplate, sending sparks flying and, to his surprise, leaving small furrows in the armour.

The newly designated Shieldknight started reaching over its shoulder for her, while the other rotated in place to help their friend. Doubting that his sword would do anything to the armour, Symon dropped it and drew his club before charging forward.

While the hallways were wide, they were still hallways. The knight with a sword almost as long as he was tall realised this when the back swing of his blade stabbed into the wall, cutting deeply into the stone and getting caught. Instead of yanking on it to tear it out, the knight slowly and smoothly pulled, inexorably grinding the blade out through pure strength.

Moments after, Symon arrived. He sent his thread flying forward, swinging the heavy pipe for the knight's knee joint at the same time. The impact was like the ringing of a church bell, sending the reverberations through his entire body.

The knight stumbled, though the armour appeared undamaged. The vibrations made it feel like his skeleton had been put in a blender, shaking him from the inside so severely that he thought his muscles would lose their grip on his bones. He shook the feeling off, trying to ignore the numbness in his hand; he had a bigger issue.

His thread passed through the knight's armour, then right through the other side as if nothing was there.

"Shit!" Symon shouted as he stepped back, the Swordknight focusing on him as it finished pulling the blade out of the wall. Symon might have been a little distracted by the intensity of combat, but it didn't take a genius to figure out what was going on. Entisse couldn't sense the knights' blood, they were noticeable to Keelgrave's mana sense, and now his draining wasn't connecting. "There's no one inside, it's just magic armour!"

He heard a hiss of acknowledgment, but then they were both too busy for anything else.

The knight charged straight at him in a sudden burst of speed, its longsword sweeping out in a wide arc. Symon barely brought his club up in time, holding it at both ends like a quarterstaff. Even braced like that, the sheer force of the impact picked him off his feet and slammed him into the wall, driving the air out of his lungs.

He coughed, but Anatomy told him it hadn't been a serious wound — just a tiny crack in one of his ribs that would heal in a few seconds anyway. Before his magic had time to work, the magical suit of armour was on him.

That same wide swing — the exact same — came his way once more. The wall was at his back, and he knew now that blocking it was out of the question for him. He ducked down right as the blade passed slightly over his head and embedded itself into the wall.

Symon wasn't sure what to do. His draining was useless, his sword would just snap, and using the club seemed to hurt him more than his opponent. He considered working the blade into the joints of the armour, but it wasn't like there was a man under there to stab. Somehow, Entisse's claws were doing minor damage, but he wasn't sure how lethal they would be to the living armour. He saw her out of the corner of his eye, still wrapped around the armour's back.

Needing to buy time to figure something out, he threw himself bodily at his opponent. This wasn't as stupid as it sounded: while they were clearly physically strong, they were ultimately hollow shells. They were much lighter than they would have been with someone inside them, and they seemed to struggle to adapt poorly to the environment and foe. Letting it dictate the flow of combat was the last thing he wanted.

He tackled the living armour, pushing his shoulder into its waist and sending them both tumbling to the ground with a noisy clatter.

He landed on top of the thing, which was still grasping for the sword embedded in the wall, even despite the distance. The longer he fought these things, the more he thought of them as stupid machines. Physical attacks were out of the question, but he didn't need to destroy the armour; he just needed to deactivate it. Somehow.

"Where does the mana come from? Does it have a battery?" he asked, his mental voice coming out strained. Instead of waiting for a response, he brought his hands together and slammed them down on its helmet, on the adjustable face covering part he didn't know the name of. Its head bounced off the ground with a metallic ding, but the only damage was to his hands. It was nothing a little vitality couldn't fix.

<Upper chest, that's where the mana is strongest,> Keelgrave answered calmly. Symon wasn't feeling quite so carefree. Knowing where its core probably was might have been helpful, but not when he couldn't do anything to reach it.

Seemingly realising it wouldn't be able to reach the sword, the armour switched tactics, drawing back its gauntleted arm. Symon saw it coming, but could only barely twist away as its fist rocketed into his side like a hydraulic piston.

His vision flashed red, then black, then a fuzzy static that began fading away. His side hurt, bad, one of the worst pains he'd experienced since getting Pain Resistance. Anatomy helpfully told him he'd taken a hit directly to his liver, which had completely ruptured and was now slowly reforming. A few ribs were snapped through in several places, but that was a comparatively easy fix.

He blinked several times, taking in ragged gasps of breath in between groans of pain. It was a strange sort of hurt, not at all like the cuts, breaks, burns, and bruises he'd collected before. Oddly, it felt like getting hit in the balls, only worse. He might have laughed at the comparison if only he weren't currently experiencing it. It was a formless, internal pain, his body crying out in confusion as it struggled to interpret what had happened.

Getting an organ turned into slurry wasn't exactly something the body had words to describe. A flash of movement flickered at the edge of his vision. He rolled blindly to the side, narrowly avoiding being skewered by the Swordknight, who had once more reclaimed its sword.

The motion sent fresh waves of pain rolling through him, but they were fading. His Pain Resistance was doing its best, and he pulled a little extra vitality from his vessel and sent it to his liver. It was a slow process, but he didn't need to be in perfect condition, he just needed to be able to fight.

Shakily, he pushed himself to his feet, using the wall as support. Entisse had separated from her foe at the other end of the hall, one of its arms hanging limply at its side.

His own opponent had again gotten its sword stuck, this time in the ground after his roll away.

"Stupid… fucking things. I'm not going to die to some—" he coughed "—jumped up Scooby Doo haunted mansion villains."

His first tussle with the enchanted suit of armour hadn't gone well, and he still wasn't sure how he was going to get to its core. As the slurry that was his liver continued to thicken and clump together, he smiled. He'd just have to try again.