We Will Find Our Redemption - Darkest Dungeon Novel

Chapter 17 - The Ruins Reclaimed

Junia's presence had a calming effect, her unwavering resolve serving as a beacon of hope amidst the chaos. With her encouragement, Dismas and Barristan rose from their knees, their spirits reignited by her unwavering support. Together, the four heroes stood tall, their determination fueling their readiness to face whatever challenges lay ahead. With renewed strength and unity, they prepared to confront the Collector once more, their hearts filled with courage and resolve.

Reynauld's eyes blazed with determination as he witnessed the struggle of his comrades against the malevolent minions and the sinister Collector. With a fierce battle cry, he lunged forward, his sword slicing through the air with deadly precision. Each strike was aimed with unwavering focus, landing crucial blows on the minions and weakening their defenses. Beside him, Paracelsus moved with swift agility, her potions flying through the air like vengeful spirits. With expert precision, she targeted the weak points of their adversaries, her acidic concoctions sizzling on impact and causing the minions to recoil in agony. With each successful hit, she bolstered Reynauld's efforts, her determination matching his own. Together, they fought as one, their coordinated attacks driving back the minions and drawing the attention of the Collector. As the towering figure turned its gaze upon them, Reynauld and Paracelsus stood firm, their resolve unyielding in the face of adversity.
With the minions vanquished and their resolve undiminished, the group of five pressed forward in a pivotal clash against the Collector. Each member moved with purpose, their movements synchronized as if guided by an unseen force. With the way cleared of obstacles, they focused their collective might on the towering figure before them. The Collector writhed in desperation as the combined assault rained down upon it. Barristan's mighty blows struck true, his mace swinging with the force of a tempest as he unleashed a barrage of devastating attacks. Reynauld, fueled by determination, matched his every move with precise strikes from his gleaming sword, each blow finding its mark with deadly accuracy. With each strike, the Collector recoiled in agony, its form wavering under the onslaught of their assault. Its once-imposing demeanor faltered, replaced by a desperate struggle to maintain its grip on the battlefield. But the heroes showed no mercy, pressing their advantage with unwavering determination.
As the battle raged on, the Collector's strength waned, its defenses crumbling under the relentless assault of the group's coordinated attacks. Dismas landed crucial hits on the Collector's head, his strikes cracking the skull cage and revealing its vulnerable core, a surge of hope rippled through the group.
"We've got it now! Strike while it's weak!" Barristan's voice boomed with authority, rallying his comrades to action.
Reynauld, his sword gleaming with determination, lunged forward. "For justice and victory!" he cried, his blade slicing through the air with deadly precision.
Junia, her faith unshaken, called upon the power of her divine magic. "May the Flame guide our hand in this final moment of triumph," she murmured, her healing spells intertwining with the group's relentless assault.
Paracelsus, her eyes ablaze with determination, hurled a vial of acidic potion at the weakened Collector. "Time to melt away this menace for good!" she exclaimed, her aim true as the potion splashed across the creature's form.
Together, they pressed their advantage, each strike ringing out like a bell tolling the end of a long and arduous battle. With every blow, the Collector's once-imposing form faltered, its strength draining away until, at last, it could no longer withstand the relentless onslaught.
As the final blow landed, delivered with a fierce determination that echoed the resolve of every member of the group, the Collector let out a haunting cry of defeat. Its form crumbled to dust, consumed by the echoes of its own demise, leaving behind only a faint whisper of its once-terrifying presence.
"ꁲ꒒ꀍꁲꁴꋪꏹꂡ  ꅐꀤ꒒꒒  ꄙꀤꋊꂡ ꁏꌈꋖ.  ꂖꁏꌈ  ꁲꋪꏹ  ꇃꁏꋊꂡꏹꂵꋊꏹꂡ  ꋖꁏ  ꁲ  ꄙꁲꋖꏹ  ꅐꁏꋪꌚꏹ  ꋖꀍꁲꋊ  ꂡꏹꁲꋖꀍ ꀤꋖꌚꏹ꒒ꄙ."