Elessar Lore
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9 — Cleanse
🕑 Added 2024-03-26 15:43:34 +0000 UTC“...while I try to chronicle all that I can about the rarer Class-requirements and Skill Paths I come across, it is only inevitable that the more secretive ones evade detail. This next one is no exception to that trend. After the fall of the evasive Stonedance Clan on Ovsha centuries past, too many of their secrets died with them—and even had they not, I doubt my speculations on the matter will help many accomplish what they did.
As it so happens, the [Blacksmith-Warrior] Skill Path method used by the Clan has actually been pieced together for centuries now. Therefore the barrier for replication in this case lies not with that, but with an additional unknown Class-requirement. That is all that can be drawn from the matter in confidence.
Now, please understand that I am about to engage in an unprofessional amount of speculation, such that this anthology will likely never see the light of day. And understand that were I not to there’d be little point in me writing it to begin with. But I have studied countless historical texts in my time, and even talked to a long distant descendent of the eradicated clan. And I believe I know what that Class-requirement is.
Not a whole lot is known about the Stonedance Clan, but from what little is, they were thought to be Smiths before Warriors. A tame people that preferred the hammer over the sword—except for when they had little choice otherwise—then, they were said to dance with their pieces like they weren’t mere weapons but partners in performance. They were not a people known to shy from bloodshed. In fact, they had a very high rate of death amongst their young.
Abnormally high.
To wield the brush as if it were your limb, it is thought that an artist must be born with one in their grip. I believe that this is no different. And I believe the clan forewent the common practice of having a guide help level them towards fifteen. Here, you will see what I mean when I say knowledge on this method may do little good. My speculation is this:
To achieve the [Blacksmith-Warrior] Class one must not only acquire the proper balance of Blacksmith and Warrior skills, but they must also craft their own weapon, and from there, acquire the majority of their Essence towards Class-equip through its singular use.”
An unnamed, unauthored text. Anonymously stolen from the restricted section of the Imperial Libraries on Uern.
***
The white moon reflected scarlet off Alex’s blood-stained blade as he leveled it at the horde of townsfolk.
Next to him, a pitch-fork-wielding undead looked down in confusion, as if wondering why he couldn’t move the arm lying at his feet. That look disappeared as his head posthumously slid from his neck.
3 Undead Townsfolk have been Cleansed!
+ 90 Essence Crystals
+3 Points
2 Undead Adventurers have been Cleansed!
+200 Essence Crystals
+6 Points
Progress towards next reward: [11/15 Points]
“What,” Alex mocked, “Is that all you got?”
He ran his mouth, but inwardly, his mind raced to get an accurate read of his enemies. He gave up on an exact count rather quickly and started estimating by groups of dozens. It seemed his presence had practically summoned the whole town here, like piranhas who swarm to finish whatever the sharks let through to calm waters.
They filled the overgrown clearing in front of the smithy, filing into the alleyways and homes of the nearest buildings. He counted up to two-hundred before his mind gave up.
And yet, for all that they outnumbered him, no one made to attack.
“Oi, what are you fuckers doing? Is he dead yet?!” Someone shouted.
“No, he’s just standing there! Ain’t even a scratch on him!”
“Then fuck the draw! If the bastards up front are gonna be such wusses let me go at him!”
Vulgarities were being shouted by those too far back to see, but the frontline wasn’t budging. For creatures that were used to casually walking off dismemberment, the ease of their comerade’s deaths made them cautious now; the closest of them backing warily away from his sword like they ought to be the ones terrified of him.
Disappointing. He’d been hoping a few more would’ve rushed him, enough to get him his first reward. But he also couldn’t blame them.
Undead were not used to fearing death—not true death anyway.
Sure, with enough damage their bones might crumble to ash, but he doubted that would be the end for them. The system wasn’t above reusing assets and he’d looked it up in records after the Integration; this wasn’t the first time Nightmare had been used as a tutorial world, only the last. As long as their souls were still intact it would be easy enough to just resurrect them for next time, or so they probably thought.
But the ones dead as dust at his feet? No, they wouldn’t be coming back.
“Alright then!” Alex ordered, “Here’s how we're gonna do this! You lot over there, you’re going to clear me a path! And the first fools who try to—”
“No!”
Alex stopped and pivoted to point his blade at the one who stepped forwards.
So he speaks.
He’d already taken note of the man during his count, and he now recognized him as the Adventurer who had entered the Guild with them earlier that day. He was a broad, muscular man with a mohawk and more than just a little flesh left on his bones.
[Lugrin - Lvl 11]
Captain-rank Undead
“A Captain eh? Ten points is a whole lot for an oversized fleshbag!” Alex shouted.
Unfortunately the Adventurer didn’t budge at his provocation. He just grinned, a cold, hard thing.
“Guess he was right to be wary of you,” he said. Then instead of becoming enraged and charging him, he walked back towards the frontline, ripped the spine out of the nearest undead, and bellowed.
“You louts scared of a little baptism or something?!”
Four more Adventurers stepped out then, reinforcing the threat and Alex saw a new look of determination on the sea of skulls. Something in the way they edged cautiously forward told him they wouldn’t be politely lining up one by one for him anymore.
This was already going nothing like he hoped.
“This is your last warning,” he growled.
It was a low, deep thing. Gravely and guttural like a wolf with its maw twisted in a sneer. Some of them faltered at that—up until another of them fell prey to their Captain’s wrath. And by then, Alex had already made up his mind.
He slid his blade back into his belt loop, turned, and ducked back into the smithy.
The eleven point increase in strength hadn’t turned him into the hulk overnight, but it did make the exchange a little less awkward as he drew the wooden doors shut and latched them. They just stared in momentary stupor as he did it.
Hah, who was I kidding? ‘Last warning’ my ass.
No sooner than he had the thought did the first pitchfork splinter through wood.
The plan was never to face them head on.
Sure, he’d squeeze their arrogance for all it was worth, but he always intended to dip at the first sign of danger. In fact, the back window was already open for escape, not that it had any pane to begin with.
It’s just, the thing was, he’d thought their arrogance would’ve been worth a little more.
He’d nearly emptied his mana pool with that forging and the first fifteen-percent was always a hell to get back without a mana potion. Which he would’ve gotten if only four more of the idiots decided to rush him.
There just had to be one with some wits on them. Curse my fate.
The crunch of wood dragged him from his thoughts as a woodsman’s stone ax lodged itself into the door. By the second it was looking less like a door and more like a collection of makeshift weapons held together by wood. There were grunts and expletive heaving as the hoard rammed against it like a battering ram. It was thick but it would hold out much longer.
They were all Townsfolk but, poorly armed or not, the most dangerous thing about an undead horde was that it was a horde. If there could be no psychological leverage with the creatures then he had no business facing them head on.
And yet for some reason, Alex still hadn’t left. He just stood there, a few paces from the door.
…perhaps I’m giving them too much credit.
The thought took him by surprise, but the longer it took them to break down that door the more he thought it might be valid.
He’d been here before, been run ragged by these very same undead. He’d received his first scars here, and even outside of Nightmare Alex had faced numbers like these and had known the consequences.
But these weren’t the monsters he was used to, not anymore.
It was funny. He’d been weak for so long that he’d forgotten something that might’ve been important. Forgotten that, as weak as he may be, those creatures out there… they were all weaker than him now.
He drew his blade again, looking down the deep slant of its curve.
There was a curious glint there on its surface, as if it were asking what he might do with it. As if it were hoping for a veryspecific answer to that question.
“Alright then,” he decided, “Let’s see what you can do.”
Alex stopped and turned to face the axe-battered door. His stance was low, knees bent, back foot pivoted for support. He leveled his sword, holding it at a slightly upward angle so its tip pointed forward at the door—he had one hand on the hilt, the other folded neatly behind his back.
He closed his eyes.
Somehow, he could actually feel his sword.
He could tell exactly how level it was to the ground, and exactly how far it extended from his grip. He normally didn’t have as strong a sense of these things on the first date, but he knew her dimensions sword-point to pommel and that allowed for maneuvers he might’ve struggled with otherwise.
She wasn’t a thing for jabbing, but that wasn’t for lack of a sharp tip.
She?
He focused deeper, looking inwards towards his soul. It flared indignantly like a sun.
Essence tethers Strength to the soul, and the soul to its body. And in doing so… lines a path for mana to follow.
He reached out for that sun but his arcane senses moved so clumsily, so slowly, like there was some source of hesitation holding them back. They grasped nothing.
“Oh fuck it, you louts are useless! I’ll just open the damn thing myself!”
There was a heavy thud outside, but Alex paid it no mind. He reached out again and he realized that hesitation had belonged to him. His sword on the other hand seemed to tremor as if it might fly from his grip, and it scared him. He tried to fight it, to limit the flow of mana, but his arcane senses edged languidly towards his soul regardless, undeterred, excited.
They found purchase.
There was a shallow hazy flow on the sun’s exterior, intangible but for its subtle heat. He drew it along his body’s pathways and with a rough sizzle it bubbled up through his chest, traveled the span of his arms, into his sword and—before he knew it he was already moving.
A large-framed Undead barreled through the door then, and in his fleshless eyes Alex saw fear.
Then all blurred in swift movement as he lunged forward.
You have learned a new skill!
[Pierce]
The Undead just stood there, looking down at the sword embedded in his armor in confusion as the world settled. It was just the tip of his blade. A thin thing, like the slightest prick of a rose’s thorn where the undead’s heart would’ve been.
For a second he seemed like he would simply shrug it off. And if it were any other sword Alex was certain he would’ve, but instead he toppled over, lifeless.
Undead Captain Lugrin has been Cleansed!
+500 Essence
+10 points
Alex just stared at his hand for a second, his quiver uncontrollable. It was only him shaking now, his sword had gone completely still. Still and silent.
It’s content, he realized.
And why wouldn’t it be? It had just consumed his entire mana pool! He was down to 1% now, and he was pretty sure that was an overestimation on the System’s behalf.
Wait… what the hell is ‘content’ supposed to–
You have reached the 15 Point Quota for your first reward. Please choose—
Mana Potion has been received.
Alex didn’t have time to dwell on the matter.
Before the undead could adjust to their officer’s death, he quickly leapt out the back window and ducked behind the cobble. He scrambled to uncork the lid and quickly drank the blue liquid down before disappearing into a shroud of [Stealth].
It tasted how it looked—like Kool-aid.
***
The memory of that night was so old, and yet so fresh in Alex’s mind. His breath had come panting and heavy, and his sprint had made him all too aware of the thin-ness of skin holding all his jumbling bones together.
He’d been running down the town’s twisting streets and alleyways in the dark, seemingly at random. Turns and hiding spots were decided by the scrapes and shouts of undead rather than any sense of navigation. Shadows flitted and fled from the torchlight of his pursuers, and that told him when it was time to move again. There’d been three others with him when they’d emerged from the underground tunnels and he was the slowest of them.
There’d used to be a fifth.
Alex wasn’t sure how it had happened. He could no longer remember, but before long he’d found himself separated. It’d taken all he had not to shout for help, and when a shaded figure had come back for him anyway he’d felt so relieved he could cry.
At least, up until he’d unmasked himself from the shadows and swung his knife at his eye.
Now, the shadows shifted again, but a different man stepped out.
He was tall but no longer so gaunt. Ethereal, like he was not entirely of this realm—but not so spectral that the undead didn’t cower at what his sword would do. He looked tired, exhausted, but it was not a look that reflected in his eyes. And when he swung his wicked, curved blade, there was only a predatory fire in his gaze.
As for the blade itself… they had no time to fear it before they tasted the sweet release of death.
2 Undead Townsfolk have been Cleansed!
+ 60 Essence Crystals
+2 Points
Progress towards next reward: [27/30 Points]
Alex didn’t let the undead clatter noisily to the ground, but he didn’t hide their corpses either. It would take only seconds for the unit that passed by earlier to realize they had stragglers, and when they found a pile of bones or dust in this alleyway, they would follow it South, believing he was headed towards the main gates. The ones they had come through on the way in.
He wasn’t.
He cleaved his shamshir blade through the lock of a house’s side door. And, knowing they wouldn’t notice the damage in this dark, walked in, walked up, and set the top floor window ajar its hinges so he could hear better.
“Shit, two more—fuck! You, Go tell the Captains, the rest follow me! We’re right on his tail!”
It was an Adventurer who spoke now. Alex noted that he said ‘Captains’ with a plural. They’d been quick to replace the one he’d killed earlier, but it seemed the havoc he’d been wreaking thus far from the shadows was enough to warrant a second.
He also took note of the lone towns-man he’d ordered to his bidding. He noted which direction he went, what route he took, and eventually decided the message he was bringing was worth more to him than the single point he’d get from picking him off.
He stayed close to the shadows as torchlight peered in briefly from below, and then his eyes settled on a seemingly random patch of dark in the distance. Random, at least, if you hadn’t been there before.
The house on that corner had a wine cellar that connected to the underground tunnels, but his eyes caught no movement at its entrance.
Not yet huh.
He frowned. His recollection of that night was hazy. He didn’t remember how long it had taken for them to escape in his first life, but it’d already been…
[14:37]
…right, about fifteen minutes since the Scenario started. He’d started a timer immediately and he hadn’t seen heads or tails of anyone else since then.
Those tunnels hadn’t been empty of threats, but he also hadn’t been an asset to those he’d escaped with. Hell, he thought they might’ve actually gotten out a little faster without him.
An ugly hunch was starting to bubble in his gut, telling him that no one would surface this time. But he’d never been much of an optimist so that didn’t say much. And whether Jun was with them or not, the ones that had caught on to the sedation had been far from useless last time. They would be good cards.
Gloomy wasn’t a good card. And he wasn’t comfortable taking her into battle either, but for her sake he hoped she made it out as well.
Regardless, the further he drew the undead away from their path of exit—the more cards he had—the better his odds.
And it wasn’t like he minded wreaking havoc in the meantime.
[15:49]
Alright, time to move.
Alex took one last look at the layout of the town. It crested an uneven hill, with the Guild Hall, the center plaza, and a large manor that had to have been the Mayor’s, on a rise near the northern end.
It meant that those he’d sent down South would have to fight uphill on the return, which was good. But it also meant that those further North had a leg up on him and a better view to boot.
[Half-Dead Persistence] has been Activated. Stamina consumption has been decreased.
Stamina: 22%
He crept between thankfully-tight buildings, ducking low when an orange glaze whizzed past his head. Then he slid up to a window and his pommel broke the glass with a soft shatter.
The door had been unlocked.
Which he already knew of course, but he couldn’t count on all his pursuers to be carrying lit torches to identify them by and he’d much rather know ahead of time if he’d be walking into danger.
The wood was old. It creaked too much, and was audible even to those outside if you stepped in the wrong spots.
Those characteristics were uniform across all the buildings he’d visited and it really drove home just how engineered this whole thing was. The horde, for all their numbers, were less than what the populace of this town should’ve been, and largely congregated around the center where the Plaza was. The further out you went the easier it was to slip between them unnoticed, the easier it was to pick them off unseen.
That was how this scenario was balanced.
But that also wasn’t his mission right now, so he didn’t bother cloaking his presence when he swung the house’s front door open. It led out onto one of the Town’s main streets and he walked down the front steps casually, even as he was spotted.
The fire end of a torch swung near him and Alex punched the undead in the face on reflex.
Gangly teeth splintered and fell from the undead’s mouth as he spun backwards onto the ground.
Alex took the torch gratefully, vanishing it into his inventory in its lit state—though too much rotten flesh and cartilage had broken beneath his fist for him to feel entirely comfortable with the act.
His sword also seemed… displeased, so he slit the next one’s throat.
An Undead Townsfolk has been Cleansed!
+30 Essence Crystals
+1 Point
There were three remaining now—all townsfolk—and Alex had just lost his initiative.
A pitchfork swung near his face and he’d been about to take it on the flat of his blade like he would’ve with Lys. Then he thought better of it, barely pulling his blade back in time.
He dodged, but it was a clumsy, sluggish thing. It whizzed past his cheek with the kind of rusted edge that would give a man tetanus. Alex’s arms were starting to feel like lead but he swung his sword up anyway, her enthusiasm carrying him through the motion.
“Aggghh–!”
The undead screamed out in pain and his pitchfork made a sharp clang in the night as it clattered. Torches up and down the road stopped moving at the sound.
Alex didn’t.
2 Undead Townsfolk have been Cleansed!
+60 Essence Crystals
+2 Points
He looked down distastefully at the undead he’d punched earlier. He was still there, quivering like a lost puppy before a wolf. His legs didn’t seem to be working—though Alex knew that was impossible, anatomically speaking.
“Yo-you…please… spare..me--”
“Sure,” he said.
And he meant it. Alex turned and left in the direction he wanted to be seen going. And after a few twists and turns he looked back to find he'd been given chase by a quickly growing mob of undead. Shouts and the bloodthirsty gnashing of teeth chorused behind him.
It was almost too easy.
He led them around the nose for a few minutes, legs pumping as he gathered enough search groups to keep the momentum of the chase going without him. He led them further down hill, Southward. Then, as soon as he managed to get out of view, he swerved onto another backroad, heading back the way he came.
He panted. His breath felt heavier than it should with his stats and no Attribute would change the fact that it would only get worse as his stamina lowered. This was as far South as he’d risk being seen, otherwise the return trip up north would be too much of a trekk. If the others still got caught during their escape then that was on them.
Alex ducked beneath the shadows of river crossing as boots showered overhead on the canal bridge. He cut his breath and put a finger to his pulse, counting the seconds until his heartbeat lowered.
You have reached the 30 Point Quota for your Second reward. Advance access to the Item shop has been granted. Please choose a weapon up to 5,000 EC in value.
A weapon…
He swept the notification away. It was a priceless reward, sure, but it’d been sent to entirely the wrong man. At least for this night, there was nothing in there that would be better than his Shamshir blade.
Even with her… defects.
His fingers trailed across her surface and he restrained his displeasure to a silent grimace when they found something a hair’s breadth deeper than a mere scratch.
Soul Link has been damaged. HP cannot be restored above 98%.
And this was the reason his Master would’ve slugged him for what he’d done.
See, people didn’t just casually Soul-Bond with weapons. Or with rocks, or anything without a soul for that matter. It simply wasn’t done. Soul Bonds weren’t just some kind of overcomplicated Essence binding, they were an agreement—one that touched further than just the soul, contrary to the name.
Of course, the details of the process varied on circumstance. Depending on whether it was Summoner doing one, a Beast Tamer, or even some sort of Witch, but they were never made in light in any case. Enacting a Soul Bond linked one's fates to one another—and while that was rarely to the extent of “in sickness and in health”, there were always some drawbacks to the arrangement.
Now, the problem with Soul bonding with something that had no soul was that you couldn’t really haggle down from that “in sickness and in health” part. You could only establish the bond on its most integral level.
Which, unfortunately, meant there’d be no “Till death do us part” for them either.
Alex sighed. Not even a health potion would take his health past that 98th percentile anymore, but at least he wouldn’t actively be taking on damage whenever his blade chipped either. And as long as that stayed the case, a mere 5,000 EC wasn’t enough for him to shell her out.
Her [Cleanse] trait was too invaluable tonight.
Just for tonight. Once tonight ends… I’ll…
His thoughts tapered off into blurry darkness. His sword was cold on his lap, but light. Too light. But something gave him the feeling that he shouldn’t finish that thought.
That was fine, it was becoming difficult to think.
His eyes fought not to close.
Stamina: 17%
He winced, then shook himself out of it. When your stamina began to tick down even from inactivity, that’s when you knew you were past the point of rest breaks and had to just push through it.
Frankly, he was getting tired of having this problem. So it was thankful that there was an easy fix.
Progress towards next reward: [30/50 Points]
Well, maybe not an ‘easy’ fix.
The distant echo of footsteps turned Alex’s attention back on the problem. He glanced at the water’s surface.
It was a shallow, murky body of water, but reflective enough under the moonlight. There were five torchlights that he could see downriver within the span of about 100 yards or so—all equally spaced to each side and not patrolling in any organized or discernable patterns.
And upriver?
There were fewer in that direction. Their movements were still disorganized—suggesting they weren’t Adventurers—but at least one of the groups was heading South along the river bank. He’d put it at about a minute before their paths crossed. They would notice him at their angle, stealth or not.
So they still think I’m down South.
That was good. But the fact that their investments in the search down there had slowed was not.
He’d put some distance between where he’d hid now and where he’d been spotted, but it’d been hard to shake his pursuers without raising suspicion and he wasn’t as far North as he’d like to be.
Time was ticking.
It wouldn’t be long now before all those goons he’d sent on a wild goose-chase either got bored or forgot about him. And the only thing worse than trekking an uphill battle was doing so with enemies at your back.
The torch-light was quickly approaching his position. He gripped his Shamshir blade by the leathers he’d hastily wrapped around her tang in place of a proper grip.
Should I give them a reminder I’m still here?
This time he meant the kind of reminder that didn’t leave witnesses.
His sword’s aura grew responsive again at the prospect of killing—or cleansing. But he looked at his stamina bar and decided against it. There was no guarantee that they hadn’t started patrolling in larger groups since he’d begun picking them off, which would be problematic enough given his condition.
And if they hadn’t?
Then it seemed doubtful he’d get the points he needed before his Stamina dipped too low. Not if he had to set up three or four ambushes to get there. That approach had run its course. Picking at the weaklings wasn’t going to do it anymore.
Time for a shift in strategy then.
Time, he supposed, to check up on his cards.
The torchlight quickly closed in, skipping along the river surface’s ripples. Alex flexed his legs to get blood flowing beneath his veins and by the time his position was discovered, he’d already vanished.
Stealth has leveled up!
Stealth is now Level 13.
Progress towards Apprentice rank: 65%
There was a certain sort of empowerment to be had in whittling away at forces greater than yourself. A sharp clarity that came from playing at the knife’s edge, but if you weren’t careful it could cut both ways.
Alex moved further into the town, conserving mana when he could and letting the potion’s effects regenerate his reserves.
Boots clacked on stone tiles all around him. The undead were scouring the back alleys where he’d been only seconds before. Another group cut off his route by happenstance, forcing him to make a quick adjustment.
He hung from the ledge of a roof now. His muscles burned but his grip wasn’t in danger of giving out. He had a clear view now of the cellar building he’d escaped from all those years ago.
[25:09]
Alex’s heart beat faster in exertion. There was a distinct difference between his dangersense trait and the gut feelings he got sometimes. The latter wasn’t anything magical or certain, just the manifestation of his pessimistic outlook on life, but that didn’t stop him from trusting it.
Something’s gone wrong.
The night was silent. Much too silent. That bad feeling from earlier ramped up in intensity.
They should’ve surfaced by now. His memory of this night was shaky in his recollection but he knew that much with certainty. This was playing out differently from before.
But why? What the fuck did I do to cause something like this??
He didn’t know. Something miniscule perhaps, the butterfly effect. It was a useless thing to spin his mind on. He hadn’t known the future the first time, so what if he didn’t now? Or at least that’s what he’d normally say…
Stamina: 13%
Alex’s darkening thoughts were cut off by the sound of the rush of footstops. They came to a sudden stop in the alleyway beneath him.
“Goddammit!” an undead barked, “You lot go that way! The rest of you head down the other street! I want you raiding allthe houses! Figure out where he’s hiding!”
The sounds picked up again and Alex’s gaze returned below him… to the Adventurer who stood just a little beneath where his feet dangled. His men all followed his commands, leaving him... alone.
[Undead Adventurer - Lvl 6] has been slain!
+100 Essence Crystals
+3 points
Alex landed in a crouch where the pile of bones and armor collapsed beneath his feet. He ripped his sword out from the crown of the dissipating skull in an awkward curved arc.
Any insecurity he’d had about how he matched up to these mobs had long since vanished. They weren’t a problem---or at least they wouldn’t be, were he in peak condition.
The very first squad Alex had led had been a stealth unit, subterfuge and whittling at enemy numbers was right up his wheelhouse. But these grunts weren't the prize of the scenario, the Boss was. And for that he needed allies, a proper party.
He looked back in the direction of the cellar, knowing full well it would be useless to check now. If the others hadn’t already surfaced by now then they weren’t going to.
Again, he thought.
Alex grit his teeth. He’d been in this position far too many times for his liking, and he could feel those memories bleeding into his thoughts. He was the last one again. It was only him remaining.
Four capable people–
Four cards. He was down the hand he’d been counting on, that was what really mattered here. And it wasn’t a good statistic either. If he survived too many Scenarios alone, the constellations might take notice earlier than he wanted.
This doesn’t necessarily mean they’re dead, he reminded himself.
It wasn’t hope, just cold calculation.
Regardless, if they were still in the Guild’s hold then they were useless to him now.
It was funny now that he thought of it, how knowing the “future” had screwed him over so bad. It was so much worse to be certain of a thing only for it to not happen, rather than to go in prepared for anything that might throw a plan awry.
It’d been his mistake. He should’ve already known he was the only one he could rely on.
No such carelessness from here out.
Grimacing, Alex bent down to sift through the ashy remains of the Undead Adventurer. There wasn’t noteworthy… gear that either didn’t fit or was worse than his, a core that was useless to him, the spare bone or two for alchemy ingredients but nothing smith-grade.
Nothing that could help him at the moment.
He hid the corpse this time, and as the cacophony of footsteps returned he ducked out of view.
“The fuck, where’s Thomas?!”
“Shit, I don’t know. Maybe he went back to relay orders?”
“Right, you really think he went back to the Captains right after leaving?”
“I said ‘I didn’t fuckin know’! If you’re gonna be a little shit about it, why don’t we go back and check? Eh?! ever thought about that, Bronson?!”
Alex waited for the pair to finish their bickering, watching as they led a squad of a dozen or so Townsfolk back from where they’d come. He’d been right about them traveling in higher numbers since he’d started ambushing them.
That was the pain of dealing with the undead. They weren’t all smart or all dumb, they were never just one thing. They were just as varied as the living, just different. It made them unpredictable.
And dangerous.
Guess my strategy will need more shifting than I thought.
That was fine. There was an inkling of an idea starting to form in his mind, he just needed to check on a few things first, work out all the details.
He stepped out from where he’d been hiding and entered one of the house’s the undead had checked.
Syste–
Alex froze. Drew his sword.
He wasn’t alone in here. But… as he squinted his eyes the sight greeting him wasn’t quite what he expected either.
In the corner of the room was a female undead. Her hair was white and patchy from her cracked skull, but he still recognized her as the woman who had given them flowers when they’d first entered the gate.
She had surprise written into her featureless face as she growled defensively as she shielded a young, undead child. Alex approached slowly, his sword’s crescent point thrumming softly, and in his mind a memory replayed itself—the kind you never forget.
“Do you know why you always need a cleric against the undead?” The priestess had asked him.
He’d frowned at the question.
“Of course. Holy-aspected attacks prevent them from rising back up. They aren’t impervious to normal attacks, but anything short of a severed head or shattered core won’t do. Plus, depending on the stat optimization—”
Laura had shut him up by that point—with a kiss if his memory served him well.
He pushed the thought away now, stepping carefully until he hovered the Undead pair. He poised his blade for a clean strike, and as he saw the fear in their empty sockets he repeated what she had told him the day she’d died.
“It’s a mercy,” he said.
Trait Activated: [Cleanse]
***
Hey! This is the first advanced chapter, I'm working on adding more quickly so you can expect to see more really soon! In the mean time, here's one more fluff pic. I call this one "Perch".
Comments
Elessar Beverly
yes that! I totally did lol
LSmurfyL
Doot!
Brandon Baier
Did you mean tetanus instead of tinnitus?
