Undead Nemesis, Renewed Existence, After Life
Chapter 1: Ravaged Land
Lieutenant Garde sat on an upturned crate, planks full of moss and rot, tending to several ugly wounds.
"Damn this bloody war!" a general swore, glowering into his dried beef. "If they want us to fight some goddamned world turned to necromancy, at least they should give us food, not shit."
"You drinking the piss again, Legen?" his fellow general, Polin, asked, earning a chuckle from all. Legen was known for two things: for his ferocity and fearlessness in war, and his alcoholic addiction. Besides, wartimes were bad. Even the least bit of humour was greatly appreciated.
"How else did I survive all these weeks? Alcohol's good for the body. Gives you energy." Saying this, Major General Legen delivered a mixture of alcohol and half-digested food onto the grass, narrowly missing their campfire. The previous contents of the third-in-command's (or second, seeing how the captain of their squadron died from an infected Balrog bite) stomach were greeted with nothing more than another series of laughter from the bored soldiers and disdain from the unofficially-promoted first-in-command.
"Damn, I don't want to clean up your insides. God knows, we've been through countless of monster insides already," Linear Garde sighed. It was a sobering thought. The once highly respected world, Cassiopeia, had turned to necromancy and had allied itself with the dark beasts and fiends that roamed the world. Garde's squadron was merely one of the many that had been sent to annihilate as many of the monsters on Cassiopeia's side before dying. It seemed so pointless to be sent on a suicide mission to kill things that bred like bunnies.
As the regiment gathered around the flames, sinking into a short nap, Linear Garde, taking the night watch, remained on his crate, staring off into the distant background, occasionally sneaking glances at the only female in their group, Karina. She was an eyeful, he thought to himself. Then, his obligations re-asserted themselves and he dutifully returned to his task.
He surveyed the surroundings silently, taking in every detail: the flattened, crushed trees, the glowing stars, and the arced moon, so as to ensure that he would notice a change in the environment if need be. Obviously, he was resigned for a sudden attack.
Sure enough, as he immersed himself in the night symphony, a new sound joined the orchestra: that of a whole Balrog horde, trampling grass underfoot, grunting impatiently, and baying for blood.
His regiment's blood.
I I I
The crescent arc of the moon offered what little light it could to the land below it. It was an ominous sight, framed by circling vultures. Vultures, waiting for their feast of corpses.
A pool of blood glinted iridescently and the moonlight wavered upon reaching it as its surface was destroyed by moving soldiers and beasts alike. As Linear Garde flitted through the ranks of the Balrogs, the pool of blood seemed to expand.
High tide, he thought grimly, as another Balrog fell to a well-aimed swipe of his obsidian dagger. Then, as claws raked the area where he had been a split second ago, he whispered a soft incantation as he melded with the shadows, ducking beneath the rank, putrid blood.
Rising from beneath the blood ocean, he screamed, "Savage Blow!" As his dagger darted across his assailant's chest with both phenomenal speed and surgical precision, he watched the dark eyes of the Balrog fade away. Glancing back, he saw his fellow squadron. It seemed like they needed a little aid, Linear thought sardonically, judging by the stream of dark-winged abominations close to overpowering them.
"Avenger!" as he switched from a dagger to a claw, he gathered his mana and forced his Steelies to bond together as he hurled the enlarged star at the several Balrogs that threatened to encircle his friends. He was, in fact, a path-crosser; he had the abilities of both the bandit and assassin path. His prowess and skill (mainly wealth, actually, but he didn't like to admit that) had earned him that right.
"Urgh, my head hurts…" Legen complained, and after a mere few moments later, the sea of blood was tainted with green mush.
"My, you're certainly in the pink of health," Linear muttered, his sarcastic, biting words drawing some guffaws from the surrounding men. "By the way, you should get off your habit of drink-fighting, unless you've suddenly learned Drunken Boxing."
Then, amidst the loud, raucous laughter of the soldiers, the brief respite from the Balrog attack was gone, as a troop of angered Balrogs roared, menacingly baring their fangs.
The Balrogs seemed to realise that the lieutenant was the main threat, and they charged to him with only a sole purpose in their mind: kill. Garde, shocked, could only cast Dark Sight once more to escape the notice of these fiends.
"Damn it! I thought Balrogs were supposed to be dumb! Do they even have enough brainpower to identify a threat?" Linear muttered. Then, as his hawk-like eyes noticed a hooded figure behind all the Balrogs, he realised that he was generating the message to kill Linear Garde. As the sorcerer twirled his stave in a complicated manner, purple energy swirling around its tip, he shouted, "Reveal!"
Instantaneously, Linear's artificial shadow-melding disappeared, and he found himself stuck in this ugly predicament: stranded in the middle of a circle of drool-generating machines, with no space to shoot a Steely. As he rapidly drew his ebony-coloured dagger, he saw the light at the end of the tunnel.
Only to realise that it was a Balrog, hefting a muscled arm, summoning a dark sphere of necromantic energy.
He dived deep into the crimson liquid, a bitter, metallic taste clogging his throat. As he roughly gauged that he was out of the circle and back with his comrades, he rose, only to realise that he was standing directly behind the dark sorcerer, to his chagrin.
Two thoughts ran through his mind: "Damn, I need a better sense of direction" and then "I could kill this ass". He slowly approached the necromancer, only to trip over the concealed corpse of a Balrog. Falling with a rather deafening splash, he did what anyone would do in this situation.
He swore.
"Bloody hel-" His stream of profanities was abruptly cut off due to a strike on his back with the staff of the sorcerer. He felt his energy seeping away as the staff lingered on his back. Weakened, he could only rise and perform an uppercut with his trusty knife, but the necromancer dodged his blow with amazing deftness. As the commotion attracted the attention of several Balrogs, they charged over, beady eyes smoldering with a crimson fire of rage.
"I could use some help here!" Linear yelled, before the sorcerer started to cast a spell. Then, he drew some energy from the last vestiges of his mana pool, soared high above the dark sorcerer and, whether by accident or design, landed on a Balrog's head. Riding his new dark steed, the unskilled rider crashed into his ride's buddy, and all three landed in a sick mess of blood, most of it the two Balrogs'. His steed, skull all but crushed, died instantly. As the other Balrogs were too astounded to react, he took advantage of this short-lived chance to gulp a few mana elixirs, and as he wiped his mouth to clear the few drops on his chin, several Balrogs awoke from their daze and charged like mindless killers. Which they were, of course.
With no other option, he futilely hurled the empty flasks at his hostile antagonists. Although it was stunning, it hardly inflicted any damage, and the Balrogs grunted, irritated by the fruitless attack.
Casting a simple "Haste", Linear tried to dart between the furry beasts as a last resort. Fortunately, their reactions were too slow for his increased agility. On reaching his comrades, exhaustion overcame him and he clutched his knees for support, the mere effort used to stand becoming hard labour.
"Too… weak… can't… go on…" Garde managed to squeeze a whisper through his fatigue. As he watched his fellow soldiers charge bravely towards the incoming tide of brown, hideous furballs, he saw that dark sorcerer sneaking towards Karina, a dagger in his hands. Renewed with a sudden burst of energy, he dived behind her at the last second.
He felt something enter his body and leave. His world suddenly darkened, with dashes of crimson partially clouding his vision. Feeling sick, he turned his face to see Karina's loving and shocked expression. Just then, the agonizing pain came, and it worsened his sight. Dizzy, he stumbled around, and fell into the shrouds of darkness with joy.
At least, it was painless there.
I II
A/N: Quite a lot of dialogue here, forgive me.
"I think his rib is broken."
"Nah, but he sure has a lot of blood. I wonder if all of us do."
"Want me to stab you and see if you've as much blood as him?"
"No, but --- Wait, I think I saw his eyes flicker!"
And so they did. Linear Garde forced open his heavy eyelids, an iridescent mess of colours greeting him. Blinking once, he saw a room, with pristine white walls, two men, and a pile of what seemed like black rubbish. He could only suppose that was either medical equipment or rags.
"Hi, welcome to the world." Legen derided.
"How long have I been out?"
"About twenty days. Fine, just a couple of hours," Polin added hastily as Garde's eyes widened.
"We thought you died, by the way, there was so much blood."
Upon hearing this, Linear looked downwards.
A once-white sheet was stained with what seemed like gallons of red liquid. A wave of nausea swept over him, and he had only just managed to control his oesophagus.
"Are there any doctors here?" he asked, a fruitless attempt at getting some professional medical help, unlike the two madmen before him.
"This is a desolate god-knows-how-many-miles-away-from-civilization battlefield. Yeah, of course there will be doctors. I mean, why wouldn't doctors come to save the dying men so far away?" The sarcasm in Legen's voice was evident.
Just then, Linear noticed that he wasn't wearing his Black Garina, and was draped in some white robes.
"Who redressed me?"
"Er… me. Hey, don't look at me like that; would you rather it be me or Legen? Also, sorry, because I kind of nicked your back while slicing your previous garment up. I couldn't get you out of it," Polin hastily mumbled. Linear listened, with his face flushing red, then finally nodding. Then, as he glanced around the room, his eyes fell on the black heap, and realization dawned upon his slow-reacting mind.
"You tore up my Black Garina?" Rage rioted in the deep abyss of Linear's mind, furious blood boiling in his cheeks as he finally grasped the fact that that was his previous armor lying innocently in a corner, a black pile of crap.
"Well, it was necessary… at least we got some Blue Katinas to make up for it…"
Garde had no words to offer. In the end, the high tide of anger ebbed, and the red had left his cheeks. He sighed, casting his forlorn gaze at the remnants of the armor that he had bought for close to half a million mesos.
During Linear's moment of self-pity, his two trainee medical assistants surreptitiously stole out of the room, leaving an enraged and distraught soldier behind, cursing and swearing.
I II
A day later, the festering wound in Garde's back became infected. Alarmingly, it looked like the same incident which had happened to his preceding captain. He was consequently sent to the nearest medical base.
Every day was a torture. Every minute, every hour, it was all a dreadful nightmare filled with agony. Sometimes, he felt burning hot, like he was ablaze; sometimes, it was cold, the sharp dullness of the chill entering his convulsing body.
On one occasion, whilst in semi-consciousness, he overheard a conversation he was never meant to hear.
"His chances of survival are near zero. The necromancy on the weapon must have been powerful."
"So it's Loredan all over again."
Loredan. His previous leader.
"Most probably."
I II
The necromancy plagued his weak body, clogging up blood vessels and ravaging organs. He could hardly open his eyes now, and when he could, his world was in flashes of white and black.
"Will I live, doctor?" Linear rasped.
"Perhaps." The one-word reply filled Linear with fear, sorrow and melancholy.
"So, I won't?"
"Maybe."
The answers were delivered in deadpan manners. He never managed to get anything more than those.
All the while, fractured images ran through his mind, floating in the dark abyss within. His father, his friends, his brother…
He had to live on for them. He had to.
Everyday, he fought off the pain, clenching his fists and gnashing his teeth. Even as his knuckles whitened, his fingernails bit into flesh and his teeth drew blood, he did not give up. He did not let go.
He could not die.
I II
"Good news for you, Garde! We've found out how to cure you, damn it! This is a medical breakthrough!"
This statement awakened him, and he finally managed to smile after weeks of suffering. As he was wheeled into an operation room, he was filled with bliss. Escape from the pain was near.
As he forced down an anaesthesia pill, his world winked out, and his vision went blank. He felt nothing for an hour or so.
When he woke up, his world was not fissured, nor blurred, but was now totally clear. He felt fitter than ever before.
"Hail Linear Garde, the first survivor of necromantic wounds!" the doctor proclaimed as he saw Linear Garde getting up. The patient grinned in return. He supposed that made him a pioneer of sorts.
There was a training area for newly-recovered patients, and he frequented that area in the weeks leading up to his discharge date. He fought dummies, did aerobic exercise and joined brawls with other men. Due to his aptitude, he normally walked out of those tussles barely harmed.
When he was finally permitted, or perhaps condemned, to return to his battle camp, he was relieved to find out that none of his men had died. Yet.
"All bow down to the almighty man! The man who cheated death!" Legen declared mockingly.
"You forgot suave, lean and dashing!" Linear exclaimed teasingly.
"My, aren't we getting a little proud now? Don't tell me you got some haughtiness injected in you in the time you were away."
"Damn you, man, you're a blessed one," Polin cried. "You went before the gates of Hell and lived! The Devil must be pissed."
The reunion celebrations consisted mainly of the men hoisting Garde up on muscular shoulders, telling jokes and even a little liquor.
"I think Legen drank too much." The statement by Polin was, in fact, very true. His face was scarlet and he was stumbling around, hardly able to see straight.
Linear looked once. "Oh, he's gonna have a bad, bad hangover." He smirked.
I II
Four days after Linear rejoined his tiny platoon, they faced another brutal assault. This time, four men died, and their group dwindled down to five men. Five men, who were probably about to join their fallen comrades in Heaven or Hell.
That very day, while the grieving men and a woman were burying their departed friends, a messenger arrived on a horse.
"May I have your attention?" the messenger asked timidly. The five sorrowful men nodded grimly.
"The Kings of the Allied Worlds have decreed for Loredan Pinoi's troops to launch an attack on the betrayer's castle. They believe that said man's squadron is one of the most powerful, and shall merge with others to form an attack party. Since the castle is now rather undefended, this is the time to strike."
"Loredan died." The short answer shocked the messenger so badly that he nearly fell from his horse.
"Well, then, the Lieutenant, Linear Garde, shall take over as acting captain."
"We treated it so already."
Embarrassed blood rushed to the horse-rider's face, and he mumbled some instructions before he left on his horse.
"Well, men, we have been assigned a suicide mission."
I II
As the various regiments gathered before the Kings in the Aquilian castle, one could see that all the faces held solemn and bleak expressions. They all looked at each other, knowing that there was little chance that each other would survive. All hope was lost for these men.
The Aquilian King briefed the grouped soldiers on their mission, and as the hot, sweaty fighters were grumbling and complaining, a scout came back.
Dread filled Linear's heart. The mission was about to begin.
"I, as the King of Aquila, now command you to raze the castle of my disloyal brother!"
The contingent of about a hundred men now moved across the dead lands, riding valuable horses for speed. The thieves in the party cast Haste, speeding up their movement across the hundreds of miles.
Five hours later, the men unsheathed swords, stringed bows, loaded guns and drew daggers. The castle loomed before them now, and they left their horses behind in a small clearing, not bothering to tether them for the men themselves might not even survive.
Deformed gargoyles of obsidian stood on pillars beside the entrance, fingers curled and outstretched, a clear warning to travelers. Made of dark marble and engraved with several necromantic incantations, the castle was a formidable sight. That was enough, but the fact that the castle itself was hovering was even more terrifying. It was terrifying enough to send chills of apprehension down Linear's spine, at any rate.
While they were approaching the towering fortress, the twin gargoyles sprang to life, pouncing from high above and clawing through the air. The sonic swishes seemed to slice through the distance and formed scars on the chests of some. Those unfortunate people fell to the ground, energy and life being sapped away.
The cacophony of the raging battle rent the once-sweet silence of the night, silencing fluting birds and chirping crickets. All of this was surveyed by the bloodthirsty Cassiopean King, sneering at his enemies' futile efforts.
"So… the three Kings won't come to fight me, because of that brotherly oath? I'll break it for them some day!"
He, complacent as ever, sat jauntily on an armchair, enjoying the mêlée below like how one would enjoy a violent movie. Anyway, it was a bloody thriller to him.
When he saw five men sneaking into the castle, their backs guarded by their companions, his smile broadened.
The man wearing a set of second-hand Blue Katinas swore as one of the gargoyles swiped his shoulder. "Damn, my old armor was much better. Legen, screw you."
The five path-crossers journeyed through the perilous maze, Legen at the front with his Fairfrozen, and Linear at the back, wielding his twin daggers. At every corner, the Pirate in their team shot a ricocheting bullet to be safe, and on the third turn, they were not attacked by anything behind the walls, but something underground.
A black arm, swathed in equally black robes, rose from the earth, grabbing the leg of Legen. Cursing, he lunged wildly with his spear, and missed. That did not matter, though.
"Arctic Release!" A thin fissure spread over the marble tiles, creeping over the arm and freezing it momentarily. Tugging hard, Legen inadvertently removed arm from owner. A bloodcurdling howl erupted, loosening some pillars from their supports.
"Oh shit."
The platform above them creaked alarmingly, and the Magician in their party was barely competent enough to hold it up.
"You all have about ten seconds. Venture up! The whole castle won't topple, don't worry!" His staff crackled with bursts of energy as the stone threatened to crush them. Without any further hesitation, Legen led the rest of them up a nearby stairwell, and two flights later, they looked down.
They saw nothing but broken tiles and furniture.
Pity and respect rose in Linear's heart, for this man he hardly knew sacrificed his life to save the rest of them. He saw the Pirate's tears streak down her face. Presumably, they were lovers. His own eyes stung too, but he hardened himself and continued on.
Before long, they reached the top level, where their target probably was. A dark portal separated the hallway they were in and a throne room.
Karina, the archer, examined the portal.
"Sick," she murmured, when she figured out how the portal worked.
A life for an entry.
The Pirate gave herself up. "Anyway, this way, I can be with Nimbus once more…"
As she stood before the sinister portal, the sacrifice was made, and the dark veils unraveled.
"I'll go. Don't make any more sacrifices for a second admission. It's pointless. Go and help out the others below, then tell the Kings what happened. Karina, I love you," Linear whispered. He swiveled his head as he stepped through the innocent-looking doorway, and saw something glinting on Karina's face.
Then, his own tearstained face disappeared behind the dark barrier.
I II
Linear saw a screaming man clutching a hole in his shoulder. His manifestation of wrath was a glare in Garde's direction.
"Stay back, slave." The King of Cassiopeia held out a hand, whilst resting on his chair.
"Would you like to join me for a cup of tea? Things like these are best settled over a coffee table," he smirked. He gestured towards the other seat before him, then raised up his staff at abnormal speeds when a Steely flew towards him in reply.
"Now, now, don't get angry. You don't want to face the punishment," a tinge of annoyance now permeated the condescending tone of his. When yet another Steely flitted across the room, he finally stood up wearily.
"You forced me to do this."
The Cassiopean King encased him and his opponent in a dark sphere. "Now, we shall fight." His last word was delivered mockingly, as if he felt that the fight would not last long.
Linear's foe drew a dark, glittering blade. Get in close when you have the shorter weapon. That was a lesson drummed in during his bandit training, and had proved useful on many occasions. With a Flash Jump, he landed behind the king and his dagger bit into flesh.
"Sneaky!" With that proclamation, the King swept around and thrust deep into Linear's left arm. Fighting the pain, Linear realised that his adversary had now rendered his other dagger useless. Cramming the daggers in the sheaths hung at his waist, he wore a claw on his right arm instead and hurled three Hwabis. As he was fighting alongside his shadow, the effect was doubled and six flying objects hurtled in the direction of his enemy.
Two landed on their mark: the unprotected neck. With an anguished cry, the King's hand went to his neck, and he sank onto the floor.
"Mercy!"
Linear, now growing smug, sauntered over to the fallen man, dagger in hand.
Said fallen man disappeared into thin air.
"I suppose doppelgangers are new to you."
Turning around on the balls of his feet, Linear was just in time to see his death plunging into him, in the form of a necromantic orb.
For a moment, it briefly illuminated the ravaged land before him: the blood, the gore, the wounded men, the beasts.
Then, it was over.
I II
Death certificates were signed. Tears were wept. But war was war, and life had to go on.
Death certificates were kept. Tears were wiped. Life went on normally.
He was just another man in the death count, after all.
Just another man.
Author's Note:
Finally! I've got myself another non-oneshot story. It might turn out to be an epic fail, like The Flaming Ascension, but, meh.
Because of the giveaway title, you all will probably know what's going to happen next. But not the whole story, so too bad.
Sorry if I refer to Linear's whole group as men, although there's Karina. I kind of added her last minute when I realised that a little romance might do some good.
The acronym for the title, UNREAL, was intentional.