Eternal Rest

On the upper floor of the Adventurer's Guild, within a lavishly decorated room adorned with navy blue curtains and a red carpet covering the polished wooden floor, a man sat behind an exquisite handcrafted office desk. In his hand, he held a report delivered by one of his informants from the criminal organization operating in Westbrook. The man sported neatly combed blue hair and a pair of piercing blue eyes that seemed capable of freezing anyone who met his gaze in their thoughts. He held the esteemed position of guild leader at the Westbrook branch of the Adventurer's Guild and was the highest-ranking adventurer in the area.

“Is this true?” He inquired, his gaze fixed on the woman seated across his desk.

“Hm? Sorry, I wasn't paying attention,” came the soft, high-pitched reply.

A hint of annoyance flickered across his face, but he refrained from voicing his complaint.

“I asked if the report was accurate. Does Guntar truly have connections to the undead army, which is reportedly marching toward the capital?” he reiterated to the vice-leader of the guild—a young woman clad in chainmail armor, adorned with the guild's silver badge on her cape, with a rapier and shield at her side.

“Guntar has what now? I haven't had a chance to read the report!” she responded meekly.

“You...haven't read it yet? Then why are you here, Belle?” he questioned.

She gulped nervously. The use of her nickname by the guild leader signaled his agitation, whether he was angry, irritated, happy, drunk, or simply mistaken.

“Hey, I just realized you've been calling me Belle too frequently!”

“And you've been testing my patience too frequently!” he retorted sharply, then added, “And get your legs off my desk! This Elvier wood desk was imported from the elven kingdom, and I swear by the gods, I will not hesitate to take action!”

“Hmph, I don't have to tolerate this. I'm leaving!” Belle pouted and stormed out of his office."

Guild leader Rayne sighed heavily as he clutched yet another report in his hands. The past few days had been nothing short of chaotic. Reports flooded in about sightings of the undead army, alongside disturbing accounts of murder. A group of young adventurers had been discovered dead in a small clearing, shockingly close to the guild's training grounds.

The injuries inflicted upon them were far too precise for the work of kobolds or goblins. It was evident: a killer lurked within their midst. With a determined expression, Rayne rose from his cherished desk and exited his office.

In the small town of Westbrook, the cogs of action began to turn. Bones prowled aimlessly through the forest, his path diverging far from the town. Meanwhile, Vol rehearsed his lines for his upcoming "crime lord" persona, oblivious to the unfolding events. As for Trevak and Guntar, they were conspicuously absent, their whereabouts unknown."

In a dimly lit building nestled within the alleys, Vol stood before a mirror lost in contemplation when a voice called out from behind him.

“Hello, Vol. Looking sharp,” teased a man with delicate features, a mischievous grin adorning his face. Startled, Vol spun around, his expression morphing from introspection to surprise upon seeing the unexpected visitor standing in the doorway.

“What brings you here?” he inquired, but received no immediate response.

A flicker of realization passed through Vol's eyes, quickly followed by a hint of unease, though he swiftly masked it with a veneer of confidence.

"Trevak! Did Guntar send you?" he blurted, his voice betraying a trace of nervousness."

“Bingo!” Trevak cheerfully replied, his voice carrying a hint of mischief. He was a man of questionable background, with long light brown hair, piercing green eyes, and subtly pointed ears cleverly concealed. Many speculated about his true identity, with some even mistaking him for a woman, but all agreed on his formidable nature. Like Vol and Guntar, he held the esteemed rank of bronze, yet Trevak stood out for his youth, being only in his twenties, and his proximity in levels to Guntar.

As Trevak's presence sank in and Vol's initial tension eased upon confirming he was alone, a semblance of relief washed over him.

“The guard outside?” Vol queried, alluding to the individual stationed by his door.

“Dealt with,” Trevak replied matter-of-factly, his tone devoid of remorse.

Vol clenched his jaw. “Why confront me now? I know what Guntar is involved in! I could be an asset!”

“Vol, let me halt you there. Ambition courses through your veins. You aspire for greatness, yet lack the resolve required. But that wouldn't deter you, would it?” Trevak interjected, his gaze steady.

Vol scoffed defiantly. “Never.”

With a swift flick of his wrist, Vol propelled a concealed dagger toward Trevak's head. However, with a speed that outmatched Vol's expectations, Trevak effortlessly caught the blade, his expression morphing into one of mild disappointment.

“Really, Vol? A surprise attack on an assassin? I had hoped for better,” Trevak chided before swiftly engaging in combat.

Though Vol hadn't relied on the sneak attack's success, as the skirmish unfolded, it became evident that he had underestimated the vast disparity between their abilities. From the outset, the confrontation tilted heavily in Trevak's favor. The assassin effortlessly parried and deflected Vol's assaults, leaving him struggling to keep pace.

Vol's prowess lay in his hybrid class, where magic augmented his physical capabilities. However, his premature acquisition of a secondary class had inadvertently weakened his primary one. In contrast, Trevak had meticulously honed his skills as an assassin, specializing in agility and rapid strikes—a formidable match for mage-centric classes.

After a brief yet intense exchange, Vol found himself grievously wounded, his breath ragged as he clutched a deep gash along his side. In a desperate bid for survival, he leaped through the nearest window, crashing onto the street below and stumbling down the alleyway. As he rounded a corner, he collided with Horus, whose shock at seeing Vol alive was palpable.

Sensing Horus's astonishment, Vol's mind raced, connecting the dots. Betrayal ignited a fiery rage within him, visible in the ferocity of his expression. Before Horus could retreat, Vol tapped into his dwindling reservoir of mana and unleashed a devastating Mana Blast.

The explosion reverberated through the narrow alley, shattering buildings and tearing apart the very fabric of the surroundings. Horus bore the brunt of the blast, his limbs torn asunder and his body hurled meters away, motionless amidst the carnage.

In the aftermath, Vol stood amidst the debris, blood trickling from his lips as he struggled to draw breath. Having depleted his mana reserves in the final, desperate attack, he knelt, resigned to his fate. He awaited Trevak's approach, the assassin's presence looming ominously behind him.

“Such a shame. Horus was meant to take your place,” Trevak lamented, his tone tinged with regret.

“Yeah, right,” Vol retorted between coughs, spitting blood. “You were planning to dispose of him after me!”

Trevak's expression remained impassive. “Indeed, you are as astute as ever. The guild is closing in on Guntar. His transgressions can no longer be overlooked, and we must ensure there are no loose ends.”

With a glint of finality, Trevak halted behind Vol, brandishing a gleaming dagger in his hand.

“Farewell, Vol. Until we meet again in the Netherrealm,” Trevak bid his farewell, swiftly dispatching Vol with a single decisive strike.

"Keep your wits about you and stay vigilant, understood?" The young vice-leader commanded her handpicked team of guild operatives as they huddled on the rooftop, peering down at the warehouse district below. The guild leader had resolved to put an end to Guntar's illicit activities, regardless of who was supporting him—a sentiment he had expressed before instructing the team to form an infiltration unit, move in swiftly, and apprehend Guntar and his cohorts.

With practiced precision, the team navigated from one rooftop to the next, their movements stealthy and undetected by the bustling activity below. Though night would have been the ideal cover for their operation, time was of the essence. Rayne suspected that Guntar may have informants within the guild, and it was likely he had already caught wind of their plans.

The warehouse district served as a vital artery for the transportation of goods throughout the region. Nestled within this bustling hub, Guntar held sway over a small enclave of warehouses, operating under the guise of a legitimate businessman while clandestinely orchestrating his illicit enterprises. His operations spanned a nefarious spectrum, from the unlawful processing of mana stones to acts of extortion, gambling rings, and rumored assassinations.

At the heart of Guntar's operations lay the illegal processing of mana stones—an invaluable resource coveted throughout the Kingdom of Wezar. Officially regulated by the kingdom, mana stones were primarily sourced from mines under strict governmental oversight. Only those procured as drops from monsters were exempt from the kingdom's control. Despite this, discerning between the kingdom's processed mana stones and those acquired independently was feasible, thanks to subtle discrepancies in their composition.

The infiltration team had made swift progress, successfully penetrating two of the three warehouses without encountering significant resistance. While the rest of her unit remained behind to guard the apprehended men, the vice-leader swiftly made her way towards the last remaining and largest of the three warehouses. With unwavering confidence in her combat prowess, she resolved to confront Guntar alone, opting not to summon backup for the encounter.

The infiltration team had made swift progress, successfully penetrating two of the three warehouses without encountering significant resistance. However, as they regrouped to secure the apprehended henchmen, the vice-leader resolved to confront Guntar herself at the largest remaining warehouse. Despite her confidence in her combat abilities, she opted to proceed cautiously, electing to face Guntar alone without calling for backup.

As she positioned herself to enter the warehouse discreetly from the rooftop, a sudden crash shattered the silence. To her astonishment, guild leader Rayne burst through the side wall, bellowing, "Freeze!"

Belle's protest died on her lips as she watched in disbelief, but it was too late. In a flash, the entire warehouse, along with its occupants, was encased in towering crystals of ice, frozen in time.

"Rayne! Didn’t you hear me shouting to stop!" Belle yelled as she leaped down onto the frozen ground.

"Hm? Belle, you're here too?" Rayne responded, clearly surprised by her sudden appearance.

"Are you serious right now?" Belle raised an eyebrow, exasperated by her guild leader's aloofness. "What?"

"Look at what you’ve done, again! 'Freeze' doesn’t mean you should use the Ice Age skill and literally freeze everything!"

"What? It's fine! A few hours in the sun and they’ll melt away!"

"That's not what I meant! Listen..." Belle began, but her explanation was cut short by the urgent arrival of a guild scout.

"Sir! Ma'am! An undead army was spotted in the vicinity of the city!" the scout exclaimed, his tone fraught with urgency.

Both Belle and Rayne turned towards the scout, exchanging a puzzled glance.

"The reports said the army was kilometers away, marching towards the capital! They shouldn’t be here! The reports said…" Belle retorted, but Rayne interrupted her, shaking his head and motioning for her to follow.

"We've been tricked! The report was false, meant to lure us here, away from the gates!" Rayne concluded, realizing that the latest report wasn't from one of his men. "Come, we must hurry!"

The undead had breached the inner walls of Westbrook, emerging from the darkness of the alleys and into the harsh light. With skeletal hands outstretched, they advanced upon unsuspecting victims. In a horrifying encounter, a woman found herself ensnared by the grip of a bony hand around her neck. As she stared into the hollow eyes of her assailant, a chilling scream pierced the air, drawing the attention of onlookers. With grim finality, the skeleton leaned in and delivered a deadly kiss, tearing the flesh from her face in a gruesome display of violence.

The scene stunned all who witnessed it into silence, but as fear and panic threatened to overwhelm them, more skeletons surged onto the bustling streets of the shopping district. The majority of the populace were ordinary citizens, their levels ranging from three to seven in their respective professions, and lacking any combat experience.

Chaos ensued, with disorder and turmoil swiftly descending into havoc and mayhem. The first adventurers to respond to the call for aid were low-level academy attendees, but how could inexperienced adventurers hope to contend with skeletons averaging level twenty? These undead assailants had once been system users above level twenty themselves, and though reduced to mere bones, their formidable skeletal structure retained the body tempering they had acquired in life.

The adventurers stood little chance against the relentless onslaught and were mercilessly cut down, their bodies left lifeless on the blood-stained streets. However, to the horror of onlookers, the corpses began to convulse and jerk, rising from the ground under their own volition. A putrid stench emanated from their decaying forms as they transformed into newly risen zombies, emitting guttural growls that sent shivers down the spines of the surrounding citizens.

A foul and rotten aura permeated the air, intensifying the terror among the populace. The zombies surged forward, driven by an insatiable hunger for flesh and a singular purpose to infect others with the disease that would transform them into one of the undead horde.

At the end of a desolate side street, a hooded figure loomed, a sinister grin stretching across his lips. His visage was marred by a cut lip and sickly pale cheeks, the lingering effects of the necromantic ritual that had summoned forth this unholy army. With a twisted satisfaction, the necromancer watched as chaos and despair consumed the city, reveling in the dark power he had unleashed.

The shopping district in the south wasn't the sole area overrun by the undead menace; the northern and eastern sectors of town had also fallen prey to the relentless onslaught. Only the western quarter remained untouched, thanks to the swift and decisive actions of the infiltration team led by Belle. As the vice-leader surveyed the unfolding chaos, a nagging sense of unease gnawed at her.

"Weren't they supposed to be level twenty and higher?" Belle voiced her concern, her brow furrowed in confusion.

"True. The ones we engaged were around level six and dressed in normal clothing," one of the scouts beside her added, echoing her sentiments.

"Without their equipment? Oh no..." Belle's realization struck her like a bolt of lightning. These were not the original summoned skeletons comprising the undead army; instead, they were the villagers who had fallen victim to the horde and risen to join their ranks along the way. Just days prior, she had read a report detailing the annihilation of a nearby village by the undead.

"Is it mere coincidence that these low-level undead are here, fighting us?" Belle turned to seek counsel from Rayne, but he was nowhere to be found, leaving her to grapple with the unsettling truth on her own.

Rayne darted across the rooftops with lightning speed, soaring above the chaos unfolding below. Everywhere he looked, the streets were overrun with the undead, though they appeared to be spread thin. Casting spells as he ran, he dispatched scores of the undead, but the sheer numbers made it impossible to eliminate them all individually. He knew he had to return to the guild headquarters as quickly as possible.

Meanwhile, within the guild, the administration office was in a frenzy of activity, issuing orders and directives in response to the unfolding emergency. All quests and contracts were suspended indefinitely, with a new directive issued to halt the assault of the undead on Westbrook. Through the guild's communication system, every nearby adventurer received a prompt via their badge, instructing them to form parties of five and mobilize to confront the undead threat ravaging the streets.

Outside, the situation had reached a critical juncture. The undead horde, composed of both skeletons and zombies, had overrun the streets and the square in front of the Adventurer's Guild. Chaos reigned supreme as terrified civilians scrambled in all directions, desperately seeking refuge from the relentless onslaught. Amidst the chaos, a small group of courageous individuals valiantly attempted to push back against the tide of undead adversaries. With every passing moment, the ranks of the undead swelled, their numbers bolstered by the conversion of fallen victims into new zombies.