Land Beyond The Hurricane: Rise Of The God Of Death

Chapter 9: The Awakening Of The Dead: First Stage

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1) General Benny225

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The moon still hung in the sky, its light shining just as before, but this time, its expression was not sad—it was joyous. It was happy to witness that there were still those who relied on it, those who remained conscious of its presence.

In the grain fields, farmers worked tirelessly to complete their harvest before winter. They had devised an efficient schedule, dividing the day into three shifts: the morning shift began shortly after the rooster's crow, the second shift commenced after the sun reached its peak, and the third shift worked from sundown until the next morning's rooster's crow.

It was during this third shift that a sudden brightness illuminated the surrounding area. Workers paused their labor, turning toward the source of the glow. Their leader's house was on fire. Without hesitation, they abandoned their tasks and hurried toward the burning structure. Upon arrival, they found a growing crowd gathered, their faces painted with expressions of shock and helplessness. There was little they could do—water was scarce, reserved only for drinking and cooking. All they could do was stand and watch as the flames devoured the house.

Inside the burning home sat Commander Darklord, unbothered by the raging inferno. His personal bodyguards had eliminated everyone in the meeting, and his thirty-one Level Three Dark Swordsmen scoured the house for anything of value. One by one, they returned, each carrying two or more sacks filled with loot.

"Is that everything of value?" Darklord asked, rising to his feet.

The leader of the group nodded.

"Proceed to phase two of the plan."

The leader signaled to a subordinate, who acknowledged the order and swiftly departed. Darklord turned to the others. "Let's go."

The clinking of metal against metal echoed through the burning house as the group of darkly clad warriors stepped outside. They were met with gasps of disbelief from the gathered townspeople. More than twenty minutes had passed since the fire began, and now, thirty-two figures emerged, burdened with sacks on their backs.

Darklord raised his voice. "People of Doom, I am Commander Darklord, and I am here to rescue you from your doom!" He gestured toward the burning house. "These so-called generals have dragged you to the lowest depths of society! They took away your swords and replaced them with hoes. They stripped you of honor and forced you to raise cattle! They have committed crimes against you, and for that, they have paid with their lives! Death shall be the fate of all who betray you!"

The crowd remained silent, processing his words. Then, murmurs spread among them as they whispered and debated amongst themselves.

"You claim to be Commander Darklord," a man called out. "But isn't he dead?"

A hush fell over the crowd, all eyes fixed on the commander, awaiting his response.

Darklord smirked. "Have you ever seen Commander Darklord?"

"No."

"Then what proof do you have that I am not him?"

A voice from the crowd shouted, "I have served under Commander Darklord—I know him! And you are him!"

Darklord chuckled. "At least that spares me the trouble of proving myself."

Another man, clad in armor, stepped forward. "Your recent campaigns have been disastrous. Word is that your army is fed by your enemies. Is that the honor you promise us? Anyone who follows you will receive nothing but disgrace and death. I would rather die here with a full stomach than starve on the battlefield."

Darklord's smile widened. "Then your wish is granted."

Before the man could react, he collapsed. The crowd recoiled in shock. Moments later, he stood once more, his skin darkened, his eyes hollow yet brimming with an eerie energy. He turned and knelt before Darklord.

"Your wish is my command, Commander."

Darklord's voice carried an ominous finality. "Exactly. My wish is your command, and those who defy me shall share his fate."

The newly risen soldier appeared undead—his features blackened, his presence unwavering, exuding an unnatural resilience. Darklord had spent the death points awarded by the system to activate the first stage of his Dead Awakening skill. The six generals he had slain earlier had yielded fifteen points each, while the lead commander granted thirty-five. With enough points, he had unlocked the ability to raise a hundred dead warriors. Future upgrades would enhance their strength, intelligence, and numbers exponentially.

The system had rewarded him generously due to the status of his slain foes. Though these men were not true generals of a king's army, their deaths still yielded a substantial sum. He could only imagine the bounties that awaited him when he claimed the lives of a true army commander, a head mage, or even a king.

A voice broke through the crowd's fearful silence. "Commander, we will follow you, but grant us time to harvest our grains. Winter is near. Without food, we will not survive. Allow some of us to reestablish the siege while the rest stay and complete the harvest."

Darklord's gaze shifted toward the vast fields beyond the town. A cold smile spread across his face.

"Is that the grain you planned to harvest?"

The crowd followed his gaze. Horror gripped them. Their fields were engulfed in flames. Their hope for survival burned before their very eyes.

A heavy silence settled upon them, the weight of despair suffocating. Then Darklord spoke once more.

"You are right. Without those grains, survival is impossible. We have enough provisions for one week—after that, we are doomed. There is only one way to survive the winter: Take Fort Mandadah.

"The choice is yours. Fight for your survival, or freeze in the cold while hiding."

Defeat washed over the people. They bowed their heads, resigned to their fate.

Darklord turned to his second-in-command. "Prepare to march at sunrise."

Fatha stared at his commander, disbelief and admiration battling within him. Somehow, in the span of a single night, Darklord had transformed a defeated people into an army.

Nodding in affirmation, Fatha hurried away to ensure the troops were ready.

After all, this was not the first miracle his commander had performed.

Not part of the chapter!

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