Land Beyond The Hurricane: Rise Of The God Of Death

By Yama-2, the God of Death

"Diplomacy," Death said, his face morphed into one of disgust. "Diplomacy is what led to the fall of my House of Death."But how had I never heard of it? Farsi wondered."You fool, how could you not know? When your father sent you to a rival country on your stepmother's advice, what did you think that was?" Blasted Death.

"I was sent there to ensure peace."

"Exactly! Everyone knows her name—she has become a deity, a savior. Peace, the destroyer of war. Her doctrine spread like wildfire because the world is filled with weaklings and cowards who lack the strength to seize what they desire.

Instead, they hide behind empty ideals. Every land wants sovereignty, yet they lack the power to defend themselves. This world is overrun with rulers who dream of domination but fear the battle it demands. That is why chaos was born! You want the world? Then take it! Don't ask. Don't pay. Don't negotiate. Just take it and lay waste to those who dare oppose you.

"The world is now ruled by weak men—kings, sultans, emperors—who crave expansion but lack the spine to declare war. Instead, they buy lands like merchants. Fools! The world is filled with fools!" "So why am I here?" Farsi asked.

"That's exactly why you're here! A man of action, not empty words! Peace ruined our world, and we are going to ruin hers."

Death's hood barely concealed his sardonic grin. "I am sending you to another world, into a different body—a body built for combat. It belonged to the last surviving general of Chaos's army.

" Since Chaos's imprisonment, the army and its generals have been hunted, many dying in battle. Darklord was the last—until today. He was slain by the mage Whitetower, one of the Sisterhood's most powerful mages."

"Mages? I thought they were myths. My father, the Sultan, told me about people with magic. He said they were accused of blasphemy and sentenced to death."

"Oh, they exist. After Peace left this world, she went to that one, converting followers to her doctrine and granting them power to spread her influence.

"The people she corrupted formed an organization called the Sisterhood—mages who control kingdoms from their huge tower Their power has spread across continents, and with General Darklord dead, there is no resistance left. No one stands in their way. Even the small kingdoms will fall. That is why you must go."

"But these mages… they have magic."

"Ah, so that's your concern? Don't worry. I will give you something far more powerful—something that can take on more than just a couple of mages."

"And what's in it for me?" Farsi asked, unfazed by the deity. Besides, he was his only hope for revival, Death couldn't possibly kill him even if he wanted to.

"If you are successful, you won't have to go to Hell."

"But I want to go to hell." Farsi preposterously countered.

Death hesitated, caught off guard by Farsi's response. "Alright, fine. You can conquer and rule the lands, reclaim your title as sultan. What do you say?"

"What are we waiting for?" Farsi smirked

The moon hung high, its pale glow barely reaching the earth. But the mortals below did not rely on its light. Each of them held a torch, the flames flickering like restless spirits. Three thousand men stood in rigid formation, dressed in red and gold, their faces unreadable in the fire's glow. The only sound was the crackling of burning wood.

This was the camp of Chaos's army. Since his imprisonment, the army had suffered tremendous losses. Every land they had once conquered had been reclaimed by the Sisterhood. When word of Chaos's incarceration reached the generals, they turned on each other, fighting for control. The army, once a united force, fractured into five factions, each led by a different general.

These three thousand soldiers belonged to Khann Darklord, the only son of Raire Darklord. Raire had been one of the five generals who divided the army. When he died, his son took command and, within two months, led four thousand men to seize a settlement under the Sisterhood's rule. At first, the Sisterhood ignored the attack. The land had once been theirs before Chaos's war. But when Khann launched a campaign against a much larger territory, the situation changed.

Despite fierce resistance, he emerged victorious. His success, however, drew consequences. The Sisterhood, though claiming to be pacifists, could no longer stand idly by. His continued conquest threatened to reunite the other generals under one banner. Even the kings who pledged allegiance to the Sisterhood grew uneasy, questioning their protectors' tolerance. They saw it as weakness, a failure to defend their lands and interests.

In response, the Sisterhood stationed an army at a nearby fort, poised to contain him. As long as he stayed within his newly claimed borders, they would not strike.

Blinded by his victories, Khann ignored their warning. He pushed forward—and paid the ultimate price.

Now, his lifeless body burned on the pyre before his soldiers. The flames consumed the wood, snapping and crackling in the night air. No one spoke. All eyes remained fixed on the fire.

Then, the wood began to shift.

At first, the movement was subtle—just a few logs rolling aside. No one thought much of it. Fires often caused structures to collapse as they burned.

But then, his body twitched.

A murmur spread through the ranks as disbelief took hold. Limbs jerked violently. More logs tumbled away. This was impossible. Fifteen minutes had passed since the pyre was lit—no man could still be alive.

Then, before their eyes, the dead man sat up.

Silence consumed the camp. Soldiers watched, frozen, as Khann Darklord slowly rose, his charred robes clinging to his frame. Without a word, he stepped down from the pyre and began walking—down the aisle, past his soldiers, toward the general's tent.

All eyes followed him, but not a single voice was raised. Not a single sword was drawn.

The dead has risen!