The Genesis of the Dead

The ghoul's growls roused the purple-eyed skeleton from its training trance. It tilted its head in confusion, puzzled by the ghoul's sudden anger. Without hesitation, the ghoul bolted forward with alarming speed, chasing after the scent of the living that had wafted past its sensitive nostrils.

Zoran moved swiftly but cautiously, attempting to avoid detection. His objective was clear: return to base, find Maveth, and launch a preemptive strike against the monsters before they could endanger civilians. He believed that together, they stood a good chance of eliminating the threat, though he couldn't shake the worry that some might slip through their defenses.

Lost in his thoughts, he was jolted back to reality by the guttural snarls of something closing in fast. Realizing his cover was blown, Zoran abandoned stealth and scanned his surroundings for the source of the threat. From the dense thicket of woods emerged one of the two special abominations he'd encountered earlier, bounding toward him on all fours like a feral predator.

Zoran quickly noted that the creature was eyeless, relying on its sense of smell to track him. That explained how it had found him so easily. He knew he had no choice but to confront it. The creature lunged at him with explosive speed, its razor-sharp, blade-like teeth glinting with saliva.

With a swift and precise movement, Zoran used his spear to deflect the charging beast, sending it sprawling to the ground. It rolled and tumbled but wasted no time in regaining its footing and charging again with the same relentless determination. Zoran met its attack with the same response, knocking it down once more and attempting to pin it with the spear's head.

The creature, however, was quick. It dodged the attempt and lunged for a third time. This time, Zoran adjusted his strategy and drove the tip of his spear into the monster's chest, skewering it. To his shock, the creature, despite the grievous injury, clawed at him with its elongated arms. It showed no sign of pain or distress, its singular focus unnerving.

The monstrosity reminded Zoran of Maveth. Both moved without any trace of skill or finesse, as if driven purely by instinct. They ignored injuries that would incapacitate any ordinary being. A chilling thought crossed his mind, Maveth had come from the same direction as these creatures. How had he not encountered them? And those walking corpses... Could it be?

Zoran's thoughts distracted him, giving the ghoul an opening to swipe at his face. Snapping back to the present, he slammed his spear, with the ghoul still impaled, into the ground, pinning it in place. He leaned closer to examine it. At first, it was difficult to discern, but upon closer inspection, the beast appeared eerily human.

It was as if a human had been twisted and deformed into this grotesque creature. The realization sent a shiver down his spine. The horrifying possibility that these monsters were once people, transformed by some dark and malevolent force, was almost too much to bear.

The sound of rustling leaves snapped him out of his thoughts. Reinforcements were coming. Without hesitation, Zoran dislodged his spear and prepared for a decisive strike, aiming for the pinned ghoul's head. However, the creature managed to evade the blow and, rather than attacking again, retreated into the dense underbrush.

Zoran stood motionless, his senses on high alert, waiting for the inevitable appearance of more monsters. Yet, the forest grew unnervingly silent. They didn't come for him. They were letting him go.

Why? The question gnawed at his mind. Were they afraid of him? Waiting for something? Or were they simply following orders, biding their time until commanded otherwise?

Zoran exhaled deeply, a sinking feeling settling in his chest. He couldn't ignore the conclusion he'd been avoiding for so long. Maveth...

Meanwhile, Orros lounged leisurely in his modest home, the soothing sound of heavy rainfall filling the air. It was a rare day of respite for the village, as the storm kept everyone indoors. For Orros, it was an opportunity to relax, and he intended to make the most of it. With no pressing duties, he settled in, letting the rhythmic drumming of rain on the roof lull him into peaceful contentment.

Knock, knock!

Loud knocks pounded on the door, pulling Orros from his pleasant respite. "Who could that be?" he wondered, rising reluctantly and moving toward the entrance. As he opened the door, a soaking wet figure stumbled in, Zoran, drenched from head to toe, his spear poised and eyes blazing with intensity.

Zoran wasted no time. His voice was commanding, almost overwhelming. "We don't have much time, so listen and don't interrupt. Take everyone, as much as you can carry, and get out of here. Head toward the city and move as fast as possible. And whatever you do, stay away from the forest. Clear?" His tone left no room for negotiation or questions. His piercing gaze conveyed far more urgency than his words.

"I'll get them out. Just buy us as much time as you can," Orros replied gravely. The relaxed demeanor he had worn earlier was gone, replaced by a resolute expression. His mind raced, calculating how he would manage this sudden evacuation. He didn't know why Zoran was so insistent, but years of wisdom had taught him to trust the man's judgment.

Zoran gave a curt nod and turned to leave but stopped momentarily. Without looking back, he muttered, "I'm sorry. Your guardian has failed you." Then he walked away.

If Orros had the time, he would have countered with reassurances, but this was not a moment for pleasantries or kind words. It was a time for swift action. Every passing second brought them closer to either salvation or disaster.

As Zoran moved through the village, the memories of his life here flooded his mind. Each home and familiar path stirred a bittersweet nostalgia. The storm clouds above crackled with lightning, illuminating the darkened sky before a deafening rumble of thunder echoed in the distance. Ahead, he saw a solitary hut, the place where the man he needed to confront was waiting.

Knock, knock...

Inside the hut, Maveth sat in the lone chair, his gaze fixed on the rain cascading down outside. His thoughts drifted to everything he had done and the people he had encountered. After the skirmish with those bandits, something within him had changed. He had even dared to give himself a name. Maveth. He wasn't sure where the name had come from, but it felt familiar, as if it had always been there, lurking in the depths of his subconscious.

His plan had unfolded almost perfectly. The confrontation with the brigands had taught him an invaluable lesson: knowledge was his most pressing need. He had countless questions, and no one around him had the answers. So, instead of attacking the village as recklessly as he had before, he had adopted a new approach.

It was pure luck that the first person he met was that child. She was naive and easy to manipulate. The others in the village were far more cautious, especially the spear wielder, whose battle-hardened aura marked him as a formidable foe. Maveth had quickly realized he couldn't defeat such an opponent head-on. Adapting his strategy, he ensured that his forces infiltrated the village, hidden just beneath the surface, awaiting his command.

Despite losing an arm, his efforts had been successful. Many of his soldiers were now positioned underground, ready to strike. Yet, he found himself acting irrationally. He had inexplicably spared the doctor woman and even encouraged her to take her daughter and leave. These decisions baffled him; they hadn't been calculated or logical. They had simply... happened.

Now the two were gone, and still, Maveth hesitated. Why was he delaying? Why not summon his troops and unleash chaos upon the village? After all, that was his purpose, to bring death, to transform the living into something beyond mortality. So why was he holding back? Was there something he couldn't yet understand?

A sudden tug on his connection alerted him. One of his troops, the lone ghoul, had engaged in battle. He grasped the situation almost immediately and understood that his time had run out. It was now or never.

He ordered his troops to withdraw. Facing Zoran would only result in catastrophic losses, and his forces were too valuable to squander. No, he didn't need to confront the man indirectly. He knew Zoran would come to him.

Maveth issued his commands and steadied himself. His sole remaining arm traced the edge of his scythe as he watched the rain outside. He had enjoyed his time here, fleeting as it was. He hoped he would remember it.

Knock, knock...