Pestilence: Rise Of The Pure Undead

The clothes of the corpses of those that had been crushed by the chandelier served as perfect kindling for the flames, a blinding ball of fire soon formed in the center of the place, threatening to swallow everything.

Loimos had already leapt away before he too was caught in the midst of the fire, throwing himself to the ground, rolling and quickly standing up, only to receive a severe kick straight to the abdomen, the sort that forcefully regurgitated your previous meal.

His lower back struck a table, stopping him from getting thrown to the ground, with an unnatural movement, he leaned his back on the table to grab a bottle, throwing it at the man’s chest before he could get to him.

The bottles were of good manufacture, it didn’t break from the impact, but it certainly hurt like hell.

It seemed like Loimos had chosen the worst possible direction to jump away from the flames, running toward the one guy that was both still willing to throw hands by this point, and also one that actually knew how to fight.

Loimos was no fighting expert, he mostly operated on his undead instincts mixed in with whatever information the system had fed him due to the undead obtaining and leveling up a variety of skills from his strings of murder.

But he could tell that this stature was the one of a seasoned fighter, a skilled adventurer perhaps? Or one of the better guards? Perhaps simply a retired veteran?

It was of little importance, the man grabbed the bottle as it was falling and threw it right back at Loimos, with much more force than the undead was capable of summoning, exploding into a shower of shards right in his face, he kicked down on one of the legs of the table, unexpectedly using the subsequent tilting of the table to roll away as the man kicked down on his former position.

Loimos heightened the putrid stench he was emitting, the increased smell of rot struck spread across the room, one man trying to get through one of the narrow windows passed out after accidentally taking a deep breath.

The oddly focused drunk fighter didn’t recoil but his eyes ached just as when the scent had first spread out, he forced himself to keep his eyes open, it was no use, his vision blurred intensely as tears were forced out.

He wasn’t completely blinded, raising one hand, he fearlessly stopped the knife coming his way with his own palm, clutching Loimos’s hand and forcing him to stay within reach.

One punch struck him, two punches struck him, many more hits came raining down on him within a few instant.

It was clear by the living’s expression that he came to notice that something was terribly off with Loimos, the stench could be attributed to various things, but that feeling he felt when his punches landed squarely against him, that was a clear sign that something was wrong.

The undead grabbed the man’s wrist and leaned forward, uncaring for his mask in the way, he bit right through the throat, ripping everything he caught between his sharp teeth.

With the bottom of his mask bloodied up, Loimos turned to the man behind the counter, who curiously enough, hadn’t escaped, he was the only one left that still seemed to believe he could put the fire out.

The undead approached.

___________

"Things haven’t changed much since the last time I was there" Helena spoke with her hands behind her head as she spoke.

Milo, who was soaking wet at the moment, turned to her.

"How long have you been in the city for exactly?" he had never been told by David how long he had truly been separated from his daughter, he felt like there were things he didn’t know.

"Five years? Pretty much ever since mom died" she responded flatly, not seeming very saddened about mentioning her mother’s death.

The farm boy didn’t feel like digging was the right option there, so he swiftly, and very much slickly, changed the subject.

"Ah, would you mind showing me what sort of magic you learned?" he had yet to see any of what she was supposedly being tutored about, she had mostly seemed like a country girl, but with a bigger vocabulary and a more restrained accent.

"Well, I have mostly been focusing on manipulating my inner mana and converting it to my affinity, it is pretty boring honestly- Let me show a spell instead!" she quickly beamed a smile and seemed ready to do it right there and then.

The two youngsters could see the tavern burning to the ground from their position after getting out of a heavily forested portion.

They had been so focused on discussing, that they hadn’t even paid attention to the smoke before, chalking it up to just another brazier lit up by the villagers, just like the one they had put together to burn the sad faced man effigy.

A closer inspection would have revealed that it was obviously much too big and dark to be the case.

Their timing was perfect for them to witness the owner of the tavern bursting out of the front door, or rather, being brutally forced out as he was burning to death.

Milo and Loimos locked eye contact, the two recognised each other from back when the undead had first stolen his clothing.

Loimos wasn’t interested in trying to kill him at the moment however, he was accompanied by a most troublesome opponent!

However-!

He wasn’t quick enough to get away before he felt a disturbance, said anomaly was the gust of wind that took him off the ground and swept him right back into the burning tavern, so powerfully that was sent flying straight up at a wooden beam.

’Magic is troublesome’ he could only come to this conclusion as he focused on his rot to keep his spine together.

Most importantly, he made his escape through the window from the back before the flame caught onto him.

"Let’s hurry back" Milo grabbed Helena by the hand and began running, seeing the complete destruction and people running off into the distance, he had instantly become worried for the old man.