Pestilence: Rise Of The Pure Undead

Stirring up the snow, flocks of birds flew up, left from right.

"So you still got a bit of personality up in there then? Are you really certain you don’t want to put your undeserved title to use for the sake of good and goodness?" it was hard to read expressions on the face of a dead bear, but the hero was definitely taken aback at the moment.

The prophet had blocked both of his paws made for naught but slaughter with his bare hands, and he was still talking!

Somehow roaring with petrified vocal cords, the hero of yore took hold of Quideos’s wrists, flunging him into a tree further away.

"Just remnants huh? Even from this I can say that your personality was lacking!" the yapping prophet had landed safely and softly, currently holding onto one of the branches with one arm, swinging the other around as he insulted the corpse.

Another roar came his way, this one much stronger as it ripped three trunks apart as it made its way toward him, he took the attack without much problem, somewhat all around his body shining brightly for an instant.

The hero’s reactions were naught but reflexes still etched into his body, this suggested a rather strong sense of self, yet, both his soul and mind had failed to return as they should have, instead forming new ones for his undead form to rise.

He plopped down into the snow, dusting his shoulder off of some snow as he repeated the same hand gesture from before, pointing both his index and middle finger up, this time however, his other hand wrapped around the wrist of the signing hand.

"Alright, come over here" as though his words were gospel, the old hero slid along the ground, his forehead coming into contact with the prophet’s palm as he stopped his handsigning and grabbed him.

The hero saw nothing for a split second, before being met with countless visions, the future, the past, the present, what never was, what could have been, what couldn’t.

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He saw lies, he saw the truth, and then the actual truth.

He was seeing it all with all of his being, his mind, his soul, his spirit, his body, every energy in his body, everything that constituted his person was made to bear witness to all of it, all at once, without stopping.

Even his undeath wasn’t sufficient to protect him, everything that was him crumbled away a mere second after being touched by Quideos Audit.

"On to the next one then"

____________________

Another month went by, the ambiance surrounding the dungeon of metal chrome was rising, both of the king’s highest guards had done their best to try and make everything right as per the prophet’s, or rather, destiny’s design.

Pierre-Ornée and Bough felt like it was a waste of time, the adventurer team with the poor naming convention, ’Ladies Of All Around’ wasn’t shabby by any means, but considering how Audit had been speaking of what laid deeper in, they doubted in the chances of those five girls.

By all means, it had sounded like something even the two of them wouldn’t want to set foot in.

They had been instructed to try and raise the levels of those girls, but it was easier said than done, they were strong for sure, but that didn’t mean they were good teachers, in fact, anyone that had seen the halbardier training the royal guards could attest to the fact that his ways were spartan and more akin to blacksmithing.

Striking those poor guards until they took on the appropriate shape.

He could do this because what was expected of a royal guard was set in stone, they practised mostly the halberd and such, a team of five adventurers comprised of multiple species with wildly varying strengths and powers was another story entirely, he could only fall back on giving advice.

As for Bough, there was no point in comparing him to Pierre-Ornée, there were no royal guards carrying shields like he did for a reason, he couldn’t be trusted with the safety and overlooking of anyone but Pierre-Ornée, so telling him to train people vastly weaker than him was just asking for disaster.

With the more reasonable of the duo also present, he could direct Bough to assist him in making demonstrations, also, since he was an immovable mass, you could throw anything at him, and he at least was well aware of the strength of anything hitting him and his shield, so he could track progress in that regard.

Today, the group was going to tackle the dungeon for real, they were going to step into the supposed deeper part, which existence was confirmed by Quideos Audit.

"What do you think, Bough, are they going to do it?"

"No chance, the prophet probably knew it as well, there is no way such a shabby group could take on anything that could be responsible in any manner of what he described" the shieldmaster shook his head, not believing in their chances for one second.

"What a shame"

"Let’s keep watch for a while longer, Audit likes to say that destiny can be changed after all, we might luck out" Pierre-Ornée sat down, his halberd resting by his side.

The upper portion of the dungeon wasn’t very dangerous, only inhabited by living armours, all the same sort as Loimos had encountered in the caverns, albeit those weren’t damaged, forming straight out of the walls at a steady rate, the metal would lose its chrome-like sheen when they were defeated but it was still great quality, especially for something that could be harvested endlessly, many weapons and armours were forged out of this throughout the country.

Five girls, appearing relatively young in appearance, showed up in front a staggeringly tall wall, the end of the dungeon, no signs of a key hole or of any contraption anywhere that could indicate that it could be opened.

A rather strange group composition, one red ogress, one dark elf, one more regular elf and two humans, one of which being an unwanted presence.

The one that wasn’t of this world pulled out a small cube, a pattern brightened up on its surface, prompting it to rise off into the air by itself, merging right into the wall.

The wall rose up, shaking the entirety of the dungeon down to its deepest portion.