《The Ill Dead》


 Chapter 1

    Chapter 1:


    ¡°Omia!¡± She heard her mother exclaim. ¡°Goodness, where did you get that?¡±


    Omia heard her, but she didn¡¯t understand the words quite yet. She was only eight months old, and had just barely learned to crawl.


    She did understand that her mother was coming to take her shiny new toy though, and her hand tightened around the light brown part of it. She knew not to touch the silvery bit of it.


    Despite her grip on the toy, her mothers was much stronger, and she gingerly pried Omia¡¯s hand away. Omia, of course, started crying the moment her toy was away from her. It was more than just losing the object, she felt¡­ less safe without it.


    ¡°I swear,¡± her mother said, ¡°I¡¯ve no idea how you get your hands on your fathers blades so easily, and he needs to learn to put them up! This is the third time since you¡¯ve started crawling. You¡¯re going to hurt yourself!¡±


    If Omia could understand her, she would have opposed her mothers claims. She¡¯d never hurt herself on one. They were just objects, they couldn¡¯t cut her without her touching the blade first. More than that, she felt she needed to hold one for¡­ some reason. She just liked them!


    Despite her crying though, her mother did not give the dagger back. All Omia did was tire herself out and fall asleep.


    The years went by, and Omia¡¯s parents learned of their child''s odd obsession with blades. More than that, she was weirdly capable of discerning dangerous from harmless. Omia was never interested in wooden blades or dulled ones, only the sharp daggers would do.


    Omia would stop crying if she had a blunted weapon, but she would still seek out the sharp ones, much to her parents'' exasperation.


    Despite that though, and through all the instances she¡¯d been able to get her grubby little hands on one, she¡¯d never cut herself. Not once had Omia ever touched the blade of the knife, only the handle. It was an oddity in their child, but over time they stopped seeing it as peculiar. Her affinity for knives fell to the back of their minds, just a strange behavior in their strange child.


    If they could see into Omia¡¯s head though, they would understand that her behavior was only a symptom of a much deeper internal issue.


    As Omia got older, she saw flashes of things she¡¯d never seen. Memories of something that never happened. The memories were of something scary happening, and for some reason they hurt to think about. Because of that, she got into the habit of ignoring them, pushing them away and never telling her parents of the peculiarity of her thoughts.


    Initially, she told nobody about the memories because they hurt to talk about, but that purpose was soon forgotten. Instead, the desire to tell nobody was internalized into a core part of Omia¡¯s being, making it her own little secret. The thought of telling others and seeking help became taboo to Omia, but the memories continued to flash through her mind, fragments and pieces slowly forming a bigger picture.


    When she was six, she finally figured out that the memories were all related and about the same person, someone she¡¯d never known named ¡°Jane.¡±


    Jane was a medic, serving in an army. Omia knew these words from the memories around Jane as well.


    The memories of Jane weren¡¯t about the way she lived, her family, or anyone related to her. No, Omia was slowly remembering Jane''s death.


    Omia wasn¡¯t sure how she knew Jane would die, but she did. The memories told a story of Jane serving in her final battle, hiding in a tent on the backlines as more and more of their own people were carried in on stretchers.


    Omia remembered that Jane constantly heard a barrage of explosions outside the medical tent, the noise always causing Janes fear to spike, but she never let herself flinch. She never stopped her bloody work of patching up the injured soldiers.


    The memories exacted a toll on Omia¡¯s psyche, and she grew up to be a rather quiet child.


    Still, she was not unhappy. She¡¯d never known life without the slowly unveiling memories of war, so she was not bothered by their presence. It was her normal.


    Despite growing accustomed to it, a small piece of her dreaded the ending of Jane''s story. The memories started with the first bomb dropped on the battlefield outside of Jane''s medical tent, and each successive flash was the next second of Jane''s memory. Sometimes the flashes would appear once per day, others once per week. At the worst of times though, Omia could suffer up to twelve in a single day.


    Second by second, Omia approached the death of Jane, and she didn¡¯t know when it would come.


    Despite that, she continued to live her life, learning about the world around her. She learned that she lived in a small town called Darien, and that her father was a guard that stood on the walls around the city. Her mother often took care of a little garden near their house, or brought Omia with her to a river that ran through Darien. When her mother sat on the sloping bank, she would wash laundry and gossip with the others there, while Omia would go off and play with the other kids.


    Her days were peaceful as she fell into a routine. Her father would usually leave before the sun was up and return after the sun had gone down. During those times, she¡¯d help her mom with the chores in the morning then run around town with her friends, exploring every nook and cranny.


    When she was tired of playing though, she would go see the city gate. It wasn¡¯t the guards stationed there or the people going in and out that interested her though, but the outside world. Kids weren¡¯t allowed around the gate, so she could only steal glimpses of it, but there was something about the outside that called to her.


    Sometimes, she would go and find her dad while he was on guard, walking around with him as he patrolled the town with a serious expression on his face. Other times, she would follow parallel to the big town wall as her dad walked on top of it, watching him. She found that she was jealous of him quite a bit, as she wanted to see outside the walls as easily as he could.


    Occasionally, though, her father would get days off of work to spend with Omia or her mom, helping out to get the chores done faster so Omia could play with her friends sooner. It was on one such day when she was around nine years old, though, that the routine was broken.


    * * *


    Omia and her parents were sitting around the table eating breakfast together. She didn¡¯t talk much, but she loved listening to them speak about all the interesting things of the adult world, such as the dads job on the wall and the various things her mom heard through the rumor mill. Omia wasn¡¯t old enough to hear all of it, so her parents danced around each of their respective topics, meaning she could never get the full picture. It frustrated her, but there wasn¡¯t anything she could do to change that.


    It was while she was listening to her dad talk about his shift the previous day that Omia saw a little change in his smiling expression, one showing a bit more tensity than before.


    Her mom clearly picked up on it too, as she raised her eyebrow and asked ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°Well¡­¡± her father responded. ¡°I think I should take Omia on an excursion into Wiltwood,¡± he said gingerly.


    Omia didn¡¯t know what that was, so she leaned forward, listening closely. ¡®Adult topic!¡¯


    Omia¡¯s mother began running her hands through her hair. ¡°Are you sure? She¡¯s so helpful with the chores though!¡±


    ¡°I know, Karee, but you¡¯ve seen it yourself. She keeps that knife on her everywhere she goes, and I¡¯ve heard some people talking about how much she watches the gate, trying to look out. We might want to¡­ consider¡­ getting her into the guard more than forcing her to stay home. My own mother tried keeping me from the wilderness, and you know how that turned out. If Omia has even a little bit of me in her, I think we need to guide her, rather than stop her completely.¡±


    Omia¡¯s mother continued to run her fingers through her cherry blonde hair, and Omia could see her blue eyes start to water slightly. ¡°But it''s dangerous.¡±


    ¡°I know honey¡± her father said, reaching out and taking the hand of his wife, holding it gently in both of his. ¡°It might lead to nothing, but it¡¯s around this age where I snuck out looking for danger. You know I¡¯m lucky to be alive after what I did. I don''t want that for her.¡±


    Omia¡¯s mother seemed to deflate. ¡°Okay. I know you wouldn¡¯t do this if you weren¡¯t serious.¡± Seeming to regain her energy though, she quickly continued: ¡°On a few conditions! First of all, I know we¡¯ve talked about this before and you prepared two packs just in case. You need to leave right now. On top of that, I want you to take Jacob and Torei with you. It''s their off day too, and I want you all to be safe. Okay?¡±


    ¡°Certainly, honey,¡± her father responded, leaning over and giving his wife a kiss.


    Omia¡¯s mind raced as she tried to understand what was going on. Before she could though, her father looked at her and said ¡°Hurry up Omia, eat fast! We gotta go!¡± then started wolfing down his own food as quickly as he could.


    Omia, quick on the uptake, started eating quickly too as her mother guffawed at the sight of them. ¡°Slow down you two!¡± she managed to say between chuckles.


    In record time, Omia was done and out of her chair, but she didn¡¯t know where to go, so she just stood there as her father ate the last of his eggs and stood up. ¡°Follow me¡± he said, speed walking to the back of the house, where her parents room was located. She ran to catch up to him as he quickly opened the door, went into the closet, and pulled out two backpacks. One was sized for her father, while the other was much smaller.If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.


    His blue eyes turned to her as he held one out.¡°Put this on, I¡¯ll tell you what''s in them on the way.¡± he said, and she hardly heard him. On the side of the bag, held in its sheath by a tied piece of leather, was a knife.


    ¡°Yes yes! A knife, I know! Hurry!¡± he shook her from her reverie, and she quickly put it on, watching as her father equipped his uniform, leather armor, in record time with a sword and boots to match. When he was done, he quickly put the leather cap over his mess of black hair and began to speed walk quickly out of the room and towards the house door, Omia following behind him.


    ¡°Love you honey!¡± he said on the way out


    ¡°Love you mom!¡± Omia followed with, quickly scooping up her own shoes as she passed by them.


    A bittersweet smile on her face, Omia¡¯s mother responded ¡°I love you both. Be safe!¡±


    Omia was out the door a moment later, hot on the heels of her father. He¡¯d slowed down so she could keep up, but definitely not enough as she repeatedly stumbled under the weight of her pack and the speed she was forced to run.


    Up the cobbled road they went, and Omia started panting quickly, but her father didn¡¯t rest until they got to another house. He knocked on the door as she caught her breath behind him, but the moment was short, as another man opened the door.


    ¡°Loid! You got the missus onboard?¡± the tall lean man with brown hair and brown eyes said.


    ¡°Yea, but we gotta hurry. I want to be out of the forest before midday.¡±


    ¡°On it, brother. Stay here for a second,¡± the stranger said, leaving the door open as he rushed back into his house. Omia took the chance to slip her shoes on as well.


    Omia¡¯s father turned to her. ¡°I¡¯ll explain quickly. I¡¯m taking you somewhere that''s dangerous at certain times of day, and it''s a lot safer in the morning than anything else. In that pack are rations for three days, a filled waterskin, two sets of clothing, and a waterproof sleeping bag. We will almost definitely use none of it, but it¡¯s important to have, just in case.¡±


    Right as he finished saying that, the man came back with his own backpack. Omia realized that he was already dressed in the leather guard armor with his shoes on before he¡¯d even opened the door, and was likely waiting for Omia and her father. ¡®How much has dad planned this? Did he tell his friends he was taking me into this¡­ Wiltwood today?¡¯


    ¡°Torei next?¡± the stranger, who she figured was Jacob, asked.


    Her father nodded and turned around, leaving Omia and Jacob to follow. Now that she had her shoes on, it was a much easier time to the next house.


    Again, he knocked on a random door, and again a fully-dressed guard in leather armor answered the door. This one already had a pack on though, and they immediately set out down the road, towards where Omia knew was the gate. She was barely able to glance that this ¡°Torei¡± person was much more muscular than both Jacob and her dad, along with white hair and light blue eyes.


    ¡°Dad, what''s the Wiltwood?¡± Omia managed to ask between breaths as she ran.


    She got out, before he responded ¡°It¡¯s called Wiltwood forest. You see, as one of the town guards, I¡¯ve got three jobs. Stand on the walls and look menacing, walk around town and look menacing, or go on excursions into the Wiltwood forest to clear out some undead so they don''t get too close to Darien. The other two, you already know about, but it¡¯s time to see Wiltwood with your own two eyes.¡±


    She was quiet, not because she was out of questions, but because she was out of breath from all the running. Still, he expanded a bit more, likely seeing how she struggled under their pace.


    ¡°I wanted to leave early in order to give you time to see and question everything. I know you¡¯ll be curious, but we have to be back before midday. From sunrise to noon, Wiltwood is far calmer than any other time.¡±


    She nodded, then focused on keeping up with her dads steps. Omia also noticed that her dad, Jacob, and Torei had all started marching in sync without even trying. It sounded weird, hearing it from within the formation herself.


    After a few minutes her father slowed and she looked up to see they¡¯d reached the gate, where she saw multiple guards standing beside a massive door waving people in and out. It was split in the middle, with the two pieces swiveled outward.


    Omia panted as she stood there, despite not running at all. Her father let her breathe for a moment as


    ¡°You¡¯re really takin your kid to see the dead, Loid?¡± one of the guards stationed there asked.


    ¡°I don¡¯t wanna hear judgement from it, but yea, I am. I can see that she¡¯s gonna end up there eventually, and I¡¯d like to be there when she does.¡±


    The mystery guard shrugged. ¡°Well, now''s as good a time as any I suppose. Aye, you¡¯re good to go through.¡±


    Omia¡¯s father nodded at the man, then walked through the gate as Omia followed behind. She was struggling to keep up with all the changes, but was elated. This would be the first time she¡¯d ever left the walls, the first time she would be able to actually see what was outside, rather than simply get glances of it before being chased away by her dads coworkers.


    From the many times she¡¯d seen it, she partially knew what to expect, but was still stunned when they finally left the protection of the walls completely.


    In front of her was a road that stretched to the horizon, but everywhere else was a sea of endless green.


    A massive grasslands opened before them, waving and shimmering in the gentle breeze. It was clear that the town was on a hill as well, because Omia could see far, despite the grass growing up to her chest.


    The swaying was accompanied by a unique smell as well, one of earth and life. It was hard to describe the scent of life, but it was the only word that came to mind for Omia.


    ¡°What is this?¡± she wheezed out, still slightly breathless from their run.


    ¡°Lets keep moving, we can walk from here on out too. I wanted to get you at least here in order to help give context to everything.¡± he said, then turned to the right, walking parallel to the wall. Omia noticed that there was a worn dirt path that to follow, and quickly caught up to her dad, Jacob and Torei behind her.


    ¡°Before I can tell you about the field, I have to tell you about Wiltwood,¡± her father said. ¡°I wont say I understand why, but Wiltwood grows monsters called undead, do you know what they are?¡± he asked her.


    She¡¯d heard about them before from others talking, but wanted to get a clearer picture, so she shook her head.


    ¡°Well, undead are creatures that have died and come back to life. Again, I don''t know why, but anything that dies in Wiltwood doesn¡¯t stay that way for long. When something becomes an undead though, it''s not the same as it was before. The undead are aggressive and murderous, attacking any living creatures they can. There are some undead that attack other undead, but thats for another time.¡±


    Omia was fascinated at the thought of something coming back to life after its death, even if it was in another form. ¡°If they¡¯re hurt badly when they die, do they heal when they come back to life?¡±


    Her father shook his head. ¡°No, they stay hurt, but the wounds don''t affect them as much. There are certain methods you have to use in order to re-kill undead. Also, despite them moving around when they come back, they are most certainly not alive. That''s an important distinction for a lot of people, so be sure to remember it, okay?¡±


    She nodded her head, looking at him with wide blue eyes. She was still scanning the massive field before them.


    ¡°Now, I¡¯ve seen you watch me as I work, and I¡¯ve talked to the parents of your friends. They said you¡¯re jealous I get to see outside the walls frequently, right?¡±


    Guiltily, she looked at her own feet and nodded.


    Her father laughed, and said ¡°There¡¯s nothing wrong with that. I just wanted to clarify that we don''t have to actually go into the Wiltwood if you don''t want to. I¡¯m taking you on an excursion so that you know more about my job before just deciding that this is what you want to do. At any point, if you¡¯re too scared or disgusted, we can turn around. Town guards have a bit more of a dangerous job than most think, so I don¡¯t want to start training you for it if you¡¯re not absolutely certain that it¡¯s something you want to do. Okay?¡±


    Again, she nodded at him, stars in her eyes as she looked towards the rising sun that lit up the beautiful vista of shimmering veridian.


    Her father smiled down at her. ¡°Ah yes, that¡¯s right, you asked what this field was. Well, now that you know a bit about Wiltwood, you¡¯ll understand the field more. You see, the Wiltwood used to spill out undead everywhere, and was just a general nuisance. You can''t really cut down the trees or some of the stronger beasts come to get you, and you can¡¯t endlessly patrol the entire edge of the forest, so some fancy people from the capital- err, a big city in the center of the kingdom- err, a uh, big territory- uh. Not important. Basically, some smart people figured out that this type of grass enjoys eating the thing that animates undead. Most plants either die from the energy or make the energy stronger, but this special kind of grass can choke out the undead.


    ¡°Apparently it took more than a few years, but eventually an equilibrium was reached where the grass wouldn¡¯t encroach on Wiltwood because the energy would be too much for it to devour, meaning that no big undead came from deeper in the woods, and the Wiltwood could no longer spit out undead on the rest of the world, because the field devours them rather quickly.


    ¡°There are, of course, exceptions to both cases, but generally that''s how it works.¡±


    She chewed on his words for around half a minute as they walked, the field becoming more impressive by the moment. She also realized that she didn¡¯t really know what it was called. ¡°Does it have a name? Like Wiltwood?¡± she asked.


    Her father nodded and said ¡°Yes, but its not really agreed on. Technically it''s called the Fields of Life, but most call it the Death Eater. The people that planted the field want it to be called Fields of Life, so if you ever go somewhere other than the town, you¡¯ll have to call it that or you might get in trouble. Apparently, the people who made it get quite mad if you don''t follow their naming sense.¡±


    She hummed her assent, then went back to looking around it all. The swaying fields felt a bit more¡­ threatening now. If they were able to pull the energy straight out of undead, could they do the same to her?


    ¡°Can the field hurt people?¡± she asked her father.


    He raised his eyebrow at her question. ¡°No I don''t believe so. It actually heals people who sit in it for a long time.¡±


    On and on they walked, and she struggled to keep staring at the field as she wanted to. The sun was getting brighter, and really starting to hurt her eyes.


    When it was finally too much for her, she turned away from it and faced forward, finally seeing something she hadn¡¯t noticed was already in view. Wiltwood.


    The breeze in the fields seemed to disappear when she laid eyes on the gnarled bark of the sickly trees, a white fog spilling out of it and into the grass.


    The phantom creaking of wood rang out in the distance, but she was positive she should be too far away to hear it.


    The scenery around her dimmed, and everything else fell to the wayside as the Wiltwood grew in her vision. Whispers of comfort promised to help her, to remove all the problems she¡¯d ever had. It was a promise of peace.


    A promise of death.


    She felt her father shake her out of her reverie and blinked rapidly, looking him in the eyes. His brow was scrunched, and he looked slightly worried as he kneeled in front of her.


    ¡°Sorry, what did you say?¡± she said, gulping. Her mouth felt too dry.


    ¡°Are you okay? You zoned out. I called your name a few times but you didn¡¯t respond.¡±


    She nodded, but it was clear he wouldn¡¯t accept that as an answer. ¡°Yes, I¡¯m okay. I just¡­ thought the forest and the field looked really nice from here.¡±


    ¡°Really?¡± her father asked skeptically, getting a nod from her. He sighed. ¡°Alright, I¡¯m trusting you to tell me if anything is wrong.¡± Then, standing up, he turned back towards Wiltwood, and continued leading her around the walls of the city. Occasionally he threw worried glances at her, but she just smiled at him each time, hoping to alleviate his worries.


    She couldn¡¯t turn back now. She needed to reach Wiltwood.

 Chapter 2

    On their way to Wiltwood, Omia crossed a small bridge that took her across the river that flowed out of Darien. She saw that the river itself went into Wiltwood, and assumed that on the other side of the town, she would be able to see it flow in from the Death Eater fields.


    Once across the river, it was a short trek before they started actually moving towards Wiltwood, continuing to follow the wall until they were perfectly opposite the gate.


    When they began the walk towards the undead forest, the pathway became slightly overgrown and she was able to verify that Death Eater grass was harmless.


    It didn¡¯t drain anything away from her when she touched it, no, it gave her a warm fuzzy feeling along her skin, like sitting in front of the hearth on a cold winter night.


    After verifying it was harmless, she started questioning her father again.


    ¡°Why don''t they build the gate on this side of the wall?¡± she asked.


    ¡°Because there are some very fast undead, that might be able to cross the distance in seconds. Undead are not particularly smart though, so it wouldn¡¯t know to travel to the other side- instead, it would slam itself into the stone wall until the grass finished eating it. Aside from the fast undead, there are some of the larger undead that would take a long time for the grass to eat, and they might be able to break through the gate, even if it''s closed.


    ¡°Essentially, the gate is a weak point to the town, and the mayor did not want that facing the forest.¡±


    Omia nodded. That made sense.


    ¡°I have a question for you, are you a little scared of the undead? The monsters I¡¯m telling you about?¡± he asked curiously.


    Omia shook her head, she wasn¡¯t.


    ¡°Why not?¡±


    She shrugged her shoulders. He gave her a look, and knew she wanted to elaborate. ¡°They¡¯re¡­ interesting. I don''t know, I¡¯m just not afraid.¡±


    Jacob and Torei gave her father a look, all of them conveying a variation of ¡®For how long though?¡¯


    After that, Omia lapsed into silence. She still had a few more questions, such as where the path out of the town and away from Wiltwood Forest went, but she found that she wasn¡¯t as interested in things like that over the area around her.


    She plucked some of the Death Eater grass, feeling the tingle in her hands, and went to chew on it, pausing before she glanced at her father to make sure it was okay.


    He looked at her from the corner of his eye but didn¡¯t say anything, so she shrugged and threw the long stalk into her mouth, chewing on it slowly.


    ¡°Baa¡± Jacob let out behind her, and Torei burst into raucous laughter. She ignored them, and felt the tingling that the grass gave off intensify.


    If she was only touching it, the feeling was surface level. When she ate it though, she felt a small jolt suffuse her muscles. Quickly, the feeling went away, and the piece of grass stopped giving off the slight tingle, so she spit it out. It still tasted like grass after all.


    Omia, her father Loid, and Jacob didn¡¯t notice, but Torei saw that the grass she spit out was far different. Shriveled up and grey, when normally it would pop right back up even if it was chewed. More than that, it would instantly plant its roots again.


    This one, though, was fully dead. He glanced between Omia and the grass, trying to figure out if it was something she did, or if it was something with that particular blade of grass itself.


    * * *


    Omia felt like they reached the forest rather quickly, but it was perhaps because she was so distracted by the allure of Death Eater grass. Now that she knew it wouldn¡¯t hurt her, she was actually rather drawn to it.


    When she looked up, it was like Wiltwood had snuck up on her, and the trees loomed ahead, a breeze from the fields transforming from tranquil to threatening as it whistled through the hollows of the gnarled dying woods.


    When Wiltwood was a distant thing, she felt no fear, like it existed only as a fable, despite looking directly at it. When her father asked if she was afraid, she spoke only the truth when she denied it.


    Now that it was in front of her though¡­ she felt her chest constrict. Still, she did not flinch, and marched forwards, only to feel her father grab her shoulder and pull back. ¡°Hey hey, slow down a bit,¡± he said. ¡°Let''s go over some ground rules before going anywhere. First off, we¡¯re only here to show you some undead, you are not to go near any of them, do you understand?¡±


    She nodded.


    ¡°Okay. Second, Torei and I are going to go ahead and kill any that we see. I want you to watch us closely. If you¡¯re going to join the guard, this is what you are going to have to do, so make sure it''s something you can do. It¡¯s okay if you¡¯re afraid, but if you¡¯re paralyzed in fear, this might not be what you want to do.


    ¡°Third, never step off the path. The trees are dense, and sound doesn''t travel far. If you cry for help, we will not be able to hear you if you aren¡¯t on the path. More than that, you will get lost.


    ¡°And last, If I tell you to run, you run, okay? Run out of the forest, and back to the town. This early in the day, we should only see one or two weak monsters, but there¡¯s never any guarantee, and it¡¯s better to be safe than sorry. If we run into something stronger, we may need Jacob to help us, and it would be better for you to be out of the forest, than for us to distract ourselves as we need to protect you too. Okay?¡±


    He nodded.


    ¡°This is serious, Omia. What are the four things I asked you to do?¡±


    ¡°Umm, stay away from undead, watch you and Torei fight if we run into one, stay on the path, and run if a big monster comes.¡±


    He nodded after each, and stood back up when they were done. ¡°Alright. We won''t be in there for long, perhaps fifteen to twenty minutes, then we can go home and you can tell all your friends about what you did.¡± He smirked, ¡°I imagine you¡¯ll be the center of attention for a while.¡±


    Her eyes flashed with disappointment. ¡°Only twenty minutes? I thought we¡¯d be in there until noon¡­¡± she said quietly.Unauthorized usage: this tale is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings.


    ¡°No no, I want to be out before noon. It slowly gets more dangerous as the sun gets higher, and noon is sort of a ¡®tipping point¡¯ for most undead to awaken. Right now, almost everything is asleep, which is the only reason I¡¯m taking you at all. I wanted to give us a large cushion of time to get in, show you what happens, and get out. The extra six or seven hours are for if we get super lost somehow.¡±


    He ruffled her hair, smiling at the pitiful face she was making. ¡°Sorry baby, I just want you to be safe. Now come on. The sooner we go, the more time you¡¯ll have to look at them.¡±


    She was cheered up by that and almost rushed into the forest, before he once more put his hand on her shoulder.


    ¡°Rule five, stay behind Torei and I.¡±


    She harrumphed, but listened, walking in the middle of the formation. Torei was in front of her, on her right, while her dad was on her left, and Jacob watched from behind.


    Though the trees seemed to have far fewer leaves than a tree should, the sheer amount of them formed enough of a canopy to begin blocking out the sunlight. As they walked deeper, the trees started growing more and more leaves, leaving them rather shaded.


    It was still bright enough to see, but she noticed that the shade would become denser the deeper they went.


    Not only that, but the fog she first saw from a distance slowly crept back, touching her ankles.


    She looked down at it curiously, noticing that it was uneven. Slowly following the source of it with her eyes, she looked up and found herself drawn to a spot off the path further ahead


    She was about to ask what it was, when some of the foliage began to rustle, and her voice caught. Immediately, the adults tensed, ready to move.


    She knew what she was looking at immediately when the creature walked out, because her dad would occasionally bring back rabbits for them to eat. They tended to have black fur and were rather tiny, which matched up with this.


    The only difference was that it was half-rotten and visible pale miasma rolled off it. As it crawled out onto the path, an action which looked unnatural as it wobbled in its movement, his father and Torei crept forward to kill it.


    When it spotted them, it shakily turned, then began to walk towards them. Torei went first, holding up a small buckler- previously stored on his back- to block the rabbit.


    Omia thought that, when the two sides clashed, there would be a tense fight but¡­ no, her father came around the side and immediately cut its head off, causing the entire rabbit to drop as the white miasma abruptly began to dissipate.


    They both backed up and Torei stared at it for a few more seconds, while her dad scanned the treeline, looking for anything else, but the fight was over. Once that was verified, they moved back into formation.


    Without looking at her, her father told her ¡°Generally, smaller creatures are much weaker, because they can hold less undead energy. That being said, there are always exceptions to the rule, so every encounter should be treated as life and death, okay? It doesn¡¯t matter if you¡¯re fighting an undead mouse, use all your strength to guarantee that it can not injure you. We knew that rabbit would die easily, yet we still used flanking tactics, to ensure our success.¡± Then, they began walking forward, Omia following behind.


    As they passed the rabbit''s body, she could see that the miasma no longer pushed outwards from it, but something else caught her eye as some of it began to flow out of the ground and into the rabbit¡­ before she could study it closely though, they were already walking away.


    Jacob tapped her on the shoulder and she looked at him. ¡°You okay kid?¡±


    She nodded


    ¡°Its okay to feel a bit disgusted at first. They are rotting bodies, but you¡¯ll get used to it. The smell is especially awful early on, but at this point, all the guards are accustomed.¡±


    Again, she nodded, but internally she was confused. For one, she didn¡¯t smell anything, until she focused on it.


    Suddenly, an overwhelming scent of rot and death filled her nostrils, but she was already accustomed to it. A feeling of familiarity permeated her when she recognized the scent, and Omia felt exactly where this feeling came from.


    Jane.


    While Omia had never smelled death or rot, Jane lived in this smell. For her, there was no escape from it during her final battle, and likely before even that.


    The second thing that confused her was her lack of disgust, she did not recoil at the rabbit itself, she was merely afraid of it hurting her. Once more, she tapped into Jane''s feelings. Jane was familiar with decaying dead bodies, a walking one was little different. She was cautious, but the rot itself played no part in that. Instead, her caution stemmed more from a sense of professionalism.


    She didn¡¯t notice at first, but when the next undead rabbit came out, an internal part of her demanded she study it with a critical eye, learning what she could. She reached for the notepad and pencil in its holder on her hip, but her hands passed through where it would normally be.


    Glancing down, she saw that there wasn¡¯t a notepad or pencil, and there never had been. Jane carried around a notepad and pencil.


    Panic rose in Omia as she felt herself slipping between the memories of Jane and the present of Omia. She was not surprised when another flash of Jane''s memory appeared, and she let the pain of it pass.


    When she came to herself, she looked down at her feet, and felt her stomach lurch.


    The white miasma flowed out of the ground, lapping at her ankles. It did not enter her body, as it had the rabbit, but small wisps of thin smoke pressed against her skin. She felt a cold embrace, but little else.


    She was afraid that Jacob would notice the odd behavior of Wiltwoods miasma, as he was the only one who could see her at the time, but he said nothing. Not even acknowledging the fog, he simply continued to follow, ignoring her glances back at him.


    ¡®Can he not see it? Or is this normal?¡¯ she asked herself, but she could see that the forest was only responding to her, none of the adults. It must have been because Jacob couldn¡¯t see it.


    She tried ignoring the sensation, so as not to draw attention to it. She didn¡¯t know how long they had already been in the forest, but they¡¯d already killed two undead, and her dad said they would kill two or three. Very soon, they would leave anyway. When that happened, she would be free to never come back. Free to go home, and forget everything that happened here.


    Despite the thought though¡­ she still felt a calling out to her. Something resonating deep within the forest.


    She felt herself slipping into that trance-like state she¡¯d experienced when she first saw Wiltwood, but the awareness of what happened helped to ground her.


    She fought against it, against the part of her that wanted to let go and walk deeper in the forest, giving in to whatever it was.


    Absently following behind her father, she saw him fight a third undead, but failed to process any of it. She listened to his orders as he told them to turn around and return home, but still she did not hear him. She was focused, intent on keeping one foot in front of the other, aware of her every movement so she wouldn¡¯t let anything guide her actions. Several times, she felt her mind try and wander, but she always shook herself free.


    Before she knew it, a light opened up in front of her, and the forest''s grasp on her started to slip. With enough presence of mind, she could barely process the maelstrom of pale smoke swirling around her like a vortex, pressing into her with his deathly touch. Despite that, none of it penetrated past the top layer of skin.


    The moment she stepped out of the forest and onto the overgrown pathway, she saw the swirling fog rapidly leak away, sucked into the Death Eater grass around her.


    Now gone, she felt a weight drop from her shoulders as her mind fully became her own once more.


    Trying to avoid breathing heavily, more from panic than exertion, she looked at the three people around her.


    Dad and Jacob looked none the wiser, but Torei glanced curiously towards the forest. He gave no indication of suspecting her, but she realized he might know something, and would need to be careful around him.


    Looking back, he studied all the bodies of the undead rabbits they¡¯d killed, didn¡¯t he? She thought it odd, but perhaps he was doing something similar to what Omia felt compelled to do, and study them. What if he, too, had visions of death?


    She wanted to ask¡­ but if she was wrong, how would she justify the question? She needed to think about what to say. Lost in her own thoughts on the curiosity of the forest and how to get answers, it was a quiet walk home.

 Chapter 3

    When they got home, Omia went out and played with her friends, but didn¡¯t mention where she¡¯d been in the morning. She wasn¡¯t sure how much they would ask about it, and she felt like she might accidentally say something she didn¡¯t want to. Instead, she treated it like a normal day, and tried thinking about what she could say to her dad in order to get a conversation with Torei. She¡¯d have to think about it.


    * * *


    A week later, she realized it would still be too suspicious to ask Torei himself, and went another route instead.


    She told her parents that she was still thinking about whether she wanted to be a guard or not in order to justify asking questions about the forest. One of the first questions she asked was about Torei.


    ¡°Dad, why did Torei stare at the dead rabbits after you¡¯d killed them?¡±


    ¡°Wait until after breakfast,¡± he responded when Omia¡¯s mother choked on her food.


    After they¡¯d all finished eating, he sat down next to her on the bench in front of their fireplace to answer.


    ¡°Well honey, Torei has something called a Glimpse of Undeath. I won¡¯t say I understand it fully, but there are people called Mages that can tap into different forces of the world by¡­ I don¡¯t really know, to be honest. I know they¡¯re incredibly rare, and I¡¯ve heard that every Mage has been blessed differently. When someone isn¡¯t quite a mage, but can still use a certain force of the world, it¡¯s said that they have a ¡°Glimpse¡± of that particular thing.


    ¡°For example, a Fire Mage can manipulate however they please, throwing it around using only their mind. Someone with a Glimpse of Fire, though, might be able to slightly guide fire, but never quite command it.


    ¡°Usually, Glimpses and Mages have some characteristic that shows what they are. For Torei, his hair is white. When he was young, his hair was actually light brown. There are a few people in the guard with Glimpses of Undeath, specifically because we spend much time in the forest. Torei says he still remembers when it happened, though we can¡¯t exactly recreate it.


    ¡°By his account, he was on a normal patrol with two others, when an old undead attacked them, despite being rather close to the edge of Wiltwood. Torei said it was a hard fought battle, and his two comrades died in the process, but they were able to put the beast down. Torei himself even said he was teetering on death by the end of the fight, but he was able to stumble out of the forest and collapse onto Death Eater fields.


    ¡°The fields healed him and removed whatever horrible energy the undead had infused into him, but it still left its mark. Now, he claims he has the ability to sense and manipulate undeath energies. It mostly works on the stronger ones, which has saved us from ambushes more times than I can count, but he uses the small undead as practice. When we kill an undead, he tries to study the energy they give off, to make himself more familiar with it. I think he¡¯s trying to turn himself into an Undeath Mage, but don¡¯t tell him I know that. He believes it''s silly to try for something so rare, but hey, there are legends around Mages and the like, who wouldn¡¯t want to be one?¡± Her father said, looking off into the distance with a smile on his face. Omia thought it wasn¡¯t only Torei that wanted to be a mage.


    Internally, Omia was a bit disappointed. Torei wouldn¡¯t know much more about Wiltwood than her father would, nor about the energy. True, he might¡¯ve figured something out from all the studying of it, but Torei wasn¡¯t likely to have memories of someone else. Not any more likely than her father, she supposed.


    Omia was starting to figure out that she was unique in some way. There were people she knew, other kids, that never stopped talking. If they had memories of someone else, Omia would bet her knife they wouldn¡¯t stop talking about it, but she¡¯d never heard anything of the sort, nor had anyone asked about that kind of thing. No, it must be only Omia who had something like this going on.


    Unless there were others, just not in her town, because Omia was pretty sure she now knew what she was.


    ¡®Am I an Undeath Mage?¡± she asked herself silently. ¡®But I don''t have any special features like Torei or some of the other people with white hair I¡¯ve seen. I couldn¡¯t manipulate that undead fog stuff either. I was definitely telling it to leave me alone, but it didn¡¯t. What if I just have a really strong Glimpse? But still¡­ My hair is blonde, not white. Wait, what about the few people I¡¯ve seen with green hair? Is that a Glimpse? Or just normal hair, like mine and moms? It seems a bit too rare to be normal.¡¯


    ¡°Is green hair a Glimpse too?¡± Omia asked.


    Her father nodded. ¡°Yes. There are two common-ish Glimpses in our area. Undeath, which is white hair, can be earned in Wiltwood Forest. Green hair is the other one, and it is the Life Glimpse, which can be earned in Death Eater Fields. There are a lot more Glimpses and Mage types than those two, but you have to be in a certain environment to earn them.


    ¡°Does that answer all your questions?¡± She nodded at him, and he asked ¡°Do you have any more?¡±


    She shook her head.


    ¡°Do you still want to become a guard?¡± he asked, trying to seem patient. She could tell that he really wanted an answer though. Her parents had given her a week without asking, but they were getting more stressed with every day she didn¡¯t decide.


    ¡°I still don¡¯t know¡­ Why do I have to decide soon? When did you join the guard?¡±


    ¡°Well¡­ I didn¡¯t start the training until I was twelve, then I joined around fourteen, which is around when I married your mother as well¡­¡± he said, looking off into the distance and smiling for a moment.The idea of getting married at fourteen disgusted Omia, but she stayed silent.


    Omia¡¯s mother cleared her throat behind them, and her dad shook himself from the memories, continuing on. ¡°I want you to decide sooner though, so I can start preparing you for the official training. It¡¯s harsh, and, I hate to say it, but you might not meet the physical requirements if you don''t start training soon. Boys grow muscles faster than girls, but that doesn¡¯t mean you can¡¯t join, just that it¡¯ll certainly take a lot more effort.¡±


    She nodded, and knew it was time to decide whether to stay in the town, or become a guard. She really didn¡¯t want to go back into the Wiltwood, but she felt it. The allure. It was an itch in her mind that didn¡¯t go away, something that insisted there was comfort, peace, and most importantly answers, deep within the forest. She likened it to a smell from the kitchen when her mom was cooking that made her even hungrier for the meal to come¡­ but in this case, the ¡°meal¡± was hidden in the heart of Wiltwood, and her ¡°hunger¡± couldn¡¯t be satiated by anything else.


    If she didn¡¯t go, she would feel that gnawing hunger inside her for the rest of her life. If she did go, she was placing herself in terrible danger.


    Ultimately, she knew her curiosity was too great. Eventually, the desire would become too much, and she would lose herself to that trance-like state. If that happened, would it not be better that she knew how to defend herself? That she was a guard by the time she left to find the source of that calling, and had her own armor to fight undead with?


    ¡°I¡­ Want to be a guard¡± she said with all the surety she felt, which was close to none.


    Omia¡¯s mother sighed, but her father looked at her understandingly. ¡°I thought so. Still, that doesn¡¯t mean this is going to be easy. You won¡¯t be able to play with your friends as much, and I¡¯ll have to be harsh on you when I¡¯m training you. More than that¡­ you might have to suffer under a brutal tutor, one that isn¡¯t me, because I simply do not have enough time to give you the proper structure you need.


    ¡°I want you to remember though. If, at any point, you want to stop, please say something. I will never be disappointed in you because you don¡¯t want to risk your life in a dangerous forest, and it¡¯s never too late to stay in the town. You could either be a stay at home mom like your mother, or even work somewhere within the walls themselves, like in a bakery. Everything else is a good choice too. The guards have long days and harsh jobs, with the only good thing being the pay. Which, admittedly, is good.¡±


    Omia nodded, but after considering the other options, she felt a bit more sure about joining the guard. She wasn¡¯t all that interested in staying at home to be a wife or working in a shop, because both of those sounded boring.


    She realized that she wanted to be a guard either way, she was only put off from the job because she was afraid of being lured into Wiltwood. If she wasn¡¯t a guard, she wouldn¡¯t want to stay in the town at all.


    The outside world fascinated her too much. She had to do something with that, perhaps joining one of the caravans that came through town occasionally. Her father let slip about other towns in the world, and she realized that this was probably where the caravans came from. What if she joined one? What if she went far away from the Wiltwood, and was able to see all the sights she could ever imagine?This novel''s true home is a different platform. Support the author by finding it there.


    That called to her more than anything within the town. Out of the two though, becoming a guard was more accessible to her, and a lot easier.


    She smiled, thinking about the future and all the things she might find in life. Everything she¡¯d seen of the outside was beautiful and interesting. There were so many things to do, and it felt like she didn¡¯t have nearly enough time to do them all. If she had to start somewhere though, it would obviously be training with her father.


    ¡°When do we start?¡± she asked.


    ¡°Now¡¯s as good a time as any.¡±


    * * *


    The first thing they did was to figure out how she would train. Once a week, on his off day, he would train her in how to use blades and shields. She said she wanted to use a knife alone, but he shot that down immediately. She would learn how to use longswords as her main weapon, so that she could keep the undead at a distance when killing them. Her knife would be a backup weapon, used only in emergencies.


    They couldn¡¯t begin blade training yet though, as her father needed to order some custom equipment for her to wield. She was way too small for any of the normal training swords.


    Finally, she found that she wouldn¡¯t be training in the walls. The town guard had an out-of-town training facility a small distance away. It was here that she would work on her muscles and, when it was time, her father would teach her how to wield weapons.


    Her father wanted her to train here, even when he wasn¡¯t around, for multiple reasons. First of all, the Death Eater fields helped to recover stamina faster than normal after workouts. This would let her train more, and faster. Second, if she did have an accident or hurt herself somehow, the fields would heal her back easily. And lastly, the training grounds were under constant use. Apprentice guards were being trained year-round, so she would be under the watchful eye of someone at all times.


    Her dad wanted her to watch the apprentice guards and copy their exercises without interrupting them. He said that he knew the veteran guardsman working as teachers there and could get her a spot watching the classes so they wouldn¡¯t kick her out, but she couldn¡¯t make herself a nuisance.


    After telling her the general plan, he took her to actually see the training grounds. Rather than turning right to approach the Wiltwood after leaving the gate, they took the path down the road, straight ahead of the town. It took them around twenty minutes of walking down the gently sloping hill atop which Darien was situated before she felt the ground level out, and began to rise again. Ten more minutes, and they crested the top of something she hadn¡¯t even known was a hill, as the waving grass made everything look flat from a distance.


    At the top of this new peak, a camp came into view. The road forked, one way going off to the left and into an area with tents, small buildings, and people, the other went off to the right, continuing into the horizon.


    ¡°That¡¯s where new guards are trained. More than that though, anything to do with the Death Eater fields happens here. The guards stay in the tents during exercises where they have to stay the night, while Alchemists and other workers stay in the small buildings day and night.¡±


    ¡°Why would anyone stay here aside from the guards? Do other people exercise a lot?¡±


    Her father laughed. ¡°Not quite. Death Eater grass has other uses than just working out. The juices inside it can be concentrated down into a special drink to heal someone quite quickly, which is what the Alchemists use it for. The special drinks that Alchemists make are called potions, and healing potions are not the only drink they use it for, just the most popular.¡±


    ¡°Why don¡¯t they use the grass closer to town?¡± she asked. It seemed like a big hassle to come all this way for grass when there was plenty near Darien.


    ¡°Ahh, there are some laws against harming any of the grass too close to Wiltwood in order to make sure that the fields are strong enough to absorb the particularly powerful undead that may happen along. That''s why anything that may drain its resources happens out here, a lot further away from the treeline.¡±


    She nodded, looking back at the odd camp thing. It looked almost overgrown from a distance, with lots of grass in between the houses and narrow walkways. She might be wrong though.


    * * *


    When they were closer, she saw that she was correct. There was grass between every building, and she had no idea how anyone got anywhere.


    ¡°Why do they let it grow inside the camp? Isn¡¯t that annoying?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s a little annoying, yes, but worth it. By intertwining our everyday lives in the grass, there is a much higher chance of earning Glimpses. There is around one Life Glimpse per five years of guard graduates, then twice that in Undeath Glimpses every five years working as on-duty guards.


    * * *


    Omia¡¯s dad introduced her to the two on-duty trainers. Retired guards would sometimes opt for helping train the next generation, staying with the cadets in their full two years of until their eventual graduation.


    Unfortunately, both veteran guards were not nearly as supportive as her father, to the point of being openly hostile.


    ¡°She¡¯s not gonna make it, Loid.¡± Francis said, the more outspoken one. Omia could tell that the other agreed with Francis, but wasn¡¯t willing to fight over it. Francis was.


    Her father adopted a harsh look, but said nothing aggressive. ¡°I understand the chances are slim, but this is her decision. You know she¡¯s been hanging around the gate and following me around. I can¡¯t just tell her no and think she will give up.¡±


    ¡°You can tell her no,¡± the grizzled man said. ¡°You don¡¯t want to tell her no. If she stays here, she¡¯s just wasting her time on something that¡¯ll never work out. If she doesn¡¯t give up now, she will later. She saw a few undead rabbits and thinks that¡¯s all the forest has to offer? Not a chance. Women don¡¯t belong in the Wiltwood, they lock up. Freeze. I¡¯ve seen it before. She isn¡¯t the first girl to want to join the guard, and they end up being stationed permanently in the walls because it disgusts them seeing the undead. If they¡¯re going to get an honorary position as guards, they might as well not get one at all.¡±


    Her father shook his head. ¡°I know you¡¯re speaking from experience, but I¡¯m not going to make her give up on her dream on your say-so, just because you think you know what¡¯s best. You haven¡¯t seen a single thing about her. Not that twinkle of fascination in her eyes when she saw undead, nor the way she grips her knife everywhere she goes. You¡¯re generalizing to something I don''t think applies to Omia.¡±


    Francis doubled down. ¡°Every parent thinks their kid is special, but she¡¯s not. I¡¯ll watch your brat for a while, I¡¯ll even make her participate in the exercises, but I¡¯m telling you she isn¡¯t cut out for it. She¡¯ll never be as strong or stern as the other cadets, and she¡¯ll just waste her life in the guard. How old is she?¡±


    Her father was steaming by this point, but still he didn¡¯t say anything that might irritate Francis. ¡°Nine.¡±


    ¡°Perfect. I¡¯ll cut you a deal. It¡¯s spring, the cadets have just started this year''s training. I¡¯ll give her three years maximum to prove she¡¯s worth training. If she isn¡¯t, I¡¯m pulling some strings to make sure she never joins the guard. At twelve, she¡¯ll still have two years to apprentice somewhere else. If she isn¡¯t up to my standard by the end of that, she¡¯s done, do you hear me?¡±


    Her father nodded solemnly ¡°Yes, sir.¡±


    ¡°Good. She''ll follow my class this year, do some of the exercises, and try to get in shape. If she¡¯s still here by next year, I¡¯ll involve her in a few of the mental endurance exercises, and if she can still pass those, I¡¯ll fully take her under my wing in the third year to get her up to the average apprentice standard. Then, two more years as a guard apprentice, and she¡¯s in.¡±


    Her father breathed a sigh of relief. ¡°Thank you sir, I promise she¡¯ll impress you.¡±


    Francis shook his head at that but said nothing. ¡°Leave her here for today so she knows exactly when to get up and when we¡¯re going home. I don''t want to see her outside the walls if it''s not with the cadets, so she had better keep up on our jog to the training grounds every day she wants to work on herself.¡±


    Her father nodded ¡°Alright.¡± Then, pulling her aside a bit, and behind one of the buildings, he kneeled down in the grass to get on her level.


    Omia was on the verge of tears. She hadn¡¯t said anything during their conversation, but she was still listening. Francis was harsh on her in a way that her parents never were, and she had no idea how to react to that kind of criticism. The only reason she didn¡¯t burst into tears, was because she felt like it would be proving him right.


    ¡°I know sweety,¡± her father said, pulling her into a hug ¡°I know. I¡¯m sorry I couldn¡¯t say anything directly to him. Francis is an old hand, and he has a lot of friends in the guard. His hair is white, but he¡¯s never gotten a Glimpse of Undeath before. That just happens when someone lives a long time, which is rare in the guard. If you want any chance of getting in the guard though, this is your best shot. You won''t be able to train fast enough in the walls, it''s too dangerous outside the walls without me by your side, and I don¡¯t have the time to stay with you all the time.¡±


    Holding her at an arm''s length, he looked into her eyes. ¡°This is the best chance I can give you. If you want to be a guard, this is the only shot you¡¯ll have, do you hear me?¡±


    She nodded at him, glad she didn¡¯t have to talk for fear of her voice cracking


    ¡°Francis is gonna say some rude things to you, but that''s because he cares. He wants to push you to your limit, he wants to try and break you down, because Wiltwood will be twice as harsh. He doesn¡¯t want you to die. Think of this as your very first trial. Can you stay strong under Francis?¡±


    At first she thought it was rhetorical, but he kept looking at her. He wanted an answer.


    She wiped the tears away from her eyes and nodded at him.


    ¡°Good. And remember, if you can¡¯t, then that''s okay. Just say the word, and there are other things you can do.¡±


    She nodded at him again. This was still what she wanted.


    If she was going to face off with undead in the Wiltwood, she had to be able to face Francis first.


    She would prove he was wrong.

 Chapter 4

    Her father left her with Francis and his cadets. The two trainers had only stopped to talk because the classes were taking a break, but they got right back into it.


    Francis¡¯ class was in their second year of guard training, and had four people. She still didn¡¯t know the other trainer''s name or his class, but he was unimportant. They trained somewhere else on the grounds. For now, it was her job to impress Francis.


    The training alternated between multiple topics. Sparring with each other, sparring with Francis, and doing physical exercises. The cadets ignored Omia, but she could see they were curious. Francis didn¡¯t acknowledge her though, so they didn¡¯t either.


    The four boys were much, much larger than Omia, but she didn¡¯t let herself get intimidated. When they trained with swords, she watched intently. When they started working out, she copied them. The session took place atop a clearing of flattened grass. She felt the Death Eater grass was still very much alive from the way it tingled her skin, but the avid training in the area as they made their rounds of the circle continued to pack it down. Several times she was asked to go sit in the tall fields of grass in order to be out of the way of their exercises.


    When she did, she still watched them intently. She ignored the bugs crawling on her, and focused. She couldn¡¯t risk letting something important pass her by.


    When it was time for lunch and dinner, they went to a large mess tent with a long table. She sat on the far end of it, watching Francis and his class as they ate. She, too, got something. By the looks of it, the cooks had made her something higher quality than Francis and the others, going as far as to carved her boiled potatoes into smiley faces and cut her steak up into little bites.


    Francis raised his eyebrow at her meal, but didn¡¯t say anything. After the meal, they got right back into training, and Omia still tried to follow along as best she could. She couldn¡¯t finish any of the exercises, but she wasn¡¯t down for long when she collapsed, the Death Eater grass infusing her with strength.


    When the day was done, Francis and his class got together with the other trainer, and they marched back to town. Omia had to sprint to keep up, and she barely avoided falling behind. When they reached town, she took a seat on the Death Eater grass, letting the odd feeling rejuvenate her. She noticed that it really did make her feel better. The shallow aching in her legs went away quickly if she pulled the grass over them.


    ¡°That¡¯s not going to help much¡± she heard a deep gravelly voice say, and whipped up. Francis stood above her. ¡°Death Eater grass helps slowly. Most of its energy passes right through the body, only rarely catching on wounds. Unless you¡¯re going to sit there for the next thirty minutes, it won''t be worth it.¡±


    She avoided reacting. She couldn¡¯t let him know that she absorbed it easily, and just hadn¡¯t realized it was an abnormal thing.


    She nodded but said nothing. He looked at her quizzically.


    ¡°That''s a dulled blade you got on your hip, yea?¡±


    She glanced at it, hidden away in the hip sheath that was tied around her waist. She was wearing a brown dress with no belt loops, so the sheath was tied to her using a fabric belt, a knot on her other hip.


    Looking back at him, she nodded.


    ¡°Why do you carry that around?¡±


    She shrugged her shoulders. It was just a random urge. Not to mention, she felt like it was related to Jane¡¯s memories, and he was the last person she was going to tell.


    ¡°Alright, well, we¡¯re getting up early tomorrow. I want to see you at the gates before sunrise if you still think you want to train with us. Eat a hearty breakfast as well, energy is important for building muscles,¡± he said, then walked away.


    ¡®Why was he so much nicer then? He openly said that he thought less of me because I¡¯m a girl this morning!¡¯


    Irritated but feeling better physically, she got up, walked through the gates, and went home.


    * * *


    Weeks, then months passed. Every day she could, she was up before the sun and running alongside Francis¡¯ cadets, training when they did, and watching their practice. Eventually, she realized that she was only wasting time by watching their swordplay without understanding anything, so instead she ran through the different types of workouts in the meantime. Francis ended up pulling her aside one day during one of the class breaks, which made her nervous at first.


    Rather than chastise her for anything though, he gave her better exercises. He said that his class used much more intensive and explosive movements than she needed to do. She had to start somewhere small, with smaller and slower movements, because she should focus on building her endurance for now.


    He taught her the ¡°easier¡± equivalents of the various exercises, then sent her on her way. When she started copying their movements again, it was much easier, and she noticed she improved much quicker in the following weeks.


    Sometimes Francis would take the second years on trips into Wiltwood, and she was told to go stand with the first year cadets and copy their training. When she was here, she found that the first-years had a much larger class, of around thirty. She guessed that most of them would likely give up before their second year, but wondered why.


    She also discovered that Francis¡¯ class was larger than four people. There were a total of six, but cadets were allowed two days off out of the week, on top of Tuesdays, which was Francis¡¯ day off.


    Once a week she would train with her father in swordplay, but that was much slower going. He walked her through the movements, corrected her form when he could, and told her to practice it in between working out during her time in the fields. She couldn¡¯t exactly bring the sword forms to life with her current muscle mass, but he insisted that the practice would help long-term. If they started early, she would be able to outclass most of the trainees.


    She wanted to work out every day, but with both trainers taking Tuesdays off, she had one day a week where nothing was scheduled.


    At first, she was tempted to train on the free day too, but her mother scolded her after she¡¯d tried once. ¡°You¡¯re nine,¡± her mom had said. ¡°Go play with your friends! You shouldn¡¯t even be doing this stuff at your age anyway. Don''t waste what little time you have to yourself working on forms.¡±


    ¡°Yes maam¡­¡± she¡¯d said, a little embarrassed, before going to see her friends.


    They hadn¡¯t even commented on her disappearance for an entire week, and she didn¡¯t bring it up, so it was fun to run around and play pretend once more with them, imagining big raids on the town where bandits attacked and they had to fight them off.


    After four months, around the middle of summer, one of her oblivious friends had finally asked ¡°hey Omia, where do you go the rest of the week? You never really told us.¡±Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.


    Omia shrugged, ¡°You never asked. I go to guard training.¡±


    Her statement was met with loud exclamations of ¡°What?!¡± ¡°Really?!¡± and, in one very enthusiastic case, ¡°You can do that?!¡±


    Before the rest had said anything, the last boy to exclaim asked quickly ¡°Can I come? Can anyone join?¡±


    Jack was nine as well, but a bit taller with thicker arms to match. He had brown hair and brown eyes, with a heavily freckled face and tan complexion. All the kids were at least slightly tan from their time outside, except for Omia and her unnaturally pale skin, but Jack in particular spent a little too long under the sun. His dad also worked as a guard, and Jack wanted to follow in his fathers footsteps.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know. I just told my dad I wanted to be a guard and he said he would get me into training.¡±


    Jack grumbled ¡°My dad never did that for me¡­¡± before whipping back up to look at her. ¡°Do you think they¡¯ll let me join if my dad says yes? How did your dad get you in? Aren¡¯t you too young to start training to be a guard? My dad said apprenticeships start at eleven or twelve!¡±


    Omia didn¡¯t answer any of his questions, but the incessant noise was almost physical in nature with how enthusiastically he approached the topic.


    She took a step back. She didn¡¯t like talking, and she wasn¡¯t going to start now. ¡°Don¡¯t know. Ask your dad.¡±


    It wasn¡¯t her job to explain the nuances of how she needed to start earlier because she was a girl. Although¡­ it might help to have a point of reference if another kid her age joined, so she could see how far behind she was.


    She wasn¡¯t helping him past this though. That sounded like a lot of effort, and he was already passionate enough that she thought he wouldn¡¯t drop the subject unless he knew for a fact that it was impossible.


    The rest of the day was completely derailed as they wanted Omia to answer a hundred and one questions about training in the guard, which she answered all with a single word. After the twentieth question, she started answering in nods, shrugs, or head shakes. They did not get the hint though, and by the end of the day she was bone tired. More exhausted than she¡¯d ever been from working out. Several times she¡¯d tried slowly inching away, but the group simply inched with her.


    Sleeping deeply that night, she almost missed her time frame to join the trainee¡¯s march, but luckily her mother watched out for her and woke her up on time. When Omia first started training, she found that her mom got up way earlier than she thought in order to cook her dad a fresh breakfast, then she cooked a second breakfast for Omia. Now though, her and her dad got up at the same time, so they all ate breakfast together every single day.


    It was odd. She spent less time in the town than ever, but she talked to her dad more.


    When they were done, she again fell back into a rhythm of marching before the sun and working out with the second year cadets.


    Her monotony was broken that day though, when she saw a familiar face. Jack, walking alongside a man she assumed was his dad. A similar conversation to her own went down where Jack''s dad tried convincing Francis to let Jack in, even pointing to Omia during their discussion.


    Oddly enough, Francis seemed more opposed to letting Jack in than Omia, despite his words of her being a girl.


    Eventually, their quiet conversation came to an end, and Jack walked over to her with a serious expression on his face. When she asked him what they talked about, Jack shared all the details.


    Apparently, Francis said it was completely unnecessary to start training five years in advance, and would be rather boring. He said that Omia herself was allowed to do so because she was a girl, and would need extra training if she wanted to match up with the others. Jack even went into demeaning detail of all the insults Francis had said about her.


    Omia was scowling deeply by the end of it, glaring at Francis, who seemed unbothered.


    Jack continued on about the full conversation though, saying that Jack''s father and Francis met a compromise. Jack could join the training three times a week, on Wednesday, Thursday, and Friday.


    When he was done talking and it was time for Francis to get back to work, Jack took up Omia¡¯s previous role of watching the cadets and practicing their forms, while Omia threw herself completely into her training. Surprisingly, Jack couldn¡¯t keep up with her, even though she knew he was stronger she saw irritation in his expression at that, but he just pushed himself harder.


    Over the next few days and weeks, Jack would usually join the class. At first, he was consistently there every week on every day he was allowed. Over the next few months though, he started taking days off where he could have spent them training.


    He always joined them at least once a week, usually two or three, but the gaps were there.


    Omia asked Francis about this on one of the breaks.


    ¡°Why don¡¯t you chastise Jack about missing some days?¡± she asked.


    Francis raised his eyebrow at her. ¡°Because he¡¯s allowed to miss as many days as he wants. You can too, for that matter, and I would never say anything about it. Everything you do here is only extra effort you¡¯re putting in because you believe you think you need to join the guard. Truly, it is such a waste of what I see is a dedicated mind.¡±


    With a glare and a grumble, she turned around and left to sit at the edge of the clearing again. She hated talking to Francis because he always claimed to know what was best for her, and that the best course of action was to simply give up.


    ¡®Fuck you,¡¯ she thought, though she would never say that for fear of getting her mouth washed out again.


    More months passed, and the trees of the town slowly started turning orange. She did not break her schedule though, always up early and out despite the cold. Her parents also had to buy stronger winter clothes, as she spent much more time outside than she would have before. Despite all the sun though, she was just as pale as when she started. It didn¡¯t bother her, but her mom was confused that she¡¯d never gotten a sunburn.


    She also noticed that the visions of Jane¡¯s memories didn¡¯t come to her as quickly as they had before, leaning more towards once every three days than every day.


    On one of her days off though, she was walking down the road in a thick coat and scarf, when something came into view, gently falling to the ground in front of her.


    Looking down it was a bright orange leaf. She stared at it for a long moment, when a vision of Jane flashed across her mind, brought on by the concept of death. Once it faded, she¡¯d turned away from where her friends were meeting up, instead facing the gate as she felt her hand go to her hip, gripping the handle of her knife.


    She tried releasing her hold on it but¡­ struggled. Looking down, she could see her knuckles had gone white.


    She gulped. That was a much stronger flash than anything she¡¯d had before. Though it only lasted a second, like all the rest, it was clear that this flash was profoundly deeper than the others.


    For a time she considered what to do, but there wasn¡¯t anything she could do. Omia figured Death Eater fields helped to suppress whatever was happening to her, but it was her off day.


    She¡¯d just have to hold out until tomorrow, when she could go back out of the walls to train. She was content to try and strongarm the issue away by absorbing as much life energy from the grass as possible.


    The next few flashes over the course of two weeks were stronger than ever before. Each drew her attention back to the gate and, by extension, Wiltwood forest.


    One dreadful day, she woke up early in the morning to go training, and found snow as she took that first step out the door.


    Eyes widening marginally, she knew what this meant. Francis had warned her of the guard cadets winter trip.


    Every winter, the cadets would spend the season out on the edge of Wiltwood. Winter was the season when the Wiltwood was strongest, and they had to keep a contingent there from the first snow until the last melt, defined by a weeklong period without snow on the ground at all.


    There would be no training today¡­ The cadets went straight to Wiltwood. The idea of trying to join them occurred and allured her, but she shook the thought away. She wasn¡¯t ready to face it.


    Her father left at the same time as her, and saw the snow as well. ¡°Ahh, tough luck kiddo,¡± he said. ¡°It¡¯s just for the season. Spend it with your friends, getting caught up with them and all. There¡¯ll be a lot of time indoors, might as well use that.¡±


    She belated hummed her assent, but her mind was elsewhere


    ¡®How am I¡­ going to stave off the visions?¡¯ she thought fearfully.

 Chapter 5

    Winter was a bit of a different time for everyone. Most sat inside, spending time with their family¡¯s. Even her father had far more time off than usual, because of the nature of the guards winter training program.


    It wasn¡¯t only the cadets that sat in the forest for a season. There were also many of the more grizzled Guards that spent the time with them, for both protection and practical purposes. Because Wiltwood became stronger during wintertime, there had to be a perpetual contingent of patrols cutting down undead and burning their bodies. The unlucky ones chosen for this wintertime job had double the work, while the rest of the guard finally caught a break as the walls were less manned than usual.


    Omia found out, over time, that there were normally attacks on the walls almost every single week. It was just that the undead were cut down so quickly that the citizens inside never even heard about it. With the winter guard force camping out at the edge though, the attacks had all but ceased completely. Despite Wiltwood becoming more active, this was a time for relaxation among those not chosen to take on the seasonal burden.


    For Omia though¡­ a new issue presented itself.


    She could sit inside and do nothing, but she found that her mind would wander back to Wiltwood if she did that, and memories of Jane would appear if she thought about Wiltwood Forest or death in general for too long. No, she had to stay active. More than that, she had to focus on life.


    It was an odd defense, but the experience of life drastically reduced the weight of Omia¡¯s visions. She discovered it when she was out playing in the snow with Jack, who¡¯d been following her around since he found out she was training to become a guard and copying what she did. She laid on the grass to make a snow angel, when the muffling nature of snow cut off the sound around her. She felt herself slipping into the unfocused state, where another flash would appear, when Jack''s hand hit her side as he made his snow angel. It hurt a lot, but pain caused the trance to recede and, for once, the vision didn¡¯t come.


    It wasn¡¯t the pain itself that pushed it away, but the way it grounded her. She was forced to recognize what Jack was doing. He was playing, making a snow angel. He was doing something fun, and enjoying the world around them, even if he looked super serious while doing it.


    When her attention was brought back to that, she realized she had a powerful tool for staving off her horrible visions.


    Sitting in front of the hearth, she almost felt herself look too deeply into the flames, seeing the burning bodies piled up, but she squeezed her mothers hand, understanding that there was nothing here other than her mother and the warm fire that kept them comfortable. Still, the trance state didn¡¯t fully recede, so she told her mom about the snowball fight her and her friends had, all the funny times when she hit someone and the not-so-funny time when she was hit in the face, getting a nose full of ice.


    Despite being irritated at the time, Omia found that she looked back fondly at the memory. The person apologized later and the other kids got a good laugh about it. Nothing bad had happened, just a new experience.


    A new memory as Omia.


    By the time she was done, Jane¡¯s memory had been suppressed.


    Omia wasn¡¯t always successful though. Sometimes, the flashes ruined the joy of whatever she did, but she was just glad she didn¡¯t need to suffer every single one. It was like the memories had been storing themselves in the time Omia was in the Death Eater fields, hiding away and waiting for the right moment to attack her when she couldn¡¯t do anything to stop them.


    They were wrong though. Omia would always fight back against them. The control she now had over the memories helped her cope with the pain now, and she found she was becoming more confident, not as antisocial. She still didn¡¯t talk a lot, but the battle and growth was internal, which is all that mattered.


    She didn¡¯t give up on training either. With her dad around more, he could train her in the forms far more frequently than before, and she started to make leaps and bounds on how to hold a sword, how to swing it, and so on. She learned to parry, to block with her shield, and even how to transfer from one stance to another in order to better hold her weight. She was still far too amateur to do anything fancy or quickly, but the thought was there.


    She wanted to keep herself in top shape physically, but it was just so boring and intensive without the crutch of Francis¡¯ yelling as a distraction and the Death Eater grass to help rejuvenate her muscles.


    Her dad suggested something else instead, getting her friends involved. They played tag in the park frequently, why not extend the radius of the town? After all, they usually had to stay in the park to avoid running into people because of the crowded streets, but with it being wintertime, there weren¡¯t many people walking around. If tag was extended to the entire town¡­ wouldn¡¯t that be like running laps?


    Or perhaps she could practice parrying on the boys around town. They had vastly superior strength, and would easily wrench the sword from her hands if she didn¡¯t have a firm enough grasp. That would help to train the grip strength on her blade, which he insisted was a very important aspect of sword training.


    Omia thought about it more, and found that she liked the idea. The next day, she got Jack and a few of her other friends to tell everyone they could about the game of tag across a large portion of the town. It wasn¡¯t the entire town, as that was way too big, but it was a large area. They needed more people for that though, or the game would last forever.


    To help speed up the game, they also decided that if you tagged someone else, you were still ¡®it,¡¯ until everyone was ¡®it,¡¯ then the game would end. Otherwise, the singular person who was tagged would have a hard time getting anyone else.


    The results were¡­ rather fun, and painful.


    She was a lot more in shape than any of the other girls, but still had a bit less raw speed than the boys. She out-enduranced them all though, but she got a bit carried away during the game.


    She¡¯d intentionally let multiple people see where she ran to chase her, so she could run further than them and show off. It¡¯d worked, for a time, but she hadn¡¯t considered that the road might be slippery in places. When she tried turning down an alleyway, only to slip and fall on her back, getting the wind knocked out of her.


    Then the two boys who¡¯d been chasing her slipped as well, and one kicked her in the shoulder on the way down.


    ¡®Don¡¯t cry, don''t cry, don''t cry, don''t cry.¡¯


    Holding in her tears as she got back up, the boy who kicked her apologized profusely, but she insisted it was okay. She must¡¯ve had red eyes though, because a few other people asked her if she was alright when she got to the main group that sat in the park who were waiting for the game to end, uninterested in chasing people around in the cold.


    They played one more time, before everyone was way too tired to continue. Even Omia was winded beyond belief, and began the long walk home.


    Luckily, when she got back, her mother had assumed she would be tired, and filled the bath tub for her, setting it near the fireplace to warm up so she could immediately get clean.


    Over the course of winter, she continued to work on her muscles and how to wield a sword. She was even suffering from fewer visions than before. Not because they weren¡¯t happening, but because she learned to recognize them and fight back. She would always zone out on something relating to death for a few seconds, then the memory would appear. The only way to stop it from happening was to focus on her life and the joy of living.


    She found that she really enjoyed the twist in her daily life, and was actually sad when it stopped snowing, and the last melt was upon them.This narrative has been purloined without the author''s approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    Omia was now ten years old. Right as the town started becoming active again, the guards went back to their posts, and stores began staying open for longer, Omia¡¯s mother had one more announcement to make before Omia and her dad went away to spend time with the guard.


    She was pregnant


    Her father was ecstatic, but Omia didn¡¯t really know how to feel, so she was just happy because her parents were happy.


    Finally, her father told her that the winter guard had returned. In two weeks, after his short vacation, Francis would start training a new year of students.


    * * *


    ¡°All of you are here to become guards, but few of you will. Around two thirds of you are going to fail in some way, either by finding out you can¡¯t stomach the sight of undead, or because you don''t like how intensive it will be on your body. Most of you, though, will fail at the end of the year. During the winter, all trainees go into the Wiltwood with the winter guard and spend the season there, using the sword training and survival skills taught here to assist in cutting down swaths of undead. For an entire season you will be in Wiltwood, and once you¡¯re there, there¡¯s nothing you can do to make it back to town until the first melt. If you don¡¯t think you can handle that, feel free to leave now, or simply never show back up to another class. Any questions?¡± Francis gave his speech to the new trainee¡¯s


    ¡°Uhh yeah,¡± one kid said, ¡°What the hell are they doing here?¡± he pointed at Omia and Jack.


    ¡°Omia and Jack have received special permission to watch the guard training early. They are not part of your class, and will not go on the winter trip. They will, however, stay out of the way when you are training, and not talk or interact with any of you unless I tell them to. Yes?¡± He directed the last part at the two of them. Both of them nodded silently, Jack looking deathly serious as he did so, in his typical manner


    ¡°Very good,¡± Francis said.


    A few of the prospective trainees gave them the stink eye for some reason, but Omia ignored them, focusing only on Francis. Jack turned a little red at their looks, but said nothing.


    ¡°Alright. There¡¯s no time to waste, so let''s get right into it. Much of this year will be focused on getting you into top shape, with only a small amount of time in the fall to teach you how to hold your sword. Skill in wielding swords is important, but it means absolutely nothing if the undead can overpower you. The opposite is also true, that if you can just cut straight through an undead then you won¡¯t need to use many tactics at all. Let''s go through some basic exercises.¡±


    The workouts were much easier than what the second years did, to the point that Omia could even- just barely- follow along. Jack tried as well, and succeeded for a time, but had to tap out after hardly an hour. He didn¡¯t stop working out, he just had to take more breaks and use some of the easier alternatives they¡¯d been taught last year.


    Omia pushed herself hard to keep up. Even though she still had around two years to meet the bare minimum requirements for getting in, it was more of a pride thing.


    When the sun started to dip more, she had to ease off because the grass''s properties were being outpaced by how hard she was pushing herself, and she wanted to have enough energy for the walk home. It wouldn¡¯t mean anything if she could keep up in their exercises, then got left behind during the march.


    She also found that, when she slowed down, much of the class slowed down too.


    ¡®Were they¡­ trying to outdo me?¡¯ she thought skeptically. They were two years older than her, of course they would be able to do more workouts than her. She hadn¡¯t even thought they¡¯d been watching her past the first few minutes when attention was brought to Omia and Jack, but it seemed she was wrong.


    Perhaps it was only one or two that watched her and tried to be faster or more explosive in their exercises, causing the rest to speed up their pace, but the effect was there nonetheless.


    Omia had a slight unfair advantage though, in the form of Death Eater grass; its unique effect on her let her rejuvenate faster from her workouts than it did for other people, so the official cadets had to pace themselves a lot more than she did.


    She fought back the urge to grin mischievously.


    ¡®I wonder if I can push myself hard enough to become faster than some of them?¡¯


    That would be for next time though, or maybe just as much as she could over the course of the year.


    They ended up stopping early so the cadets could sit on the grass and absorb its energy for an hour before it was time to go back to Darien. Omia tsked, because she realized she could have pushed herself harder and still spent the hour resting, which would¡¯ve been more than enough for her


    Francis taught them to march in sync on the way back, and Omia was happy to note that many of the cadets were still horribly sore and out of breath. She liked to think it was because they pushed themselves too hard trying to keep up with her.


    Over the next few days, she fell back into the usual rhythm of training, but this time she was able to keep up with the main group for most of the day, but had to slow down at times as her muscles stopped responding. Still, she was rapidly catching up. Two weeks later, she was met with a most unusual sight during one of her training sessions.


    Walking into the mess tent, she was going to her usual spot right around the end of the table, where her and Jack tended to sit, when she saw there was someone in her spot.


    ¡°Mom?¡± she said, surprised but still excited.


    Her mother smiled brightly at her. ¡°Hello sweetie!¡±


    Not wasting any more time, she quickly walked over and gave her mom a hug. ¡°What are you doing here?¡± she asked.


    ¡°Ahh, I found out that sometimes, pregnant women come sit out in the fields among the Life Grass because people think the baby might be born with a Glimpse if you do. I don''t know if it¡¯s true, but I thought it would be a good excuse to come see you!¡±


    Her and her mom talked happily for a minute or so, before Omia had to go get her food and come back. She didn¡¯t have much time to eat, so she had to stuff her face while her mom talked about her day instead of both talking to each other.


    Omia found out that her mom was not allowed near the cadets, for fear of distracting them. She didn¡¯t know how that was different from her watching, but she shrugged and forgot about it. Instead, Omia would only see her mom during lunch, because her mom said that she still had to go back and prepare dinner for her father before he got home. Omia nodded and had to return to watch the class shortly thereafter.


    Through short conversations with her mom, Omia began to learn more about the non-guard side of the camp. Apparently, there was a whole community of people out here.


    Five pregnant women, twelve alchemists that made potions and played around with the recipe¡¯s, and even random people that appeared for one or two days, just curious about the grass and wanting to spend the day out there. There were also a few who worked out, like the guard did, but not for undead-fighting reasons, just because they wanted to. Her mom told her that there was a way to pay a small fee to join an escort of guards at certain times in the day that would walk people back and forth between the town and the camp.


    Omia thought it was absurd how many safety features and protocols for protection were put into place for citizens leaving Darien and walking a short distance away. Not once had she ever heard of an undead attack on the travelers, and she figured the people would just be able to run away if they were attacked. After all, the grass would eventually devour the undead anyway, you just needed to buy time.


    That aside, Omia still paid close attention to Francis¡¯ class while she worked out, and saw that first years had a much different curriculum than second years.


    They sparred a lot less with each other, and Francis described various monsters in the Wiltwood they may run into, as well as their weaknesses. On top of that, he taught them survival tactics, even with visual aids such as dried plants to show them things. There weren¡¯t any visual aids for the undead, but Francis said he was sure they¡¯d learn it eventually.


    She learned that most of the plants in Wiltwood were permeated with undeath energy, and not at all safe for human consumption. There were animals that lived in the Wiltwood, feeding off these plants, which were barely safe to eat. Most of the undead were rarely humans, instead tending towards these animals that lived in the Wiltwood and fed off its energy. When a living animal became oversaturated with Undeath energy, it could turn into a monster. Not all monsters in Wiltwood were undead, but a lot of them were.


    Someone asked if humans could become oversaturated with undeath energy and become monsters, but Francis said that was a ¡°long studied subject¡± before changing the topic without answering it. Like Omia, many of them read between the lines to know the answer was ¡°Yes but don¡¯t ask.¡±


    It was clear that there was a distinction between ¡°Human oversaturated with mana¡± and ¡°Human with a Glimpse,¡± which actually went against something she¡¯d assumed earlier. After hearing Torei¡¯s story, she thought Glimpses just happened when someone was filled with a lot of a particular energy, but apparently that was untrue.


    It was interesting learning about how the world works, but she could tell that some of the cadets weren¡¯t listening as they focused on working out their muscles. It was, after all, quite hard to get a listen to Francis¡¯ lectures while doing hundreds of pushups. For that reason, she noticed that Francis tended to repeat himself multiple times over the course of a few weeks. Each lesson was taught three or four times, perhaps to really drill in what he was saying.


    The new schedule of working out while listening to Francis, talking to her mom, and trying (but failing) to outpace some in the class was broken around two months in, when the class was not marched to the typical circle of grass where they trained.


    She became hyper-aware when she saw that they were standing in front of a large circular tent, and heard hissing and growling from inside.


    ¡°Cadets,¡± Francis said in his usual stern voice. ¡°We will not be focusing on your muscles today. Instead, we have a bit of a unique lesson before us.¡±

 Chapter 6

    ¡°Inside this tent¡± Francis continued when he had everyone''s attention. Omia absently noticed two people wearing staff uniforms that stood next to him. They had wax nose plugs in, and carried a stack of wooden buckets each. ¡°Is a common and dangerous monster type you are going to encounter, a Carcass Wolf, known for their tendency to devour swarms of undead. They travel in packs, are packed with enough undead energy to kill fifty grown men, and their bites are always lethal unless treated. Not because they are venomous, no, the sheer rot that coats their teeth will devour you from the inside out, causing you to decay while still alive.


    ¡°Today all of you will suffer a bite from the Carcass Wolf, then learn to treat that bite before you die. If this is not something you can withstand, please leave now. This will not be the last lesson involving getting injured then learning to treat the wound, so if you can''t stand even this, there is no chance of you making it to the end of the year.¡±


    Several had paled, some seemed unsurprised. Jack, as well, was not as shocked or scared as she thought he would be. ¡®Are those the people whose parents are guards and warned them? Why didn¡¯t my dad warn me?¡¯


    Nobody had left quite yet, but some looked ready to. Francis led them inside and everyone, including Omia and Jack, followed.


    It was much darker, but there were a few lanterns hanging on the poles that held the tent up, as well as along the ceiling. In the middle of the tent was a black wolf tied up in chains. A chain went through its mouth as well, stopping it from closing it all the way. Though Omia was accustomed to awful smells, even she scrunched her nose at this wolf''s breath. Everyone else except Francis fared much worse than she did, recoiling the moment they walked into a tent. A few of the more sick looking cadets were handed buckets by staff, most of them throwing up.


    ¡°The smell is the very first thing you must be observant about to spot a Carcass Wolf. Though they tend to eat undead, they are not above eating people if they¡¯re hungry enough, and they¡¯re stealthy bastards, near-silent in the underbrush. If this particular smell hits you while in the forest, be on guard, as a pack of Carcass Wolves are nearby.


    ¡°Now, a Carcass Wolf''s bite is infused with undeath energy and rot. Given enough time, you¡¯ll go straight from alive to undead, skipping the death between. Newly-resurrected are particularly weak, which is exactly when the Carcass Wolves will strike. One will bite you, then they will simply let you perish before setting upon your undead self.


    ¡°To treat this, you will need a Purge Potion. This potion will, as the name implies, purge the undead energy, but fails to remove the rot. Left alone, the rot will become infected, and you will die anyway. To remove the rot, you must either cauterise it quickly using a field torch or, failing that, cut the limb off entirely and purge the stump.


    ¡°The faster you burn the rot, the less you¡¯ll have to burn. Wait too long, and it might set too deep, leading to a lost limb.¡±


    Gesturing to one of the staff members, they walked up to Francis and handed him a wooden box. Opening it, he revealed fifteen glass vials filled with glowing teal liquid to the room.


    ¡°These are purge potions.¡±


    Handing it back to the staff member, the staff member placed it on a hook tied to their hip, before pulling out a torch from the other side and handing it to Francis. ¡°This is a torch.¡±


    Placing it on the ground, Francis used a flint and steel he had in his pocket to light it. Only now did Omia notice that there was no Death Eater grass in this tent.


    Holding the torch up and grabbing one potion from the staff member, Francis said ¡°Normally, this is where I¡¯d ask for a volunteer to go first, but I¡¯ve had the first volunteer picked out for well over a year.¡±


    Omia¡¯s eyes widened as he looked in her direction and smirked.


    The class parted and looked at her, both confused and stunned that she was chosen. Omia knew Francis¡¯ angle here. He wanted her to hesitate or seem fearful because he didn¡¯t think she¡¯d actually go through with it.


    Shrugging, she walked straight forward towards the Carcass Wolf, feeling a vision attempt to appear. ¡®Not now¡¯ she demanded, already focused on the current moment, and the vision receded.


    Francis¡¯ smirk waned slightly when he saw she was actually going to follow through, but he didn¡¯t miss a beat. ¡°Knick the back of your knuckle on its serrated teeth, then stand up, take this potion from me, uncork it, cure the wound, and stick your hand into the fire.¡± As he spoke, two more staff members came in,holding the wolf down. It was already chained and gagged, but they didn¡¯t want it jerking its head around and causing unclean injuries.


    Nodding Omia still didn¡¯t falter. Forming a fist, she quickly brought it down to the wolfs growing mouth, and just barely pierced the skin around her middle finger.


    Immediately, she felt a chilling cold enter her system, and stood right back up, showing the drop of blood to Francis to make sure he couldn¡¯t say she hadn¡¯t done it, then taking the blue potion from him. Holding it with her injured hand and pulling the stopper off with her uninjured, she poured the entire vial of blue liquid onto the knick.


    Combating the cold feeling, a burning warmth penetrated her skin. It was like the purge potion had a mind of its own, and it dedicated that mind to penetrating as deep into her wound as possible and spreading out across her flesh.


    She didn¡¯t stop to investigate the sensation though, holding the injured knuckle to the fire and wincing as it started to blister.


    After a few seconds, she pulled her hand away at the same time that Francis pulled the torch away.


    Sucking air in through her teeth, she looked at the red and bubbling back of her hand. The pain made her eyes water, but she could hold it in. She didn¡¯t look at Francis, so he couldn¡¯t see she was about to cry, but she could hear the trepidation in his voice.


    ¡°Yes, as you can see¡­¡± he said, before getting a second wind and realizing he had an amazing opportunity. ¡°It''s so easy even a little girl can do it. It was a perfect showing as well. She barely pierced the skin, which is a lot better than some who try and prove themselves by getting multiple lacerations. That''s a terrible idea, don¡¯t let your pride put you through more pain than necessary.¡±


    While he spoke, one of the staff members came over to her, kneeling down and giving her a smile as they wrapped her hand in green gauze. Omia felt as her body devoured energy from within the gauze, and realized it was probably made from Death Eater grass. Or Life Grass, as she now wanted to call it. Death Eater grass was such a mouthful.


    Francis continued his speech, and she continued to listen. ¡°This lesson is simply to show you the symptoms of undeath energy infecting your system, how to use purge potions, and how deeply you should burn yourself to cut out a fresh rot wound¡­¡±


    Francis continued for a time, breaking down everything Omia did and basically saying ¡°don''t throw your entire hand into the wolves mouth, don¡¯t throw your entire hand into the torches flame.¡±


    He also said that the purge potions were made to dig into the wounds, as she suspected, and would attempt to force themselves through the skin if there was no wound present, which was a much more painful process. The portions were made using different magical ingredients, but mostly Life Grass. Normally the energy in the grass passed right through a body, but alchemists did something to help it root into someone and give the body more time to absorb it. Only a small fraction would actually end up becoming absorbed, but that was okay, because the main purpose was to destroy undeath energy in someone''s system.


    Now that Omia had gone, many of the more fearful ones looked a lot more sure of themselves. Some even audibly said ¡°If a girl can do it you can too¡± to their scared friends, which she thought was a bit rude but funny.


    Jack was super jealous that she got to stick her hand in the Carcass Wolf''s mouth and asked if he could do the same, but Francis said absolutely not, which made him give Omia the stink eye.


    Some of the boys that she thought would chicken out ended up going through with it, and she was almost positive she¡¯d kept at least four of them from dropping out of the guard training.


    When all was said and done, the class got a free day to chat and sit on the grass, letting the green gauze and Life Grass heal their wounds. Some of the older kids tried talking to Omia, but she was ever the silent type, and they picked up on that. Instead, they talked near Omia, and let her join the conversation if she wanted. Which she didn¡¯t. Jack, on the other hand, was happy to talk about both of them for a chance to speak to some of the older kids.


    Though she was something of the center of attention, she actually didn¡¯t mind it all that much. The day went by, it was enjoyable, and halfway through the day her mom came to visit her in the field, as she¡¯d gotten special permission for just this one day.Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.


    The boys scattered when her mom sat next to her, and Omia could see a few of them gawking from a distance. She scrunched her nose at that, ¡°Ewww, do they like my mom?¡±


    Jack was happy to talk to her mom though, in a not-weird manner. He¡¯d become familiar with her since they all tended to eat lunch together.


    * * *


    After the class with the Carcass wolf, the cadets seemed to pay a bit more attention to Omia, but not with hostility. It was like they saw her as a genuine candidate, while they didn¡¯t before.


    Francis as well, for that matter, stopped trying to convince her quite so often to leave, and the few attempts he did make were half-hearted at best. Her heart soared when she realized that, unless she did something terrible, she was legitimately going to succeed. She was actually going to become a guard cadet. A weight lifted off her shoulders and stress she didn¡¯t know she¡¯d been carrying went away.


    The rest of her second year of training was quite fun. She continued to push herself, and every time there was a live demonstration with a monster, she got to go first. It put a lot of the cadets at ease, seeing Omia go first every time. She almost always ended up getting teary-eyed, but so did a few of the boys, so she didn¡¯t feel as bad about that.


    The Carcass Wolf was probably the most dangerous of the demonstrations, and she suspected that Francis had made that demonstration first so that he could weed out any of the weak ones.


    Through the class, she started learning about a guards toolbox. Potions to stave off undead energy in the body, potions to pull the energy out of particularly strong undead, potions to heal injuries and some to grant unique effects- such as the ability to live without breathing.


    There was a diverse set of potions, one for almost any situation, but each was limited. Francis beat into everyone that you had to pick the right moments to use each, because you only had one or maybe two per potion type. The only exception was Healing Potions, which everyone had four of.


    She learned quickly, and tried ingraining each lesson into her mind. Even though she was going to take all of these classes one more time, she didn¡¯t want to miss anything.


    It was near the tail-end of summer, as the days became cooler, that her little sibling was finally born into the world


    * * *


    Omia and her dad were both given some time off from training and work to spend with the new little family member. A baby boy they named Joseph.


    Omia and her dad took care of Joseph and her mom while she recovered, occasionally watching him while she slept, if Joseph himself wasn¡¯t also sleeping. Her mom was otherwise inseparable from her son, and Omia got to watch her dote on him frequently.


    Omia was sometimes in charge of watching Joseph when her dad cooked and her mom slept, and she had to say, he was a very cute baby. Most of the time he just sat in his cradle or was held by one of her parents, so he didn¡¯t do much, but that didn¡¯t stop her from holding her finger out and having him grasp it on occasion. He had blue eyes, like Omia and both her parents, but also white hair. At first, Omia thought he was born with a Glimpse of Undeath, but her parents laughed and waved it off, saying that his hair would darken as he got older.


    Playing with him whenever she got the chance was fun. Poking his cheeks and holding his hand were surprisingly nice. She thought she would hate the two-week break Francis had insisted she take when her baby brother finally came, but she was much more at ease now. She didn¡¯t even sneak off to train, spending that time playing with the new family member.


    By the time two weeks had passed, her mother was up and active, ready to show off Joseph to all the other wives that did laundry together.


    ¡®You know¡¯ Omia thought, ¡®I always think I¡¯m going to hate it when my life changes a bit. My first winter after joining the guard, the end of that same winter, now the break to spend time with my baby brother. And every time, I¡¯m wrong. Maybe life is just enjoyable and I need to stop being negative.¡¯


    In her time around Joseph, she didn¡¯t suffer from a single of Jane¡¯s memories. They tried multiple times, but she was getting better and better at resisting them. As she got older, the trance began to happen more frequently, but she just kept fighting back against it.


    There was no way to confirm it, but Omia thought that her desire to join the guard and face her problem head-on helped a lot. If determination was the issue, Omia had it in spades.


    * * *


    One early Sunday, when Omia and her dad had slept in and were only now getting up to train at sunrise, they heard a knock on the door. Confused, her father got up from breakfast and answered it. Omia peeked around his side to see Francis standing there, not in his typical teacher getup, but normal clothes.


    Surprised, her father asked ¡°Err, hello sir, what could I do for you? Aren¡¯t you supposed to be teaching some cadets right now?¡±


    Francis sighed but didn¡¯t respond to that directly. ¡°May I come in?¡±


    ¡°Oh! Uh, yea sure¡± her father said, stepping aside to let Francis walk into the house. Her dad closed the door behind him.


    ¡°Alright, not a word of this to anyone else, but I get it. I was wrong about Omia, and intend to let her into the guard training program.¡±


    Shocked, it took a moment for her dad to process what he said. Omia, though had expected this for a long time, cracked the smuggest smile she could muster, crossing her arms. When her dad understood, she watched him mirror the posture perfectly, crossing his arms and smirking at Francis.


    Her mother guffawed behind them, laughing at their synchronized positions. Her father didn¡¯t even see Omia doing the exact gesture he was, it just came naturally.


    Francis mumbled ¡°not far from the tree I suppose¡­¡± then said louder ¡°Alright I get it. This is exactly why I didn¡¯t want to say this in the street, you don¡¯t have to rub it in.¡±


    ¡°No, but I can, which is best of all.¡±


    ¡°Hehehehe¡­¡± Omia laughed maniacally behind him, rubbing her hands together.


    ¡°You don¡¯t get to make fun of me, you¡¯re still a cadet,¡± Francis complained.


    ¡°Sorry sweety,¡± her dad said, ¡°He¡¯s right. Let me make fun of him.¡±


    They all laughed at that, and Francis was quick to jump in before anyone could say anything else. ¡°I¡¯m here for an actual reason by the way, we need to talk about the next few years.¡±


    Sensing the moment of laughing at him passed, but still grinning, her father nodded and put a few chairs around the fireplace for them to sit by. It was running a bit low, but that was okay because it wasn¡¯t all that cold yet.


    ¡°What do you mean by ¡®talk about the next few years?¡¯ I believe I remember you saying that year one would be body training, year two would be testing her mental fortitude, and year three you would officially get her up to speed on the cadet baseline, before letting her into the training program.¡±


    Francis sighed. ¡°Yes, but that¡¯s the thing. I underestimated what she could do. She¡¯s already up to baseline, more than that, she¡¯s up to the baseline of second-years. She¡¯s able to keep up with the class of twelve, soon to be thirteen year olds, despite being only ten.¡±


    At his words, her father looked at her with surprise and pride. ¡°So, my little girls outgrown you already?¡±


    Francis grunted. ¡°Not quite. Don''t get me wrong, she¡¯s an impressive little girl, but she definitely still needs more training, but only about one year more rather than three. She needs to become more well-rounded in her sword play, and you aren¡¯t the optimal teacher for that. You¡¯ve given her a strong foundation, but she needs to build on that. I¡¯m here to suggest she take the second year of cadet training with the rest of the class officially, and be part of their training.¡±


    ¡°Is that allowed? And more importantly¡­ would that mean she goes on the winter trip?¡± something flashing across his face as he said that.


    Francis shook his head. ¡°It¡¯s allowed if I say so, and no, she wouldn¡¯t. She will go next year, but she¡¯s just a bit too small right now. She¡¯s got a lot of muscle packed into that little frame, but she¡¯s done very little sparring with others, which the bigger cadets have gotten ahead of her in. After she¡¯s got some proper training in the sword, grows a couple inches, and completes her winter trip, she¡¯ll graduate alongside the others. If that¡¯s okay with you.¡±


    Her father almost said yes, but quickly glanced at her mother, who subtly nodded. ¡°That¡¯s fine with us.¡± he said, and Omia was practically vibrating in her chair.


    ¡°After that though, she won¡¯t be given quite the responsibilities of a full guard,¡± Francis doused her enthusiasm slightly. ¡°Until she gets taller and has a longer reach, it will simply be too dangerous to face off against monsters. Normally, patrols are in groups of three, but hers would just be in groups of four until she could wield the blade more effectively.¡±


    ¡°What if I was holding a longer blade?¡± she asked ¡°couldn¡¯t I make up for it?¡±


    ¡°Good enthusiasm. No way. In theory, yes, but I¡¯m not gonna let a promising recruit throw herself into danger unnecessarily. It should be for just a year or two, so just bare with it. Though if you want, training with a longer sword could be interesting. When you get older and taller, you might be able to out-reach anything or anyone you fight. Not standard simply because it can be a bit cumbersome, but something tells me you won''t mind a heavier sword long-term. If you¡¯re matching the strength of older cadets at your age, you¡¯ll end up stronger than them later in life.¡±


    ¡°Guards already use longswords, what are you suggesting? A greatsword¡± her father asked.


    ¡°Claymore.¡±


    ¡°No way!¡± her father said more in disbelief than to reject the idea. ¡°Why? Isn¡¯t speed more important than harder hits in a fight?¡±


    ¡°Yes, but I don''t think you understand how absurd her strength is for her age. Her arms aren¡¯t getting a lot thicker, but if you watch her exercise, you¡¯ll see how lean she is. She is packed with invisible muscles. I¡¯m suggesting a claymore because once she hits puberty, I¡¯m almost positive her strength is going to get a boost like no other. It sounds crazy, but I think she might be able to hold a claymore with a single hand, if she keeps her training up,¡± he included the last part while looking straight at her.


    ¡°But that¡¯s¡­ absurd! Nobody without a Glimpse gets that strong without putting on a lot of muscle.¡±


    ¡°Yes, which brings me to my final point.¡± Looking intently at Omia, he asked. ¡°Omia¡­ Do you secretly have a Glimpse of Undeath?¡±

 Chapter 7

    Three sets of eyes landed on her, and she froze, trying desperately to think of what to say.


    ¡°No,¡± was all she could muster.


    ¡°Francis, that''s absurd! She¡¯s been to the Wiltwood only once, and I do believe Glimpses tend to be showy, don''t they? I think I would have noticed.¡±


    ¡°Maybe, but I don¡¯t think it happened in the Wiltwood. It¡¯s been shown that close proximity to undead, even outside the forest, can give people Glimpses of Undeath. Now, I can think of one rather miraculous instance where Omia would have come into close proximity with an undead, and a powerful one at that.¡±


    She saw recognition flash across her fathers face, but she didn¡¯t know what they were talking about. Her stomach dropped though, as she could see that her dad was starting to buy into it.


    ¡®Wait, why do I care if they think I have a Glimpse? I just don¡¯t want them to know about Jane.¡¯


    The thought put her at ease. She was all but caught, but now she wanted to know more about why they thought she had a Glimpse, and when she¡¯d run into an undead. ¡®It might give me a hint of why I have Jane¡¯s memories at all.¡¯


    ¡°When did I¡­ get close to an undead?¡± she asked unsteadily.


    Neither of her parents answered, too busy looking off into the distance. She could almost see them connecting dots she didn¡¯t know about.


    Francis though, did. ¡°Just over ten years ago, there was a titanic undead that attacked the walls of Darien. It was too strong for the Death Eater grass to handle, which happens occasionally. The towns around Wiltwood are placed here to ensure that instances like this are caught early and pushed back.


    ¡°When the giant crawled out of the forest, the guards on duty could see the Death Eater grass wilt under it, and knew what that meant. A break. When stronger undead push back the fields like that one did, it all but guarantees a swarm of smaller ones will follow in their wake.


    ¡°I won¡¯t bore you with the details of the battle, but the giant smashed the walls of Darien and a lot of undead broke into the town, including the giant itself.


    ¡°When it broke into the city though, those with Glimpses of Undeath sensed the giant''s power draining rather quickly. In around a minute, it ran out of energy and turned to dust. After that, it was a standard cleanup of the remaining swarm, yadda yadda. Everyone assumed the Death Eater grass had simply responded violently, finally draining it of all its energy, but I¡¯m starting to think something else happened.


    ¡°What if, perhaps, you had suddenly formed a Glimpse in your mothers womb? Your father was right, Glimpses tend to be very showy when they form, and that might¡¯ve been the display. All the energy was drained from the undead and into you, forming your Glimpse.


    ¡°When I got the idea in my head, a lot of things started making sense. You always seem to cover yourself in the stuff after workouts. You rejuvenate a lot faster, and you¡¯re stronger than you should be. I thought that, perhaps, your Undeath Glimpse manifested itself in life-absorbing properties.¡±


    ¡°But¡­ I don¡¯t have white hair¡± she said, trying to justify it. It was starting to get convincing enough that even she thought she might have a Glimpse. There were a lot of things she suspected were the root cause of her visions and ability to see the undead energy a lot easier than everyone else, but for some reason, a generic Glimpse had never crossed her mind.


    ¡°No, but white hair isn¡¯t the only option, it''s just the most common. White eyes have also been recorded before, so it''s safe to say that the color scheme of undeath is unnatural white. And, if you would hold out our arm for us please?¡±


    Carefully, she held out her arm for them to inspect. ¡°Karee, if you would?¡± Francis asked.


    Her mother held out her arm too. Omia could see it now.


    Compared to both of her tan parents, she was pale. White skin.


    ¡®Huh¡­ I do have a Glimpse.¡±


    ¡°Ohhh¡± she said.


    There was an awkward silence where Omia didn¡¯t know what to say. ¡°Soooo¡­ What does this mean?¡±


    Francis shrugged. ¡°Nothing really, you¡¯ll just keep going through guard training. Maybe you can explore what your Glimpse can do in your free time, but that¡¯s for you and your family to decide.¡±


    ¡°They¡¯re different? I thought they¡¯d all be the same!¡±


    ¡°Nope.¡±


    She thought he would elaborate more, but he didn¡¯t. Instead, it was her dad that spoke. ¡°You know, a lot is starting to make sense. You¡¯ve always been a little odd, and I remember your reaction to undead when you first saw them¡­ what, exactly, did you think when we walked into the forest for the first time?¡±


    What ensued was half an hour of her parents grilling her on everything while she tried tiptoeing around certain topics.


    She absolutely did not want to admit anything about Jane or whatever called out to her from within Wiltwood, but she could admit to everything else.


    Slowly, they found out more concerning her abilities. She was better at absorbing life energy from the grass, and could easily sense undeath energy in the air. She also admitted that eating the grass drastically accelerated up the process of absorption.


    Francis suggested that she might¡¯ve inherited the giant undead''s abilities. When the grass started wilting under it, they assumed its powerful energy was choking it out, but that wasn¡¯t necessarily true: It might have been absorbing it and becoming more powerful. In which case, it was genuinely a lot more dangerous than anyone had suspected, and Omia gaining her Glimpse had probably saved the entire town. If it had to fight against the Death Eater grass, it would get weaker over time and they simply had to hold it off. If it was actively getting stronger from it? There was little the guard could have done.


    By the end, Francis was rather impressed by her abilities, and said she had one of the more powerful Glimpses he¡¯d seen. Perhaps fifth from the top, he ranked it.


    ¡°What¡¯s the first?¡± she asked.


    ¡°I met a man once who couldn¡¯t die, as long as he was in the Wiltwood. Undead energy healed him and kept his body together no matter what.¡±


    ¡°What happened to him?¡±


    ¡°Dunno. I think he moved to a big city and I never really heard from him again. We weren¡¯t exactly close though, so that¡¯s not surprising. Either way, I¡¯m pretty sure you become stronger the more life energy you have, because you¡¯re already past normal human boundaries based on your size and muscles.¡±


    Omia shrugged. She was honestly tired after all these questions, so she started answering them with one word each. After two hours, her parents were finally satisfied, and they moved on to other, more mundane topics.


    It felt odd, talking about something that seemed so important, only to transition over to Francis asking about Joseph, but Omia was pretty sure that they could see she was getting cranky and didn¡¯t want to push her more.


    Omia at least had one more answer. Her condition wasn¡¯t entirely unknown, which provided a sense of comfort.


    Ever since her father told her more about Torei, Omia had two theories as to why Life Grass interacted with her differently. One was that she was an undeath mage, and the other was that she was undead.


    She would have been happy to know she was an undeath mage, but she couldn¡¯t command the black fog to do as she pleased. That made her afraid she was wrong, afraid she was some weird type of undead.This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.


    She remembered the fear she first felt when she saw Life Grass, and thought there might be more to her Glimpse than Francis expected. What if she was something in between? An undead, and a living person with a Glimpse?


    She wasn¡¯t in the mood to talk for a long while, and even failed to stop another flash of Jane¡¯s memory. That managed to shake her free of her spiraling thoughts.


    ¡®I can¡¯t get in my own head. I can¡¯t doubt myself. I¡¯ve already put myself on the path of fighting the Wiltwood and its pull, I just need to keep walking.¡¯


    * * *


    Fall progressed and the trees around town lost their leaves. Now that the secret was out of her absorbing life energy, she didn¡¯t even remotely try to hide it anymore. Plucking some of the Life Grass during her breaks, she would put one side in her mouth and watch as the blade would rapidly shrivel up, turning brown.


    ¡°How are you doing that?¡± Jack asked the first time she¡¯d absorbed the grass.


    ¡°I have a Glimpse.¡±


    ¡°WHAT?!¡± he screamed, and the rest of the class glanced over, none of them indicating they¡¯d heard what she said.


    ¡°Shh, you¡¯re too loud¡± she whispered to him.


    ¡°How¡­ why didn¡¯t you tell me¡­¡± he said airily.


    ¡°I Only found out yesterday. Long story. Ask my mom when you see her, I don¡¯t wanna get into it again,¡± she said, before continuing to discreetly absorb the energy, now making sure none of the main class saw her do it. She didn¡¯t want to distract them and get kicked out.


    Jack seemed off for the rest of their workout, not as ¡°into it¡± as he normally would be. That wasn¡¯t for her to worry about though. She knew he was just jealous, he always was whenever she did something absurd, but she wasn¡¯t going to apologize for being born with a Glimpse.


    Over the next few weeks, she pushed as hard as she could, going as fast as she could, because she felt it was one of her last chances to pass a personal goal.


    To make one of the official cadets tap out before she did.


    She knew now that they really did watch her and try to match her speed, but she always had to slow down. They always beat her, but she felt like she was so close.


    It was getting too cold though, and any day now would be the first snow. As the cadets all spread out in a circle, she hit a few of them with a glare, as if to get their attention.


    They were confused at first, but when Francis told them to do their warmups, she went straight to full throttle, throwing her entire body into the motions rather than gently like they were supposed to.


    The few that saw her caught on, and started pushing themselves harder too, some of them smiling at her to show it was all in good fun.


    Jumping jacks, pushups squats, mountain climbers, lunges. They quickly transitioned away from the warmups, going through the entire set. After the first few cadets copied and exceeded her speed, the others soon followed suit, figuring out what was going on as most of the class glanced at her.


    Francis, too, realized, and she saw a slight uptick at the corner of his mouth. He didn¡¯t ask them to cut it out or stop, no, he simply removed the typical parts of their lesson where they might change things up or where Omia couldn¡¯t follow along, which was essentially all the sword training and sparring.


    Rather than stop with the exercises, he made them all timed instead with things like ¡°pushups for sixty seconds¡± rather than a specific number. That way, they could all push themselves at whatever speed they needed to, and finish at the same time.


    Her pace still felt lacking though. The others in the class weren¡¯t pushing themselves as hard as she was, they simply didn¡¯t need to. Her sprint was their run, and she tired out far faster than they did.


    When she felt like she would fail though¡­ she threw modesty out the window during one of their sessions of pushups, biting down on the grass below them.


    She didn¡¯t notice their expressions of absolute bewilderment because she was too focused on going as hard as she could. She needed to push them if she wanted the weak links to collapse. And if she wanted to maintain her maximum speed, she needed faster healing.


    Their bewildered expressions turned to disbelief when the Death Eater grass rapidly wilted in her mouth, and she spit it out off to the side, only to get another mouthful.


    Each time, she was hit with another burst of energy that staved off her harsh exhaustion.


    When they did lunges, she would grab a handful of grass on the way down and absorb it. If they didn¡¯t go near the ground, she¡¯d just suffer through the exhaustion until they reached the ten second breaks between each exercise, where she could grab another handful of grass and bite down on a part of it. Luckily, she didn¡¯t need to eat the grass. Just having it touch her teeth was more than enough for her Glimpse to drain it completely.


    Jack had tapped out almost immediately, and now could only sit back and watch.


    The rest of the class couldn¡¯t take their eyes off this odd child. None of them were particularly worried at first, but after the first hour, they were starting to sweat a bit. The ten-second breaks weren¡¯t enough for them to rejuvenate fully.


    The workout sessions tended to last thirty minutes, before switching to dexterity-based training to let the Life Grass heal their muscles. Without that?


    Omia had a chance.


    But a chance didn¡¯t guarantee anything. She could not, for the life of her, regain all of her energy from the grass. It was just slightly too slow to put her back into top shape consistently, so it wasn¡¯t a guaranteed game of endurance where she would just win.


    Despite that, she just kept going.


    Forgetting the pain in her muscles or the tingle of grass, she let herself fall into a trance-like state. This time, no visions plagued her. The rest of the world fell away as only her, the field, and Francis existed. He gave her an order, she threw herself into it as hard as possible.


    Right as she was really getting into it though, as she was starting to forget about everything else, Francis shouted ¡°WINNER!¡± while gesturing to Omia, causing the rest of the class to break out into a cheer.


    Confused, she looked around to the tallest trainee lying flat on the ground, breathing hard.


    ¡®I did it!¡¯


    Many of them came over to congratulate her but talked over each other, so she didn¡¯t have a way to respond. She also saw the one who dropped first getting made fun of by his friends, but he was laughing along with them from the ground, so she didn¡¯t think he was all that mad.


    ¡°Alright alright, break it up.¡± Francis said as he pushed through the crowd of thirteen year olds and pulled Omia over to where he usually stood, what they considered the ¡°front¡± by this point.


    More of them shouted their congratulations, so Francis had to wait for them to settle down before he continued.


    ¡°Now''s as good a time as any to tell you all. This girl here is named Omia, and she received special permission to start training early because I thought she¡¯d need it. Now though, as many of you have seen, she¡¯s close to all of you physically. Not quite there yet, but she¡¯s also three years younger.


    ¡°You see, apparently, Omia was born with a Glimpse.¡± He said as the rest of the class gasped.


    ¡°It lets her, as you can see, absorb the energy from Death Eater grass and turn it into strength or rejuvenate her stamina. Eating grass isn¡¯t something she normally does, I assure you¡± he said, getting them to laugh. It seemed they were in good moods after the break in monotony. ¡°But it helps her drain the energy faster. In light of this new development, I think it would be absurd to keep her as an honorary member next year, then start her in the program the year after, as the plan was originally. She¡¯d simply have all the Skills by that point, so the class would be unnecessary.


    ¡°Instead, I¡¯ve decided to induct her as a full member, and start as a second year with all of you after you get back from the winter excursion. She will train with you, and don''t worry about taking it easy on her. I intend to give her family certain special permissions while we¡¯re away in order to let her continue using the Death Eater fields, so she might even be stronger than you by the time we get back. She¡¯s also been practicing her sword skills for around two years now, so she¡¯s probably already better than you in that aspect.


    ¡°I hope there¡¯s nobody opposed? I understand if you have some skepticism, so please say so now if you do.¡±


    Despite her worries, nobody was mad about her joining them or technically skipping the first year. They¡¯d seen her here every single day with them, usually more frequently than they were because she didn¡¯t skip the two days that they did.


    ¡°No? Alright, guess it''s official then. I think we all need a bit of a break too. So let''s rest up some. You all can get acquainted with the new cadet, and I can go tell the staff they need to clean up a slobbery mess she¡¯s made.¡±


    Omia blushed as the rest of the trainee¡¯s laughed, but they quickly broke formation, coming over and surrounding her slightly. Some of them pushed others back though, and eventually they all formed something of a circle, Omia sitting on the edge with the rest.


    They went around asking about her glimpse and how she got it, getting awed faces when she told the story from Francis¡¯ perspective of the giant. For once, she didn¡¯t mind talking a lot. This seemed like a massive step forward in her goals, which helped a lot.


    She also found out that the cadet she managed to overwork was named Jamei, and he wasn¡¯t mad at all that she''d gotten one past him. She felt like he was most impressed by her of them all, which made her smile. She was glad she hadn¡¯t made an enemy in the guard so early on, especially not of the biggest trainee in the yard.


    She hadn¡¯t noticed that Jack had disappeared somewhere, nor did any of the other Trainee¡¯s think about how Francis had taken far too long to come back if he was only going for staff. He got back thirty or so minutes later and joined the conversation like nothing had happened at all.


    Shortly after Francis got back, Omia watched a snowflake gently pass by in front of her. Looking up at the dark grey clouds, she saw hundreds falling towards them.


    ¡®First snow¡­ just in time.¡¯

 Chapter 8

    When Francis realized it was first snow, he immediately rounded them up and told them to eat if they were hungry. The rules of the winter guard dictated that they were to leave immediately, unless it happened at night which meant they would leave first thing in the morning.


    The grass had mostly healed everyone back to top shape by the time they had to set out, so Omia simply followed behind them as they marched back towards Darien. Francis even encouraged her to join the ranks, which she did easily enough. Years of watching and copying them made falling into step come naturally.


    In a few minutes, they made it back to town, and she left the march to head towards the gates, waving behind her and saying goodbye to them.


    Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Jack walk into the city faster than she could react or say hello to him, so she shrugged and followed behind a few moments later at a more sedated pace. The guards waved her through, and she went home.


    * * *


    She found out shortly thereafter that her dad was, once again, free from winter duty. Unlike last time though, he was given another task from his guard Captain named ¡°assisting a promising recruit.¡±


    It involved taking Omia into the Death Eater fields as frequently as they could, and just letting her go wild on the grass, absorbing as much as possible. Francis wanted her strong enough to wield a training claymore by the time he got back, and that was the only way. This would also be a good test of whether she actually did get stronger from absorbing life energy, or if it simply healed her. Francis said it was likely a combination of both, but verifying would be a bonus.


    After enjoying a few days of the time off, her dad said it was time to get started on her new ¡°regiment,¡± and put on his leather armor. Now that she knew a bit more about the guard uniforms, she could understand much more than she did last time. The box on his hip was for potions, the stick on his thigh was a mini-torch that was always accessible, the buckler on his back was vital to fending off undead attacks, and even the slight fur flourish along the collar of his armor served to show off how the inside was padded with fur, where she thought it was just for looks before. She even noticed a metal tube that ran along the outer part of his lower left arm, and knew it was a long piece of flint to be used in emergencies by scraping the blade of your sword against it. There were some monsters that brought on darkness, and quick access to a lit torch was important.


    After studying his uniform, she put on her own winter clothing, thick and hard to walk around in, before she set out with her dad.


    Instead of going straight to the front gate, her dad took her down the street and collected Jacob and Torei, his old work friends from the first and only time she¡¯d ever been to Wiltwood


    On the way out, Torei matched the pace of her and her dad, walking alongside her. ¡°So kid¡­ I heard you¡¯ve got a Glimpse of Undeath too. Wanna collaborate a bit? Share notes?¡±


    She laughed. ¡°Share notes? I eat grass.¡±


    Jacob laughed hard at that one, but Torei talked over him, ever serious. ¡°No, you absorb life energy, which is important. I want to know if you can help me figure out how to do that, what it feels like, and such. I also heard you can see undeath energy very easily, which is one of the things I struggle with. You see, I¡¯m good at external mana manipulation, but I can''t actually see what I¡¯m working with all too well, which is a big problem.¡±


    ¡°Mana?¡± she asked.


    ¡°Yes, mana. Magical energy is called mana, it''s the stuff that powers undead and the stuff that you eat from the grass.¡±


    Omia had never heard that, but it was good to have a word for it.


    ¡°Sure, I can help you see the energy and maybe copy what I do to absorb it, you help me learn to control?¡±


    Torei nodded excitedly. ¡°That sounds like a good deal!¡± then held out his hand, and they shook on it, glove to mit.


    He told her a bit more about mana and what he¡¯d discovered, but not everything. He also said people with Glimpses tended to be stingy about their research, so he hadn¡¯t found anyone who would help guide him through the process of manipulating it. For now though, they would focus on getting Omia as much life energy as possible. Torei said that it might be possible to learn how to pull it straight from the air a lot faster, if she got good at external manipulation.


    Still, she hadn¡¯t felt even the slightest ability to command the mana types, so she would struggle in that aspect. Manipulating the mana was her version of Torei¡¯s mana blindness.


    They put the subject away when she stepped out the gate, seeing the Death Eater fields under snow for the first time.


    It looked very pretty to her. The thin layer of snow atop green stalks just paired well, and the grass completely ignored the frozen layer as it pushed itself up, its resilient nature showing. Even in this weather, it was a perfect green and waving in the chilly breeze.


    They had to walk back to the guard camp before they were allowed to touch any of the grass, as it was illegal otherwise. They couldn¡¯t actually go into the camp right now though, unless there was a sudden blizzard or it was an emergency, because apparently some people paid a premium for the private time in the winter.


    Walking further and out, but still keeping the path close by, they got to work cutting some grass. The guards would cut handfuls of grass with knives, and hand them to her in bundles. She was glad it was winter, because all the bugs were gone right now, and she didn¡¯t want to risk eating any.


    Taking large handfuls, she¡¯d put it on the corner of her mouth like she¡¯d seen some people doing with dried hay, except she looked a lot less cool.


    This repeated a couple times over the next few days. Her and Torei would talk about mana and shapes, she tried studying exactly what happened when she absorbed the mana and he tried teaching her how to manipulate it.


    When there was a fair bit of snow, Omia would gather up a handful of it and sometimes pelt her dad when he wasn¡¯t paying attention, getting the same treatment if she zoned out and wasn¡¯t careful.


    Her practice with Torei helped a lot, as he described exactly what he did when moving mana.


    ¡°It¡¯s like commanding a tiny army that doesn¡¯t really like you. You have to be stern with it, or it¡¯ll just ignore your orders. The more mana you command, the more likely it is to rebel, and the sterner you have to be.¡±


    At first she didn¡¯t have any mana to practice on, but then tried to ¡°find¡± life mana. She said she could only see Undeath mana, but Torei told her that didn¡¯t really match up. He could control any kind of mana he ran into at least slightly, though he worked best with undeath, so she should be able to see any kind she ran into, at least a little.


    She found that when she broke open a stalk of grass, there would be a flash of green that disappeared almost instantly, and she realized the Life Grass was healing over its own wounds so quickly that little mana escaped. What did escape, dissipated almost instantly.


    Her practice on manipulating mana involved trying to force that life mana to not dissipate, staying exactly where it was until she could poke it from the air, absorbing it through her skin.


    To help Torei see the mana in turn, she described its different properties.


    ¡°Undeath mana is like¡­ a liquid that flows out from the undead themselves, and occasionally up from the forest floor. It''s very dense, like smoke, but it doesn¡¯t go up to the sky, it goes down. It''s like heavy smoke. Life energy is very thick, but it can¡¯t really exist outside of living creatures, and disappears instantly if you let it.¡±


    Torei wrote down all her words in a little notepad and pencil he kept in his backpack, asking and clarifying certain things. He claimed that it helped him visualize what he was feeling better, which she thought was good.


    She was able to keep absorbing grass for around two weeks, but then the weather got too harsh, so they had to go back inside. It wasn¡¯t all hopeless though, as the four of them were able to harvest Life Grass faster than she could absorb it, so they would take big empty potato sacks to fill up with the extra. By the end of the two weeks, they were sitting on something of a stockpile, which she started going through. She had to dedicate practically all her time to absorbing the life ener- mana, the life mana, because it was slowly dissipating from the grass. A month after they stopped harvesting it from outside the walls, she was finally out of Death Grass, and they weren¡¯t even halfway through winter.If you stumble upon this tale on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.


    She wasn¡¯t bored though. Before absorbing all the grass, they had tested her physical limits in order to get a baseline. Afterwards, they did more testing to discover she had drastically improved her strength. Two years of passively absorbing life mana didn¡¯t compare to a month and a half of all-you-can eat. They estimated she was around ten percent stronger.


    Her dad and his friends briefly discussed buying things called ¡°Life Potions¡± for her, which were packed with life energy, but threw the idea out. They were insanely expensive because there was an actual chance of gaining a Glimpse of Life if you drank enough of them quickly and in certain situations, so there was a high demand and they were hard to make. A single one would bite deeply into their pockets, if they pooled their money together.


    They decided it just wasn¡¯t worth it. Much cheaper to get it directly from the source of life mana, an option which people- who weren¡¯t Omia- didn¡¯t have.


    When her father informed the Captain that his duty was over and the results, the Captain gave him a wooden practice claymore left by Francis, just in case Omia¡¯s experiments were successful. He was told to instruct her to practice with it frequently, as it would be the tool she used during spars and sword practice when he got back in the spring.


    Omia didn¡¯t waste any time. She was incredibly excited by the gift, and wielding a sword taller than she was with ease filled her with pride. It wasn¡¯t as heavy as an actual claymore would be, but it did still have a metal core to give it heft.


    The sword forms her father had drilled into her using a longsword didn¡¯t exactly apply anymore with the extra reach and lack of shield, but she began the steps to creating new movements and swings based on her previous training. It was slow going, but not impossible, and only time would tell.


    She did still take off days to go around town and talk to her friends, but she didn¡¯t see Jack much anymore, and he avoided her when possible. She knew he was too jealous to even look at her, but there wasn¡¯t anything she could do about that. He¡¯d always wanted to be a guard, and now she was a better guard than him in every possible way, despite them being the same age.


    Except for Jack, the winter months were near-perfect. She worked on her claymore skills and, when she got tired, Went to Torei¡¯s house to practice controlling mana. He always insisted they go right back over to her own house to practice, which was odd but she didn¡¯t mind.


    She found that almost everything produced mana, but not much produced it visibly. It was easy to miss, and she had missed it for most of her life. The only reason she spotted it now, was because Torei insisted he was able to grab the area around him a lot. He said he was able to feel the Fire mana, but she couldn¡¯t see it. In the water was water mana, yet again, it evaded her focus. It was only when she started describing what she saw, that they realized Omia had simply not realized what she was looking at.


    To her, water was slightly blue. To her mother, it was clear. She¡¯d never even questioned that, but she understood it now. Mana was tied to a particular material, and she had to be near that object to see it. She could even see fire mana- the issue was that it overlapped perfectly with fire. Only when Torei brought a small set of petri dishes and vials, mixing some ingredients together and lighting it on fire, was she able to spot the tiny motes of mana in the fire. He achieved this by creating an invisible flame, and letting her finally see the little red specks clearly.


    That being said, mana and its material were functionally inseparable from one another. Torei said that he was sure there must be a way, but he still hadn¡¯t properly visualized the different mana types well enough to do so.


    When Omia brought up that undeath mana was easily separable, to the point that it just fell out of the undead, Torei simply started muttering to himself about different things, pulling his notebook out and trying to figure out why.


    It was usually on flame that she practiced commanding mana. She couldn¡¯t make it flare or dim, but she could push it in a certain direction if she focused hard, like a breeze flowing over it. Even doing so for a few seconds was absolutely exhausting though, and Torei said that fire was one of the easiest to guide- because it was already moving around constantly. It was so easy to guide towards something, and so hard to reign in. Using the ¡°army¡± metaphor again, he described fire as bloodthirsty soldiers looking for anything to kill: once you set them on something, there was little you could do to stop them.


    Omia found it utterly taxing to command fire mana, but she was getting visible results quickly. Torei said that she would have a lot easier of a time with undeath mana, as that was where her Glimpse was, but practicing on something more difficult first would help. He also told her that she was able to produce undeath mana herself because of her Glimpse, but it would draw from her own strength, and to do so sparingly.


    Still, she learned how to do so. She didn¡¯t know when she would need undeath mana, but it might be useful to have.


    The very first time she managed to draw the smallest wisp of white smokey undeath into her palm, she felt herself weaken beyond belief.


    ¡®Oh, he meant that I literally draw from my strength, and become physically weaker. I thought that was a metaphor.¡¯


    When she asked later though, Torei laughed. It was supposed to be a metaphor, but her Glimpse involved her strength. By drawing undeath mana from the Glimpse, it harmed it slightly, reducing the benefits. He assured her that her strength was only temporarily gone though, and that it would return with rest. Oddly, she could not put the Undeath mana back into her body to return the strength faster.


    ¡°How do you draw on your undeath mana?¡± she asked him. Surely it was complicated if he couldn¡¯t just give up direct physical strength.


    ¡°Same as you I imagine, though I have to be careful. Because my Glimpse is about controlling mana, I lose control the more I draw out. Still, the more you practice producing your mana type, the more mana you¡¯ll be able to create. Here, I¡¯ve been doing this for about¡­ two years now? I got my Glimpse four years ago, but I didn¡¯t figure out I could do this for a long time. Tell me what you see.¡±


    He then held his hand out, palm up, and grabbed the area above it with his other, pulling up a rope of mana.


    By the time he was done, it looked like a three foot long whip.


    ¡°A whip?¡± she said, and Torei nodded.


    ¡°Now describe this to me,¡± he said, then tried to snap it forward in a jerking motion. The issue with the undeath whip, though, was that undeath mana was like fog, it had followed behind his hand, and didn¡¯t really make a sharp angle at the crest of its movement. Instead, it kind of just flopped forward then down.


    ¡°Are you using me to help with an experiment?¡± she asked.


    ¡°Well yes, that¡¯s the whole point of our cooperation.¡±


    She laughed, then said ¡°The mana isn¡¯t hard enough to do that. It just gets caught in the air and ends up behind your hand. It¡¯s like trying to whip¡­ I don''t know, a string? It just doesn¡¯t work. At least not with that motion. You¡¯d have to account for its flexibility.¡±


    Torei slung the whip over his shoulder then wrote down everything. She noticed that he wasn¡¯t letting his dissipate into the air, and realized she should have done the same. It could be dangerous to let undeath mana loose in the house.


    ¡°How do you get rid of your undeath mana?¡± she asked, and he recognized her question as a safe way to remove it.


    ¡°I don¡¯t actually think it¡¯s dangerous to let it dissipate, but I cant be sure either. If I have access to the fields, then I feed it to the Death Eater grass. If I don''t, I tend to just force it back into my body, then let it dissipate normally. I don''t regain any of my strength, but I think it¡¯s better than letting it run loose.¡±


    ¡°How do you get it into your body? Mine wouldn¡¯t go past the skin¡­¡±


    Omia watched him compact the smoke into a little ball, open his mouth, deposit it in, and swallow it whole.


    ¡°And that doesnt¡­ hurt?¡±


    ¡°No, not at all. It¡¯s a little cold, but I haven''t noticed anything bad about it. Again, most likely because of the Glimpse. Do not do that kind of thing with other mana types if given the chance, and don''t do that to other people either.¡±


    ¡°Have you tried it on other people?¡±


    ¡°It was a consensual and legally officiated experiment!¡± he exclaimed defensively.


    ¡°Ok Torei, I just want to know what happened.¡±


    ¡°Oh¡­ they threw up and were sick for a few minutes. I only put a little bit of mana though, so a larger amount would have hurt a lot more.¡±


    Omia shrugged her shoulders, then they got back into guiding one another. Torei had several different ¡°spells¡± he¡¯d tried to create, but most of them were duds for obvious flaws in them when Omia studied them. In return, he shared a lot of little tricks he¡¯d learned in how to command the different mana types and how to get herself into the mindset easily.


    By the end of winter, she wasn¡¯t good at commanding mana, but she was a lot better. And she could pull twice as much undead mana from herself than before. Torei said that this was also how he strengthened his own Glimpse, by drawing mana from himself and letting it reheal, that it would slowly give him more control long-term.


    He believed that if she did that, she would be able to absorb Life mana faster, but she had to wait until the winter guard returned before she could test that.


    With the last melt, Omia took stock of all her winter improvements. Skills with a claymore? Good, mana commanding? Not even passable, but getting better. Physical strength? She¡¯d have to wait for the class to start and a good spar to test it out.


    Two weeks after the break was done, as the second year of guard apprenticeship began, she was ready.

 Chapter 9

    Omia looked around her as she now stood among the rows of students she recognized from last year. Before, there were twenty seven cadets. Now, there were an even twenty, a far cry compared to the six she¡¯d seen in the last batch of second-years.


    ¡°I¡¯m surprised to see such a large class of second years¡± Francis started his speech. ¡°But not surprised on who made it through. All of you have been motivated beyond belief the last year, and one of the hardest working groups I¡¯ve trained. We¡¯re going to get right into the action, because I can see some of you are staring at the ridiculous sight before you,¡± he said, looking straight at Omia.


    Omia had her claymore in its scabbard, careful to not hit anyone in the sides with it, but it was still almost as tall as she was, and looked absurd on her.


    She was at the front of the class as well, so it was easy to see her if they were looking at Francis. She didn¡¯t doubt others had already noticed.


    ¡°Many of you are curious if she can actually fight with that. I will be honest, I am too, so let''s do some sparring.¡±


    ¡®This doesn¡¯t seem very official,¡¯ she thought, but shrugged. She¡¯d been sparring with her dad for a while, so she didn¡¯t think this would be a lot different.


    There were a few training sets of armor and weapons off to the side. There was one set of leather clearly made for her specifically, as it was a lot smaller. She¡¯d brought her own wooden blade too, so she didn¡¯t need one of the wooden longswords.


    When they all put on their armor, Francis chose who was sparring with who.


    ¡°Omia will go first, then we¡¯re going to break off into teams and spar with one another. Omia¡¯s opponent is, of course, going to be Jamei. Jamei, last year Omia outdid you, let''s see if you can get one back over on her.¡±


    With a round of cheers, Jamei stepped forward, the rest of the class forming a circle around them. Omia pulled her claymore out and slung it over her shoulder. While she could hold it out at arms length, she didn¡¯t want to tire herself out before the fight.


    Standing a few paces from one another, she smiled at Jamei, and he grinned at her. He was a mountain of a man, taller even than her dad, and maybe thirty percent taller than her


    ¡°Hope you¡¯ve been training,¡± Jamei said ¡°because I certainly have. Those undead are no joke.¡±


    She hummed in agreement, but didn¡¯t really say anything. When it was clear she had no taunting words, Francis held his hand in the air, then when he brought it down, said ¡°Begin!¡±


    Omia lowered her sword as Jamei drew his, and they moved closer to one another. When he was in range, she didn¡¯t hesitate to bring her claymore at him in a diagonal downwards slash, as she didn¡¯t want to let him close the gap. She had reach, despite him towering over her and having longer arms.


    Doing exactly what her dad had done multiple times, he blocked her glancing blow with his shield, hoping to unbalance her as the blade went flying over his head. When he moved in to try and slash at her, she pushed off the ground, spinning herself even harder and bringing the full weight of the claymore to bare as it did a full circle around her.


    Jamei barely got his shield up and her weapon hit him full force, and he was knocked off balance. Pulling the sword back slightly, she made a stabbing motion, poking him in the chest.


    With a yelp, he took a step back and scrunched his brow, the others laughing at him for getting hit. Omia was still beating him, despite his training.


    ¡®Hard to beat strength¡¯ she thought ¡®A two handed strike from me will need to be blocked with both hands.¡¯


    She believed she matched his strength almost exactly, but she was putting the full force into that blow, while he wasn¡¯t ready for the power behind it.


    ¡®I can¡¯t do that spin thing again either. It only works if they aren¡¯t expecting it. Dad always got me when he thought I would pull it off.¡¯


    Instead, she did several weaker slashes at his shield, always keeping him out of reach. She never committed herself fully to a single attack, nor did she ever stop moving her sword. She simply leveraged its weight in wide arcs around him. Each time he¡¯d redirect her blow, it would just come back from the other direction, and he¡¯d need to redirect it again.


    Groaning, Jamei realized he was being pushed back. ¡°This isn¡¯t working. I can¡¯t stop you with one hand and I can¡¯t just drop my sword, so the shield has to go.¡± he said, then took a few rapid steps backwards around the edge of the circle while unlatching his buckler. She didn¡¯t push the advantage, as she actually really liked what happened next. She thought it was fun.


    The moment he let the shield hit the ground, she was right back to it. This time, he was blocking her solely with the sword.


    He tried pushing her claymore to the side so he could get within range and hit her, but she didn¡¯t let him redirect the blow, instead focusing on pushing her sword into his own. Where he would¡¯ve taken a few steps forward into her guard, he found his own sword blocking him as she kept her claymore glued to his longsword.


    Now, instead of dealing with glancing blows, he shifted and turned his sword multiple ways, trying to get his blade around her, but she was stuck to him, a thorn in his side. No matter which way he moved his blade, she was bearing down on him with her own.


    Eventually, she saw him get an idea, and he grinned. He didn¡¯t bother trying to push her sword away, instead pushing it up and over himself, dragging closer to the base of her claymore. He still wasn¡¯t able to get past her guard, but they were now hardly a foot from one another, where he pushed down on the middle of her sword at an awkward angle. He could leverage all his strength towards her as she was much shorter than him, but much of her own was spent just keeping her sword in hand.


    Still, her dad had tried this before, and she didn¡¯t need a sword to get out of this. Bringing her foot up, she saw him pale for just a moment when he assumed the worst, only to relax when she kicked him in the side of the knee.


    ¡®Dad said to NEVER do that again¡­¡¯ she remembered the first time she¡¯d hit somewhere else. One of the few times he¡¯d yelled at her too, which made her cry, but she never did it again.


    Jamei sighed in relief at the same time as his leg gave out from under him, and she used the weight of her blade to push his body onto the injured limb, knocking him to the side. Down like a tree, the giant fell to the ground, not even bothering to stand up.


    ¡°Oh thank the Gods, I thought I was a goner,¡± he said, getting raucous laughter. When she¡¯d brought her leg up, she saw several others wince, so he wasn¡¯t the only one who thought she¡¯d do something else.A case of theft: this story is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.


    Francis looked thoughtful though. ¡°Omia, how long have you been training?¡± he asked.


    ¡°Since I was nine, so about two years? Most of it was longsword though. I just transferred over the techniques to Claymore and learned a few new ones that adapted it.¡±


    Francis nodded. ¡°I can see that. You used some longsword techniques near the end, which would have been ridiculous if you were using an actual claymore. They¡¯re far too heavy for something like that. By the end of the year, you¡¯re going to need to be a lot stronger if you want to use the official one you will get at graduation. For now though, this should be okay, but I¡¯m not letting you in that forest unless you either get strong enough to effectively wield a claymore, or switch to a longsword when I don''t see fast enough improvement.¡±


    * * *


    After some light sparring between them and similar results from the others who fought her, they went back to some light exercises. Omia believed it was to keep up some familiarity more than it was to build muscles- most of the cadets looked as thickly muscled as the typical guards walking around. They would probably ease off that as the year went on, focusing more on swordplay and practical examples as she¡¯d seen when she shadowed the second years before.


    Near the end of the day, the class was dismissed to rest a few minutes while Francis once more pulled her aside.


    ¡°I¡¯ve been watching you fight the other cadets. Your sword skills still need some polishing, but not all that much with how much effort you¡¯ve put into them. I know you like showing up to all my classes because you want to stay ahead, but my classes can only do so much past this point. This year, I want you to focus more on your Glimpse. I talked to your dad about getting you a tutor, and he told me you already have one?¡± he asked the last part.


    She nodded yes, as Torei was more than knowledgeable about mana and seemed very enthusiastic.


    ¡°Very good. I¡¯d like you to only show up to three of my classes per week from now on. For the other four days of the week, I want you either working on your Glimpse or actually having a social life. I¡¯ve already heard from your parents that you aren¡¯t very close to anyone?¡±


    Omia shrugged her shoulders. She knew people, and they knew her, but she wasn¡¯t exactly interested in anyone else in the first place. Even before she started coming to Francis¡¯ classes, she wasn¡¯t extraordinarily close to anyone.


    ¡°Alright, well, a lot of childhood friendships don''t necessarily work out, but it¡¯s still important to talk to others. You need more practice with that than anyone I know, too.¡±


    She scrunched her face, but still didn¡¯t say anything. Francis shook his head and smiled, but still dismissed her to go rest as well.


    As Francis told her to, Omia dedicated the next few days and weeks to Glimpse practice. It was during one of these practice days that Omia had a bit of a breakthrough.


    She was still allowed to go out into the fields under supervision of her dad and his friends, and apparently they were getting paid to do this, so she went frequently. While out in the fields one day, she was feeling particularly stupid because she had to bite a blade of grass, and decided she wanted to change that.


    Torei had spells, why couldn¡¯t she? So she had the idea to cast a ¡°spell¡± of draining the grass of its energy, without her touching it.


    Summoning a small wisp of undeath mana, she sent it towards the blade of grass.


    Her own mana always responded a lot better to what she was telling it, so it was quite easy to keep it from falling apart. Still, if it got too far away from her, she would struggle to control it, so she held her hand close to the blade of grass she wanted to drain.


    The whisper of her undeath mana touched the blade, and she felt a pulling sensation as it tried to take her mana, but she pulled back in a slight tug of war.


    Her undeath wrapped around the blade of grass, pulling as hard as she could make it, and she felt strength seep out from the grass. It continued to try and eat her undeath mana, but any of the energy it pushed to grab at her was just further drained away. She felt it send out small spikes of life energy to hurt her Undeath mana or stop her, but the spikes disintegrated under her pull. After around twenty seconds of back and forth, the blade of grass fully wilted.


    Smiling and proud of herself, she noticed Torei staring at her out of the corner of her eye, and looked back at him.


    ¡°How did you do that?¡± he asked.


    ¡°Do what? Drain the plant? I just pulled on it with my mana.¡±


    ¡°Wh- b- Wh- what? That shouldn¡¯t have worked! Death Eater grass devours undeath mana! If you touched it with your undeath mana at all, it should have just gotten pulled right away from you!¡±


    She shrugged her shoulders. ¡°It didn¡¯t.¡±


    Immediately, Torei adopted a wide-eyed expression and started muttering under his breath. ¡°But if¡­ does mana¡­ does mana produced from a Glimpse carry the same function of that Glimpse¡­¡±


    And, over time, they realized they¡¯d made a breakthrough. Apparently, when a Glimpse produced mana, that mana would do exactly as the Glimpse did much easier. When Omia made undeath mana, it would devour Life Grass easier. When Torei produced undeath mana, he could intermingle it with other mana types, allowing for him to control that mana easier.


    He was ecstatic about this, as it let him easily manipulate all the different mana types, even if not in their pure form. Now, he could mix undeath into a bucket of water, then control all the water into different shapes, making it easier to visualize what exactly he was holding.


    She still helped by describing his spells to him with mana sight or telling him when his undeath mana was unevenly spread out, but she noticed that his control over mana was looking sharper by the day.


    As for her own spell, she made leaps and bounds there too. When she went out and created a teeny tiny wisp of mana, she would use it to absorb Life Grass. At first it was slow going, but she found that when she absorbed life mana, her Glimpse would heal a lot more rapidly.


    With a new empowered Glimpse, she would make another wisp, then another, and another.


    If they were out in the fields all day, she could have a cloud of undeath mana as large as her by the end, and just slowly move it around her. She imagined it as a massive, weightless claymore that slowly cut down the grass as it passed by. It still took each blade around twenty seconds to give up all its mana, but with how many blades of grass she could pull at once, it was ultimately faster and more modest.


    With each swipe, she felt herself growing stronger. With each pull from her Undeath mana, she felt her Glimpse grow stronger, letting her pull life mana out faster. Her control, too, grew to new heights.


    They had to move out way further into the fields as well, because they were creating a wilted gray spot within view of Darien, which, while not illegal, made some guards uncomfortable.


    Luckily, Death Eater grass sprang up almost as fast as it wilted. Within a day or two, any grass that she absorbed was either replaced by a new blade or popped right back up, despite being very dead when she¡¯d left it.


    Stronger she grew, until she was able to wield her training claymore easily with only a single hand. When she¡¯d pulled that out during a sparring match, her opponent had laughed pretty hard.


    After one of their lessons, Francis announced that next week, on a Thursday, they would have an excursion into Wiltwood, and to not skip that day. Normally, they had a fairly loose schedule, but this was one time when it was set as ¡°all of you better be here.¡±


    Frantically squeezing in some last-minute Glimpse training, Omia barely considered herself ready when it was finally time to suit up and march out.


    It was around a third of the way through the year by this point, and Francis said she still was not quite ready to wield a real Claymore, so this time she would be using a regular longsword.


    Standing in front of the forest, Francis told them to do one final inspection.


    ¡®Potions? Check. Bandages? Check. Longsword and buckler? Yep. Armor? Of course. Backpack with all the survival supplies? Got it. I¡¯m as ready as I¡¯m ever gonna be.¡¯


    Seeing that everyone was ready, Francis, in his own set of armor, led the way into the shade of the Wiltwood, and Omia mentally braced herself for another battle with the pull of the forest. This time, she would be ready.

 Chapter 10

    Similar to the first time, their group''s entrance was unnoteworthy. It was still early in the morning, and there weren¡¯t many undead. They were organized in two columns of ten single file lines, with Francis leading between them. Omia was to his right and behind him, at the front of her own column, because her Glimpse allowed for her to see the undead before they¡¯d even arrived.


    When she saw the white smoke creep out from the underbrush, she whispered to Francis ¡°Undead, ten paces forward two paces left.¡±


    Stopping, he held his hand up to make the rest of them pause.


    ¡°Omia, you¡¯re first. Show me how it¡¯s done.¡±


    Nodding, she took a few steps forward. It was not a bunny as her first undead, but a medium-sized feline creature called a Gasher Cat. Normally quite nimble, she was worried for a moment.


    When it started swaying side-to-side as it shambled in her direction, she reevaluated the enemy. Shield raised and sword out, she studied the amount of Undeath energy flowing from it.


    The rabbits she¡¯d seen last time had perhaps two-thirds of this cat''s cloud. Looking at the heavy white smoke closer, she saw that it wasn¡¯t actually flowing out of the cat, but circulating through the cat.


    It would flow up and outwards, arcing slowly to the forest floor, where it would turn back around and flow into the creature from below.


    Holding her shield around center mass and continuing to approach the undead animal as it moved towards her, she was surprised but ready when it let out a sudden burst of speed, launching itself at her.


    With one swift motion, she braced her shield and felt its weird press against her, then immediately cut downwards into its exposed back.


    It fell down into two pieces, and she backed up a pace, watching the mana.


    Despite it being cut in half¡­ the mana didn¡¯t stop flowing. Not hesitating, she stabbed it in the brain as well, and saw the field around the cat stutter, before falling apart.


    When it¡¯d flung itself in her direction, some of its undeath mana flew into the air as well, touching her face. It didn¡¯t affect her at first, but now that it was dead, she felt a cold tingle against her skin, and saw that some of it disappeared, absorbed by her Glimpse.


    She winced, bracing for a vision, but none came immediately. Keeping watch on the road forward and her sides, she glanced back to make sure Francis and the others were still behind her, before slowly backing up and falling into line.


    ¡°Injured?¡± Francis asked.


    ¡°No.¡±


    ¡°What was that wince?¡±


    ¡°My Glimpse responded to the undead mana from the cat. It was cold and unexpected.¡± She partially lied.


    Nodding, he made no comment on it. Omia had always been told that people couldn¡¯t read her easily, as she almost never changed facial expressions, especially when she wasn¡¯t very relaxed. When she was focused on anything, it was like her outward displays of emotion locked up. In this forest, she was focused on everything, so she wasn¡¯t worried about Francis seeing through her.


    When she called out another undead, Rory, the other leader of the line, was next to fight.


    By that point, Omia was watching the undeath mana flow up from the ground and wriggle along the ground before going back down.


    It was looking for her.


    She gulped slightly. They were still fairly close to the edge of the forest, but she didn¡¯t know if she could withstand the entire time here, especially if a repeat of the undeath mana blizzard happened around her. She didn¡¯t know if it would even be safe to stay in the forest.


    She decided to tell Francis that her Glimpse was responding weirdly if it came to that, and that they needed to cut the excursion short. She didn¡¯t mind telling people the odd aspects of her Glimpse¡­ she just didn¡¯t want to tell them about Jane.


    Still, she would wait and see if she could weather it, or if she could somehow stop the forest from picking up speed and drawing her in.


    As Rory finished his undead, he moved to the back. Only Omia got the pleasure of staying near the front of the line so she could act as a scout for their group, this time at least. Francis said next time, she¡¯d be at the back, so the rest of the classmates could get experience spotting undead.


    She couldn¡¯t change her gait to avoid any of the tendrils on the ground, so when they started marching again, she inevitably stepped on one to avoid suspicion. It was bound to happen eventually, it may as well happen near the start of their journey.


    The tendril rapidly flew up her boot, under the leg of her armor, and she knew the moment it touched her skin. A familiar pressure attempted to force a vision onto her by knocking her into a trance-state, then showing her the memories of Jane. Just as she¡¯d always done, she resisted and even managed to stop the vision, though she could tell it was a close call. Only by having her mental imagery prepared of a happy moment when playing with Joseph, her baby brother, did she prevent the vision.


    Once she did that, she felt the oddest sensation. It felt like something¡­ broke in the undeath mana that attempted to invade her. Once that happened, it was like her own Glimpse of Undeath cannibalized the opposing undeath


    The feeling was familiar to her, she realized. It was like when she pulled the life mana from Death Eater grass. She fought it, won, then absorbed it.


    The next few minutes, she fought down a tension in her gut as she waited for the storm of mana but¡­ nothing. The searching tendrils continued to crawl along the ground like they knew she was in the area, but not where.


    The cycle repeated for a long while, where her group would come upon an undead, kill it, and she would resist attempts at blurring her mind by remembering all the good times she¡¯d experienced.


    ¡®Throwing a snowball at dad. Francis admitting he was wrong. Outrunning the boys in town for the first time.¡¯


    Outwardly, she was completely neutral and calling out the undead as they came, but inward she was fighting her personal battle, and winning handily.


    Each time the undeath mana broke, her body absorbed it quickly.


    Some may have relaxed in her position as she realized she wasn¡¯t in any danger, but her parents and Francis had beaten into her that she needed to give her all in every battle, because she didn¡¯t know which would be life threatening.


    Before she knew it, Francis told her to pass the message along that they were turning around, and for everyone to keep their eyes open. This was also a time to practice an anti-illusion maneuver.


    To Omia¡¯s left, she saw Rory back at the front of the line- soon to be the back. He turned around, and held his arm out for them to lock together.Support the author by searching for the original publication of this novel.


    Rory guided the way forward, Omia walked backwards and made sure nothing snuck up on them.


    Supposedly, this would help resist certain creatures that attempted to draw them into illusions, but Omia had never faced any, and didn¡¯t know how true that was. Still, it was in training, and they would follow the order.


    When, at last, she walked backwards out of the forest, she heard Rory sigh in relief. She couldn¡¯t take her eyes off Wiltwood for a moment though.


    She could still see it. Several tendrils along the ground. They were not searching for her anymore though, no. The small white wisps waved to her.


    Somehow, that made her more uncomfortable than attempting to invade her mind.


    Turning back around with the rest of her class, they went back to the camp in order to rest and go over what they¡¯d learned.


    Over the next few months, they had many similar excursions. Each time, Omia had to face off with the undeath mana wisps attempting to burrow into her. She began to take note of the significant details.


    First, it could never penetrate her armor. The vision only appeared when it was able to slip into the crack between her leather leggings and her boots.


    Second, the forest did not become more active until she came within range of an undeads aura. No undead, no mental attacks. Once she was spotted though, the forest would harry her until she left, and the attacks did not become more targeted when she was near an undead.


    Third, she was pretty sure a blizzard of undeath mana would not be kicked up unless she fell to at least a single vision, but she was unwilling to test it right now. Potentially later, when she was either on her own or with some trusted friends. As it was, she¡¯d succeeded in devouring every morsel of undeath mana offered to her by the forest. She did not notice any sort of uptick in how quickly she was getting stronger, but she did only consume small quantities. Perhaps she would need a lot more to convert into strength


    Paying attention to it all, she never had an incident, and never endangered anyone around her. As a guard, she would only feel shame if she kept a secret and purposefully put herself in a precarious situation that might lead to others being considered ¡°collateral damage.¡± it was her job to protect others, not herself.


    She was also beginning to actually make some friends. Though she didn¡¯t talk much, there were a few in the guard that she¡¯d grown to know a bit better than the others. The first was Jamei, the largest guard cadet and the very first boy she¡¯d ever out-enduranced. Ever since she beat him, they¡¯d been fast friends. He didn¡¯t mind being the butt end of the joke or losing out physically to a girl, while she could tell it made a few of the others uncomfortable. The other was Rory, the man who¡¯d stood next to her on their first excursion into the Wiltwood. He was a bit more competitive than Jamei, but thats exactly why they knew each other better. He was always challenging her to a spar and, despite losing, was one of the only people who could actually put up a real fight.


    By this point, Omia was about a third stronger than the other cadets. While that didn¡¯t seem like a lot, it was more than enough to hurt badly when she hit their swords, to the point where her sparring opponents couldn¡¯t hold their swords for long.


    Omia noticed that the rate she was gaining strength had begun to slow down, but not stop quite yet. She suspected she¡¯d hit a wall soon, and need to start experimenting as thoroughly as Torei did.


    He insisted the importance of strengthening her Glimpse. Each time she drained it of strength and it rehealed, it was just a bit easier to pull life energy from the fields or consume the undeath energy of Wiltwood.


    She did notice, however, that visions outside of Wiltwood could not be cannibalized by her Glimpse, simply because there was no energy to fight. Visions of Jane happened naturally to her, and Omia¡¯s Glimpse couldn¡¯t stop that. The Wiltwood wasn¡¯t giving her visions when it attacked her, it was more like stimulating whatever gave her the visions to wake up a bit more. She wasn¡¯t consuming the vision, but the catalyst.


    No matter what she did though, Jane¡¯s memories slowly grew stronger. Omia herself did as well, both mentally and physically, but despite becoming tougher and more experienced in her battle against the memories, they never got easier to stop. They always required her full attention for just a few seconds, but that might cost her eventually.


    She was fighting a losing battle. For a long time, she dreaded the end to Jane¡¯s story. She didn¡¯t know why and she didn¡¯t know how she knew Jane would die, but Jane would die, and Omia wanted Jane out of her head before that happened. The aching sense of loss only grew with each failed battle in her head, each second further into Janes'' march to her inevitable demise.


    Which was why, when first snow finally occurred, she was more than relieved. Soon, she would have free-reign to leave the city and explore the forest to her heart''s content. She only needed to make it through one season without leaving the confines of the forest, one season without losing a single mental battle.


    Hard. Hard, but not impossible.


    ¡°Alright everybody!¡± Francis shouted out to his class. The first years stood behind Omia¡¯s group with the other trainer talking them through the setup, while the professional guards that were accompanying them stood behind the first years. Francis took care of the second years, who lead the way. ¡°Everyone has their swords and armor? Everyone have the right equipment?¡±


    Omia looked over all her things. Purge and healing of course, then there were the more unique ones. Breathless potions for if poison was emitted by something, draining potions to weaken larger undead, smokescreen for speedy escapes when needed, and finally- but most volatile- fire slag potions that would cover anything hit with the liquid. Francis always said to throw those as far as possible, even if the fire was fairly small. You did not want it touching you.


    Each potions kit had two purge potions, four healing, then one of each special potion for a total of ten.


    Omia had also asked her parents for a slightly unique armor set, one  that merged her boots to her upper armor. There was no longer a gap for the undeath mana to get through. She tested it, with great success- when she wore this armor, it could not reach her skin immediately. That didn¡¯t stop it from trying of course, by crawling upwards towards the seam between her upper and lower armor, at her waist, but she always sent out her own undeath mana to devour it before it could reach her. Speaking of, she¡¯d loaded up on the energy and now had a compact stream of her very own Glimpse mana coiled around her left arm. Just in case. She¡¯d try to keep the mana from dissipating for as long as she could, because she didn¡¯t want to risk making herself too much weaker by producing a significant amount.


    More than her preparations to fight the visions while awake, she¡¯d requested- and been approved for- a change in her kit. No longer did she have a waterproof sleeping bag, but a waterproof hammock. She worried that, when she slept, she would be attacked by the tendrils. The solution? Stay off the ground.


    It was untested, but she hoped it would work. She¡¯d spent a long time training how quickly she could leap to her feet from the hammock battle-ready.


    On her back was a buckler with her backpack over it. Her right hip held the potions case with a latch to close it and a hook that held it secure unless unfastened, and a small dagger sheath slightly above the box for easy access. She still occasionally felt her hand go to the daggers handle, the comfort she always drew from knives still present, but her first instinct was to reach for her sword now.


    On her left hip, the longsword. Francis said that claymores were rather expensive and difficult to custom make, so he¡¯d have to give her one at graduation. For now, she would need to fare just a bit longer with the tiny, pathetic sword¡­


    ¡°Omia.¡± Francis called out from the front, making her head snap up.


    In his hands, a large, detailed scabbard. Far larger than a longsword.


    ¡®A claymore!¡¯ she thought, shocked.


    ¡°Well? Come here!¡± he said, and she took several quick steps forward to reach him.


    ¡°How¡­ did you get it here without me noticing?¡±


    He laughed. ¡°I had someone carry it behind us. When you were looking over your gear, they brought it up front.¡±


    He held it out to her, and she carefully inspected it for a moment.


    ¡°Later!¡± he said ¡°we have to get going. Give me your longsword, attach the Claymore.¡±


    Quickly undoing the belt that held her longsword in place, she handed it over and secured her new claymore.


    She had to push down on the handle and keep it at an angle to prevent it from dragging along the ground, but it was absolutely worth the effort if it meant she could fight with her most comfortable weapon.


    Quickly falling back into line, Francis made sure everyone was ready, before saying ¡°Alright everybody! Time to march. Get a clear look of the sun one more time, this might be the last clear view you have of it for the next four months!¡±


    Around her, people glanced up towards the sun, seeing it was behind the thick clouds that, even now, released snow onto them.


    Francis laughed, then turned around and led the way into Wiltwood Forest. Omia and Rory, the two at the front as usual, jogged behind him. Behind them, others quickly matched steps and, before long, a loud synchronized march of guards resounded one last time before being muffled by the gangly disfigured trees.

 Chapter 11

    Traveling deeper into the forest, Omia saw that the thin layer of snow soon disappeared, but the chill in the air worsened. She was glad for her padded armor, as it would be a nightmare otherwise.


    Once they were out of view of the treeline, the group traveled a bit further. Rory and Omia quickly cut down any of the Undead at the front, but it was still the smaller animals right now.


    ¡®Luckily, first snow happened a bit before noon this year, so we may get some time to set up camp before the worst of the undead hit us.¡¯


    Still, she was already spotted by the forest, and its dance began shortly thereafter of Omia devouring its attempts at invading her mind.


    When Francis finally led them to an area with less underbrush than the surrounding forest, Omia knew they¡¯d arrived at the location of the previous cadet graduates.


    Immediately, they jumped into action. The town guards stood off to the side, while all the first and second years took on the job of grunts, digging pits for fires and collecting kindling. There would be no logs for burning, because they took too long to dry, but small branches could be retrieved. Omia thought there were far too many branches in the area, but thought it was likely that some were purposefully placed there to make it possible for the new cadets to collect some wood. If the area was picked clean every year, it was unlikely for those of the next class to succeed whatsoever.


    Everyone set up their own sleeping situation, but many chose to share spaces in order to help conserve heat.


    Omia was on watch duty as she was the only one with a Glimpse in their class, and could spot undead far better than anyone else. She didn¡¯t set much of anything up, but kept her head on a swivel. She knew that the graduated guards would not warn them if anything showed up, and they would get chastised if the real guards had to step in. Instead, they were sitting in the center of the camp while all the cadets turned the area livable.


    Omia noticed several things about the guards over the cadets. There were three people with Glimpses sitting in the center. The first one was a tall man with green hair thicker armor than others, likely to accommodate his larger muscles. The second was a slightly shorter man with pure white iris¡¯, and the third was Torei.


    ¡®Someone else with an Undeath Glimpse? I might have to find them in the spring to ask what they have. Also, hey Torei,¡¯ She thought, but vocally said nothing. It wasn¡¯t just Torei either, her father and Jacob were here too, standing around or sitting criss-cross in the middle of the camp.


    They¡¯d likely asked to be on this year''s guard so they could watch her, and Omia had no intention of disappointing.


    ¡°Yo, Omia,¡± Rory asked from behind her.


    She kept her face forward, scanning the treeline for any sign of undeath mana or movement. It was well known that some animals, living animals, were in the forest too, and wouldn¡¯t be as easily observed with her mana sight, so she had to keep watch for those too. ¡°Ya?¡± she said in response.


    ¡°Me and Jamei are bunking together in one tent, wanna join?¡±


    ¡°Nah.¡±


    ¡°Gotcha. Want me to set up yours?¡±


    By now, a few of the first years were looking at them, snickering. She could tell they thought Rory was flirting with her, but Omia knew Rory was too serious to flirt on the field. She was the most effective watch, and shouldn¡¯t waste time with setting up a tent.


    ¡°Nah, I¡¯m not using a tent. You can set up my hammock though, keep it around chest-height,¡± she said, then quickly took her backpack off and handed it to him without delay. The snickers lessened by this point, but when she saw the faces of the first years in her peripheral vision, it wasn¡¯t because they assumed the best anymore. Instead, they thought she was being a layabout, letting others do the work for her and glaring at her.


    True, she was not participating in the menial labor, but she was anything but lazy. The first years hadn¡¯t even considered to keep watch or put someone on lookout, waiting for people to give them orders. Setting up camp was natural, setting up a perimeter was something their bosses told them to do.


    She could¡¯ve just ignored it, letting her skills do the talking, but morale was important, especially in the winter months. It was imperative that they keep cohesion together, and step one of that was ensuring there were no miscommunications.


    Looking directly where most of the first years had clumped together she said in a loud voice. ¡°I have a Glimpse. I¡¯m keeping watch for undead, and can respond faster than anyone. I¡¯m not being lazy, it¡¯s just more efficient to have one person who can watch effectively than for there to be six people who can respond slower than me,¡± then went right back to scanning the treeline.


    There were more than a few grumbles, but the snickering had stopped and the glares were far less frequent. A few simple words could avoid a hell of a lot of drama early on.


    Her words were proven correct around eight minutes later, when she saw the white fog approaching one of the first years collecting sticks outside the camp, and quickly jumped into action.


    He was halfway around the camp, so she needed to be fast. Moving almost like a ghost, despite her speed, she was near silent in how gently she stepped for how much force propelled her, the unnatural combination of strength and her body¡¯s natural light weight allowing her to go further with each stride.


    A few spotted the movement, but most were too focused on looking down: either for wood, digging, or setting up tents. Those first-years that saw her watched for a moment to see what she was doing, clear surprise at her speed.


    Barely two seconds later she was inside the white fog, and spotted what creature it was: a Saw Lizard.


    They were tiny creatures, around the size of her palm, but there was a danger in miniature undead. They were near-impossible to spot and the bite of an undead was guaranteed to become infected unless treated, which would cost precious resources. Not much, perhaps some fuel of a torch to burn out the rot, then some healing potion to cover it up, but they weren¡¯t even past day one. If everyone took a few drops of healing potion every day, they¡¯d run dry by the third week.


    The last step took her next to the oblivious trainee who was bending down to grab a branch; he''d hardly heard her approach when she snatched the lizard out of the air mid-jump.


    It was going for his face, an unprotected part of him as that was all it could reach from its position latched to the edge of the tree. When he bent down, it¡¯d gotten the small lizard close enough for it to feel confident in its attack. She wasted no time, throwing it to the ground and squishing it underboot.


    He looked at her curiously, and she lifted her foot to reveal the corpse, getting a look of surprise back.


    ¡°Thanks?¡± he said.


    ¡°No problem¡± she told him back simply, then continued to move around and patrol.Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    She could already see a the few first years that¡¯d spotted what happened talking about it quietly with others, and knew that at least the miscommunication issue should be gone now. It was a little hard to deny her scouting abilities when she¡¯d spotted a lizard from across camp, and harder to deny her strength when she went from completely still to a blur in moments.


    She didn¡¯t doubt the grumbling would continue about her getting to avoid set-up, but at the very least their looks softened and the words lessened.


    * * *


    ¡®Somethings wrong¡¯ she thought quietly, not voicing her words.


    Around mid-day, there was a violent uptick in undead. While it was true that the forest tended to awaken around that time, this was too sudden. The second years had been on multiple outings by this point, some lasting throughout the day, and she could see in the eyes of her classmates that a few thought the same.


    Normally it would be one every five to ten minutes in the morning, slowly becoming one every three to five minutes around noon, then a sharp uptick at night.


    Now though, it felt like the moment the sun hit the center of the sky, there was one every minute, to the point where she had to ask for help killing some.


    ¡®Is it my Glimpse reacting badly? No, it can¡¯t be that, I¡¯ve been here at noon before. I don¡¯t feel any visions coming on naturally either, and no Undeath mana has gotten past my armor, what is it?¡¯


    She tried to reason out anything, but found her answers lacking, so she broke it down.


    What was the difference now compared to before?


    For one, they had a larger group. Two, she now carried a massive cloud of personal undeath mana with her attached to her arm. Three, there were more Glimpse users in the forest in general. Was Wiltwood reacting not only to her, but the level of mana concentrated in the area in general?


    She needed more time to be sure, she could only keep her eyes open.


    * * *


    It was approaching night, and the rate of Undead slowly became worse. Slowly, but faster than it should be. She kept her eyes peeled outward for anything she could spot, any whiff of mana, but still saw nothing. If it kept up as it was, none of them would be getting sleep as it was a constant stream of undead already. She didn¡¯t want to imagine what night would be like.


    Only, right before the sun set, she heard an unfamiliar voice call out from the center of the camp saying ¡°Aaaghh!¡± in blatant mock-pain, as if he were putting on a show.


    That drew eyes from everyone, and she saw Rory holding his sword to the neck of one of the veteran guards, the one with green hair.


    The guard was smiling, and Rory was beet red as the veteran laughed, so he dropped the sword.


    ¡®What the hell is happening?¡¯


    ¡°Alright!¡± the green-haired man said ¡°This was supposed to be a lesson learned way later, but this seems to be record-time that it¡¯s been figured out! For those of you that haven¡¯t figured it out yet, the undead were coming at us faster than usual. They were doing that because I was attracting them! Each time I found one and pulled it towards us, I¡¯d make a hand gesture. Be sure to watch your backs just as much as your fronts! When you¡¯re in a big group, you don¡¯t know who has your best interest in mind! Don¡¯t assume it will work out, because it won¡¯t! Good on cadet Rory for getting it¡± the man finished, pulling Rory to his side and ruffling his hair.


    The official guards didn¡¯t seem surprised, so it was absolutely meant to be a lesson in vigilance, though she could tell by a few sour faces it was a bit of a game too, to see how long they would have to put up with heightened undead before one of them, if any, figured out the lure.


    ¡®I wonder if there are bets¡­ for that matter, they can¡¯t do this every year, can they? Otherwise, the second years would just get it every time by remembering from last year. Every other year maybe? That sounds reasonable. Though I don¡¯t want to imagine what would¡¯ve happened if we hadn¡¯t gotten it by nightfall¡­¡¯


    Either way, she was grateful for Rory, though she could tell by his expression he really did think he¡¯d caught someone trying to hurt the group as a whole, and threatened him to get answers, hence his embarrassed expression when the guard didn¡¯t take it seriously.


    ¡®Poor Rory, throwing himself into the issue the moment he sees it.¡¯


    * * *


    The night was just as bad as she¡¯d always thought it would be, thankfully without the extra undead being lured. Many of the creatures attacking them now were on the smaller side, cats, rabbits, and medium-sized lizards. By this point, after the last of the sun''s rays were gone, everyone was on fighting duty, with the second years spread out among the first years to get as many experienced fighters on all sides as possible.


    Nobody slept, as it would be a fool''s errand to try this late at night. They would skip one night of sleep, then take watch and rest in the morning before noon.


    The droves of undead she had to cut down had only six or seven feet in between each, meaning she had to be efficient in both her movements. Still, she found time to experiment with her Undeath mana.


    Throughout the day, she¡¯d been pulling the mana from the undead, devouring it and strengthening her Glimpse. It felt different than the Life mana, much colder and with something of a¡­ bite that made her think of chewing on a sour berry, except all over her body. She didn¡¯t think it made her physically stronger, but only time would tell. It was certainly doing something to her Glimpse.


    In order to pull that mana from the undead, she couldn¡¯t just reach into their bodies and grab it though. She needed to eat the white aura they gave off by plunging her mana into the fog, then pulling away chunks of it. Each time she did, it would grow smaller and the undead would grow weaker. Still, it felt like a mental battle to strain against the creature that very clearly wanted to keep that mana.


    She had practice though. For months or even years she¡¯d fought this same mental battle in the form of her tug of war against Jain. A few measly undead were nothing compared to how much she¡¯d pushed herself before, and she couldn¡¯t help but feel pride in how easily she disassembled their aura and made their body¡¯s collapse.


    That was for daytime though. That was for practice. The process of draining every single undead would have tired her out, so she instead used it conservatively on only those she thought might be too much for her alone, weakening them so they were easier to slay.


    One of the rabbits jumped up and she slashed, both cutting off an outer layer of its skin and pushing it away from her.


    She watched as it did not die though. Where she¡¯d grazed it, the hole she¡¯d opened in its side, the fog of undeath thickened, holding its organs and blood inside even as it drastically reduced the creature''s aura.


    She¡¯d started figuring out exactly what stopped them from dying on clearly lethal blows. When one took damage, the fog of undeath would patch the wound and close it. More than that though¡­ it formed a connection between the two parts.


    She saw the rabbits disconnected legs, still kicking and trying to join with the rest. Through sheer luck, the rabbit rolled over onto its severed piece, and it automatically snapped back into place, whole as though she¡¯d never injured it, though with its aura greatly diminished.


    If they still had Undeath swirling around them, they could put themselves back together.


    Another strike was enough to finish it off and its much-diminished strength was nothing to be scared of.


    What did raise her guard though was the large figure gracefully walking out from behind a tree, and the dense white fog swirling around it.


    It was hard to quantify Undeath mana as ¡°Dense¡± so to speak, because she¡¯d learned to differentiate it from her regular sight. Before, it was like mana existed on the same plane as everything else, and if she hadn¡¯t gotten practice, she would have been blinded from the actual wolf, unable to see through its mana. Now though, she could see both the physical world itself, devoid of mana just as everyone else saw, and her own specialized sight.


    The wolf slowly walked towards them, and she wasted no time even as she saw the two first-years next to her begin to sweat. The wolf was up to her chest, and she didn¡¯t want to test how much it would take to kill at full strength,


    Sending out a tendril of Undeath mana, she grabbed the largest chunk she could safely handle, which ended up being most of it, and pulled with all her mental might,


    The Carcass Wolf seemed to understand something was wrong for only a moment, gaining a burst of speed towards her, before dropping to the ground and sliding to hit the rest of the building wall of bodies in front of her.


    After she pulled most of its aura away, it seemed like the rest was woefully unable to sustain the stronger beast, and it collapsed.


    Paying no more heed to it, she quickly broke down the things mana into her glimpse and continued fighting.

 Chapter 12

    Over the next few hours, the waves of undead became more dense. With only a few feet of distance between each cadet, they stood in a circle around the camp, continuously fighting the raised dead. Omia could tell that the first-years next to her were flagging, and she was forced to pick up the slack.


    Pushing herself harder, it had the opposite effect she needed. With the pressure easing off them, she was annoyed to find that the two cadets slowed even further. Before she could say anything though, one of the trained guards clipped them both on the backs of their heads, making the two jump as they shouted ¡°FOCUS!¡± directly into their ears.


    Once more the pressure eased off her as their drowsiness temporarily abated. She wasn¡¯t feeling in her top shape either, but she felt like her Glimpse gave her more endurance as well. The Life energy it absorbed simply made her better in every way physically.


    Like that, the night passed in tedium. Occasionally there were screams from the guards directly into the ears of poor cadets to wake them up, but ultimately it was much the same.


    Still, for the first day, this didn¡¯t seem good. They still had, what, three more months before they could go back to town? She could only hope that the mistakes were because each of the cadets hadn¡¯t slept since the day before and that they would fare better tomorrow.


    * * *


    They could tell the moment the sun crested the horizon. Unlike how the undead slowly became more frequent and stronger through the night, the switch to daylight was instantaneous. The sun touched the forest, and the crowds of undead instantly dropped like puppets with their strings cut.


    Omia saw the white aura¡¯s pulled in as well. She noticed that the aura¡¯s did not disperse, but were fully stored within the inactive undead.


    A wave of relief washed over the remaining cadets, Omia feeling it as well. She glanced around her, taking stock.


    There were three first years passed out near the center of the camp, supposedly unable to keep up with the stress of the night. She didn¡¯t think they would have dropped from exhaustion after only a single sleepless night, so it must''ve been stress that made them fall. That, or they were too badly injured and knocked unconscious, only to be healed up later. She highly doubted they would suffer such severe injuries early on, but later in winter? Things like that would become more commonplace.


    Nonetheless, she saw that Rory and Jamei were fine, both walking towards her.


    Jamei in particular was stumbling, clearly aching all over from the extended fight. Before he could even say anything, she told them ¡°I can keep the first watch. Everyone else in the camp needs to go to bed immediately and be up in time for me to get some rest too.¡±


    Jamei grunted. ¡°Alone?¡±


    ¡°Yea.¡±


    ¡°Fine by me.¡± Turning around, he looked out over the exhausted second years and listless first years, confused on what to do next, and shouted ¡°Everyone!¡± Causing the camp to turn towards him as he continued, saying ¡°Omia takes first watch, everyone else to sleep immediately!¡±


    Nobody complained, happily turning in at the first opportunity, Jamei joining them without even glancing at Omia for confirmation.


    ¡°Good luck¡± Rory said, patting Omia on the arm and following after Jamei.


    It would be quietest now, but there would definitely be a few undead. Now, just her, she had to focus. With her Glimpse, she was in the best condition to keep going.


    She had to endure, just a bit longer.


    * * *


    Despite the ache in her bones, Omia continued responding without hesitation against all undead coming near the camp. She couldn¡¯t afford to let even a single slip through, as she was the only one not vulnerable right now aside from the full guards, but they wouldn¡¯t step in.


    It was longer and shorter than she expected before Rory came out from his tent beside a bleary-eyed Jamei, greeting her.


    ¡°Yeesh, you look awful. Thanks for taking first watch, I¡¯m sure we would¡¯ve had a lot of injuries if there was anyone else on it. Get some rest, we¡¯ll take it from here.¡±


    She grunted in agreement and walked off. She wanted to pass out immediately, but was hesitant to get her hammock dirty. They¡¯d be here for months, she was not going to sleep in rot.


    Instead, she dropped her bag and potions next to her hammock, took off her armor, and walked a distance out into the forest carrying only her sword.


    The chilly air stung at her skin, but felt incredible with how hot she ended up becoming under everything.


    Using the clean snow just out of sight of the camp, she got as much grime as she could out of her hair and off her face, going as far as to try and clean her overshirt by running it through the white frost. There wasn¡¯t much, so it took some time, but eventually she was passably clean, and made her way back before slipping into her hammock.


    She¡¯d never gotten a chance to test whether it would be able to prevent the artificial visions the forest always attempted from reaching her, but she was reasonably confident. The tendrils were never particularly smart, so she couldn¡¯t see them crawling up the trees around her to reach where she slept, but she still remained cautious.


    Lying on her back in the hammock, claymore flat on her body, she waited. Despite her exhaustion, this wasn¡¯t something she could half-ass, she had to get it right the first time.


    Luckily, after several minutes, she felt no visions appear. When she mentally decided it was safe, she closed her eyes and fell asleep in moments.


    * * *


    At once, her dreamless sleep came to an abrupt end. Eyes snapping open with perfect clarity, she knew exactly where she was and had to get ready. Rest time was over.


    From within the darkness of her cocoon though, she took a moment to plan her next few moments. In her hammock, most scents were blocked out in favor of her own sweat. Despite that, a second putrid smell faintly tickled her nose as she heard the crackling of fire.


    ¡®They¡¯ve begun to burn the bodies. Good, otherwise they might reanimate tonight.¡¯


    She braced herself for when she unwrapped herself, as the smell would become much thicker in the open air.


    The next thing she had to consider was, once more, Wiltwoods attention. While it was true that she was unreachable in her hammock, as proven by unimpeded sleep, she didn¡¯t know if it would congregate below her, leaving an army of tendrils for her to step on when she unraveled herself.


    Mentally reaching out to confirm it, Omia felt that the Undeath mana she¡¯d pulled from her glimpse hadn¡¯t dispersed. This was something she¡¯d already confirmed- the undeath mana would not dissipate if it was in an enclosed space very close to her skin. As it got further from her or there was space for it to flow, it struggled to retain its integrity. Pressed against her skin in an almost airtight space? The mana had a much lengthier lifespan. Now that she took direct control of it once more, the cloud¡¯s slow dispersal came to a stop entirely.


    Inhaling deeply and letting out a calming breath, she held her claymore steady within its scabbard and rolled in a practiced maneuver.If you encounter this tale on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.


    The hammock opened and she was dropped towards the ground, an instant scan of it showed that there were no undeath tendrils, waiting to ensnare her in a memory.


    Bringing her legs down first, she fell into a balanced position on her knees, primed to burst into action should she need to. A quick scan of her surroundings showed it to be unnecessary though, as the camp was well maintained.


    Spotting her two familiar comrades, she saw that Rory was directing some of the first years in their efforts to burn the bodies more efficiently, while Jamei looked over the crowds of people, keeping an eye out for any undead approaching the camp.


    Most fell into these two groups, but she did notice a chunk was absent, and resolved to ask about that in a moment.


    Before that, she felt exposed without her armor. A few saw her get up and greeted her, getting a nod in return as she quickly slipped on all her gear. Checking and rechecking everything, it took her around fifteen minutes to get her specialized suit of armor on and belt set up.


    Slipping the leather helmet over her head, she finally turned to walk towards Rory. It seemed he¡¯d taken control of the situation somewhat, so he¡¯d know where she was needed most. She could also see they were well past noon, approaching evening as the sun was halfway down the sky.


    When Rory saw her walking towards him, his face lit up. ¡°Omia! Up and at em?¡±


    She nodded. ¡°Where¡¯s the others?¡± she asked, referring to the six or seven that were missing.


    ¡°Ahh, Iluden and Garret took five first years to scavenge for food. It¡¯s true that we have a lot of rations, but it would be better to save those for later in the winter when it might become impossible to do so, if we can.¡±


    She vaguely recalled that Iluden and Garret were some of her classmates but, like most others in her class, they didn¡¯t particularly stand out in her head.


    ¡°Am I needed anywhere?¡±


    ¡°If you can, I¡¯d appreciate you pulling some of whatever undeath remains in the bodies. As we get on in the day, I can almost feel them charging up with energy, and it¡¯s making them harder to burn. Might just be my mind playing tricks on me though, but please try. Ah! Also! I told Iluden that he could bring back some of the more poisonous animals in the forest and we could see if you would be able to pull the sickness out of them. Things like Carcass Wolves that are normally too charged with undead energy might actually be edible if you can take that away from the body, but I want to get your agreement first. Is that okay? Are you up to try?¡±


    Omia nodded, seeing relief in Rory¡¯s face when she did. He probably felt bad for volunteering her without her input, but it was a good idea.


    Last time she¡¯d seen a live Carcass Wolf, it was clearly filled with Undeath mana. She also remembered Torei saying that once he¡¯d forced someone to eat Undeath mana and they became violently ill, so it wasn¡¯t a bad assumption in her head that it was perhaps the excessive Undeath mana in their body¡¯s that made them poisonous. Take that mana away, and they might have an actual secure source of food.


    ¡°In the meantime¡± Rory continued ¡°we¡¯re going to use some of the spare tents and turn them into smokers. Some makeshift smoked meat won''t last the full winter, but it should stretch our rations further than they would¡¯ve.¡±


    Impressed with his foresight, Omia gave him an encouraging slap on his shoulder then went to help with the mound of corpses. She found that Rory was correct, and some Undeath mana had slowly seeped into the diced bodies, which she now pulled away. Those manning the fire jumped back slightly when it flared up slightly, but were otherwise unharmed.


    * * *


    After dragging bodies around for a while, they were just finishing up when she saw the missing people show up at the edge of camp. There was nothing as grand as a Carcass Wolf, but they carried a couple of known poisonous berries, as well as a large snake that reeked of Undeath.


    ¡®It was Ilumen and¡­ Barrett?¡¯


    ¡°Iluden! Garett!¡± Rory said excitedly.


    ¡®Yea, them.¡¯


    ¡°A successful hunt I take it?¡± Rory asked.


    ¡°Sort of¡± Iluden responded. ¡°We couldn¡¯t find any of the normal variety, but we did find some poisonous berries and a Bone Bender,¡± he said, gesturing at their ¡°food.¡±


    Omia was already on her way to them, inspecting the mana in each from a distance. She reached them right as Iluden finished saying his piece, telling them ¡°I might be able to do something about the snake, but those berries don¡¯t have any mana in them at all. They¡¯re just flat out poisonous.¡±


    ¡°Mana?¡± Iluden asked.


    ¡°Undeath energy. Undeath mana, whatever,¡± she shrugged.


    Iluden himself didn¡¯t seem to care all that much, so he just handed his pouch of berries over to a first year and told them to dump them somewhere away from the camp and clean out any residue from it, sending two other first years to go with him so that he wasn¡¯t alone.


    As for the snake, Omia got on it right away. Rory guided them towards one of the normal fires, not used for bodies, and Omia didn¡¯t waste a single moment in sending her mana to scour its corpse, pulling out any energy she could.


    She found it to be incredibly difficult. Unlike the Undead where she had to battle against their wills, this corpse felt like it had undeath mana baked into it. It felt sticky, and she had to scrape it out piece by piece.


    She wasn¡¯t ashamed to say that she struggled.


    ¡°Any progress?¡± Rory asked her, seeing her stare intently at it.


    ¡°Sort of. Not easy at all. I might have more success if it¡¯s cut up into more manageable chunks.¡±


    Rory nodded and got on it immediately, quickly skinning, gutting, and cutting it. The skin and guts weren¡¯t useful so they were put in a separate pot and handed off to go be burned with the rest of the bodies, lest it potentially become a part of a larger undead.


    When he had just the edible meat, Rory cut it into smaller chunks as Omia and the cadets who retrieved the body watched.


    She looked at them questioningly, wondering why they were still around, and Garrett answered. ¡°We worked hard to get this, might as well see if it works.¡±


    Omia shrugged and said nothing else. When the body was in more manageable pieces, Omia took control of every scrap of mana she had, pushing it all into the designated chunk.


    She felt her mana press into it, running along invisible pathways within the small bit of flesh. Slowly but surely, her mana thoroughly saturated it. When she felt she could push no more in, she commanded her mana to begin devouring all foreign mana around it, and felt a rapid purge.


    The entire process was very intensive, and she felt herself sweat from exertion. When she was done, she finally relaxed, and indicated to Rory which part she¡¯d worked on. ¡°This one doesn¡¯t smell like undeath anymore, so it should be safe to eat after it¡¯s been cooked. I can''t be sure though, the mana might¡¯ve done something else to the meat.¡±


    He¡¯d already prepared a metal spit and stuck the chunk on now, cooking it over the fire as he talked to her.


    ¡°I really hope this works. Otherwise, our only choice will be to find some of the rare animals that aren¡¯t going to make us violently ill, or to completely burn whatever meat we get. Burning it is literally the only other way to get rid of the poison in the living animals.¡±


    ¡®I really don¡¯t think it¡¯s poison we¡¯re worried about. Just the mana stuck in Wiltwood creatures. I can¡¯t pull out poison and cooking would only make it marginally safer. Burning the mana out would work, burning poisonous things? Not so much,¡¯ she thought, but didn¡¯t voice. She¡¯d be the only one dictating what got thrown out and what got its mana pulled, so she was the only one that really needed to know.


    When the snake looked well-cooked but not overly so, Rory took it off the fire. ¡°Alright, so who¡¯s trying this to see if it¡¯s poisonous?¡±


    ¡°I can¡¯t. The mana would work differently for me, so it might be safe for me and dangerous for everyone else¡± Omia told him.


    Looking around, all the other watching cadets took a step back. Realization flickered in Rory¡¯s eyes as he realized that he was, in fact, going to be the test subject. ¡°Well¡­ I guess it was my plan. Only fair that I¡¯m the one to back it up. Have some purge potions ready just in case, yea?¡±


    Omia nodded, and Rory didn¡¯t wait to throw it down the hatch. After a few minutes of scalding his mouth, he finally swallowed it and the other cadets watched closely for any change.


    Several minutes went by without Rory showing any notable signs of discomfort, eventually asking her ¡°How long do you think it would take for me to get sick?¡±


    ¡°Seconds. Mana poisoning happens in the first four or five seconds from ingesting incompatible mana.¡±


    ¡°What!? So what have we been doing just sitting here?¡±


    Omia shrugged. ¡°I wanted to be sure. Besides, it¡¯s not like I haven''t done anything. I¡¯ve been cleansing a few more pieces of meat while we sat here.¡±


    Rory scratched his head and said ¡°Yea alright, better safe than sorry I suppose. Either way, this is good news! This means that we¡¯re going to have a much easier time getting food than the previous years, and that we¡¯ll probably have to dedicate more of the camp to food gathering. One snake per day isn¡¯t going to work at all.¡±


    Omia didn¡¯t give any input. He would be a lot better for planning something like that, so instead she just focused on purging the rest of the meat, thinking to herself ¡®I wonder if I could mimic the effects of a purge potion by pulling Undeath mana out of someone''s wound. Speaking of mimicking, could I become poisonous by running mana through my system? I doubt that would help at all. If I die then I don¡¯t think I¡¯ll care all that much about whatever eats me.¡¯


    If she was going to test out magical effects though, here in the Wiltwood probably wasn¡¯t the best place to do so. She didn¡¯t want to attract its attention after all. Leaving that behind, she focused fully on the task at hand.

 Chapter 13

    The group quickly fell into a routine. After the first night, things were much easier as their sleeping schedules were fully shifted around. It always went with Omia on first watch with three or four others, then they slept until evening while the ones who¡¯d gotten early rest would burn the bodies and hunt. When she woke up, it was her job to purge the building undeath in their pyres and de-mana their food.


    Draining the mana from their food was, frankly, fucking difficult. It truly did not want to leave the bodies, and Omia was shocked that the creatures didn¡¯t simply reanimate at the moments of their death.


    Her musings led her to wonder what the difference was between the dead creatures and the undead. Of course, the difference might be obvious to some as one of them walked around while the other didn¡¯t, but she looked deeper than that.


    Carcass Wolves, Bone Bender Snakes, and Carrion Boars were all thicker with undead mana than any undead monster, but not a single one was reanimated by the time they reached the camp.


    Omia wanted so badly to run experiments and test at which point they¡¯d become undead, but this really wasn¡¯t the time to start testing things. All of her focus had to be on securing their food sources, because she was already barely keeping up with the demand.


    What she could inspect was the effect of Undeath mana on her Glimpse though. Life mana made her stronger, that was known. She thought Undeath would as well but¡­ nothing. She noticed that over the course of the first few weeks, there was no difference in her physical abilities at all.


    It was true that it might be that her Glimpse only applied to Life mana because the undead giant she¡¯d gotten it from only ever ate the Life mana of Death Eater grass, but she just couldn¡¯t accept that. It had to do something because she clearly sensed her Glimpse devouring it.


    She sort of managed to get an answer one day when she was playing around with the mana from her Glimpse during one of her few breaks, and zoned out for a few moments, idly swirling it around.


    When she came back into focus, she found that it was much closer to her face than she would be comfortable with, and quickly took control of it again, pushing it away.


    Looking at it curiously, she started to idly swirl it once more, and found that it subtly nudged its way towards her head- specifically, towards her exposed flesh.


    Undeath mana was notoriously bad at penetrating any form of clothing, and she wasn¡¯t willing to remove her armor, but she also didn¡¯t want to press it into a vital place for fear of it being dangerous.


    ¡®Ehh, the cheek isn¡¯t a vital place¡¯ she thought, so she broke off a tiny wisp of undeath and pressed it against the side of her face.


    Any other time she¡¯d tried this, the mana utterly failed to break past the first layer of skin. Now, though, she found that it felt like she was pressing into a particularly dense portion of meat, in the same way that she would to purge them of their Undeath mana.


    ¡®Great, I really CAN make myself poisonous now¡¯ she thought ruefully, before genuinely thinking it over. ¡®No that¡¯s not it. It would be better to say that I¡¯m getting better at piercing flesh with my Undeath mana. Now, I really could mimic the effects of a purge potion. Last time I tried, I wasn¡¯t able to get past their skin, but if I can do this now, I might have some success.¡¯


    Absorbing Life mana made her strong, Undeath mana made it easier to pierce flesh using her Glimpse mana. Did this mean there were other uses? Could she absorb water mana? How would she even go about doing that, because she¡¯d already tried before.


    Thinking back, it wasn¡¯t as easy as just ¡°absorbing the mana in something,¡± It would be closer to say that she could absorb the excess mana in magical things. She couldn¡¯t take the Life mana out of normal grass, but Life Grass had a lot of it, so she could easily drain it.


    Or maybe it was something else¡­ what if she hadn¡¯t been able to drain mana from things because she wasn¡¯t able to properly pierce it? Maybe that¡¯s what Undeath mana did. Perhaps it lowered the threshold for how much mana had to be in something before she could pull it out.


    The curiosity was killing her, but there wasn¡¯t any way to test anything.


    She sighed, standing back up. Her break was over, and it was getting close to night. One more day in this hellish place, getting harder by the hour.


    * * *


    It was almost exactly a month in now, and Omia could almost feel the quaking of the people next to her. They were going to crack.


    The tide of undead were nigh unending at this point. It was a constant battle of cut, push, cut again. She slammed enemies down into the ground using the weight of her claymore, bisected weaker undead easily, and continued to cover for the cadets around her.


    She was also relying more heavily on her Undeath mana, pulling in swaths of energy from the opposing undead. She¡¯d been pulling out mana  from her Glimpse whenever she felt it was full again, so her cloud of undeath had nearly doubled in size. Same as Life mana, it seemed that Undeath mana did wonders on repairing it, and there truly was no better source of constant foreign mana than right where she was.


    She still battled off the tendrils of Undeath from the Wiltwood, and collapsed the swarm by threes and fours. When her Glimpse was full, she¡¯d pull another wisp and keep trucking. The conversion rate between foreign mana and her own mana was atrocious, as it required her to devour around a thousand times the amount of foreign mana to make up for even the slightest wisp pulled from her Glimpse, but that wasn¡¯t even particularly hard. Just tedious.


    If her fellow cadets heard her say that though, they would¡¯ve felt affronted. Many were shaking, afraid and exhausted. She knew for a fact that, after today, they¡¯d need to change something in how they were killing things. This was simply not enough.


    * * *


    As the remaining undead began to flee at first light, she heard the person next to her collapse to his knees, holding his face in his hands. She would¡¯ve warned him off of getting gore on his face from his hands, but everyone was coated head to toe in rotting muck. Wasn¡¯t really much of a difference at this point.


    Following their usual schedule, many people went back to their tents to sleep. A few followed what Omia had been doing, cleaning off their skin and gear using clean snow a distance from the camp.


    It was much easier now as well. As it currently was, the snow tended to be around a foot and a half deep in certain parts, so there was no struggle for getting enough to scrape off the muck. They didn¡¯t struggle for water in general anymore really.


    If you encounter this narrative on Amazon, note that it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.


    Some of the more patient cadets actually melted the snow to better clean their stuff now that it was more abundant, but a lot were just too tired.


    Omai herself was a ¡°melt the snow, thoroughly clean¡± kind of gal, now that someone else had the idea and she¡¯d copied it.


    Nonetheless, fifteen or so minutes later, it was Omia and some of the hardier cadets standing guard.


    First shift was no longer easy enough for her to cover alone, and they might need to ask for more soon if it got any worse.


    * * *


    Rolling out of her hammock, on guard, Omia was greeted with an odd sight. Many of the tents were squished closer to the center of the camp, with the fires, smokers, and body pyres still remaining spread out.


    Once more finding Rory, he explained ¡°Ah, as I¡¯m sure you¡¯ve seen, we can¡¯t maintain our current perimeter. I¡¯ve pretty much taken charge at this point, and I¡¯ve decided that we need to do the night in shifts now as well. Group one will fight for an hour, then switch with group two, so on and so forth. It should be easier on everyone by the end of the night, I think, as the undead struggle to reach us with how many there are now. We¡¯ll just be fighting fewer and working half the time. That should also leave people with enough energy to help you and the others take up first watch which, by the way, thank you for always doing that. I know the other cadets tend to swap out occasionally, but I want to take a moment to appreciate you¡¯ve been there every time. First watch is hardest after a long night, but you haven¡¯t even complained!¡±


    She smiled. It wasn¡¯t that hard on her with her better endurance, but it was still nice to hear some gratitude.


    After having things explained by Rory, she also went to her hammock and moved it closer to the center of the camp, a few cadets even moving their tents to give her some space. She wasn¡¯t necessarily given preferential treatment over everyone, but she was treated something like the camp cook at this point, and you didn¡¯t want to be hated by the cook. Her Glimpse made things a lot easier on everyone, so nobody wanted to get on her bad side and risk her not fully de-poisoning their food.


    She never would¡¯ve done something so petty, but she also didn¡¯t make an effort to quell the rumors that she might.


    Once her hammock was repositioned, she went about with cleansing the animals they¡¯d caught today.


    * * *


    That night was much easier, but still not easy. The wall of bodies that continued to pour towards them still drew every bit of strength out of someone when it was their turn to fight, but they could now take breaks. Drinking water no longer had to be rushed or covered by your comrades, a quick bite of food could be taken slowly.


    More than ease of their muscles, the change in pace was a great morale boon as well. With some time to breathe, it felt less overwhelming. Not to mention how there was more wiggle room now- if someone was severely hurt, there was another cadet behind them to take their place. The formation was no longer at risk of buckling with every injury. Truly, it was an all-around improvement.


    She kept her eye on the two that¡¯d been positioned next to her through most of this though. One of them might pull through, but the cadet that was usually to her right was downright panicked at this point. Even if he didn¡¯t give up part of the way through, he was absolutely not going to become a second-year.


    * * *


    It was two weeks after their changed in formation that they started running into their first real difficulties. About a month and a half into the start of winter, Omia heard a call from somewhere far-off to her left.


    ¡°UNDEAD GIANT!¡± an unfamiliar voice screamed.


    Glancing to where the noise came from, she saw a head peek around the trunk of a tree, an enormous hand gripping its gnarled bark.


    Most of the undead in the forest were animals, as they were the majority of corpses left behind. When a human fell then, more often than not, expeditions would be launched to retrieve the corpse. This was because undead spawned from human corpses were clever, with the barest sparks remaining of intelligence that once inhabited the host.


    It seemed that, somewhere along the way, one such body was missing. Omia saw that it had the rotting head of a normal human, stuck upon a goliath amalgamated body of different animals, skin taut and bones poking out from below.


    The juxtapose between its tiny human head and massive body made her want to gag, but she simply continued to focus on the enemies in front of her. As much as she wanted to go fight it, she couldn¡¯t leave a hole in their defenses.


    Especially not considering the cadet next to her was frozen in fear, staring at the distant giant. Left open, she tsk¡¯d her tongue and covered his flank as a reanimated cat tried opening his side.


    ¡°Focus¡± she growled at him, causing him to snap back forward, still wide-eyed.


    Shortly thereafter, she felt a tap on her back. ¡°Omia!¡± someone she recognized as a nameless second-year said, ¡°I¡¯m taking over for you. Rory wants you on that giant.¡±


    Grunting in acknowledgement, she quickly swapped out and rapidly made her way through the small camp, doing her best to not stomp tents.


    When she made it to the side she¡¯d seen the giant on, she finally got a good look at it.


    On top of its mish-mashed body, she could see a ghastly intelligence in its smokey eyes. Even more enunciated by the fact that it wasn¡¯t charging them.


    It simply watched. Continuing to peek out from behind the trunk, she watched as it made no move to close in upon them. She studied it, and it studied them.


    Drawing her smokey up and over her, she prepared to launch a rope of it towards the undead and pull a chunk from its aura when she saw a glint of recognition in its eyes.


    It glanced between her and the smoke, causing her eyes to widen as she realized it could actually see her mana. Before she had any chance to attack, it ducked behind the cover of the tree, and she felt its large footsteps rumble as it ran away.


    ¡®It ran away??¡¯ she thought absently to herself again.


    That wasn¡¯t good¡­ at all. It was clearly smart.


    ¡®Just what are you planning?¡¯ she couldn¡¯t help but think, and it seemed Rory and Jamei were of the same opinion, both stepping up beside her.


    ¡°That¡¯s bad, yea?¡± Jamei asked neutrally.


    ¡°Yea.¡± Rory answered.


    ¡°That¡¯s not the last time we¡¯ll see it.¡± Omia quietly threw her two cents in. She didn¡¯t want to break the morale of the first-years around her by voicing such a dreadful fact that they already knew.


    * * *


    The day after was a bit quieter than the previous, all the cadets still on edge after what they¡¯d seen.


    There were also a few more injuries than were normal, the distraction of the giant very obviously playing a role. Omia finally got to test whether she could purge undeath from wounds as well, because Rory didn¡¯t want to waste their potions if it wasn¡¯t necessary.


    The Purge Potions were fast-acting emergency resources, potentially life saving. When the sun came up, Rory lined up those who¡¯d taken nicks or scratches that needed to be purged, and Omia got to work.


    She found that it was significantly harder to pierce the skin of someone else in order to purge their systems. In theory, it was possible, but it was functionally too impractical. They¡¯d need a few diluted drops of purge potions.


    She told Rory as much, clarifying that it might be possible in the future when her Glimpse was stronger or better at piercing skin, but right now? Not so much.


    Rory was understanding and helped the injured treat their wounds.


    * * *


    Four more days passed and the low alert felt through the camp since the giant still hadn¡¯t fully abated, nor should it have. Aside from that though, they were doing exceptionally well for cadets.


    As night fell though, she realized that she should¡¯ve said they were doing exceptionally well ¡°So far.¡±


    In front of her, past the hordes of undead, Omia felt her heart leap into her throat as she saw the familiar fleshy hand of the humanoid giant around the tree. She opened her mouth to sound the call when a second large undead walked out from behind the tree.


    The second undead had a deer skull and massive antlers, standing on two hooved hegs with clawed animalistic hands. Through the dark holes in its eyes, she saw two white glowing balls of flaming undeath. The magical flames showed no intelligence, but pure hate.


    ¡°ONE UNDEAD GIANT, ONE UNIQUE UNDEAD!¡± she screamed, preparing for the harsh battle ahead.


    It was clear that the intelligent giant was confident enough to face her now as it stepped out from behind the tree. It¡¯d found a counter to her, most likely in the form of the unique undead.


    Her mind steadied under the pressure. If she was right, the two special undead would be striking at her specifically.


    She was ready.

 Chapter 14

    Her call sent a ripple out to the other cadets, and once more the person to her right froze in place, completely unmoving until she shook him.


    ¡°Rory!¡± she shouted, knowing he¡¯d hear her. ¡°Get some people to hold back the lesser undead, I¡¯ll get the two big ones!¡±


    Only moments later, she felt the line swell. Those who¡¯d been on break were now focusing all their effort on pushing forward. They would need to give Omia some space to actually kill the two large ones without others getting in the way.


    Admittedly, she¡¯d probably be getting help, but whoever was with her would need space to move. Rapidly, she saw the previously resting cadets rip through the swarm and throw the bodies into a pile behind them, making a clearing for the fight.


    The deer-headed undead led the way, with the giant behind it. The moment she used her Undeath mana, floating it up, the deer-headed one snapped its focus onto her, acknowledging her as its opponent.


    When it began approaching the perimeter, several of the cadets made way, not even trying to stop it. Even if they could fight it, the creature would be easier to kill if it was surrounded. Besides, Omia had the best chance of coming out of the fight alive, so they may as well leave it to her.


    While the mindless undead all focused on attacking those holding the swarm at bay, the deer-headed one walked right by them and towards her, not even glancing at her classmates. It would clearly be open to attack from the sides, but its nonchalance was fairly threatening, and they didn¡¯t have enough bodies to flank it anyway.


    The giant actually remained outside the perimeter, watching from a distance. So they would worry about that one later.


    When Deer-head (as she would refer to it) finally broke past the lesser swarm, it fell onto all fours and launched itself forwards in a gallop. It wasn¡¯t all that far away, so it was upon her immediately as she deflected the swipe from its clawed arms using her claymore.


    Rather than strike back with her sword, she decided to test the waters with her mana. The giant had clearly brought this undead when it saw her mana, so she was cautious about fully committing to attacking it using mana, but she needed to know what she worked with.


    As she sent a small chunk at it, digging into its aura, it swiped at her again, once more causing her to deflect.


    She found that its aura was a bit flexible. As she tried to pull it, stretching in her grip. Before she could focus her efforts in severing the chunk, the deer-headed beast lunged forwards again, forcing her to focus on blocking its claws and stepping back.


    She wouldn¡¯t get the chance to tear its aura away, she¡¯d have to best it in swordplay. It was unnaturally fast, but so was she. As they circled each other, Omia was able to see in her periphery that Rory was preparing to join the fray. The perimeter was stabilizing, so they could afford to give up one securing it to help her out.


    In preparation for Rory, she started to distract Deer-head, pushing it. The swaying motion of her claymore kept it at bay as she pushed it further and further into the camp, but had to stop when she realized the other cadets were getting a bit nervous. Nobody wanted a special undead near their stuff, so instead she continued to circle it and bring swipes down upon it.


    It was nimble, she¡¯d give it that. When it seemed she was open, the creature would launch forward to take advantage of it, forcing her to push her muscles hard in bringing the claymore back up from awkward positions.


    She decided to capitalize on this though. Leaving herself open intentionally, Deer-head launched forward. This time, Omia didn¡¯t even attempt to bring the blade up, dropping it completely instead. Ducking under its claws, she tackled it square in the chest, knocking it to the ground.


    Grabbing both its hands, she pressed them down as she saw Rory heading her way to help. If she could keep it pinned for just a moment, he¡¯d smash its skull.


    He¡¯d only taken one step before the battle changed. The giant was no longer content to stand aside as they executed Deer-head, and she heard the screams of several cadets as they were sent flying when the giant knocked them to the side.


    ¡®Other things to focus on, let them handle that¡¯ she thought, realizing that she probably wasn¡¯t getting help with her undead soon enough. When she looked back down to it though, she ran into a problem.


    It¡¯s head was gone.


    Specifically, there was a tendril of white smoke where it used to be. Quickly following it, she saw that the head had floated off the body, and was now coming down on her face to take a bite.


    Rolling off her opponent and picking up her claymore as came back to her feet, she saw that it wasn¡¯t just its head that became more disembodied.


    The creature, as a whole, had fallen apart like a shattered marionette, strings still suspending the different pieces.


    The head and arms floated a distance from its main body, stopping only a moment before its entire form came down upon her.


    Cutting towards her at different angles, she finally took her first real strikes from the undead. Until this point, none of them were able to touch her, but Deer-heads claws tore into her hardened leather, leaving deep gashes that barely spared her skin of damage.


    The blade of her sword failed to really cut it either, as it would just disassemble itself to avoid her weapon.


    ¡®I need a way to cut its mana, not a mundane blade.¡¯


    The thought reminded her of something- one of Torei¡¯s spells.


    He struggled harshly to actually perceive any mana, so he made up for it in binding his mana to certain things. He would bind it to water, then manipulate the water so he could see his mana with his actual eyes.


    At one point, he¡¯d bound his mana to a sword, saying that it might be able to deal magical damage. The issue was that nothing really needed magical damage, and that there was no discernable difference between cutting something with his blade and cutting something with his blade plus a bit of mana.


    Now though, she felt it would be useful. She couldn¡¯t use bare mana to tear away its aura, and she could see now that it was because it was an active manipulator of that aura. She¡¯d need something more tangible to help her mana cut.


    Backing off for just a moment, she quickly brought every scrap of Undeath mana to bear as she coated her sword with it, pressing it down into the metal. She couldn¡¯t dig into the iron, but she was able to compress the fog into the blade, squishing it flat.


    With how much she was compressing the mana, she actually noticed a slight ethereal glow emanate from her claymore when she used her naked eyes. Putting no more thought into it, she threw herself forward once more and cut into the white smog holding Deer-heads left arm together.


    The author''s tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.


    While it didn¡¯t sever the connection completely, the beast did rear back as she felt it shred, only weakening the link between arm and body. Still, if she only dealt a little damage, that would be enough.


    Instantly, the creature put itself back together, more willing to face her on a physical playing field now that its magical advantage disappeared. In her periphery, she saw Rory facing off against the giant, desperately dodging its strikes and trying to delay it, but the giant started to simply ignore him, stomping its way over to her.


    Deer-head didn¡¯t let her divide her attention, continuing to attack her but hesitating every time she swung her claymore.


    She almost missed it, but realized that she wasn¡¯t just cutting its body- her claymore was now physically assaulting its aura.


    ¡®I couldn¡¯t effect its aura before, but if my blade acts as the anchor for my magic¡­?¡¯


    She commanded the mana atop her claymore to grab onto its aura, and she swung it violently, expecting for a large chunk of the aura to come off so she could consume its power.


    Nope.


    The entire beast was flung to the side, launched hundreds of feet outside the perimeter as it hung comically mid-air, her claymore slipping away from its aura with how quickly it went as she accidentally threw it using magic.


    Just in time as well, because the giant was now upon her. Ducking low, she dodged under its fist and stabbed into its stomach using her now-glowing claymore.


    It let out a rattling, empty shout in response, taking a step back. She saw that the Undeath mana swirling around the giant didn¡¯t immediately fill in the space, and realized her strikes were now harder for the undead to repair.


    If it was swatting Rory away like a fly before, it completely ignored him now as it lunged towards her. She tried taking another step back, but barely had time to register shock as she felt the back of another cadet behind her.


    The perimeter wasn¡¯t that big, and now she¡¯d run out of room to retreat.


    Holding her claymore at the ready, preparing to stop its momentum with everything she had as she realized the person behind her might die if she failed- either from the strike or getting knocked down into a swarm of undead- when she got an unexpected save.


    Jamei leapt high from somewhere far away and, right as the giant lowered its body to reach for her, he landed straight on its back, plunging his blade square through the back of its skull.


    ¡®Fuck yea, Jamei!¡¯


    Against all odds though, the giant did not stop. Even with its brain pierced, it stood straight up and started shouting as it swung to and fro, reaching back behind it to try and grasp whatever opponent was stuck to it.


    She wanted to groan as she thought undead were supposed to immediately drop without their brains, not this one she supposed.


    Jamei¡¯s blade went in through the back of its skull and out through its forehead, so it could sadly still see, but it was distracted. Circling it slightly, she saw her friend''s panicked face as he held on for dear life, dodging its grasp one after the other.


    Omia struck low, cutting into the back of its legs, causing it to tilt precariously.


    Throwing her whole body into it, she tried pushing it away from their defensive line, causing it to finally fall. Stabbing into its back and out through its chest, the monster could only squirm as Jamei kept forcing its head down, keeping it off balance as she put holes into it and Rory dismembered it, limb by limb.


    None of them saw when Deer-head flew over their defensive line by breaking itself apart and throwing its own body up into the air. Not until Omia was sent flying, claws digging into her back as it penetrated past her leather armor. She twisted mid-air, coating her hand in Undeath mana and grabbing it by the skull right as both of them landed amongst the tents, far away from both the perimeter, far from help.


    When the tent she landed on groaned, she glanced down, realizing not only that they¡¯d hit a Cadet who was standing off to the side for some reason, but that she recognized him.


    ¡®This was the one that¡¯s been freezing up any time anything major happens. The coward, I remember him. What is he doing in the camp? Did he wuss out and decide to hide, realizing that he was probably going to be too unfocused and get himself killed?¡¯


    Omia and Deer-head, tangled with one another, briefly paused their fight to glance at the one they¡¯d landed upon.


    He saw them, eyes widening marginally as his mouth opened to let out a scream. Her mind accelerated and her heart began beating wildly as she saw the mana around them begin to writhe. Smoke rapidly began to billow from the ground, but it was not the Wiltwood coming up to meet her, no, it was something else. Something primal and ancient reverberated through her body as she was forced to continue staring at the expression of rising horror.


    ¡®What¡¯s happening? Why can¡¯t I move? Why is everything happening so slowly?¡¯


    She saw no answer, but a flicker in the cadets eyes gave her a hint. Previously brown, she felt at once as the primal, savage mana rising from the forest floor began to converge on the cadet, pushing into him, penetrating into his skin and digging into his flesh.


    The brown in his eyes flickered, like a dying candlelight. Instead of dimming though, they began to glow with alabaster white.


    With Undeath.


    The entire sequence, from landing on the cadet, up to the Undeath mana converging on the poor kid had taken only two seconds, but they felt stretched into eternity.


    Omia barely had time to register that the cadet was forming a Glimpse when the much-delayed scream finally ripped from his throat.


    A call of pure agony and fear rang her ears like a bell, forcing her to let go of Deer-head and roll away, clutching the sides of her head in an attempt to blot out the noise and failing utterly. It was not true noise, but infused with mana that tore away at her psyche.


    Absently, she registered that Deer-head was flung a half-distance away, clutching alternating between clutching its own head and tearing at its own body, ripping chunks of flesh away.


    Something popped, and all noise other than the scream disappeared. Bringing her shaking hand away from her ear, she absently noted that it was covered in blood as she felt intense vertigo, struggling against all her weight to remain standing as her eardrum ruptured completely.


    Despite that, she could still hear it. The bloodcurdling scream.


    Her vision swam as she looked down upon the boy and, with nothing better to do, she fell to one knee, punching him square in the nose as hard as she could.


    Blessed silence graced her once more, and she faced away from the unconscious cadet to throw up over someone''s tent. Pushing herself to her feet, she breathed heavily but heard none of it. The all-encompassing silence remained as she limply marched towards the writhing undead creature she¡¯d been grappling with only moments before.


    She saw that its aura was shredded, more harshly than anything she possibly could have done. Whatever the boy did, it luckily dealt more magical damage than physical, even if it still tore away at her.


    When she tried taking her second step, she fell to her knees. Her balance was gone, she couldn¡¯t hold herself upright.


    Drawing upon every scrap of her Undeath mana she had left, that which wasn¡¯t shredded, she flung it towards Deer-head, digging into the cracks in its aura and commanding it to consume.


    Past that, she no longer needed to direct it at all. Her mana knew exactly what to do, and she felt an ocean of Undeath mana strengthen her Glimpse as the beast was hollowed out, her mana ruthlessly eating away at its energy by focusing on the core of its aura and working its way towards the rubbery shell of it.


    If she wasn¡¯t so disoriented, it might¡¯ve been considered a quite brutal way to go as the creature could do nothing but feel itself weakened as mana ate away at its every function, slowly shutting down until there was nothing left, making it fall apart.


    From her kneeling position, she looked over to the fight with the giant, seeing that Rory, Jamei, and the giant itself were also not spared from the screams onslaught. None of the cadets were, as most had fallen where they stood. Surprisingly, it was actually the undead who¡¯d faced the brunt of it though- as every single one was completely drained of mana. They were all fully dead, not a single one moving other than the giant, just barely hanging on to the last threads of its bodily control.


    Same as she did with Deer-head, she sent her mana into its aura, commanding it to consume. Seconds later, the monster went limp.


    It was over.