《Tales of Undeath: Rebirth》


 Prologue. Rebirth of the Undying

    Blue enso:"Come on, let''s get a move on!"


    Pink wind rose:"Right behind you..."


    Clear skies above and verdant fields below...


    ... a pastoral idyll that screamed of life and vibrancy, made it all the clearer that their flesh didn''t belong in this world.


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    It was a world designed for warmth, for the blush of blood beneath skin, for the gentle swell of breath in living lungs.Theywere a stark, discordant note in this symphony of existence.


    Though their forms had evolved to resemble humanity -- after centuries of honing their power -- they would fool no one.


    Their skin,stretched tautover bone, was still much too pale, the color of aged parchment left too long in the sun.


    Their bones, sharp ridges beneath that pallid flesh, stillprotrudedwith an unseemly eagerness to escape their fleshy prisons.


    Their muscles, though they moved with unnatural strength, stillrottenbeneath the surface, a secret whispered in the chill air that clung to them.


    Blue enso:"We should approach with caution... We''re still undead, after all."


    Her face twisted in disgust, a fleeting, involuntary rejection of his words, of their shared state.


    She knew they were far more than just undead.


    Pink wind rose:"I couldn''t care less,Xayn. Our purpose is clear, isn''t it? Everything else, everyone else... they could never understand. Even if we looked as alive as they did."


    Xayn let out a frustrated sigh, the sound like dry leaves skittering across stone.


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    Xayn (Blue enso):"Though our purpose is clear, the path leading to it is anything but,Bazren. Like it or not, we will need to cooperate. Establish bridges, mutual points of interest... So, tell me,"


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    He gestured to their cadaverous forms.


    Xayn:" -- how are we supposed to gain anyone''s trust looking like two reanimated corpses...?"


    A slight smirk touched the corner of her lips, a flicker of amusement in her rose-colored eyes. A quick exhale escaped through her nose.


    Bazren (Pink wind rose):"You worry too much -- you''ll get your answer soon enough."


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    As they approached the nearby town, nestled innocently amidst the rolling hills, their unnatural senseswere roused.


    An illusion, thick and cloying as cheap perfume.


    Someone, orsomething, had cast a veil over the settlement...


    ... most definitely to conceal what lay within.


    Xayn:"Our first contact with humanity and already there''s foul play afoot...?"


    Bazren squinted, her gaze, sharper than any hawk''s, raking across the deceptively peaceful fa?ades of the town''s buildings as they cautiously made their way along the silent road. The illusion shimmered at the edges of her vision, a layer of unreality clinging to the air.


    Bazren:"Shame we''re here, then. Can''t fool these eyes... undeath has its perks."


    Both Xayn and Bazren''s eyes began to glow with an eerie, internal luminescence, amplifying their already unnatural look -- Bazren''s irises, shaped like the cardinal points of a wind rose, pulsed with a soft, pink light; Xayn''s, each a perfect enso, burned with a steady, cold fire.


    Reality, the true reality lurking beneath the shimmering deceit, was unveiled before them in a sickening rush.


    Blood, thick and congealed, streaked across the once-dusty dirt road, painting grotesque splatters across the ground.


    Dismembered corpses littered the roads, contorted into obscene shapes, limbs akimbo, eyes staring vacantly at the sky. Some decapitated heads, their expressions frozen in silent screams, were even propped up on the splintered remains of wooden fences, like macabre trophies in some monstrous game.


    What seemed like a peaceful, ordinary town, a picture of rustic tranquility, was, in truth, a horror show. A hellish tableau vivant, meticulously arranged, and brought about by evil intent so palpable it hung in the air like the stench of death itself.


    The question was --


    who was behind it?

 1. Demon Desire

    Xayn: "All victims seem to have one thing in common..."


    Bazren grit her teeth, her jaw tight, nodding in grim agreement.


    Bazren: "I noticed it too -- their bodies look as if they''ve been sucked dry."


    She prodded a nearby corpse with the toe of her worn boot, the sound of leather on desiccated flesh strangely loud in the oppressive silence.


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    Like empty, discarded shells, drained of their essence. Each and every part seemed dehydrated ¨C desiccated even, as if some unseen force had leached the very moisture from their being, leaving behind only brittle husks.


    As if the entire population had been mummified.


    Bazren: "Xayn... Stop!"


    Her voice, though still low, was suddenly sharp with urgency.


    His eyes widened, snapping to attention, as he froze in his tracks.


    Bazren (whispering): "Listen..."


    She tilted her head, her wind rose irises darting around, searching, listening.


    A muffled cry, faint but unmistakable --


    A child''s.


    Distressed, thin tendrils of sound reaching them from a nearby home.


    One whose outside, even in this charnel house, seemed especially bloody, the wood stained a dark, almost black crimson.


    Xayn (whispering): "Oh come on... Not this for our first interaction...!"


    Bazren (whispering): "Don''t you start crying, too -- let''s get in there already!"


    They moved closer to the front door of the blood-soaked house.


    No handle.


    Judging by the splintered, gaping hole where it should be... its absence seemed less like an oversight and more like a recent, aggressive redesign.


    Bazren slowly pushed the door inwards, the hinges groaning in protest, creaking a mournful song as it swung inwards, revealing the horrors within.


    What.


    The.


    Fuck.


    Bazren: "O-oy..."


    Her usual bravado faltered, the sardonic edge to her voice momentarily blunted by the sheer wrongness of what lay before them.


    Though the gruesome scenario outside had already primed them for the worst, somehow...


    Their expectations were still crushed.


    Sliced.


    Diced.


    Ripped.


    And torn.


    Much like the innards of countless inhabitants that were now decking the halls of this demonic sanctum.


    The floor, walls and ceiling were coated in blood -- still fresh, still dripping with a sickeningly rhythmic plink... plink... plink.


    Intestines hung from above, glistening and slick, left out to dry at the same time as they livened up the otherwise dull wooden joists.


    Other organs, with a disturbing commitment to categorization, seemed neatly grouped in their little piles -- the liver pile, a glistening mound of dark red; the lung pile, spongy and pale; the heart pile, still faintly pulsing with residual life.


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    At the very least, the one orchestrating this horrific display seemed to have order and organization at the top of their list of priorities...


    ... and if the list were as long as they were tall ...


    ... well, let''s just say it wouldn''t be a very long list at all.


    Xayn (whispering): "It''s... the child...?!"


    At the far end of the house, several more corpses were heaped carelessly near one of the corners, a messy afterthought compared to the meticulously arranged organ displays.


    Beside them, a wooden, blood-soaked table, crudely fashioned but functional, served as the one and only workstation in this horrific (dis)assembly line.


    Its sole worker?


    A terrorized, inconsolable child.


    Crying child: "P-please make it stop... PLEASE!!!"


    His small body shook with sobs, tears mixing with the blood splattered across his face.


    A fleshy appendage, thick and pulsing, extended from his forearm, twitching with unnatural life. It moved with horrifying dexterity, nimbly cutting up each body part with impossible precision, turning its insides into outsides with sickening efficiency.


    Each organ, once separated, was thrown with mechanical precision into its corresponding pile.


    Disturbing --


    but undeniably, and unsettlingly, impressively effective.


    Bazren (whispering): "How the fuck do you even deal with this...?!"


    Demonic voice: "YOU FEED ME MORE."


    The ground trembled beneath their feet, the wooden floorboards groaning ominously.


    A deep, guttural voice, thick with malice and a disturbing hint of childish petulance, bellowed out from the strange growth attached to the child. It resonated in their very bones, a vibration of pure wrongness.


    Then --


    It extended forth, unnaturally long and disturbingly flexible.


    From the back of the house, snaking its way across the blood-soaked floor, all the way to the entrance, it moved with alarming speed.


    Swinging wildly mere centimetres from Bazren''s face, the fleshy horror finally stopped, allowing her to take a good, long look at it.


    A fleshy, bloody dagger, grotesquely organic, with a gaping mouth full of jagged, needle-sharp teeth that dripped with saliva and something far less palatable. A large, bulbous nose, swollen and veined, twitched as it sampled the air.


    It stopped its erratic movements.


    Sniffed them... with a wet, gurgling inhale...


    ... and immediately regretted it.


    Its grotesque mouth retched violently, a series of wet, gagging sounds, as if it had inhaled the foulest of odours ever to plague existence.


    Demonic voice: "EURGH!"


    Bazren''s breath caught, earnestly insulted.


    Bazren: "The gall...! As if you smell like a bed of roses yourself!"


    Without thinking twice, she reached out her arm and gripped the long, distended handle of the dagger with all of her might.


    Its flesh squished painfully underneath her crushing force, emitting a wet, gurgling sound, as it began coughing.


    Demonic voice: "L-LET GO, OR THE CHILD DIES!"


    The voice was strained, panicked, losing some of its guttural menace in its desperation.


    The grip of the fleshy appendage on the child''s forearm grew tighter, the pulsating flesh constricting, making them cry out in renewed, agonizing pain.


    Crying child: "I-it hurts! IT HURTS!"


    His small voice cracked, breaking under the strain.


    The slight crunch of the infant''s bone, sickeningly audible in the sudden silence, followed by the soft, dripping of blood, made Xayn jump into action.


    Xayn: "BAZREN! RELEASE IT!"


    His voice was sharp, urgent, brooking no argument.


    Furious, her eyes blazing with a dangerous light, she looked at him, a storm brewing in their depths.


    Bazren: "Release it?! Don''t let this abomination tug at your damn heartstrings...!"


    Xayn: "I can''t allow this, Bazren...!"


    Xayn extended his right arm, and in a sudden eruption of blinding light, it was engulfed in bright blue flames, ethereal and cool to the touch, yet radiating immense power.


    Within his hand, conjured from pure will and otherworldly energy, an ethereal blue arrow materialized, its end sharp and deadly, humming with contained force.


    Without hesitation, his face grimly set, he stabbed the glowing arrow into Bazren''s arm, the very same arm gripping the demonic weapon.


    Bazren cried out, a sharp, involuntary gasp of pain as the ethereal energy coursed through her undead flesh. Involuntarily, her grip loosened, her fingers spasming open.


    In pain and surprise, she released it, freeing the weapon as it rapidly retracted back to the child, the fleshy dagger slithering back up the child''s arm, easing its constricting grip on them.


    Bazren: "WHAT THE HELL, XAYN?!"


    Xayn: "We aren''t in Mortmundus anymore! These are living, breathing beings -- if their body perishes, so does all that they are!"


    The demonic dagger laughs, a wet, gurgling sound of utterly delighted amusement.


    Demonic voice: "YES FRIEND, YES...! LISTEN TO HIM, IT''D BE A SHAME FOR THE POOR CHILD TO PERISH!"


    Clenching his fist in anger, his blue enso eyes burned brighter. Xayn took a step forward.


    Xayn: "Make no mistake -- I''m no damn friend of yours! Why are you doing this to these people?!


    Demonic voice: "SO I GROW STRONGER... STRONGER THAN THAT WITCH BITCH!"


    Bazren snorted out a slight laughter, unable to help herself.


    Demonic voice: "YOU THINK IT''S FUNNY?!"


    The fleshy dagger thrashed wildly, and the child cried out again as its grip tightened once more.


    Xayn: "Bazren, this is serious...!"


    He snapped, his head whipping back to her, looking at her with blazing eyes, a silent warning.


    Bazren: "Oh, come on...! Fine."


    She sighed dramatically, rolling her eyes heavenward.


    Bazren: "Look, if we help you deal with that witch... Will you let that child go?"


    Demonic voice: "TAKE DOWN THE WITCH, SO I CAN TRANSFER MYSELF TO HER BODY..."


    Xayn: "And what then? Will you keep killing indiscriminately?!"


    Demonic voice: "NO...! THE BODY OF THE WITCH BITCH SHOULD DO PLENTY TO SUSTAIN MY... NICHE ITCH."


    Bazren immediately held her hand up to her mouth, doing her best to stifle a full-blown guffaw.


    Xayn: "Alright -- fine! We''ve got a deal -- Where is this witch of yours?"


    Suddenly, a loud explosion ripped through the relative silence, the sound deafening, destroying a nearby home outside with a shower of splintered wood and flying debris.


    Demonic voice: "YOU WON''T HAVE TO SEARCH FAR... S-SHE''S FOUND US ALREADY...!!"

 2. Firefall

    Sorceress: "I''LL BURN THIS ENTIRE VILLAGE DOWN IF I HAVE TO... I KNOW YOU''RE HERE, COME OUT!"


    Her voice, amplified by magic, echoed through the ravaged town, a promise of fiery devastation.


    More explosions ripped through the silence, each a percussive punctuation mark to her threat. Homes, or what remained of them, dissolved into clouds of ash and embers.


    Demonic voice: "GO! KILL HER! KILL HER -- OR I KILL THIS CHILD...!"


    The dagger''s voice, a grating blend of desperation and raw malice, scraped against their nerves.


    Bazren''s hands clenched, rose-colored sparks, eager and hungry, crackling around her knuckles. The air around her shimmered with barely contained power.


    Bazren: "Dammit Xayn, I hate being pushed around like this... Why don''t we just kill them all and move on?!"


    Her voice was a low growl, frustration simmering beneath the surface.


    Xayn''s other arm erupted in ethereal blue flames, coalescing into a longbow. It was a weapon of otherworldly design, elegant yet menacing, with two large spikes cruelly adorning its tips, its very form radiating an alien, intimidating aura.


    Xayn: "Stop being so impulsive, Bazren."


    His voice was sharp, a rebuke cutting through the chaos. He began moving towards the shattered doorway, his movements fluid and purposeful.


    Xayn: "Saving this child could give us the credibility we need to make trustworthy connections in this world... We''d be fools to pass this up. Now come on, it''s just a human -- we''ll get this done and over with in no time."


    A heavy sigh, laced with reluctant acceptance, escaped Bazren''s lips, a sound of weary resignation that seemed to carry the weight of centuries.


    Bazren: "Fine...! Getting kind of rusty, anyway. Hope at least she''s good practice..."


    They ventured out into the blood-soaked street, stepping from one nightmare into another.


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    The hooded sorceress, alerted by the creak of the ruined door, whipped her head around, her eyes widening, momentarily stunned by the sight of their undead forms.


    Xayn made the first move, meeting her startled gaze with an unnervingly calm one.


    Xayn: "Apologies, caster."


    His voice, even and devoid of any discernible emotion, was somehow more unsettling than a shout.


    The woman''s eyes widened, pupils dilating as she took in the sight of their undead forms.


    Sorceress: "H-how in the...!?"


    Bazren cut in, a predatory smirk playing on her lips.


    Bazren: "Look lively -- you''re dying today! No hard feelings, alright?!"


    The sorceress''s eyes darted around frantically, struggling to reconcile the impossible reality before her.


    Sorceress: "U-undead...? Here?!"


    Her hand flew across the pages of the worn leather-bound spell tome she held, her fingers tracing the embossed symbols with frantic urgency. Glyphs, intricate and glowing with arcane power, began to materialize in the air before her, shimmering like heat haze.


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    Her gaze locked onto Xayn and Bazren, narrowing with a sudden, chilling realization. A cruel smile twisted her lips.


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    Sorceress: "Of course... It only makes sense that your kind''d be behind this -- you''re the ones who *birthed* it!"


    Xayn: "We didn''t birth anything, we-"


    Her voice cut him off like a shard of ice.


    Sorceress: "SILENCE, DISGUSTING CREATURE!"


    Pink flames, hot and hungry, exploded from Bazren''s right hand, a mirror of the rage simmering beneath her pale skin.


    Bazren: "There they go again..."


    A massive, spiked flail materialized in her grasp, its chain humming with barely restrained energy. The weapon seemed an extension of her own barely controlled fury.


    Bazren: "I''m already getting sick and tired of how repulsed this world seems to be by our presence... You do realize we''re still human inside, right?!"


    Her voice was a defiant snarl, a challenge to a world that breathed life into them, now readily shunning their return from a realm beyond the living.


    The sorceress merely scoffed, her eyes burning with contempt.


    Sorceress: "Human...?"


    Orbs of pure fire, coalescing from the heart of the glowing glyphs, began to orbit her like miniature suns.


    Sorceress: "... Don''t make me laugh."


    With a flick of her wrist, the orbs were hurled towards them, streaking through the air like fiery comets.


    Xayn, with a grace that belied his undead state, moved with preternatural speed. He ducked and weaved, sliding across the blood-slicked ground and beneath the fiery projectiles, his movements a blur of motion, narrowly avoiding a direct hit.


    Bazren, however, stood her ground, a grim confidence etched on her face as she spun her flail at her side, without a care in the world -- a provocation.


    Just moments before the fire orbs converged on her, she slammed the flail down onto the ground with earth-shattering force. The chain, imbued with her unnatural strength, extended far beyond its normal length, propelling her upwards in a sudden, gravity-defying leap.


    The orbs missed their mark, colliding with the ravaged house behind her, detonating in a shower of splinters and flame.


    Sorceress: "Hngh... Cunning, for a couple of shambling skeletons!"


    As Xayn slid, he nocked three ethereal arrows onto his bowstring in a single, fluid motion. He then released them simultaneously, the arrows whistling through the air towards their target.


    The sorceress reacted instantly, a shimmering sphere of wind conjuring around her, deflecting two of the arrows, sending them spiraling harmlessly away. The third arrow, however, flew wide, disappearing into the distance.


    Seizing the moment, Bazren swung her flail, the sheer force of the pull dragging her through the air, transforming her into a living projectile hurtling towards the caster. The sorceress, eyes widening in alarm, reacted with desperate speed. With a swift, intricate gesture, she reconfigured the runes of her glyphs.


    The protective sphere of wind transformed into a powerful gale, a concentrated blast of air that slammed into her, pushing her backwards, sliding her several feet away from the approaching danger.


    Bazren''s flail smashed into the ground where the sorceress had stood moments before, the impact creating a small crater and sending tremors through the blood-soaked earth.


    Bazren: "Not too slow on your feet, either...!"


    There was a hint of grudging admiration in her voice, quickly masked by her usual sardonic tone...


    ... Yet, without pause, a new glyph materialized before the sorceress, this one crackling with a far more dangerous, volatile energy.


    Sorceress: "This is pathetic... I''m wasting far too much time with you already."


    Xayn and Bazren began a slow, deliberate advance, their movements unhurried, almost casual, despite the imminent threat.


    Bazren: "Oh, come on... We were just starting to enjoy ourselves!"


    Xayn: "Don''t underestimate her -- now''s our chance."


    His voice was a low, warning murmur.


    Bazren: "You''re a real buzzkill Xayn, you know that?!"


    Xayn: "... Do you get the finishing blow, or do I?"


    A theatrical sigh escaped Bazren''s lips.


    Bazren: "Get her on her knees -- I''ll end this myself..."


    The sorceress''s eyes narrowed, her face contorting with fury at their audacity.


    Sorceress: "You dare discuss my death so nonchalantly in front of me...!? How sad, that your final words will be a meaningless, arrogant plot to destroy someone far above your league...!"


    Bazren: "Sheesh... Talk about arrogant."


    Fueled by fury, the sorceress unleashed her spell. A blinding beam of raw, crackling energy erupted from the glyph, a torrent of pure destructive power aimed directly at them. It was too wide, too fast to dodge, a wave of annihilation bearing down on them with terrifying speed.


    Bazren, without hesitation, stepped in front of Xayn, planting her left foot firmly on the ground. Just as the beam was about to make contact, she raised her left arm. Pink flames, fierce and protective, engulfed it.


    The beam crashed into her, a cataclysmic explosion of light and energy. The sorceress, however, didn''t relent. She poured more and more magical power into the spell, the beam growing in intensity, a roaring vortex of destruction. Rocks were torn from the ground, swirling in the chaotic energy. The remnants of walls and roofs were ripped apart, adding to the debris field.


    The sorceress laughed, a wild, manic sound that was slowly choked by panting as her energy stores depleted. Finally, after nearly half a minute of sustained assault, her power waned.


    The beam flickered and died, revealing the aftermath of her attack.


    Xayn and Bazren stood, relatively unharmed, protected by an intimidating, shimmering shield overflowing with magical energy. Bazren, chest heaving with exertion, held the shield aloft with her left arm as it hummed and pulsed, as if craving more destruction. Her right arm, however, was gone, ripped away by the blast, still clutching the flail, which lay on the ground, its chain slack.


    Xayn, without a single scratch, gave her a couple of light taps on the back, a silent acknowledgment of her sacrifice. He moved forward, taking her place at the front. He dematerialized his bow, the ethereal blue flames dissipating into nothingness.


    Sorceress: "T-THAT''S IMPOSSIBLE! HOW ARE YOU STILL -"


    Her words were cut short. A sharp, piercing pain erupted in her back.


    A stray arrow, the one that had missed earlier, had found its mark. It pierced her from behind, exiting through her chest in a gruesome spray of blood.


    Still dripping crimson, it flew back towards Xayn, who had his hand raised high overhead.


    Xayn: "Simple --*never* reveal your whole hand."


    His voice was cold, devoid of any triumph. He caught the arrow mid-air, the blood staining his skeletal fingers.


    The sorceress collapsed to her knees, her body wracked with tremors, blood welling up from the gaping wound in her chest...


    ... She bit down on her lip, drawing blood, a desperate attempt to hold onto consciousness.