Pestilence: Rise Of The Pure Undead

Standing in front of the tavern, Loimos didn’t simply step in and instead turned to the wheat field facing the lonely building filled to the brim with drunkards, walking through the golden plantation, he arrived before a scarecrow.

Taking it down from its wooden support, he threw it further into the field and hoisted himself up in its place, granting him a perfect view of the tavern, and also hiding him in plain sight.

Though that would have worked pretty well, it wasn’t necessary, tonight was a dark night, the people inside, consumed by alcohol would never even be able to make out the shape of the scarecrow.

Loimos remained in place for an hour, until a group of three, all of them struggling to even walk properly, walked out of the bustling tavern.

The three men seemed to be trying to support one another but none of them was even remotely steady in their movements, Loimos stepped down from his spot and made a bee-line for them.

Retrieving a dagger from the inside of his coat, he approached with silent steps, standing awfully close to them.

There was no breathing for them to feel on their necks as Loimos assessed the situation, waiting for the perfect occasion to strike.

Raising up his dagger, he targeted the one in the middle.

He wanted them to be confused for a moment to make the whole thing smoother, but their reaction with their friend just slumped down would be unpredictable, he wanted the one he was going to strike not to die instantly and keep his grasp on the other two.

As a skeleton, he knew exactly where to strike to avoid hitting a rib, his blade went right through the unsuspecting man’s back, the point of the blade ending its course as it pierced his right lung.

The force of the strike drove the air out of his other lung, in spite of the pain, all he could do was mutter a weak gasp, a mere exhale that meant nothing.

He lost strength in his knees and fell forward, the other two almost got carried along with him but caught themselves, laughing at their friend for almost falling on his face, they held no doubts in their hearts.

Up until Loimos quickly stabbed one in the throat and then grabbed the other into a choke hold before driving the dagger through the top of his head.

The undead put his feet against the man’s head to get his blade back, but realised that his recent acts of slaughter had worn the blade out significantly, getting right through someone’s skull had been the tipping point as most of the blade remained stuck in.

He rubbed the blood of what remained of the dagger on his sleeve and still put it back in his coat, it was still plenty enough to cut someone with.

Loimos dragged the one he had stabbed in the back into the wheat field, this man wasn’t dead yet, he was holding onto his life surprisingly well.

Not that he could turn things around and escape with his life, Loimos pulled him away with the same ease he could crush the smallest of humans in his palms.

He brought the dying man to the spot he had been disguising as a scarecrow mere moments ago, Loios fetched the clothes of the strawman, undressed the man and put on those of the inanimate humanoid on him.

He dispersed what was left of the scarecrow and tucked his victim’s clothes in his coat before placing his body as the new, much more realistic scarecrow.

It might come as a surprise for Loimos to bother in such a way, but he had heard the people talking of his murders, most believed it to be the work of one of their own, but some would rather blame it on a monster.

As such, Loimos decided to do something very human-like, and pose a body as if to mock the guards and others trying to catch him.

At the very least, they shouldn’t expect it to be an undead of all things.

He left the other two corpses as they were and made his way back toward the farm he had chosen as his hiding spot.

Before climbing back into the attic through the gap he had found, he crept up to a window and observed the inhabitants inside, specifically the new girl that had arrived and was said to be the offspring of the old man.

Despite not having any resemblance with one another.

Loimos had clearly recognised that feeling he had noticed about that adventurer back then, surprisingly enough, he had never felt that with the goblin mage, despite all three of them being of this profession.

The undead couldn’t quite tell himself, but what he had felt was their mana sense extending over to his position, Eppie hadn’t noticed anything in the dungeon due to the lack of ambient mana.

Helena was not only more skilled than her, but the air outside was much richer with mana, making Loimos’s undead presence much more noticeable to anyone paying attention.

Mana was rejected from him, creating an empty space, most wouldn’t have paid it any mind, it was something that happened, Helena was overly attentive and worried however.

Things that she would normally chalked up to nothing were now suspicious occurrences that needed investigation, Loimos had seen it play out, how she had clearly noticed him in the attic before he had made his exit.

She was speaking with that Milo kid right now, if he just broke in right now and attacked her, would he be able to kill her?

Was he fast enough? Was he strong enough to burst in through the door in an instant?

Could he be capable of throwing his broken dagger right in the back of her head through this window?

Should he go back to the attic and wait for her to notice him again, and ambush her once she comes to check things out?

Could any of those work out perfectly?

Loimos stood still for a few moments, before stepping back into the darkness.