The wind-cut split the rock cleanly into two slabs that fanned left and right, then surged forward like a great scythe. It slammed into the commander, who tried to stop it with both arms. The blade pressed on, sawing through bone plates and cleaving undead ranks in its path, leaving a wake of ragged corpses and shredded gear.
When the dust settled, only feet and a half-diagonal torso of the commander remained standing.
The remaining undead and the battered commander froze for a heartbeat, stunned by what they had witnessed. Then, as if roused from that moment of dread, they began to advance once more—shambling, crawling, charging with renewed fury.
'It's like a never-ending horde. I wonder how many more do I have to kill until a lich appears.' I thought as I watched the tide close.
A smile crept across my face.
'It's time for beast mode.'
The ground trembled as the dead pushed forward. I slid the sword into inventory, shrugged off my jacket and tied it about my back. My palms felt empty for half a second—then wind gathered, coiling cold and hungry around my hands.
'I love those claws like gauntlets some knights wear.' I thought, flexing my fingers as the air tightened.
My hands became something else. No metal gleamed on them; instead the atmosphere itself had been drawn tight and sharpened. Razor-thin talons formed, colorless as breath, refracting the air like heat on a road. Each claw hummed faintly, the edges whispering with the sound of an approaching storm. Layered plates of compressed wind wrapped my forearms like overlapping scales, vibrating with a low, hungry hiss. It was not iron but the sky made lethal—an invisible predator's hand that could tear through flesh and steel.
I looked up. The sky was a dark bruise—dust clouds shifting and thickening. I took a slow breath and then pushed off with my right foot, launching myself into the endless swarm.
My foot struck the glassed earth; my body leaned forward and I ran, momentum building. My hands were at my sides, claws ready to rend.
'I need to make some space.' I thought, and I touched the ground with the tips of my right-hand fingers as I ran. With a flick I cast four slashes of wind into the crowd.
The blades cut like scythes, tearing through necks and torsos, but the ocean of undead only shifted and flowed around the new holes. The scythes kept me moving—enough to keep breathing, enough to close distance. I pushed inward toward the closest corpse commander.
Fallen bodies littered the route. I scanned the ground, nimbly leaping between crushed limbs and half-buried blades, dodging ribs that still twitched. I ducked a skeleton's vertical slash and the brittle sword spat sparks against my gauntlet. Its attack committed the weight forward—the whole thing lunged—so I slid to the right and it sailed past, balance betrayed by momentum.
Ghouls surged up around me. I swept my hands right to left; small, sharp knives of wind tore open necks and split bellies. Flesh sloughed away in ribboned strips, black ichor spattering the air. A wind-blade nicked a zombie's leg, and the lower half collapsed into a twitching heap.
I punched out with my right fist; the gauntleted blow detonated a head. The skull burst like rotten fruit, a spray of gore and bone dust that knocked a ring of nearby undead back a pace. The smell—salted rot and burnt fat—hit my face in a wet, cloying wave.
Skeletons kept coming. I vaulted, landing on one skull; my foot found surface and I leaped again, a living projectile over the sea of dead. The space ahead was tight; they crowded but did not quite fill the air. I pushed forward, claws slashing, blades of wind sketching a path through bodies.
'Just a bit far.' I thought when the corpse commander came into view.
I planted both arms and brought them wide, then slashed down in a cross. Wind-razors tore through the mob like a plough, opening a shallow trough across the battlefield.
Gravity yanked me back toward earth. I pressed my feet, built pressure, and sprang forward again. I ran my claws in arcs, each swing ripping through the dead, but the endless mass kept pressing, a tide that would not break.
'This isn't working as efficiently as I thought it would.' I thought, and pivoted, vaulting onto the shoulder of a bloated ghoul to gain a step faster. One after another, I bounded from head to shoulder—brief, precise hops over waiting hands and snapping maws—gaining ground on the commander.
With my final jump I landed at its feet.
The commander reared and slammed its right arm down like a falling tree, aiming to crush the insect beneath. The distance closed in a heartbeat; I pulled my left hand back, deflecting the blow with my Reversal field. The force glanced off, and the great hand whipped past to the commander's rear.
'Now that I know you've got nothing but physical attacks. There's no need to play around.' I thought, voice tight with focus.
I pushed off the ground and sprinted up its arm like a climbing animal, making claws for footing. Its left hand lunged to grab me; I kicked free, dropped, and hammered my gauntleted palm into the creature's side, driving myself upward. The surface was heat and dried blood and something like resin—old ichor that had set to the bone.
I ran up its forearm until the elbow, then launched toward the head. My claws found purchase in the charred hide, tearing as I wrapped my body around its neck. Around me, the dead continued to surge, their shadows a living carpet.
I leapt towards the malformed figure perched on the commander's back—the mastermind. It shrieked, a thin, high sound that scraped teeth. Its hands—slim and blade-fingered—scrabbled for my throat.
The body on its back had its claws sunk into the bigger form. It turned its head and looked at me; I met its stare. The prey was within reach of the hunter. As the distance closed, the smile on the hunter's face widened—but the prey stood frozen, trapped with nowhere to go.
Then a hope: a rolling wave of undead surged from my right and knocked me off the big body, dragging me down into the heaving sea of corpses.
They leapt and tumbled over me. I lay buried in the press of bodies, staring up at a snow of teeth and a mouth dripping slow saliva above me. Rotten flesh peeled back in ragged folds; teeth black and knife-sharp hung in a maw that wanted to devour everything. They tried to bite, to tear—scrabbling hands and gnashing jaws—but they couldn't quite pierce my Reversal field.
'This isn't working. My attack range is pretty small. I can't take care of all the surrounding undead. Should I go back to sword and start to cut through them?' I thought, not so much worried about myself as about moving forward.
'But I was really excited for beast style. If I could had them lined up I could cut through them like a shredder.' I thought, imagining the ideal setup.
'But this whole area is just empty ground filled with undead hordes there's nothing to use…..' The idea of an obstacle made a slow smile creep over my face.
From beneath the swarm, a blast of wind exploded outward and threw the nearest undead aside. I pushed up and the bodies atop me slid away like tidewater. I rolled, dropped clear, and sprinted back toward the place I had started.
My heart hammered.
Thump. Thump.
'If there's nothing here…' The pulse quickened.
Thump. Thump. Thump.
'I just have to create it.' The smile widened. I felt a hush of thrill run through me.
The earth answered. The ground trembled and split; plates of loam and glassed bone surged up in several places, tearing undead loose as they rose. Walls—great, brutal ribs of earth—popped out of the plain, forming a jagged maze. Each wall soared to about the commander's chest, corralling the battlefield into a tighter cage.
The corpse commander roared and began to batter the walls, tearing slabs down with massive hands. At a distance, the undead slowed; some tripped and collapsed, piled into one another as the new geometry interfered with their movement. All but a five-meter circle around me turned to sucking mud.
'The movement have been halted. There's no more open space.' I thought, feeling my pulse spike.
"Let's begin." I dragged my right foot back, bent my left knee, and leaned forward. Claws scraped the glassed soil as I sprung toward the maze entrance at full speed.
I ran along the walls, springing from one surface to the next, diagonally crisscrossing the narrow corridors. This time I didn't try to cleave the crowd in a straight line. Instead, I carved paths for the wind—my claws traced invisible grooves in the air that the blades would follow. Each claw left a faint ripple like a finger through water; the wind-razors trailed my motion with a breath's delay.
The blades followed, cutting the undead and scoring the walls with white lines where the air had been sheared. I rode the momentum: jump, slash, weave. When a wall blocked me, I liquefied a section with a pulse and flowed through the break, popping out into the next lane to shred whatever stood there.
I circled the commander, striking and melting back into the maze before its bulk could find me. Its back was a cliff of bone and scar; its sight was a slow sweep. I found my openings in the dark spaces between its scanning arcs. Once, when its back turned, I lobbed a wind blade at its spine—but it spun with uncanny speed and stopped the blade with an elbow of fused bone.
I slipped back into the maze and shifted my position, fingers closing around a discarded sword as I moved. I ran up the nearest wall, angling myself toward the small thing perched on its back, and began to gather wind around the blade so the air hissed and tightened like a drawn wire. The instant the steel shimmered with pressure, the Corpse Commander twitched and turned—so I melted back into the maze and vanished from its sight.
It felt as if it could sense the tug of magic.
'It seems like it can sense magic.' I thought, keeping my legs pumping.
A mud explosion boomed a little way off and the commander twisted to look.
'This is too easy.' I thought as I launched myself with everything left. I drove my right hand through the parasite's back and shoved it forward until my fingers punched out of its chest and grabbing it's neck. Then I tightened my grip around its throat and heaved—pulling the thing free.
My arm protruded from the commander's back and came out of the parasite's ribcage; the parasite's lower torso and half-shredded arms dangled from my hand like a ragged carcass. Blood sprayed hot across my forearm, and bile-sweet ichor slicked the air. The creature's head lolled; its mouth opened in a final, wet gasp as I dragged it clear.
The big form pitched forward, dead. A glad, feral heat swelled in my chest.
'Now this is the beast mode I was thinking about.' My pulse pounded; my breathing came faster and my grin felt uncontrollable.
Back in the maze, I carved lanes, severing undead and hacking at walls. When I closed around a second corpse commander, it was looking at me. It smashed the earth between us—then, to its surprise, I wasn't where it expected. Mud parted and I burst up from beneath, my arm slamming into the parasite like body on it's back. This time I grabbed its jaw with my right hand, my left clawed the upper mouth, and I tore the head free. The skull came loose with a wet, snapping sound; the big body toppled.
The next commander watched, furious. It began to demolish walls and cut through its own horde to reach me. I slipped beneath the mud and came up near its heels, slicing deeper wounds into its right heel until its balance gave out. The titan folded forward and I started climbing.
The parasite on its back surprised me: for the first time it extended clawed hands out from the host. Flesh split with wet, elastic sounds. A leg snapped out of the larger body like a puppet limb, then another—two ragged legs tore themselves free and hit the surface bloody and twitching.
It tried to scramble away, but I lunged and grabbed the right leg from behind. It hit the surface face-first; a hot spray of gore spattered my forearm. It kicked blindly at my face; I let go of the leg long enough to avoid the strike, then seized it again as it scrambled to stand.
I swung my boot into its left thigh. The bone snapped with a clean, sickening crack. It screamed—half animal, half gurgle—and kicked uselessly. I planted my left foot on its back, gripped both arms, and ripped. Tendons snapped; shoulders tore out of their sockets with a wet, tearing sound. Its hands went limp, flopping like discarded meat.
It tried to crawl, blood slick under its belly, but I hauled it back, put my heel down, and crushed the skull. Bone and brain splattered; the scream cut off into a wet silence.
I sucked in breath and looked up at the clouded sky. My hands hung at my sides; the maze around me settled into a hush as the walls smoldered where the blades had scored them.
Huff. Huff.
[ All stat points from your level-up have been allocated. ]
'Where's the next one.' I thought, the spark of excitement damping into a quiet calm.
A weary ache filled me; something strange stirred along my right side. I turned—and before I could react, a force slammed into me from the opposite direction. I crashed through a line of walls and skidded to a stop far across the maze.
I lay there for a few breaths, rolled, and pushed myself up with my right hand. My jacket was still tied around my back; my black T-shirt had been roughed but held. When I pressed my palm to my stomach, heat and a dull, spreading ache answered.
'I-It hurts…?' I thought, tasting iron and dust in my mouth.
to be continued…