The beast lunged.
Its massive body tore through the trees, claws gouging furrows in the dirt as it thundered forward. Its roar split the night, scattering birds from the treetops.
The kidnapper braced himself, sword raised, Alaric clutched tight under one arm.
Steel met scale with a deafening clang. Sparks exploded as the man's blade scraped against the monster's shoulder.
The impact rattled Alaric's tiny bones. His golden eyes widened, staring up at the twisted fangs inches away.
Yup. This is fine. Totally fine. I always wanted to be born just to become monster chow on day one.
The kidnapper grunted, shoving against the beast's bulk. His boots skidded through mud, his teeth gritted as he forced the monster back half a step.
But only half a step.
The beast snarled, saliva spraying. Its claws lashed out.
The man twisted his body, barely dragging Alaric out of the way. Steel clashed again.
The sound rang sharp in the stormy night.
The kidnapper's breaths came heavy, ragged. His face twisted, beard dripping with rain and sweat. His armor was battered, his sword nicked, but he fought like a man clinging to the last scrap of his soul.
Every swing was wide and frantic, every block desperate. He wasn't fighting to win. He was fighting to not die in the next five seconds.
Alaric dangled awkwardly under his arm, swaddled like a lopsided sack of potatoes. His small head bobbed with every jolt of the fight.
This is ridiculous. What am I supposed to do here, cheer? "Go, kidnapper, you can totally fight the five-meter lizard while babysitting!"
Another claw swiped. The man twisted, sword clanging against talons. The force rattled his bones, and Alaric felt it too, his body jostled painfully against rusted armor.
The monster's tail whipped around, slamming into the man's side. He coughed blood, staggered, but didn't drop the baby.
For a second, Alaric almost respected him.
…Okay, I'll give you that. Still scum, but scum with a work ethic.
The Grand Forest seemed alive with anticipation. Shadows shifted between the trees, glowing eyes blinking in the dark. The other monsters hadn't moved yet, watching as if savoring the show.
Rain dripped from the branches. Mist swirled across the ground. Every sound — steel, growl, thunder — echoed too loud, as if the forest wanted the whole world to hear the struggle.
The kidnapper roared, swinging his sword in a wide arc. The blade bit into the beast's shoulder. Dark blood sprayed, sizzling when it hit the ground.
The monster reeled, then slammed its massive paw down. The man dove aside, crashing through wet undergrowth. Mud splattered across Alaric's swaddle.
He gurgled, his tiny face deadpan.
Oh, nice. Day one, and I'm already dirty. What's next?
The kidnapper's strength waned with each clash. His swings slowed, his guard slipped. His left leg buckled where claws had grazed it. Blood seeped through torn chainmail.
Still, he fought. Not for pride. Not for vengeance.
For desperation.
Every time the beast lunged, he dodged just far enough to keep himself and the infant in his arms from being crushed.
But his breaths grew shorter. His curses weaker.
Alaric felt the truth in the man's trembling grip.
He's not gonna last. This guy's running on fumes. And when he falls… guess who's next on the menu...
The thought made his tiny chest clench. He wasn't ready to die again. Not so soon. Not after finally being given a name, even if the one who gave it to him was gone.
The monster feinted left, then whipped its tail from the right.
The man didn't see it in time.
The impact slammed into his ribs with a sickening crack. His breath exploded from his lungs as he flew through the air, crashing into a tree.
Alaric screamed—more instinct than choice—as his world spun.
The man landed hard, sliding down the bark, his sword falling from limp fingers. His armor was cracked, ribs shattered. Blood spilled from his mouth in a wet cough.
But even broken, he didn't let go of the child. His arm locked around Alaric like a shackle, holding on with the last of his strength.
He raised his head, eyes blazing with defiance.
"Damn you… I won't… die…!"
The monster stepped forward, growling. Its massive claws flexed, ready to end the struggle.
Alaric's heart pounded in his chest.
This is it. We're done. First day of life, and I'm about to become baby jerky. Unreal.
The beast roared, shaking the ground. Its shadow loomed over them, blotting out what little light the moon gave through the storm.
The kidnapper's grip loosened. His strength finally broke. His arm fell limp, leaving Alaric alone on the muddy ground.
The monster's claws rose, gleaming in the rain.
Alaric's tiny fists clenched in his swaddle. His body was weak, useless, but his soul screamed in rebellion.
No. Not again. I won't die again. I refuse.
The air around him shifted.
He didn't understand how, but he felt it — threads of something invisible tugging at him. Two currents: one warm, radiant, glowing with the pulse of life itself. The other cold, heavy, dripping with decay.
They pulled at him, demanded him, filled his lungs with power too vast for such a small body.
He didn't think. He just reached.
The ground trembled.
The kidnapper's body twitched. His broken chest heaved. His eyes, already glassy with death, snapped open, glowing faintly with an eerie light.
Alaric's vision blurred as exhaustion crashed into him, but he knew.
He had done this.
Life and death had answered his desperate call.
The monster halted, growl rumbling with unease.
The Grand Forest watched in silence.
And Alaric, swaddled and trembling, stared up at the horror in front of him with golden eyes that seemed far too old for a child.
…What the hell did I just do?
The beast snarled again, claws poised to strike.
The kidnapper's chest convulsed. His breath rattled like broken glass. Blood foamed at his lips. His body should have been still, fading into the mud like so many nameless corpses the forest had swallowed.
But it wasn't.
Something stirred.
The corpse twitched, back arching unnaturally, fingers curling against the ground. His dull eyes glowed faintly with a strange, pale light — not life, not death, but something in between.
The threads Alaric had felt moments before — warm light and cold shadow — pulsed inside him. They wrapped around the body beside him, knitting anew, igniting marrow, forcing movement where there should have been none.
The air thickened, charged, almost suffocating. The forest fell silent. Even the monster hesitated, its growl low and uncertain.
Alaric's tiny chest heaved with each shallow breath. He didn't understand what was happening, but his soul knew. He had called, and something had answered.
…Did I just raise the dead?
The thought should have terrified him. It should have broken him. But all he felt was exhaustion, like he'd run miles with legs barely long enough to crawl.
The kidnapper's ragged body lifted itself from the mud. His wounds knit shut, skin paling unnaturally. His armor clung to him like a shell, his form steadied by invisible strings.
When he opened his mouth, no ragged gasp came. No scream of pain. Only silence.
He turned his head slowly, unnaturally smoothly, until his gray eyes locked on the swaddled child at his side.
Alaric met that gaze.
…Oh, great. I just made a zombie babysitter.
The corpse — no, not a corpse anymore — moved with eerie grace. He lifted Alaric gently from the mud, his pale hands surprisingly steady. His presence was regal, composed, almost elegant despite the filth and blood that still clung to him.
The monster snarled, claws digging furrows in the earth. Drool hissed as it hit the wet soil.
The resurrected man shifted, standing tall. His pale hair clung to his face in the rain, but his posture radiated authority. He looked nothing like the desperate, greedy kidnapper from moments before.
No hatred. No greed. Just a cold, unflinching calm.
Alaric's newborn eyes widened slightly.
…Wait. He's different. He's not the same man. He feels… sharper. Clean. Like the world scrubbed him down and put him in a new role.
The undead turned his gaze back toward the monster.
And for the first time since entering the clearing, the beast faltered.
Its claws flexed. Its tail lashed. It growled low, uncertain.
The Grand Forest seemed to lean in, its shadows watching closely.
Alaric's thoughts flickered sluggishly in his exhausted mind. His magic had done this — something impossible, instinctive, reckless. Life and death woven together in one desperate burst.
He didn't know what to call the thing that now carried him, but it didn't feel like the man who had kidnapped him.
The beard was gone. The scars remained, but faint, smoothed as if years had passed since they were made. His skin was pale, unnaturally so, and his silver-gray eyes held no greed, no madness.
Only… silence.
A regal silence, like a knight carved from stone.
Alaric blinked up at him, his tiny lips curling into the faintest smirk.
…Fine. You get a name. Ashen. You look like ashes that refuse to die out.
The undead — Ashen — shifted his stance, one arm holding the infant with unnatural steadiness, the other lifting the battered sword from the mud.
The blade gleamed faintly in the rain, though chips marred its edge.
The monster growled again, louder this time, but there was hesitation now.
Alaric let out a soft, gurgling noise that might have been a laugh if his body allowed it.
Hah. Look at that. My babysitter's scarier than you, lizard.
The clearing crackled with tension.
Rain fell in sheets, drumming against leaves and soil. Mist curled at the monster's feet, swirling between its claws.
Ashen stood unmoving, sword angled downward, eyes fixed on the beast. His presence pressed outward, invisible but palpable.
The monster's breathing grew harsher. Its eyes gleamed with hunger, but its muscles twitched with unease.
The other predators in the shadows had gone still, watching silently. The forest itself seemed to wait, holding its breath.
Alaric's eyelids drooped, exhaustion threatening to drag him under, but he fought it. He didn't want to miss this. Not when his first act of magic had rewritten death itself.
He shifted slightly in Ashen's arms, his golden eyes narrowing as he watched the monster.
…Come on then. Do it. Let's see who flinches first.
The beast roared suddenly, shaking the trees. Birds scattered from the canopy, shrieking into the night.
Ashen's pale face didn't move.
He simply raised the sword, slow and deliberate, until its chipped edge pointed directly at the monster's chest.
The rain hissed. The ground trembled under the beast's weight as it crouched low, muscles coiling.
Alaric's tiny fists clenched inside his swaddle. His heart hammered in his chest, but his thoughts stayed sharp.
First fight of my second life. And I'm not even the one swinging. Figures.
The monster lunged.