Bone walkers entered the town, targeting homes in the dead of night. By the time people processed the horror, it was too late—many retreated to bed; others barely managed to stand.
Doors crashed open. Blood dripped down windows, painting floors red.
"Twitch!"
A spark of lightning shot across the sky, chaining to every light source in town. Torches, candles—everything lit up to its fullest.
The flash alerted everyone, allowing them to finally see the horror before them. Realization came all at once. People screamed, ran, tried to flee from their homes. But their homes weren't safe anymore. Nothing was.
Bonewalkers tore through the streets.
The townsfolk were slashed, severed, pierced.
They couldn't run. Couldn't escape. The hex weakened them. And with the dark of night choking them too, it was a nightmare.
Just... a hopeless blight.
But one woman, Volka, was a spark in the gloom—hope and determination surging through her like current.
She ran to alert the town guard.
"Heyyyy Volka, what's the need in using me so suddenly?" a voice echoed in the atmosphere around her.
As a humanoid, fey-like creature with buzzed out of her body, crackling with electrical energy.
Volka didn't respond. She just kept running, her electric aura lighting her path.
The creature floated beside her mid-run.
"Okay, we're doing this again... Just tell me when you need me, I guess."
And with that, he began to fade.
Volka still said nothing—just ran, now at abnormal speeds.
She reached the guard barracks and kicked the door open.
Some guards hadn't even left their beds.
Others were barely awake, fumbling to get their gear on.
Too weak.
Even with everything Volka had done, it wasn't enough.
"What's wrong with them?" she muttered.
Twitch!
Her eyes lit with luminescent blue.
She could see it now—a symbol on all of them.
"Twitch, what am I seeing right now?!"
Twitch emerged, inspecting, thinking.
"Oh. It's a hex!"
"How do I fix it!?"
"Hold on, let me think... Maybe you'd know if you'd, used my power more often-"
"Twitch! No time. Quick!"
"Fine," he sighed.
"Guess I could use this moment to teach you." He folded his arms.
"Just fry 'em like you always do."
Volka gritted her teeth but didn't hesitate.
She slammed her hands on the floor of the barracks, lightning crackling.
Twitch quickly placed a hand over hers.
"Whoa, whoa. Hold your horses. Not like that. Calm yourself—it's all about intention."
She centred herself.
Then—pure blue, sparkly mana flowed from her hands, sweeping like a wave across the barracks.
One sluggish soldier, still trying to put his boot on, stood straight up.
"I feel great! Thanks, West Lieutenant Volka!" He saluted.
"Forget formalities," she snapped. "Alert your captain. Now!"
He ran deeper into the barracks.
Volka scanned again. The hex symbols were gone.
She took a deep breath, then shouted with urgency:
"WAKE UP! WE ARE UNDER ATTACK! EAST POST—REPEAT—UNDER ATTACK!"
And she dashed off.
Twitch floated beside her.
"You know, if you actually used my power more, you'd learn how to do more than basic imbuement."
"You know why I don't," she said, dashing between guard posts.
Twitch didn't reply. He just vanished.
The clanging of metal carried marching, bright lines of light beamed from all corners of the town, toward the centre but most were split up, scattered due to ambushes. Bone walkers.
Even still. it only took Volka 12 minutes to reach the town square.
CRASH!
A loud noise echoed through the square.
"Rookie?!"
She rushed toward the sound and saw them.
Three figures:
The Rookie
The Captain
The Commander
The captain was a tall man in his 30s, slender but toned, with a short wavy blonde beard and matching blue eyes. He wielded a massive barbarian axe with sharp runes etched on the blades, clad in plated Armor—E-rank, high-end fighter.
The Commander was bulkier, encased in heavy Armor. His helmet covered his entire head, though lush blonde locks still spilled out. A massive iron shield, long sword, and a D-rank rating marked him as the strongest present.
"Captain! Commander?!"
"Volka!" The captain called out, smiling in relief.
"Lieutenant," the commander nodded.
"Is every post active?"
"Yes, Commander. All have been informed."
"Good," he breathed.
"That leaves just this... strong undead."
"Is he not the necromancer, sir?" Volka asked.
"No. Merely one of his monstrous lackeys." the captain answered staring the undead down seriously
"L-Lackey?!" Augustus screamed
The commander was the first one to ready his stance as Augustus rushing in on Arceus at full speed with his eye sockets licking red with rage.
"Scatter!"
Everyone managed to evade
The undead charged.
"Let's test your strength, shall we?!"
The commander braced himself fast as Arceus, the undead warhorse, reared up and stomped down. The cursed energy cracked the ground under the shield.
Mana breaks under him pushing him into it slightly "stronger than I expected…dammit if I wasn't struck… with this sudden…weakness…"
Twitch's voice reverberates inside Volkas mind "Don't forget Volka there all hexed"
Her eye illuminate again she sees symbols on the 3 of them
The commander struggling.
The captain looking on attentively on the side lines just in case he needs to step In.
And the rookie watching in a ready stance.
She touched both the captain and rookie—blue mana pulsed through them.
Instant relief struck them.
"I feel fresh!" the captain said.
"Thanks, Lieutenant!" the rookie added.
"Now for the Commander," Volka muttered—
"YAHHHHHH!" he roared as he slowly moved Arceus.
The Commander barely pushed Arceus away, slashing as he ran—but it did nothing.
The spectral stomp hit again—an explosion of cursed energy lit the battlefield.
bringing up smoke and debris covering augustus and arceus
Volka looked on surprised *Or not. Even when weakened he could still overcome it* she thought with admiration in her eyes.
"Everyone, REGROUP—OVER HERE!!" the commander shouted gesturing everyone to come over.
Refocussing Volka ran to the Commander.
"Give me your hand!" She hovered her hand over his, pulsing blue mana, freeing him.
"Ha! I feel great!" he said, swinging his sword.
"Back to my old self!"
"What's your name, Lieutenant?"
"Volka Venderbush, sir."
"Well, Volka—if we survive this, you'll be promoted."
"You too, Rookie!"
"Commander, how about me?" The captain chimed in.
"Not you, Berner. You still owe me money."
"But Joldwin, I paid you back!"
"Yeah—after ten years!"
They argued
Augustus had seemed to have lost all sense of self and rationality he was berserk along with Arceus
Both a shell of their former selves…
Now merely just, a undead berserker and his loyal undying stead.
Monsters
He walked out from the smoke and dust, his grimoire wide open, crackling with purple, electrifying mana. Slowly, he stretched his hand toward the pages. Ripples instantly formed across them. With his palm half-open, he thrust his hand inside the grimoire.
After a second, he pulled it back out—clutched in his grasp was a long, bone-like weapon. It was a jousting lance made of reinforced bone, now glowing with that same necrotic purple mana that pulsed around him and his warhorse, Arceus.
"No more" he growled, muttering it again under his breath. "No more."
He breathed heavily and swiped the lance across the battlefield. Sparks of mana scorched the earth, vibrating with crackling, purple necrotic power.
He walked toward them—slowly, menacingly.
Everyone felt it immediately: the overwhelming pressure of the undead horseman.
Volka gasped, winded beneath the weight of his aura. It was crushing.
The rookie kept calm but couldn't ignore the suffocating tension.
The other two veterans stood resolute.
"We haven't been in a fight like this in a while," one said.
"True. You ready, Commander?"
"Always, soldier."
"Alright, soldiers! Here's the plan: me and Berner will hold him off. You two—take advantage of the openings in his rhythm."
"UNDERSTOOD!" they all barked in unison.
The undead horseman charged.
"NO MORE!" he roared again.
"FLANK NOW!"
Volka and the rookie bolted at high speeds, rounding to the sides. Captain Berner remained beside Commander Joldwin.
"I'll take the brunt of his attacks," said the Commander. "You apply pressure. Got it?"
"Understood, Commander." Berner moved behind him.
The warhorse slammed into Joldwin with the full force of the lance—but Joldwin blocked it perfectly. Pushing back with all his strength, he forced the undead and his steed to slide backward, sparks flying from the clash.
Captain Berner leapt over the commander and came down for a crushing slam—but the horseman dodged. His axe struck the ground with a crash, but he continued attacking. He swung again missing, again. And again. Four consecutive misses.
The undead was relentless. Without even resetting his stance, he thrusts.
But Commander Joldwin's longsword was there, deflecting the lance at the last second.
Berner seized the moment. He swung his massive axe at the undead's side—its dragon-shaped rune glowed with fiery power.
"Dragon Combustion!"
The axe hit dead-on, causing a fiery explosion that sent the horseman flying through multiple structures, finally smashing to a halt.
"That was a good one, Berner," the Commander said, tapping weapons.
"Haha! That's why they used to call me the Undead Smasher!"
"No one called you that." Joldwin folded his arms.
"Shoosh! You're embarra—"
"COMMANDER! CAPTAIN! WATCH OUT!" Volka shouted from atop a building.
Galloping echoed for only a split second—the undead was already in Berner's face. The Commander slid in front of him, shield raised.
"Brace yourself, Berner!"
This time, the warhorse used its head—slamming under the Commander's shield and tossing him skyward in a violent spiral.
"Lieutenant Volka!" Joldwin cried mid-air.
She was already moving.
"On it!"
The horse reared on its hind legs, twisting just enough to give the undead rider momentum to thrust at Berner with deadly force.
Berner froze.
I can't react in time...
Volka jumped in front, her shield sparking with electricity. The impact was thunderous. She felt every ounce of the force ripple through her bones. The ground cracked beneath her, lightning dancing across the battlefield.
"Run, Captain—I can't move!"
Berner's head twitched. "Damn you..." he muttered.
He shoved her aside and twisted to dodge the lance, then used the spin's momentum to slash downward.
"This is a little skill I learned back in the day!"
He brought his axe down, severing the undead's arm completely.
Got him, he thought proudly.
But before he could react, the undead let out a feral roar and lunged with his remaining arm.
"I WILL SHOW YOU!" he bellowed, his eyes glowing deep crimson.
A devastating punch struck Berner's face, launching him through several buildings.
The undead hit the ground but began to rise again—bones cracking and animating back into place.
The rookie dove at him with twin axes, but it was futile. The warhorse spun and backheeled him away effortlessly.
Volka caught him midair.
Unbothered, the undead picked up his severed arm—still clutching the lance—and reattached it.
He crawled back onto Arceus like a corpse dragging itself from the grave.
At that moment, the Commander landed on his feet, blue mana outlining his body.
My reinforcement protected me from the fall, he thought, the earth beneath his boots cracking from the impact.
"You're fighting me now, monster!"
The undead growled. His warhorse snorted spectral steam. They charged.
The undead aimed to impale Joldwin, but the Commander blocked high while moving forward.
"There!"
He struck at the warhorse's back leg—but the blade deflected. Its bones were magically reinforced.
"What?! How—"
He skids to a halt, pivoting halfway—only to see the undead already preparing another barrage.
Here it comes again...
The horseman now mixed swipes and thrusts, using the horse's movement to throw off angles.
Damn it! I can't attack—I can barely defend!
Joldwin was forced into a corner, relying solely on his mana reinforcement to hold up. He felt it draining fast. If it runs out, my Armor won't hold either...
A few feet away, the small orc held Volka, as she held herself reeling in pain
"Lieutenant, are you okay?"
She steadied herself "Yeah... thanks, rookie."
"What's your name, by the way?"
"Krog, Lieutenant."
She suddenly stood tall, a fire returning to her eyes.
"Alright, Krog. If you've got anything up your sleeve—now's the time."
Her pupils narrowed to slits. Her stance shifted—becoming feral, ready.
She shouted, "Twitch! I need more power!"
"You sure? You've never gone this far before."
"I'm ready. Just do it."
"You know the penalty, right?"
"Yes."
"Are you—"
"Twitch, DO IT!" she snapped.
The intensity exploded. Electricity surged through her body, lightning arcing off her and slamming into the ground and nearby structures.
"Stay here, Krog—I've got an idea!" Her voice now carried a static buzz.
She vanished in a flash, a trail of lightning in her wake.
Meanwhile, Commander Joldwin was sweating, his defence nearly broken.
Then—hope.
"DAMN UNDEAD!" a voice roared.
A man rushed forward, still drinking a potion. His great axe came down—but missed. The warhorse dodged instinctively. But the attack was a feint.
He faked another strike. Then another. Four in total—each one baiting dodges and building momentum.
The undead horseman grew restless. He charged in.
The Captain muttered, "Idiot…"
A rune glowed, Firey mana sparked around him and his eyes blazed with intent.
As—WHAM—captain berner planted his foot, lifted his axe high, and brought it down with all his force.
"DRAGON'S—!"
At the last second, Volka appeared behind the horseman. Her landing alone disrupted the warhorse's footing.
"MIGHT!"
The axe connected. A violent clash of flame and cursed mana erupted, throwing the horseman off Arceus.
Volka, in her wild, uncontrolled form, didn't stop. She zipped after him mid-air and delivered a thunderous spinning kick.
The undead was hurled across the square, smashing into the ground in a cloud of dust. He tumbled, then caught himself by jamming his lance into the dirt.
He knelt, panting. Struggling.
"It ends here, undead," a figure says, approaching.
He tried to rise—but an orc appeared. Krog.
He brought both axes down as the undead raised his arm trying to defend himself but krogs overwhelming strength, forced him back to his knees.
The undead then raised his lance in desperation.
Krog hooked one axe over it and pulled it down too.
As the struggled against each other
The undead stared at Krog as he loomed above him. A distant memory flickered in the undead's mind...A twisted grin. Sadistic amusement.
His crimson eyes faded to a soft reddish pink.
He was afraid.
Krog, cloaked in green mana, raised his axes. Killing intent radiated from him like a storm.
With a single motion, he struck.
And beheaded the undead horseman—Augustus—completely.
His head hit the ground. No light remained in the sockets.
He was gone.
At the warhorse, the captain still struggled to push his axe down.
"Damn it! I can't..."
Then—hands joined his. It was Commander Joldwin.
"AGHHHHHHH!" they roared together, pushing down with every ounce of strength.
The rune blazed brighter, fire fed by willpower.
They crushed the horse's head, completely.
The axe struck the earth, tearing a crater in the town centre.
They slumped to the ground and sighed in relief.
"We won," Joldwin muttered, taking off his helmet.
"Yeah... we did."
Volka walked over to Krog, hands on her hips. "Well done, rookie."
She high fived him. "Great induction!"
"You're... That was just the induction?!" Krog gasped.
She laughed heartily.
In the background, the battlefield still burned. Bone fragments were strewn everywhere.
The undead berserker's head lay intact, but lifeless. No glow in his eyes. Just an empty shell.
They were both gone.
Just like that.
Truly a shell now.