During his time in the army, Erwin's platoon often found themselves in situations with danger levels far exceeding those of a regular deployment.
Such was unexpected for them at first. Even in the unnecessary and irrational wars their country waged with their neighbors throughout their history, as if it were a cultural event, sending the same people to die again and again was unheard of.
"Ours was a platoon of unwanteds, and they did a good job at reminding us of that. Political exiles, rebels, rivals."
His sister and brother dearest made sure he saw the worst of the battles.
But as war progressed, and Erwin gained more influence himself, their plan to kill their unwanted brother became an impossible dream.
He proved himself to be tougher than expected. So did his soldiers.
That toughness earned them a name. "Stray Pack."
Erwin recalled the name as he neared the cemetery.
Why did he think of them, the man and woman who loyally followed him? He wasn't sure. But they gave him strength to move.
"This feeling, rising once more. Dread... Always following them."
His mind flashed back.
"Then I had all of you to lose, and I did. Now, I have nothing but myself to lose, so easy to give in, but I have a promise to keep."
The face of a soldier, giving out his last breath, flashed before his eyes.
"Wasn't planning to survive this long anyway." His voice was soft, weak. His face held a forced smile.
With eyes brightened one last time, a life desperately holding on, so it can hear the answer. "But, captain, promise me. Live for me, will ya?"
"Every time I looked at the barrel, every time my steps took me closer to the rails, every time I looked at that one sturdy chandelier with a rope in my hand."
Erwin strengthened his grip. "I didn't forget my promise. I don't plan on breaking it today either."
Erwin approached the cemetery, walking along a small, snow-covered stone path.
As he neared the open entrance, his eyes flicked to the weathered double doors lying on the forest floor. They looked sturdy, made from thick wood and reinforced with metal.
"But why are they out of hinges?" It didn't sit right with him. The possibility that someone had removed them deliberately was high. Doors weren't even damaged.
Raising his weapon, Erwin moved into the cemetery. A stone staircase, dimly lit by dark green moss with glowing blue fruits, greeted him. It led down into the structure. It didn't take long before the first skeleton greeted Erwin on his descent.
It wore long, dirty, worn cloth and carried nothing.
It spotted Erwin from the end of a long corridor, charging at him without hesitation.
Erwin closed his eyes. "A dim, red soul, shaking uncontrollably. They are angry." He readied himself for the arrival of his foes.
When the undead came close enough, he smashed the mace into the skeleton's head.
Knocked down by the impact, the skeleton hit the stone floor.
The sound of its fallen body suppressed the echoing sound of its skull's crackling.
Before the skeleton could move again, Erwin stomped on the crack, shattering the skull for good.
He closed his eyes once more and spotted the dots of light. More souls approached him.
"Confused, angry, sad, terrified."
And soon, the clanking of bones grew loud as another group of skeletons charged at him.
Three against one, he quickly switched to his spear.
With one hand, he thrust the weapon forward, sharp head moving through the openings between the ribs, and catching on the bones.
["What are you-"]
Before Ivara could finish her sentence, Erwin turned right, using his momentum to throw the skeleton he caught at the others.
Already off-balance, the skeletons came to a crashing halt, struggling to recover.
"Just trust me. I have no plan to die today."
Erwin lunged forward and slammed the mace down, cracking through the worn skull.
Adrenaline fought tooth and nail against the pain of his worn body, as he used his empty hand to grab the skull of another skeleton through its eye sockets.
It didn't weigh much, so Erwin lifted the monster and slammed it towards the other one.
Once both staggered, he lifted his mace and cracked their skulls.
Taking a moment to breathe, he looked at the weapon in his hand and nodded in approval. "Good tool."
After grabbing his spear, he started to move forward.
"So far, they look unarmed, unlike the skeletons before. Any ideas why it might be?"
["They might be servants. Buried without their weapons, close to the surface."]
"Is it a tradition? Should I expect better-armed foes the further I go?"
["Sadly, I cannot be certain, but this region once had many Dwarven clans living here. To them, the higher the status was, the deeper they were buried. Humans of old might have learned from them."]
Erwin nodded and walked deeper into the cemetery. Bodies rested in holes carved in walls, with some of them empty.
"Last thing I want here is for the curse to act up again."
He knew if it wasn't for Ivara, he might have already lost control back in the goblin town.
He didn't like it. Felt like he was merely changing the drug he took rather than actually improving.
But could he have done without them? He hated that he couldn't say no.
Martin's words came to his mind. "Look, think of me as a friendly drug dealer, friendly as they can get. My goal is to make the most profit from my uppers. For that, I need to pick your poison carefully, and keep you alive as long as possible."
He said this as he introduced Erwin to some of the medicine he used.
It didn't really stick with him when Erwin first heard Martin speak. But now that he had a much more apparent and fast-acting condition, he saw some wisdom behind the ramblings of his 'friendly drug dealer'.
"She doesn't need to use that power of hers actively, administer it to my body like prescribed medicine. But she seemingly needs me going, and alive."
What was she even anyway? He tried not to think about it, as it helped him for nothing, but the more time they spent, the more questions clawed at his mind.
"How she disappears and appears, in what way my curses connect to her, how she conjures those words."
He wanted all the answers, but he wasn't sure he would like them.
Erwin hastened his steps. The more time he spent here, the more questions just appeared.
"Just let me be done with this here." He knew he needed to answer them. "Just not now!" He cried in his mind.
Soon enough, he encountered more skeletons, wearing better clothes, holding weapons.
His battles followed promptly.
He used the tight corridors of the cemetery tunnels to his advantage, forcing skeletons to come at him at most in pairs.
His spear kept them at bay, and his mace landed the killing blow.
He felt confident in his current setup. So much so that he had yet to touch the hilt of his sword or try to think of any other strategy.
"And how assuring it is. A dagger, a knife, hell, my kicks and punches, all of these, I trust, but a weapon I don't know..."
Maybe he could use the sword effectively; maybe he couldn't.
"It is these maybes that kill soldiers."
He reminded himself as he challenged another group of skeletons. Their gear had gotten ever stronger.
But so did his resolve.
A feeling inside him rose with each clash. Not the curse, something from the past.
A feeling that only appeared under the heat of battle, when his ears rang with the whiz of bullets, when his body warmed with blood.
Erwin was unaware, but it was his first time smiling this widely in so many years. Wide enough to show his teeth as he crushed another skeleton's skull.
Pain in his body far forgotten, his arms acting on their own.
And when he encountered the next group of skeletons, he didn't even wait for them to approach; he lunged at them.
He threw his spear to push one away, shoved another away with a quick tackle, and then swung his mace at another.
It didn't matter that he fought against more skeletons; it didn't matter that they were better armed.
"Come! Come at me!" He cried. In one hand, he lifted a skeleton, held by the skull, as more skeletons rushed in.
His muscles tensed, mimicking the silhouette of an athletic body he once had. As his hand closed in, the fingers sank and crushed the facial bones, cracking and separating the jaw as the monster fell to rest.
Ivara watched Erwin fight from a distance. ["Such violence... A blessing and a curse of a human born to be a warrior."]
She stayed calm. Even as she was worried that Erwin might have misfortunes here, at worst, be defeated by the inhabitants of the structure, he proved to be capable more than he looked.
But.
When he turned towards her to block an incoming attack from behind, Ivara flinched in her place.
Erwin's brown eyes turned into a faintly glowing, deep dark blue, like the abyss of the ocean.
["No, no, no. The Curse!"]
She tried to approach him, but had to step away. Erwin grabbed yet another skeleton by the skull. His fingers dug into the bone, and quietly, the undead fell limp.
But she saw it. Her eyes, which could see through the veil of reality, saw it.
The very soul of the skeleton, the life trapped in the bone body, consumed by Erwin.
She could only watch as the glow in Erwin's eyes grew stronger. With each kill, with each soul he consumed, he emanated a faint, unnatural, ever-consuming cold. His feast upon the dead healed the wounds he suffered, driving him further into his berserk state. ["Erwin, I pray for you. Pray that you are still there."] Her mind murmured.