The Ghoul paused at the mouth of the cave, listening for movement. His instincts urged him onwards, but a caution that had been newly born within him stopped him. Whatever prey waited for him inside, they would be ready for him. The cave may not have reeked of danger, but there was a whiff of it.

Danger? What was that? Alien concepts had begun to surface in his mind, but the Ghoul didn’t care to reflect on the changes within him.

What should he do if simply charging in was unwise? He turned, eyeing the three other creatures stumbling up the slope behind him. The stubborn, juvenile ghoul was in the lead, followed by the old ghoul with the spear, and the crawling one was far behind it. It was a miracle it could move after what they did to it.

He growled when the first two tried to move around him and enter the cave. They backed off, looking at him with their dull, unintelligent eyes. The Ghoul waited for the crawler to make its torturous way up the hill, and when it did, he let it move in first. After a moment, he followed behind at a distance, but close enough to the lead ghoul that he could still see it. The other two sluggishly took up the rear.

A dim glow illuminated the inside of the cave. There was a fire further back around a bend in the tunnel, providing more than enough light for the eyes of the ghouls.

It didn’t take long before they met resistance. The crawler rounded the corner and a hail of stones came flying out. The rocks were palm-sized or smaller, and most of them missed, falling short and clattering off the ground nearby. Many still hit, though, and the ghoul weathered the blows as they hammered into it, stubbornly crawling towards forwards until it was out of sight of the rest of the party. Shortly afterwards, the rocks stopped.

There was a low groan, and the young male ghoul pushed past the two who waited. Its single eye glowed with bloodlust. The Ghoul didn’t stop it. As it went around the bend, a few voices cried out, and the hail of stones began anew, though many of these were smaller than the first round.

The Ghoul wasn’t truly able to process all of this information. To him, it only seemed like the danger was minimal, and that there was a lot of meat waiting around the corner. Restraint warred with desire, and desire won. He started forward.

Once he reached the turn, the situation was revealed. A line of people had assembled fifty feet down the tunnel. A few had split from that group, coming forward with armfuls of rocks and pelting the approaching ghouls, falling back when they got too close. The crawler who took point had only made it a few body lengths down the corridor before something had busted its head open. A large rock lay on the floor by its corpse, resting in a puddle of blood and brains. The young ghoul was pushing onwards through the hail. These projectiles were too small to do much to impede it.

Once the two new ghouls came into view, another cry went up from the people in the very back. The rock throwers didn’t yell or gesticulate like the people in the back, but their motions became noticeably more frantic as they scoured the cave floor for more ammunition.

The Ghoul lowered himself and picked up his pace. Shortly, he’d worked himself up to a quickened shuffle, catching up with the young ghoul. That was when the first rock hit him. Reactively, he lifted his arms to protect his face. Another rock crunched into his knee. Another smashed into his arms, and he almost dropped his skewer. The rocks hurt, but the will of an undead was implacable. They only served to stoke the flames of the Ghoul’s rage. A sound worked its way up from his throat. Not a voice. Nothing human.

The growl started low and quiet, building in intensity until it was audible to the rock-throwers, then to the people at the back of the cave, and it continued rising until it morphed into a howl of deafening pitch that resounded off the walls. The bloodcurdling, bestial noise swept out of the cave and echoed down the valley. For a short moment, all the rocks stopped.

[Ability obtained]: (Lv.0)

Then, a sob of panic broke the silence. Several people at the back were yelling and pushing, now, while a few others tried to calm them down.

Though the barrage halted, none of the undead had. A rock-thrower, upon seeing the Ghoul nearing, tried to backpedal, but tripped and fell on his back. It was another old man, like the two sentries. As the Ghoul closed the remaining distance between them, he shouted and threw handfuls of pebbles at him. To the corpse, the attacks weren’t even an inconvenience. He stabbed down with the skewer. It pierced flesh and stopped only when it hit stone. The man gasped. As the Ghoul reared back for a second strike, a sudden flurry of stones made him once more lift his arms. A nearby boy was flinging rocks at him at a pace that far outstripped the previous barrages. He was shouting with desperation.

“Ny maik fel! Fel! Fel! Viru!”

The Ghoul growled again, but this time, he didn’t have to take action. The young ghoul, keeping its body low to the ground, blindsided the rock-throwing boy, tackling him to the floor. He hit with a force that expelled all the air from his lungs, so he couldn’t even scream as the ghoul began to dine.

Seeing that there were no more interruptions, the Ghoul turned back to his prey. The old man hadn’t stopped squirming, so he stabbed him once more before setting into him with his teeth.

[Level increased] x 2

Strength + 1

Miasma + 1

[Level increased]

Strength + 1

By the fifth bite, something about the meal became less appealing, and the Ghoul stood up, aware that there was more prey to be had. The noise and chaos had only increased while the Ghoul took his meal. Nearby, the rock-throwing boy was lying dead on the floor, his throat ripped out.

The other two ghouls had gone ahead, and the last of the rock-throwers were frantically retreating behind the line. There were a few people in front who stood firm, holding an assortment of weapons. There was one man armed with a crude spear, somebody else had what looked to be a pitchfork, another had a hoe. Three or four people just held sticks.

Most of them were men over fifty or boys under fifteen. One of them, the man with the pitchfork, seemed to recognize the old, bearded ghoul who’d been their sentry for a short time. He called out to him.

“Kalaki? Kalaki!”

One of the others shouted something else, and it was joined by a few more voices. When Kalaki the ghoul drew closer and his ravaged flesh became illuminated by the firelight, most of the villager’s faces changed, though a few still called out in desperation.

The Ghoul caught up just after the engagement. The villagers struck out first, landing several blows with their weapons on the two lead ghouls. The man with the pitchfork looked surprised when his weapon successfully pierced the chest of Kalaki and he remained standing. The ghoul in question looked down, seeming confused about why a pole was growing out of him. Then, as if just noticing something, he lifted the arm that held his weapon, the spear which had been used so ineffectually against the Ghoul, and stabbed out with it, striking the pitchfork-wielder and sending him to the ground, screaming.

To the other side, the young ghoul had been trapped with a spear in its gut for the second time that day and was currently beset by a boy and a girl with sticks. The Ghoul ignored the two children, aiming for the man who held the spear. This prey was the biggest threat.

Seeing him approach, the man jerked back, trying to free his spear. Unfortunately, he was too slow, and the Ghoul was able to strike him in the side with his skewer. Just then, a large dark shape filled his vision and a blow to his head sent him sprawling backwards. Losing his grip on his weapon, he went tumbling to the floor. The person who’d hit him was a large woman holding what appeared to be a skillet. For a moment, he was too dazed to do much of anything, but as the woman approached for a second blow, he lifted his hands, grabbing edge of the pan before it could complete its descent. Surprised, the woman tried to pull back, but the weapon didn’t budge, held firm by the Ghoul’s considerable strength. She used both hands, planting her feet and tugging, but all she accomplished was hauling the Ghoul to his feet. That was a mistake.

He groaned, lunging for the woman. She shrieked and let go, trying to back up, but she was blocked by the press of bodies behind her.

The result was messy.

[Level increased] x 2

Strength + 1

Dexterity + 1

When the Ghoul lifted his head, it was pandemonium. The man with the spear had fallen, and once everyone watched the woman get torn apart just now, the last of their nerve seemed to leave them.

The crowd surged, looking for a way to escape, but the only way was past the ghouls. Several people ran past the Ghoul and back out the way they’d come. Before they made it halfway, however, the screams began. The two fallen rock-throwers had risen as ghouls, and they ambushed the runners.

The sight and smell of so much warm, fresh meat completely wiped the Ghoul’s mind of any pretense of strategy. He tore into anyone and everyone who got within arm’s reach. His teeth ripped flesh, his hands broke bones just from gripping their fragile appendages. It was a bloody mess, and he felt, for the first time since his resurrection, that the visceral rage that constantly gnawed away at him was finally being accommodated, if only temporarily. It was only after the last person had disappeared, running out of the cave, that the bloodbath finally ended.

Less than half had survived.

The Ghoul looked up from the body of the last person he’d killed, an old woman who’d been either too slow or too unlucky to escape like the rest.

[Level increased] x 5

Strength + 3

Stamina + 1

Agility + 1

His bones popped and his flesh shifted as the Ghoul’s body was forced to accommodate the sudden rush of power that flowed into him. It stopped too soon, however. He felt, in that vague way that instincts guided thought, that his gain was stopped short by something. If not for this unknown blockage, it would have kept going for a while yet. The Ghoul didn’t like feeling blocked.

He liked his skewer, though. Ignoring the inexplicable stifling sensation, he stood, going over to locate his weapon.

For some reason, his thoughts were burning bright and clear, even more so than they had at all the other fights. Battle and food seemed to do that. This feeling of omniscience wouldn’t last, he knew, so he went to make the most of it.

But how does one make the most of omniscience?

In the center of the cavern, somebody had kicked the burning campfire, scattering the logs all over the floor. Many of them still glowed with weak flame, giving plenty of light for the Ghoul to see by.

Nearby, the juvenile ghoul was still tearing into flesh. For some reason this annoyed the Ghoul. Couldn’t it tell that the meat was no good? He kicked it, but the ghoul ignored him, intent on its bloody feast.

The old spear-wielding ghoul, Kalaki, sat on the floor, gazing blankly at the bodies of the villagers, many of which were beginning to stir and resurrect as ghouls themselves. Kalaki looked lost. Or perhaps not—all undead looked sort of like that.

He wandered around the cave, checking to see if there were any other weapons he could pick up. He didn’t find anything like a sword. Wait. What was a sword?

Curses, he was already losing his, his… what?

He growled, suddenly irritated.

A sudden sound in the corner of the cavern made him look up. His growl had elicited a sharp intake of breath in that direction. Something still lived.

He advanced, weapon in hand. As his steps neared, something shifted and two specks of light appeared—firelight, reflected off of two dark brown eyes. As soon as they appeared, they vanished again.

Hissing, he now recognized the figure as a girl hiding under rags. He closed the distance, intending to stab her, but something made him stop. Something felt wrong, but he couldn’t determine what.

He lifted the skewer and took a stance, waiting for the feeling to disappear, but it didn’t. It only grew stronger. This was incorrect. Wrong. Something was missing. He fought against the feeling, but the Ghoul’s arm seized and he was unable to strike out.

This wasn’t done out of any feeling like remorse or pity. No, those were concepts alien to an undead. A criteria just hadn’t been met. While he held a sword in his hand, his instincts told him—screamed at him—that his opponent needed a weapon as well. Even a desire to strike out with her fists would satisfy this condition.

It was something about the sword. The sword. Why couldn’t he remember why he felt this way? Locked in a struggle against a distant memory of his body, the Ghoul stalled.

He slowly recognized what was needed. She needed a weapon. There were plenty around, but all the girl did was huddle against a wall, covering her head with her hands.

He growled in a futile attempt to communicate his displeasure. Pick up weapon. Fight.

She looked up again, as if hoping he hadn’t really spotted her. Her eyes widened upon seeing the monster that stood only five feet away. They widened further upon witnessing the brand on his forehead, glowing like some evil halo. Though the Ghoul couldn’t see it himself, it was blazing a bright, bloody crimson. Fainter, almost invisible against the red glow, the center of the symbol gleamed with a slight blue light.

“Alayiho,” she whispered, a mixture of terror and awe in her voice.

Upon realizing her mistake, she covered her mouth with her hands. Then, promptly noting that there was no way the Ghoul didn’t realize that she was there by now, she threw the rags covering her at him.

The unforeseen move surprised the Ghoul, and he lunged forward with his weapon, finally overpowering his resistance. Unfortunately, all he speared was leather and cloth. The dull blade didn’t even penetrate the garments, and he was left holding an armful of clothes.

The girl had darted up and away while he was distracted, weaving past the stumbling, recently resurrected ghouls. A few of them made feeble attempts at grabbing her, but she was too quick on her feet.

The Ghoul watched her receding back. He stood, ready and waiting for her to return with a weapon. After a minute, he was still waiting. Another minute went by, and he’d forgotten what he was doing. Dropping his arm which had been raised in a fencer’s stance, the rags dropped to the floor.

Slowly, he remembered his calling. He must devour.

He decided it was time to make his way outside. A few of the other undead already had the same idea, as the crowd had thinned out in the last few minutes. Several of the ghouls who had remained inside the cave seemed to have done so because they were too busy fighting each other to hunt the fleeing humans. On his way out, he neared one of the newly resurrected corpses, and it lunged at him. Its movements were clumsy, however, and he was able to sidestep it. When it turned around again, he stabbed it through the eye, dropping it like a rock.

[Level increased]

Dexterity + 1

Huh. The Ghoul tilted his head. A tiny something entered him when he killed that creature. It was beneficial to him. Maybe he should kill more.

He just started looking around him for suitable prey when without warning, his dam ruptured. The blockage of energy that had so irritated him finally made it the rest of the way, and it entered him like a lightning bolt out of the blue.

He hit the floor, instantly unconscious, becoming one of the only unmoving bodies in a room full of corpses.

INFORMATION

Name: -

Titles:

Race: (evolution pending)

Level: 20

Abilities: (Lv.0)

Class:

Level: 2

Skills: (Lv.0)

STATISTICS

Strength: 21

Vitality: -

Stamina: 26

Agility: 8

Dexterity: 9

Ichor: 3

Miasma: 2

Individual satisfies the requirements for evolution.

Individual is evolving into .