The first Undead guard was happy to menace with its spear, hemming Chris in and keeping him at bay until the other two arrived.

Unwilling to fight three versus one, Chris lunged forward, hooking the spear away and pushing into the Undead guard’s reach, making its spear ineffective at the close range.

Taking notes from his fight with the rock troll, Chris brought his knee up into the rim of the guard’s circular shield. At the same time he broke the Undead’s knee with a mace strike aimed down and around.

The guard crumpled and he exploited the opening to bring the axe blade down on its neck, he pivoted downward with the attack and ended the motion on one knee with the guard’s head rolling to a halt a meter away, its mouth gaping wide. He could get used to this, it felt just like some of the MMOs he used to play. The weapons, the speed, everything.

He shot to his feet just as the remaining two guards were upon him. Chris nicknamed the first Tweedledum and the second Tweedledead.

Tweedledum lunged forward with its spear, intending on putting him on the back foot from the first strike, as Tweedledead circled around, intending on attacking from behind.

Chris couldn’t let that happen. Tweedledum jabbed at him again, and he knocked the spear aside and bodyslammed the guard. Tweedledum hit the ground and Chris trampled straight over the Undead fighter. As he passed over, he made sure to clock the walking corpse around the side of the head with his trusty mace. Tweedledum was wearing a helmet, so the strike clanged off the side.

The second attack did the trick. Chris spun on the spot and brought his mace down on Tweedledum from straight above, fending off a spear to the neck from Tweedledead with his axe as he did so. The mace caved in the nose guard of Tweedledum’s helm, then continued down to create a cratered mess that could have been the inspiration for a Nitsch painting.

He was about to deal with Tweedledead when he saw more guards approaching and the surviving artisan piling bones into the rib compartment of one of the bone knights.

Maybe… yeah, screw it. He charged at the one remaining artisan.

Boots thundered off the ground as the guards moved to intercept. They were too late.

The artisan turned at the last moment and saw him approaching. It frantically stuff several more bones inside, then slammed the doors shut. It pressed one hand to the knight’s chest and the light in its eyes winked out, a second before Chris’ mace took its head clean off as he ran past.

The joints of the bone knight squealed and creaked as it stood. Chris put distance between himself and the armored Undead. He heard it scoop up its bone shield and spear, then its joints screamed again.

Chris dove to one side as the knight’s spear whistled past him, missing by a whisker, close enough that he felt the wind of its passage brush against his cheek.

It was only luck that saved his from the second spear. The bone knight must have scooped it up and thrown it hastily, because it passed a foot over his head and slammed into the wall of a building. Spear and stonework shattered into shrapnel, pelting him with shards of rubble and bone.

He soldiered on. His constitution could survive a few minor dings.

He began zig-zagging though, and thankfully the third spear missed by a mile. However, the evasive maneuvers had allowed the pursuing guards to catch up. The guards’ weapons skated off his armor, but the tips of some jabbed painfully into the gaps between.

Chris stopped weaving left and right, continuing on straight instead. He managed to turn the corner just in time, as the bone knight’s final spear blasted into the wall right where he had been. Shrapnel struck him again, harder this time, but he had no choice but to power through. The guards were close behind.

He turned into an alley then stopped just inside. He was making a gamble. He could only hope it was worth it.

The first guard turned the corner, its spear pointing up. Rather than wasting time in a wide curve so that its weapon was aligned straight and forward, it instead raised it to follow him through the alley at speed.

It was a mistake. Chris was waiting for it. Even its helm wasn’t enough to avert the blow as a mace and an axe descended from either side. It dropped lifelessly to the ground as the guard following it stopped too late, tripping over the body of its fellow warrior and ending with its brains painting the alley floor.

Chris fled. The bodies of the two Undead guards formed a natural barrier, forcing those behind it to slow and pick their way over the top of them.

The alley turned a sharp right, then continued on. As soon as he was around the corner, he stuffed his weapons into his rope belt and jumped as his strength would allow. He pushed one leg out, then hopped and shimmied his way up the alley walls. He grasped at the thatching and used it to drag himself up.

Then a handful of rain-rotted thatch came free in his hand. Suddenly he was dangling by an arm as an Undead rounded the corner—this time wary of an ambush that never came. It charged, spear thrusting forward.

Chris had no choice but to pull himself up with a single arm, praying that his one handful of thatch would hold. It did. He felt the spearhead brush against his boot, then he was sprawled out on the rotted roof of a building, gasping for breath.

Arrows began to fall around him as the archers spotted him. He stood and began running along the roof, making sure to only step where he knew there was a supporting wall running beneath him. Then ran up one roof, spread his arms out wide, and jumped onto an area of rotted thatch.

He fell, but his outstretched arms slowed him. He touched down in a crouch, part of the roof collapsing around him. The room he landed in had a table and a chair in one corner, a bed in the other, and a small cooking area off to one side. More importantly, it was one of the few buildings which still had an intact set of doors and shutters—making it a safe place to rest until the archers on the wall managed to direct the guards to his position.

He sat down in the chair and brought up his Status.

Name Christopher Hill Level 9 Class None Race Hybrid: Human (F-1), Slime (F-2) Cultivation None Dao None Traits Human Potential, Monster Hybrid, Monstrous Constitution, Monstrous Assimilation, Amorphous Titles Genesis of Blood, Prime Underdog, Agent of Self-destruction, Prince of Poison, Makeshift Master, Prodigy, Legendary Prodigy, Unrivalled Prodigy, Horde Disciple I, Xenocidal, Infiltrator System Coins 965 Strength 41 Dexterity 49 Constitution 59 Endurance 46 Intelligence 45 Wisdom 42 Perception 41 Luck 61

He put his three points each into dexterity and strength, the checked his three new titles.

Horde Disciple I: Enter [1] city while part of a Beast Horde. +1 to all stats.

Xenocidal: The first in your cohort to kill an Enlightened that is not a member of your own race. +5 to all stats. +3% to all stats.

Infiltrator: The first non-traitor in your cohort to spend a night in the Town of an enemy faction. +5 to Dexterity, Endurance, and Luck.

Chris smiled. That was what he was here for. Free stats by doing what he did best. Making a nuisance of himself. His Undead killing quest had hit eight total Undead slain so far. He wasn’t going to stop anytime soon, but he was pleased with how far he’d gotten. He could technically complete the quest whenever he wanted, but he intended to get at least into the double digits before he handed it in. It had a variable reward. The more Undead he killed, the better the reward.

He rested in the chair for a little while longer, then peeked through the shutters.

Outside he could see a group of three guards patrolling the street on high alert.

They were so attentive that Chris almost felt bad. It was a shame they wouldn’t see him coming.