The Knight, a symbol best left behind as the world moved on. It used to have different meaning, trained nobles waging wars on horseback. As a new order followed the apocalypse, such a title should be forgotten. But out of the warmth of the familiarity, this word, this title was once again brought up. Donning the armours and wielding weapons of old, they patrol the waste, establishing order.

Now the largest military might in the wasteland, the Knight is the protector of the people. Their presence isn’t always welcome, however.

But they are still the only ones who care.

Outside the barrier of the woodland settlement is a different sight. The forest is now a marsh, the ground sunken, dragged down by water from the depth with mist so thick one couldn’t see their feet. Just last night, the place was still like any other forest with only a part hollowed by the raider curse. But in just less than an hour, less than a minute, maybe in just a moment, the entire landscape has been altered.

“This level of terraforming, it’s like what happens to the Runelands” The old hunter commented “Yet this is different”

Despite having never seen anything like this, the man isn’t surprised. The most valuable lessons his age teaches him is to expect the unexpected. The unknown is called that for a reason. Their power seemingly infinite, these deities can cause anything to happen.

“Heads up, something is close” The Stranger warned, the brim covers her eyes.

Scanning the area, the old hunter couldn’t see anything. Those iris-less eyes must have some sort of special properties, or maybe she uses something else completely.

Continuing on, the two finds oversized shadows, wandering aimlessly. They are searching for something that they miss dearly. Coming in closer the old hunter needs to identify these creatures and exterminates them if necessary. The metal filling on his forehead remains inert, at least these things aren’t contagious by their mere presence.

Hiding in a sunken bush, the old hunter could catch sight of one of them up close.

A bloated corpse, walking without a purpose. Submerged in water from the depth for days, this pathetic being’s skin is coloured a dark sickly skin. The face covered up by disgusting bile and bloated cheeks, clothing possible all gone from the bloated mass. Nothing human remained saved for the pendant around its necks.

On it is the Knight’s insignia, a reminder of the creature glorious former self.

‘These must be the ones responsible to defend the forest, all killed by the raiders’ curse’ The old hunter theorised ‘But something is not right here, Knight’s pendant is prized among the bandits, they wouldn’t leave them behind like this’

Concluding that whatever the creatures seek, he doesn’t have it, the old hunter stands up. As predicted, the shells of men continue to lumber on aimlessly, ignoring him. The Stranger, meanwhile, has already waded further in.

Catching up, the man asks “You knew they are not hostiles” Even before him.

“Just a guess” The Stranger replies.

The two walks past the group, some can be seen clutching their swords and shields behind the thick mist. The old hunter notes down the bloated corpses locations and descriptions, he will return to exterminate them later. There is a more urgent matter to attend to, at least according to the Stranger.

“It’s time you tell me, what are you exactly” The man asked.

“What is that supposed to mean, I am just a Diver like many others” The Stranger answered.

“That’s not what I mean, your mutations, I can tell they are not caused by the unknowns” The old hunter continued “Those whisper in the same tune as the deities that change them” A gentle voice, getting louder until it cannot be ignored. It consumes the Diver’s mind, ushering them toward a final transformation, a new childhood. What will they grow into? The old hunter doesn’t know because it is his job, the Blind job to cut down all those ‘children’.

“And here I thought you Blind cannot hear the whispering” The Stranger tilts her head down, still smiling.

“I am in this business for long enough to tell whether something is whispering or not. And I can tell that you can’t hear anything either” The old hunter looks straight at the Stranger. In this mist, her pale skin and crimson hair resembles a spectre, with blood dripping from its head. A story of old, passed along the caravans around the settlements.

“If you want an answer, then I guess I will have to give you one. I am the future that is not meant to be” The Stranger puts a finger on her lips “But don’t tell anyone, it’s embarrassing”

The old hunter can tell, to his own capability, that it wasn’t a lie. But was the answer a vague one or more literal, he couldn’t tell. But of course, in this world of the unknowns, his ages, his experiences, none of them mean much. For now, he is satisfied by that answer, but the man still has another question.

“What is it that we are looking for, this ‘greater threat’ that you spoke off”

Before the Stranger, they both notice a change in the air. At that moment, as the whispering decrees, all the bloated corpses turn to them and shuffles forward. Nothing has changed with them, the two knows that they aren’t the reason. Correct enough, the dead simply lumbers past them.

“Their target might be a human” The old hunter has his sword drawn. With creatures like this, camouflage isn’t necessary “You coming?”

“Might as well, it will just be a slight detour” The Stranger follows with two bullets loaded.

Not far away is a young wastelander, who is surrounded before he could realise it due to the mist. ‘Something is not right’ The old hunter readies to fight. Why is this youth not running away from the sight of such abominations? A sword is in his hand, but it doesn’t seem like he wants to fight either.

Sadness, tears streaming out of the youth’s eyes.

“Father… so this is where you are”

He could recognise it anywhere, that shield. It belongs a noble man, a righteous warrior, now reduced to a bloated shambling corpse.

“Watch out!”

The youth hears someone calling to him and in a split second, his father malformed head rolls to the ground. An easy cut, the bone, the meat, everything in the deceased Knight have now merged into one mushy mess. The old hunter can see from the head, tentacle buds start to appear. Before he can act on that information, the Stranger walks past him.

The woman stops in front of the youth, stomping on the head, crushing it under her foot.

“What are you doing, future Knight? Mind lending me a hand”

A shield in one of her hand, the other reaching down, taking the pendant from the gunk that was once a head. She hands it to the youth whom accepts the gifts and stands up.

“The source of the mutation is in the head” The old hunter said looking at the mess, the buds had already fizzled out.

Another bloated corpse attack, swinging its sword out of habit straight at the Stranger. She doesn’t mover, however, simply standing there with a confident smile. The youth runs up and blocks the blow. He swipes back, easily severing the creature’s hand. The sensation is alien, like running through a mouldy bread filled with maggot.

Turning back like lighting, the Stranger throws her lasso, ripping the creature’s shield out of its hand. Swinging it around sending the item crashing straight into the bloated head, smashing it to bits. The lumbering being falls over, nearly crushing the youth.

“What’s your name, young Knight?”

“I’m Michael Mc… just Michael” He said, breathing heavily looking at the Stranger handiwork “What is your name?”

Dashing forward, the woman grabs him and jumps to the side just to avoid being grabbed by a bloated corpse. Missing its target, the thing makes a hissing sound, the mouth, covered by flabs of rotten meat, opens spilling tendrils all over. Inside are rows and rows of teeth, going all the way down its body.

The corpse’s display of strength is cut short when the old hunter slides its head into piece.

The others move in, tendrils shooting out. Michael moves in to block the attacks. Tendrils wrapping over the shield, he tries to cut them all but is dragged forward.

From behind, a shield is flung by the lasso, splitting a corpse’s head in half. The youth breaks free and hears the Stranger whispers behind “Brace yourself” She jumps over him, stepping on his shield, launching herself forward through the air. The woman lands on one of the corpses, stomping its head opens. Drawing the revolver, she flips back, slamming the handle on another one, mush and gunk with tendrils bit fly spill out like a fountain.

The two hulking body collapse into the shallow water, dissolving.

The Stranger stands on one of them in the middle of the pack. The mist around her seemingly goes away, green mess drips from the tree and branches nearby. And yet, somehow, the woman remains untouched, even her boots are still sparkling, the spur gleaming.

‘How?’ The old hunter thought to himself ‘She did get dirty earlier, fighting the wolf’

Now isn’t the time for that, however, the man dashes slicing and dicing his way through the horde. From another direction, more of the bloated corpses arrive. But they aren’t former Knight, must be from a missing caravan.

Not like that matter now.

The steel blade moves through the cursed dead like air. One of the creatures standing behind a tree, shoots tendrils around the balk toward the man. But the old hunter simply turns around, with a monstrous swing, cutting both its head and the tree apart. Wood splinters and bark pieces spraying through the air, the plant collapses crushing several other creatures.

With their heads intact, they mutate further to compensate for the loss of their missing body. But the process is crushed short underneath the Stranger’s boots.

“What the!” Michael couldn’t believe his eyes. These two are out of this world.

But he couldn’t lag behind either, ‘a Knight’, that was what the woman called him.

“Die you monsters!” The youth screams out, jumping over the body of his father. Ducking under a corpse’s swing, he chops of its leg. The thing is sent tumbling down, water splatters all over. Hopping on the bloated body, Michael smashes its head in rapidly, until nothing is moving anymore. Standing up, he mutters to himself “I… I did it, father” A drop of tear running down his cheek.

Wiping it away, he is ready to take on the cursed dead.

“Such sloppy movements” The trainer in the old hunter spoke out.

“At least he has the spirit” The Stranger commented, a tint of sadness in her smile, knowing what will come next.

The rest of the corpses continue to lumber forward to their prey, a human. But behind, something else is coming, making their heads turn. This also catches the attention of the trio.

A raider, but of course it isn’t as simple as that. The man is covered by pitch black holes, all over his body, his face replaced by a big round void. Only now revealed as the mist dispersed, how long has he been here no one know. The raider remains unmoved like a statue. The more Michael looks into a hole, the more a feeling budding within him, forlorn.

The youth then notice that the marsh water doesn’t reach the raider feet.

As his eyes are still fixated on the legs, one of them suddenly moves, taking a step. As the foot touch the ground, it sends out a wave, enveloping them all.

Then the world turns dark.

Everything is covered by the void, but the youth could see in the darkness, stars like glimmers shinning. Behind, he can see that the shadows cast by the trees, him and everything else are painted white.

The bloated corpses moan out as they are seemingly consumed by the darkness, disappearing without a trace. The white shadows they cast retreat away into nothingness.

The raider is also shrouded in the dark, but the holes are now replaced by wide opened eyes, red as blood. They all turn to look at the three, is that curiosities in them, or hunger the youth could not tell. But he knows for sure they need to escape before being consumed by the darkness like the bloated corpses.

“Seem like we have quite an audience here” The Stranger steps up “Better perform to our heart content”