The day started out so very ordinary. A clear blue sky gave no hint of the auspicious adventure to come. A small youth walked carefully along the broken steps of an crumbling ruin. Every winding path in the old city could be a challenge to an unfamiliar explorer. However, to this youth's knowing step, it was the same as walking on a brand new road. His steps were sure and steady.

Tap Tap

Like a cat on a high-rise, he had no fear of falling into the many holes which could easily break horse's legs. He was so familiar with the path that he clambered boldly through ditches which others would be scared silly of! The boy made his living every day by sneaking into these forgotten ruins and picking out pretty scraps to sell for a living. Sometimes he was lucky and he found enough to sell for a week's worth of food or more. Other times he was forced to rely on his older sister to avoid starving.

Toc Toc Toc

He walked steadily as he reminisced on the past. One time, he had gone hungry for so long that he fell ill, and couldn't get up again to keep searching for food. In the end, his sister had found him a hearty meal and medicine though he knew that she had only a few coppers left in her purse. How had she gotten the money? She couldn't have made enough working as a waitress to afford such costly traditional medicines. He never did ask where his sister got the medicine. The boy was afraid of hearing things he didn't want to hear. From that day on he vowed to never let himself get so hungry that he couldn't take care of himself.

"Damn I'm hungry" Lineir mumbled.

In order to avoid a situation like that ever happening again, Lineir often reached into the upper class's pockets. His favorite prey was the crowds which gathered beneath the execution stand. Nobody, noble or guard, paid attention to their purses when the guillotine came down. Silk-pants were easy pickings for someone who had a mind to help himself to coin rather than an eyeful of blood. Of course, such gains came with risk as well. One mistake and it would be his head on display the next day.

Things had been looking up recently, Lineir's sister had been promised another year of work. The inn which she worked at was doing a brisk trade in Brackenrock City and she was guaranteed a position until trading caravans were forced away by the winds of fortune again. That meant Lineir always had bread on the table and sometimes even meat, though he preferred to stockpile rice whenever there was extra. If he had his way he was never going to be without food again.

Sometimes, he wondered what would happen if he had enough food to last a lifetime. But then he always dismissed the idea.

It was useless to dream.

*Tap*

Lineir's usually sure feet almost got caught on an upturned cobblestone and he quickly returned his mind to the task at hand. This time, he was looking for a new stash to search. Over the past few months, he had dug out all his old haunts. They had ceased to yield anything but dust. Now he was doing the dangerous work of scouting out a new site to dig and search for valuables. This was the most important part of the job. Soon he'd be wandering outside of familiar territory and every step would be a potential hazard. If he didn't find a good spot then all his efforts for the next few weeks would be a waste. He'd only dig up trash.

As he walked, the landscape changed. Tombstone after tombstone appeared, chipped and smashed, but the majority were still standing, a testament to the idea that the living still cared about the dead. Lineir had reached a place he had never dared to venture before. It was at the edge of the old city, a mass burial ground for millions of citizens. The tombstones cropping up here were but the beginning of a vast expanse of land which now belonged solely to the dead. It was a well-known fact that inside lurked hideous undead and worse...constructs of old magic gone horribly wrong. These intertwined combinations of flesh and magic, which could not be touched by ordinary steel, were the nightmares of every child in Brackenrock City.

Only the strongest experts of the city, the White Horizon Sect's disciples could hope to combat these unholy beings, and even the elders of the sect did not dare venture into the old city anymore for fear of provoking the undead horde's advance. As long as the new city was left alone, the leaders of the White Horizon Sect were content to destroy the occasional wandering undead that made it to the shining city walls and leave the old city to rot with the dead. Lineir, however, had no fear of ghost stories.

He had been observing the old city for years, and he knew that the outskirts had no undead. They had long since wandered away or been annihilated by passing experts. During the day, when he could see farther than an undead's rotted eyes, Lineir had absolute confidence that he could make his escape if he saw one and he hadn't spotted so much as a decaying finger in years. This far out from the city walls, most pickers did not dare to try their luck. But for Lineir, this meant one thing and one thing only...profit. And profit meant food.

So he took his first step into the Deadzone.

Around him were decrepit bones, but never complete skeletons, always shattered pieces. Any whole skeletons on the surface would not have the calming influence of magic tombstones to keep them in check. Such skeletons would long since have become hungry undead and wandered away. What was left on the surface were simply leftover pieces of the many bodies buried here. A hand there, a thigh bone, some fingers. In the past, city lore had it that a great battle had occurred in the old city. All the major sects in the continent had fought and paid a bloody price.

For nothing.

The White Horizon Sect which remained after this monumental battle was nothing but a branch sect of these great sects. Compared to the great sects, it was nothing, and the only reason it was allowed to stay here was because the major sects had decided that it was impossible to gain anything of value from the Deadzone. It was considered taboo to talk about the tragedy which befell the major sects, but his sister often told him the story, which she had overheard one time from a stranger, in her bar.

"Lineir, we're not locals, but since we'll be staying here, it would be good for us to know some things which everyone around here knows. Do you know why the great sects once fought here? Or why the new city was formed far away from the old, with high enchanted walls?" Lineir naturally shook his head. At the time, he hadn't been old enough to find his own coin.

"Well don't talk about this casually, or the guards will beat you. Once, a huge tear opened in the sky above the old city. From it, heavenly cries filled the air, and a great battle took place with swords of lightning and spears of fire. When it ended, the whole sky was alight with flames and below the old city was rent into pieces. Our mortal mortar could not survive the strikes of such powerful beings. Even runed walls were shorn through as easily as a sea storm sweeps away a thatched house. What came down next were celestial treasures, things which even the gods hold dear. The great sects immediately seized control of the area and spent ten years searching. In this time, they found many world shaking treasures, and their fame became consolidated below the Heavens. To this day, some of their most famed items come from this battleground. But after ten years, they were forced to stop searching. No matter how they tried, they could go no deeper. Even their greatest experts at the peak of cultivation below the Heavens dared not tread another step. Why? Because the unburied bodies of those millions who had been crushed under the Heavens began to rise by the thousand as undead. While initially, they were weak and the experts of the great sects could annihilate them at will, soon they began to join together as if something was controlling them. Eventually, they became hordes of undead.

Unable to advance further into this undead sea, and terrified that whatever power was massing these undead would one day send them outside, the great sects formed the new city and created Brackenrock City's famous light-attributed rune walls to hold back any undead which traversed the old city and tried to come out. Few came, and eventually the dead stopped coming out altogether. So now the only sect which still bothers to keep watch is the White Horizon Sect which is but a branch of the main family. So remember, never go into the Deadzone! For in there are things which nobody under the Heavens dares to trifle with."

At the time, Lineir had happily agreed with this statement. But soon the time had come for him to make enough to feed his own growing body, and it had all led up to this moment. He had just entered the Deadzone. Gravestones stood silently watching him. It was growing just a bit dark, the sun preparing to give way to moon. In that moment, something moved. Lineir did not even bother freezing as a less experienced person might have. He knew there was only one thing that could live here, and that was something not living.

Undead!

Without even looking, he turned and desperately sprinted.

"Damn my fortune, to think that an undead would actually still be lingering here! I've just entered the Deadzone, what are the odds when I haven't seen anything suspicious for years!" He shouted at himself in his head, feeling regret mixed with anger that he hadn't obeyed his sister's warning. Dashing straight back, he knew that his chances of surviving weren't bad.

Somebody without experience would have tried to wait and see what creature was stirring from its tortured sleep. This would have allowed the undead time to get close and after that anyone's limbs would freeze in fear. They'd try to panic and hide. But this wasn't a good way to deal with the undead. By running straight away, the undead would definitely find Lineir, without a doubt. But most undead were lower-level undead, singular corpses brought back to life. As long as it wasn't a higher-level undead which usually only appeared deep inside the Deadzone, Lineir could run away and the enemy's rotting legs wouldn't even be able to catch more than a glimpse of him!

Feeling confident in his decision to run, Lineir accelerated, confident that the best way to avoid whatever was behind him was to outrun it.

"As long as it's really a lower-level undead, it shouldn't have the ability to attract others!" He thought. Right then, a ghastly drawn-out moan filled the air, filled with hunger. It ended in a slithering hiss.

KAAAAAAAHHHHHHSSSSSS

"Damn! I must have been an awful person in my past life to have such terrible luck! To think that it's really an undead of a high enough tier to even have working lungs! I'm done for if it calls other undead!" Behind him, the first moan became many, as answering undead joined the chase.

"This is ridiculous, there should only be a few undead in the outer zone but there has to be a whole horde behind me!" Lineir started going as fast as he could, frantically trying to put distance between him and certain death. Then he realized that continuing like this would be a terrible mistake. Slowin down, he began to jog, trying to calm his racing heart.

"If I sprint all out, I'll never last until the gates and the horde will certainly devour me. But if I keep my calm and never look back, I can make it. I already have quite the lead on the undead. It should be sufficient to jog until I reach the gates and then the White Horizon Sect's guards will be able to summon experts to deal with this situation!" Beads of sweat poured down Lineir's forehead. Anyone that wasn't a master of cultivation and thus couldn't fly to safety would feel the same. What was behind him was too terrifying. One wrong step, one overturned stone, and a small trip and fall could very well lead him straight to the Hells. Suddenly, Lineir felt pressure as something tugged on his sleeve. Somehow the first undead was already right behind him, wailing away! Seeing that the city gates were in sight, he began shouting,

"Guards, guards, summon the Sect! Or we will all die here! Undead at the walls! Start shutting the gates!" Lineir could feel the undead hand on his back. It was holding a strip of cloth and trying to pull him to his doom. He pretended it was his sister's hand guiding him, that it was nothing, and sprinted all the faster, determined to outrun it and tear himself free! The gates appeared and archers leveled their bows at him. "Please don't shoot until I get free! I'm a citizen of the city, guards wait please!"