“Undead are, at their core, sad creatures. For their own reasons, they refused to go on and found themselves condemned to a sick parody of life. As Paladins, it is your utmost duty to free them of this burden, before they drown in their despair. Innocents' lives rely upon you."

-Crusader Dhankor, Instructor at the Radiant Garrison.

Nashariel pov

“I thought I was doomed…” Whispered Dan, when they separated. “You all vanished. I hid as best I could.”

Nashariel patted his shoulders. “I get it; I couldn’t see anything either! Well, save for that guy. I think he mistook my Radiance for fire. The things hidden in this mist…” She shivered. “Have you seen those too?”

The others nodded without looking at her. Nashariel didn’t press on.

“Still, we have to destroy the other nodes. There’s more than one.”

“Can your Radiance see where they are?” Asked Dorel, gripping his shield tightly.

Nashariel activated her skill, sweeping with her gaze. In some directions, her mana was drained faster. “More or less, yes. Do you need to rest?" She subtly glanced at Veliel. She’s still in one piece. Thank the Goddess…

“The sooner we deal with this madness, the better.” The siren answered.

“Agreed.”

“Yeah, me too.”

Nashariel nodded. “Keep your points at hand; we got lucky that Thal simply needed peace, but it might not be the case for the others.”

The Templars nodded.

The dragokin focused on [Radiant sight]. When sweeping on the inn, the skill drained her a lot more. Nashariel pointed at it.

Together, the team marched.

The inn hadn’t changed one bit. The same people ate at the same tables, and everyone repeated the same movements.

The draining of her mana increased slightly, but Nashariel felt that they weren't in the right place. Or, at least, not the right place in the building.

“I’m activating the aura. Be ready.”

Her friends took out their weapons. The patrons didn’t react in the slightest.

"So much for having Poison affinity… Tch." Dan grumbled. Since undeads weren't famous for their biological functions, the statement was correct, unfortunately.

Nashariel activated her aura.

All the people vanished without a sound, aside from the fat innkeeper. He slowly set the mug on the table, before looking at them. His empty eyes didn't reveal an ounce of emotion. "There's something to eat downstairs, if you'd like." He said before vanishing.

With a shimmer, a rough hole in the ground appeared near the center of the room. It had both the precision of magic and the signs of manual work. Perhaps [Improved burrowing] told her so, but Nashariel could easily see that the work wasn’t exactly the work of professionals.

The entrance behind the group collapsed, while the rest of the building groaned. The wood ignited, turning the welcoming room into an inferno, deadly for everyone lower leveled than them. Burnt bodies littered the floor, mostly at the windows and in front of the tunnel. Some of the latter died while extending their hands toward the hole.

“Into the tunnel!” Shouted the dragokin, as the flames greedily devoured everything even closely flammable.

They hurried into the hole, barely avoiding the collapse of the inn on their heads. The fallen wood and stone closed off the tunnel and cut the group from any source of light. Despite this, the Templars could still hear the various pops of the fire above.

The tunnel itself extended for a while. It was as rough as the entrance, if not worse. Nashariel’s natural sight allowed her to see a bit further down, but not much more than that. Strange…

“You good?” She called.

Veliel whispered a chant, and four identical lights appeared on each member of the team’s heads.

After three affirmative responses, Dan asked. “Do we walk into the obvious trap, or…?”

“We must end this curse, one way or another.” Replied Nashariel. Not that I like this, though.

Carefully, they started walking.

After a few meters, the low ceiling forced them to bend their backs, while the walls were small enough to allow only two of them at a time. The more they walked ahead, the more suffocating the tunnel became.

All the while, Nashariel kept both the skills active at minimum potency. It was still draining her mana, but not overly so. They also provided a bit of illumination, which was a welcome benefit.

Soon, the smell hit them.

Nashariel barely held the food in her stomach. “Death bodies ahead.”

The others nodded, covering half their faces with some cloth. Sometimes, Nashariel wished that her nose wasn't so sharp to nullify such protections. This time in particular.

The dragokin Breathed ahead of her in the form of a golden beam of light. The attack showed a large room ahead, but the light got snuffed out in an instant. “Here we go…”

The group walked to the place. Nashariel’s skills suddenly consumed a large quantity of mana.

Yet again, the world broke like a mirror.

Lars loved his inn; the atmosphere, the other villagers, and even the frequent brawls that broke out between the younglings, eager to prove themselves in front of their crushes. He reprimanded them, of course, but he remembered when he did the same so many years ago. The first girl that he crushed on was still seared in his mind.

He didn’t like everyone and everything, obviously, but the one thing he truly despised? The hunters from the Willow.

Since this was the closest village, they frequently visited the inn. They loved to prove their superiority to everyone, even violently. They called it 'natural selection'.

These waste of bread didn’t even pay! The one time Lars pointed it out they laughed. An elf just grabbed him and violently slammed him against the wall. No one else intervened.

One evening, everything ended.

A roar shattered the windows of his beloved inn. Some villagers looked outside. Dragons, they screamed. His guts twisted. Maybe the hunters could…?

They already flipped one of the tables. A mage was nervously chanting a spell that broke through the wood and the dirt below. They ordered everyone able to help dig.

Desperate, they all did.

They were able to enter the improvised tunnel before the flames washed over the building. Unfortunately, some of his fellow villagers unwillingly shielded them with their bodies. Everything collapsed behind them.

The following days were agony.

In the hurry, no one had brought down food or water. No one wanted to go out. Slowly, they were dying. Some had already starved to death. The hunters, broken in spirit, stood against the walls, staring at nothing, or taking it out on the others.

Lars grew angrier and angrier. They prided themselves to be the best, and now? Tired of everything, Lars did the unthinkable. He picked up his knife and drew it into a hunter's throat.

As the other Hunters kicked him to death, a voice whispered in his mind. She promised vengeance, if only he wanted.

She promised him food.

He accepted.

Lars reopened his eyes. He grew taller and larger, powerful enough to smash the other hunters to a pulp.

Watching the red juice on the ground made his parched mouth salivate. And the bodies of those hated hunters… those thoughts made him disgusted with himself, but…

His stomach growled with the same might of a dragon.

Initially, Lars cried. Then, as the foreign energy washed over and within him, he realized something:

No other meal had ever tasted so delicious.

Nashariel came back to her senses. She vomited everything remaining in her stomach. Astill, why have you forsaken this place!?

In the middle of the room, a large, naked figure sat. Continuous sounds of ripping and tearing could be heard, followed by gulping. The large figure turned on them, smiling with bloody teeth. “I was just starving! Come everyone, there’s food aplenty!” Lars, or what was once him, cheered. He stood, and his calling raised other undead.

*Craving/Body-Cannibalistic maddened abomination Lvl 120

Hunger-Starved zombie Lvl 50 (x16)

These undeads have suffered the pains of hunger up until the last moment of their mortal life. Their despair, regret, and the magic cursing the place allowed them to come back as ever-hungry corpses, completely unable to fill their empty stomachs.

The abomination has been chosen as a center of power for the curse.

Put them all to rest, for their own good.

Radiance, Fire, and all its Variants are highly recommended. A combination of Healing and Darklight is also a good choice.

Do not prolong this fight, young omnidragon. *

Nashariel cleaned the last bits of vomit from her face. Damn it, that combination of attunement is strong as Hell! I hope that Radiance is enough… "Dan and Dorel, attract the Zombies' attention and destroy them! Veliel and I will handle the big one. And, by Astill's Mercy, do not let them grapple you!” She gave her orders, taking flight. Her [Taunt]hit the Abomination, shifting his hungry gaze on her. He didn’t even try to resist.

The team followed her commands. Dorel activated his fighting style, using his upgraded taunting skill to attract all the zombies’ attention at once. Dan formed a few solid-light daggers, throwing away the metallic ones. He then stood shoulder to shoulder with the wall, waiting for his opportunity.

Veliel followed Nashariel in the air, chanting a spell of empowerment. She held back her songs, probably waiting for the momentary needs of the battle.

Nashariel flew near the ceiling. The Abomination could reach her, but he would have been forced to fully extend his arms to do so. From above, she saw that the horrible stench she smelled before came from the mass of rotten corpses in the center of the room, all half-eaten or more. She ignored them as best as she could.

Once the dragokin bought enough distance, she unleashed her infused breath weapon. The shining beam cleanly halved the monster, the two parts crashing against the ground with a loud boom. Despite this, she didn’t lower her guard, not one bit.

As expected, the halves extended fleshy tendrils to reach one another, then they pulled. The monster was whole again. “Regrowing makes me hungry! Feed me!” He charged Nashariel. Each of his steps boomed against the ground. His stomach growled.

She beat her wings, swiftly changing location. Nashariel glanced upon her mana, noticing that the continuous spam of her abilities had the resource in the low. “Veliel, I need some mana!”

The priestess nodded. She sang about the Flux and his never-ending movement. The Templars’ mana regeneration increased considerably.

Nashariel carelessly turned to thank Veliel, and she almost paid dearly for that. She forgot that Body was good to influence… well, the body.

The giant’s arms extended for an unnatural length, looking more like deformed whips than limbs. As Nashariel dodged, barely, they crashed against the ceiling, collapsing some rock on an unlucky Zombie. The abomination growled in protest.

Sweating cold, Nashariel realized that the sense of safety was nothing but an illusion. She had to go melee if she wanted to deal enough damage to quickly end this. The girl shifted in her true form, meeting the charging abomination with her natural armor.

The Abomination could regenerate a lot, true, but dragon scales were much, much harder than naked flesh.

The undead recoiled, and Nashariel powered both her Auras at once, taking care to not extend the range.

Shining, golden light seared the monster and the shadows around the fighters. He howled in agony, while the omnidragon made a mess of his body with Radiance-infused natural weapons.

Each of her attacks slashed with the sizzle of cooking meat, releasing a disgusting stench in the air. The monster, however, recovered a moment later. He clenched his fist, his arms inflated almost comically, then punched Nashariel’s face with untold strength.

The dragoness was sent flying against the wall, her ears ringing and half of her body numb to the pain. The rock shattered, falling like rain in and around her. She shook her head, refocusing her gaze.

The monster was clutching his head, bombarded by Veliel’s [Sound bombs]. The priestess’ songs benefitted her too, thanks to her racial –Kin skill.

“We’re done here, boss!” Shouted Dorel. Indeed, the pile of smashed and seared zombies at the humans’ feet indicated so.

Thinking quickly, Nashariel spoke. Her jaw cracked back into its original place. “Don’t stand close to him! Dan, use something to slow his regeneration. Dorel, be ready to use your Lava but don’t come closer yet.”

Dan muttered a few curses, rummaging in his pack at top speed. The Defender nodded.

Nashariel snarled at the monster. Once Veliel took off, the dragoness charged yet again. He can quickly generate muscle mass, but my ranged damage won't cut it. She internally sighed. Time to endure some punches…

Nashariel’s auras shone brighter. She closed the distance with a four-legged leap, smashing the monster to the ground with her weight.

The abomination softened considerably. The semi-liquid flesh compressed her from all angles.

Ignoring the creaking of her scales, Nashariel yet again powered her breath directly in the abomination's face. That and her auras vaporized the flesh, leaving only a cage of bones behind. They resisted her efforts to break free, despite her strength.

The monster’s face reformed with disgusting sounds. He lunged with his elongated mouth for a bite.

Just before the blow connected, Nashariel shifted in her dragokin form. She pushed her heels deep into the undead’s stomach, propelling herself to the ceiling.

Lars’ jaws closed on nothing. Shivering, Nashariel noticed that the hit cracked his own teeth. He screamed in frustration, following that with elven words. Not the sweet kind, Nashariel was sure of it.

Dan finally finished coating his daggers. He threw four of them in rapid succession, each one of them embedding deep in the monster’s skull. Surprisingly, black veins spread within the monster. The undead lost a bit of coordination. “It won’t last for long!”

I can’t use Fire; else I suffocate us all."Hit him with all you've got!" Nashariel briefly shifted into her Metal form, created a large two-handed Warhammer, then returned to Radiance. From the ceiling, she propelled herself against the abomination. Her strike broke through his chest but shattered at the same time. "Dorel, now that he's stunned, Lava!"

The Defender visibly changed into the Swift protector stance, as he covered the distance in just a few seconds. Once on top of the undead, he let out a large amount of his newly acquired element. The stench of cooking meat intensified tenfold, but they resisted the urge to vomit.

Nashariel had disabled her racial aura to avoid hurting her friend, but [Radiant aura]’s effect visibly worked on the undead. He regenerated even slower, but they weren’t done yet.

Some tendrils of flesh shot out beneath the warriors’ feet, ready to grab them.

Nashariel noticed in time and darted to the side.

Dorel wasn’t fast enough. The tendril grabbed him by the chest, then dragged the human against his own Lava. The Defender screamed as he was set on fire almost immediately.

Nashariel shifted into Metal. She grabbed her friend from behind, while her bladed wings and pointed tail made a mess of the undead’s flesh.

With the last yank, Dorel was free. Nashariel took flight once again, and put him near Dan. Veliel was already chanting a healing song and a spell at the same time.

The undead roared, standing on two feet once again. “I’m starving!!! Feed meeeeeeeeee!!!” He turned towards the four of them, stomping with uncertain, yet determined steps.

He’s almost good to go. Nashariel was about to charge when Dan put his arm in front of her. “Watch this.” He broke into a humorless grin. The Inquisitor and Dorel were close.

Just then, the dragokin noticed a carpet of caltrops going all the way to the monster. He was already stomping on a lot of them. As the undead walked, bits of flesh decayed, especially the one of his feet.

Rotting poison? Did he invest that many points already? Nashariel pushed the questions for later.

There was still a monster to slay.

The undead in question had collapsed on the ground, causing a mini-earthquake. He was already regenerating, but the new flesh had trouble pushing the infected one away.

Nashariel glanced at the healed Defender, then leaped once more. While she was mid-air, a notification rang in her ears. What? Nashariel managed to beat her wings to avoid crashing against the corpse on the caltrops.

* Craving/Body-Cannibalistic maddened abomination Lvl 120 has been slain.

Points assigned. *

I thought we would need a lot more… oh, it must be because we didn’t allow him to feed on us. Or was it the poison? It doesn’t matter, thank Astill we’re safe.

The flesh, unprotected by the abomination’s stats, quickly melted. It slithered to the mass of corpses in the middle of the room, where Nashariel could perceive a spike of magic.

Oh no, you don't! She let out her fully Charged breath, clearly hearing the crack of glass. Once the golden beam vanished, the corpses did too, lifting the group from the oppressive feeling that weighted on them until now.

Still, everything rumbled. “Get out!” Nashariel shouted.

The Templars ran as quickly as their legs could carry them.

The debris that sealed the group in was no more. The gang jumped out of the crumbling inn, safely landing outside.

The building was on fire, just as the Burned-man remembered before dying.

The Templars collapsed on their butts, heaving for breath. For a while, no one had either the will or the strength to talk.

“Undead are so messed up.” Commented Dan, taking in a deep breath.

The Templars all nodded.

“That’s what we signed up for. We’ll rest a bit, but we must keep going until we’re done.” Declared Nashariel. The longer we wait, the more the necromancer can act against us. We can't afford that.

The others nodded knowingly.

“By the way, Dan, what was that poison? I didn’t think that something like that could afflict the undead.” Asked Nashariel.

The human smirked, taking out a small, empty flask. "Remember the swamp we fell in? I took a sample. I and Ashelia worked on a portable concoction, and this is the result. Not too shabby, right?"

Nashariel shuddered. She felt a bit of empathy towards the abomination. “Good thinking. Do you have more?”

"Nope, but I can create and prepare it again. I just need a lot of time and a few ingredients. And mana. Lots of mana."

Good.“So not while we’re here?”

“Nope.”

Bad. The dragokin looked toward Dorel. “Are you okay?”

The Defender winced. “I’m fine now,” he nodded towards Veliel, “but it hurt like hell.”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t think…”

Dorel waved a hand at her. “Not your fault boss, not your fault.”

Still…

“Not gonna lie, you kinda did look better than now.” Dan grinned.

Dorel rolled his eyes. “Fuck off.” He gave the other human a mocking push.

“Where do you feel the next place of power?” Wrote Veliel, ignoring the duo.

Nashariel focused on her skill. She pointed at the other side of the town. “There. I can’t be more precise from this far.”

“Could we… prolong our rest long enough to get some sleep?”

Nashariel opened her mouth to protest but hesitated. She looked at her friends and saw various signs of exhaustion. We dashed for two days and faced an equal number of powerful undead; we are all exhausted… She bit her lips. “I get it, but the more we wait…”

“The more the necromancer can prepare, we know. I-I thought I had it in me, but… the inn… I can’t go on, not today.” Veliel unconsciously muttered the last few words. Dorel and Dan glanced at her for a moment, before lightly shaking their heads.

Nashariel frowned in worry. “Vel… ok, let’s take some time for ourselves. But not in the city, that’s suicidal.” She got some distance from the group, then transformed. “Climb on.”

The others did, sighing in relief. We’re all going to have nightmares for a while, won’t we?

Nashariel silently beat her wings. The silence in the city would be soothing, usually, but the circumstances… this silence was deafening.

As she flew, something weird happened. Nashariel thought that she was imagining things, but having ignored her skills’ warning until this very moment, she activated [Radiant sight].

A force was twisting her flight, subtly moving her towards a specific patch of trees, more similar to blackened skeletal fingers than plants. Even if they were out of the city, Nashariel felt their power.

The dragoness snarled. “Hold tight, the necromancer is doing something!”

The others jolted awake.

Nashariel flapped her large wings, using every bit of her strength to oppose the magic. She only managed to slow down, but the dragoness quickly understood that her strength alone couldn’t beat a whole city-sized curse. Still, she refused to give up that easily.

Nashariel powered her [Radiant aura], giving a warning beforehand to her passengers, then tried again. This time, the opposition was much weaker, enough that, with considerable efforts, she was able to safely land against an intact part of the city’s wall, redirecting her fall on a building. She didn’t particularly care about property damage, as of now.

"We'll rest here, for tonight." She declared after everyone dismounted. Nashariel returned a dragokin, scanning their surroundings. If the necromancer wanted us out of the village, this has to be safer. Hopefully.

Her improvised revisitation of the place’s layout allowed her to have an ample view of aspirant assassins. Moreover, no power was close by.

The others almost collapsed on the spot.

Keeping watch alone was usually boring, but being in a city full of undead made it grating.

Every single noise could be something ready to jump at them, and it kept making Nashariel snap her head towards every single one of them. She thanked her high resilience and vitality; without them, her neck would be suffering already.

During the first hours, she had heard a building’s crumbling, and a light appearing. Let’s hope that those people found peace too… she thought about the inn.

Lars, the innkeeper, hadn’t been an evil person, she decided. Nashariel shuddered at thinking herself and her friends stuck somewhere without food, in the darkness, and with no hope to go out. Then there was the necromancer, who had promised him safety…

Nashariel shook her head. Let’s not think about these things; I don’t want to jinx us. She glanced at her status, looking at her earnings for the day. At least nothing has been halved. She didn’t dare to get distracted further.

The ‘elves’ still came and went, uncaring of everything. This part of the city was still under the complete influence of the necromancer, so it looked as pristine as ever.

Well, save for the house she had flattened. [Decreased weight] hadn’t done much to save it.

The dragoness indiscriminately identified everything in sight. They, the real souls, probably didn’t mind. And even if they did, Nashariel found herself uncaring. We walked right inside a cursed place… from now on, I’ll identify everything and everyone. The hunters were right. She didn’t like it, but protecting herself and her friends came first.

After hours, something made Nashariel's ears twitch. She turned, almost expecting another false alarm when she saw a spirit staring right into her eyes.

Night as it was, she was shimmering with a light-blue aura, frost spreading under her bare feet. The spirit levitated close to the ground, going up and down as if following an unseen breeze. Her face was almost featureless, save for the glowing eyes locked onto Nashariel’s.

The dragoness shivered. The temperature is going down. She looked as frost quickly spread over her body. Standing up, the thin sheets of ice broke.

*Phantom/Frost/Gale-Omen of Winter Lvl???

A fae of the Winter Court that?????????????????

Beware?????????

Run. *

Damnation! Nashariel was about to shout, when her mouth froze over, literally. Her body fought the ice off, but it kept growing and growing back.

With no mouth, the spirit’s voice echoed in her mind. “We awoke early. We sought the warmth of our children. Where did they go? Speak, Empress of the many lives.” The spirit’s tone was as cold as her powers, and yet, she managed to sound angry.

The frost on Nashariel's mouth dissolved. Gulping, she calmed the chattering of her teeth, while explaining what they had found out during their stay. For some reason, the others didn't wake up. She didn't dare checking them out.

The Omen listened to every word without any visible reaction. "A game, then? We… regret the warmth of the lost…” Finally, after looking at nothing for a while, she sighed. Somehow. “Set our children's spirits free, and you'll have our gratitude. Don't, and this Winter will be your last. We shall leave you to your test, Empress." The spirit vanished in a whistle of snowy wind.

The temperature quickly rose, but Nashariel stood frozen still. Beyond the close encounter with a powerful fae, one thought echoed in her mind.

Game? Test? What did she mean by that?