The head’s grin turned demonic.

‘Such gracious offerings! [Cursed existence] doubles the growth of all curse transformations, but I am now locked in. A worthy tradeoff. Even my current transformation has doubled in stats. [Indomitable] is equally impressive! Completely negate a blow that would otherwise finish me? My Liege, I shall accept these gifts. Though I know not why you have given them to me. They will be crucial for my master plan. Which is, at present, to not be a head’.

[Cursed Levitating Skull](Rare)

Transformation potential: Excellent

HP: 13

MP: 18

Strength: 5

Toughness: 7

Agility: 3

Intelligence: 15

Willpower: 9

Magic Affinity: 10

[Cursed Eyes: Unleash a charged blast of raw, cursed energy]

‘Remarkable! It would seem to be the beginnings of a spellcaster. I dare say it’s tempting, even without legs’

[Would you like a free trial of Cursed Levitating Skull? One time offer]

‘Truly? A noncommittal approach to transformations? I’ve never heard of such a thing. A levitating skull... It’s a little off the cuff, but why not’.

[Trial transformation locked in. Expiration timer: 10 hours, or till death do you part]

His consciousness slipped deep into the rock. Deep down, where a haunted and wistful hymn lulled him into stupor, where he dreamt of a warm hearth and wicker idols ablaze. A cloak billowed from the haze towards him - a hood that turned - a side-eye that beckoned him closer, or perhaps threatened him to dare. The gaze engulfed Dimrat with a wreath of flames, perhaps a coronet, then from the fiery baptism a gnarled, black hand reached towards him, when he woke.

His vision focused.

‘I can see!’, he proclaimed, ‘and crystal clear!’ He took in his surroundings. He felt such relief to finally look upon the world as he once did.

What ruinous stonework remained of Coldstone Keep now glistened with the ichor of decay. No ceilings, no roofs remained, only rubble at the base of a crooked crown of bergs overgrown with fungal infection. Like a monstrous spider on its back, or a many-fingered hand defiant in the face of its occupiers.

It all leaned in on itself and loomed overhead tentatively, ignorant of the laws of physics, as if it would collapse at any moment, and formed archways to other parts of the keep likely in a similar state.

Beyond what remained of a cobble window frame painted an unfamiliar picture. No winds blew, foul or otherwise. The land looked sodden, abandoned, ravaged, desecrated. He almost couldn’t accept what his eyes saw. These sunken dales and meadows were once old Langley. His home. But not as he recognised it.

The Bloodmoon did not invigorate him. It did not rise at all. This moon was pale and serene.

Where were the chimney stacks that plumed to the west for as far as the eye could see? The Skybers that commanded the winds and invoked terror in all that laid eyes upon them? Old Langley resided near the heart of the capital and needed no defenses, but being a strategical junction for military coordinations it became a port and rest for the war machine on its long march into enemy lands, and boasted the greatest airport in the realm.

Yet he saw no flags, no insignias, no royal decree, no call to arms; he heard no gongs, no drums of war, no hammers, no bustle and tussle. The cogs of the faction had seized. There was no purpose other than survival. No… Not even that. This Undead faction was not meant to survive. It existed to fuel the enemies' growth, and nothing more. They were livestock.

The twinkle of lights near and far snaked unfamiliar roads through marshlands and what once was the beating heart of the Legion. The Undead were partial to a warm fire, but they did not need light to see by night. These were humans. This was an infestation.

Dimrat seethed. He snapped shut his teeth with an echo that disturbed the shadows. This simply would not do. More pressing, he could see the remains of his victims, feasted on by strange, cadaverous creatures, a dozen or so.

‘How dare you covet my prey.’

His mind did not reach them. One turned to face him, not half the size of the human it picked at, a bone lodged down its throat and a necklace around its neck. Its ears were long and thin, and they twitched straight up, surveying the shadows its eyes could not pierce.

[Dreg]: lvl 6

[Dreg]: lvl 13

[Dreg]: lvl 9

‘I see. A fitting name. Loathsome creatures. You are foolish to steal from me’

‘Disembowel yourselves then begone. I won’t offer this kindness twice’

Then something crept from underneath his peripheral vision. His eyes tracked a couple of slow, probing, slimy stems, that waved two bulbous tips from the left and right side of him, before they turned towards the head and slit open. They were eyes. Dimrat looked down to lament his predicament. The head-sized giant undead snail remained conjoined to the stump of his neck. It looked back at him.

‘I will deal with you later.’

With a huff and heave, he managed to levitate off the ground, the snail along for the ride, but only with a great effort did he manage to steady himself in place, carefully turn towards what remained of the humans, then approach at a snail's pace...

‘By the Dark lady! How much do you weigh?’

By the time Dimrat drew closer, he’d nearly broke out into a sweat.

‘You’, he huffed, ‘you will not ignore this one. You wretched little imps are hungry? Then eat this!’

[Cursed Eyes]

From within the hollows of the skull, deep red orbs surged. The Dreg he focused on looked up, one slightly taller and less frazzled than the others, its eyes drooped and unimpressed, until it detonated.

The blast shredded the Dreg to atoms. The shockwave blew Dimrat clear into the sky and into a mad spin, doing all he could to keep himself upright.

[Indomitable] activated. You negated an otherwise fatal blow. Timer: [4 days]

‘What happened?!’ Up and up he went. The cold bit into him, wracked with horror as he looked back upon the crater of Coldstone Keep, a mushroom cloud of debris and carnage. A stupendous boom rattled his eardrums mid-flight, followed by a tsunami of dust that waved outwards and swamped the surrounding land, when the messages started ringing in…

[You’ve slain a lvl 9 Undead Dreg]

[Experience Awarded]

[you’ve Slain a lvl 13 Undead Dreg]

[Experience Awarded]

[You’ve slain a lvl ??? Skeleton Horror][Elite]

[Experience Awarded]

[You’ve slain a lvl ??? Mistmare]

[Experience Awarded]

[You’ve slain a lvl 2 Dandifly]

[Experience Awarded]

[You’ve slain a lvl 4 Rotworm]

[Experience Awarded]

[You’ve slain a lvl 19 Ondrúnian Knight]

[Experience Awarded]

[You’ve slain a lvl ??? Bonebane][Elite]

[Experience Awarded]

[you’ve slain a…]

The messages rushed through his mind in the thousands while he quaked with dread. His level erupted. Creatures and critters he’d never heard of, never seen yet all of them his brothers and sisters, his family, his kin, his faction.

[You leveled up!]

[You leveled up!]

[You leveled up!]

[You leve…]

‘No! This cannot be! What have I done!’

The head had almost reached the clouds above, his vision soaked in the lay of the land far below, when the messages finally ended to signal his descent. He’d already been blown over a mile away and had only just begun to fall.

[You’ve reached max level!](Lvl 15)

[Transformation pending approval: trial underway]

If he could scream, his lungs would have bled. He could not bear to look away from his destruction, but felt a pull towards his heading, his fall towards the land below. The snail’s eyes slumped back and forward towards Dimrat and the ground so far away, perhaps wondering what he intended to do about it.

‘Unhand me, cur!’ he yelled at his traveling companion, but the snail could only snail. He tried to levitate with all his mental might, but it only seemed to expedite his delivery. Closer and closer he drew, when a dense green forest seemed to swallow him. For an instant the stench of fertile lands assaulted his nasal passages, before the skull exploded on the ground. The snail had been cushioned by the fall of the head, and in Dimrat’s final moment he felt its sticky proboscis reach up and into the cavity of his head and felt a twinge of power shock him.

[You died]

‘..and quite some time ago’, drolled the head, his tongue forked with sarcasm, ‘If you mean to say that I have perished in this calamitous absurdity then I fear I must protest. What a profoundly stupid and baffling skill. In no part was this my fault’

[You perished]

‘How amusing. Do not ignore my objection, fool. I demand to speak with the administration’

Dimrat could not hold back his frustration. He ground his teeth and mulled it over. He’d cratered the undead starting zone with a lowly eye spell. He felt that he was owed an explanation, at the very least. While he stewed, he hadn’t noticed his mind slip into a familiar place...