Pestilence: Rise Of The Pure Undead

Pressed up against the ground, stomped and stampeded by what felt like an unending line of monsters, she tried to shield as best as was possible using what little was available to her, but the living was not spared any of it, having been standing right in front of the door when it was opened, claws dug into her flesh, but surprisingly, she did not feel herself being torn apart like a wet piece of parchment.

Quickly enough, the wave of bodies ceased, warm blood splashing over the huntress, prompting her to suddenly rise up, several drylurkers laid in pools of crimson, the rest already ascending up the tunnel, albeit with much difficult as they did not bother to arrange themselves into a proper line, clogging the way as they slowly forced passage anyways, crushing the creatures on the outer edges of this mass against the walls and ceiling.

They had not taken the time to tear her apart as had been expected, preferring to head to the surface immediately, perhaps attracted to the fighting occurring up above, still, she had ended up in a sorry state either way, head and neck were in a good condition as that was what had been naturally prioritised in defence, but her limbs and body were the opposite.

Clothes and flesh alike had been ripped into, fairly certain that multiple bones were at least cracked, if not outright broken, adrenaline was preventing all of those injuries and lost blood from grounding her just yet however, turning to the nightbird warily.

The harsh-on-the-eyes undead had received a much less polite salutation from the drylurkers, perhaps because she had stood her ground instead of falling backward like the living, or maybe it was that the nearing hold of death had pushed even the beasts and monsters to fight back on instinct, whatever it was, the nightbirds was missing an arm and had way too many bones exposed, the bandages upon her face had been pulled off, revealing skin that was falling off, or had perhaps been partly peeled by a rather crude torturer.

Smiling with all her rotten teeth, the titleless nightbird was debating the best course of action, she had endured quite a bit of damage from that stream of creatures, having failed to anticipate for this course of action, she did not handle it well at all.

Losing an arm and a few kilograms of flesh was nothing much to an undead, especially the nightbirds who were trained to wield their weapons with both hands, but the truly debilitating damage was not yet visible from the outside… Which was that one of her legs was no longer operational, if any pressure was put on it, it would rupture right at the knee, and although jumping around on one leg was far from a fantasy for the undead, it did not mean that it was ideal.

Fighting in this state would be a difficult job, and if that living released another flood of drylurkers, then it would be nearly impossible to properly defend against it, but allowing the huntress to release the rest, including what was beneath the bone lid, she did not doubt that her sisters would deal with the problem anyways, but it was a sour taste to just have to give up when a problem could be snuffed out early.

Ignoring the wounds opening further due to the strain, the huntress pulled on her bow, releasing a series of arrow in quick succession, it was certainly impressive how natural it was for the westerners to wield bows and arrows, archers were not exactly the easiest nor simplest sort of troops to train, even if one might be capable of aiming relatively well in just a few measly sessions, true archers required further training to develop the proper musculature and other specifics.

But in this region, it was like archery was in their blood, and it was highly doubtful that it had to do with their transplantations, the yellow eye many hunters possessed might help them aim and such, but the sheer skill and mastery behind this was undeniable, clearly, one was awarded a transplantation only if they had already proved themselves to be competent. Read latest chapters at My Virtual Library Empire

This huntress was still young however, the nightbirds deflected the arrows with ease, not trying to stop the wounded living as she moved to release the next batch of drylurkers, jumping back, vanishing into a burst of feathers, never reappearing to catch the living off guard.

Looking around confusedly, she waited a few moments still, not believing that the undead would retreat just yet, an assassin like this one surely had more tricks up her sleeves than what had been shown, but no, the nightbird never came back, allowing the huntress to take time to properly place herself as she broke another lock, when not standing right in front of the door, things definitely went better.

And despite being drenched in blood, thus being an alluring on top of an easy target- The drylurkers completely ignored her, it seemed like they truly had a bone to pick with something or someone on the surface, the same happened for the third and last packed cage, leaving only what lied beneath the pale lid, still unaware of just how much she had been hurt in the few exchanges with the undead, the adrenaline still covering all pain and fuelling her every motions.

As was had first intended, she placed both hands upon one handle each, crimson blood flowing and dripping upon the utterly immaculate covering, putting her back into this effort, for a moment, it refused to move, but swiftly- It was pulled a slight bit, something coming undone and allowing the living to steadily lift the lid, bit by bit, little by little…

Until it stood perfectly vertical, giving way into a dark pit, a filthy smell, a squalid air spreading outwardly, making the living feel like a barrel of grease had just been dumped all over her, clothes sticking to the body like second skin.

Slowly, and silently, she stepped back into a now unoccupied cell, ground over elevated to what it should be as dung had been made into a thick carpet, both feet sinking into the faeces, the smell coupled with the one coming from the pit barely bearable, still, the young woman backed herself into a corner, knowing that it was too dangerous to try and go back after this was opened.

She both knew, and did not know what to expect… kept beneath that heavy bone covering, the thing that parents always used to warn their children, something that no westerner could hide from, reaching from the darkness, a hand with sharp fingers touched around the edges, soon poking its head, or at least, what it considered its head, which was nothing but a single, eyeless stalk, flapping around limply.

The huntress knew very well that it could already sense her, but she also did know that this creature, bested and imprisoned by Jaral Cribler in person, was not like the other slug-like creatures prowling the bottom, it held a hint of intelligence, of will, of joy in the hunt, of pleasure in giving false hopes, bottom-prowlers were all monsters, but this one deserved the appellation more than any other, and its encounter had marked the cessation of all attempts to explore the depths any further, fearful of what else would be found deeper.

But as it familiarised itself with the surroundings, the prowler seemed truly confused and curious, bringing its misshapen body close to the ground, feeling the vibrations in the ground, slowly moving for the surface, never turning, never even showing a single sign of having noticed the living.

'I am not going to die? Is the monster so mad and hungry that it headed for the larger group of people? Is it the same thing that the drylurkers were doing?' she unknowingly laughed at her great fortune, trying to stand straight, only to fall right on her butt, all strength sapped from both legs.

Looking down at her hands, blinking multiple times, turning to check the back and palms multiple times.

'Huh?'

Her blood was dark, nearly pitch black.

And as she noticed this fact, confirming it as she checked all other wounds upon her body- More of the paste-like substance flowing down from her nose and mouth like sap from a tree.

The metallic taste of blood was replaced with a bitter, nauseating one, constricting both throat and stomach.

"T-That bitch… She poisoned me…"