Veros and Atticus begin to inch their way closer to the presumed ritual victims, gradually stepping forward at a measured pace in their extremely cautious approach. Despite closing the distance with each second, no semblance of movement is observed from the blackened corpses. Soon, Atticus finds himself right next to the first of many. He looks down at the awkwardly positioned body, its limbs twisted in ways that suggest this person died in unwilling agony, likely thrashing and flailing in desperate attempts to quell the flames that engulfed them.

With no sign of activity coming from the remains, the knight decides to make the first move. In one motion, he lifts one of his feet, places it over the corpse's head, and stomps it down with great force. The brittle, ashen skull is immediately pulverized under the pressure with little resistance. The two fighters look at each other, curious if they should take it as a sign of safety from potential danger. Ultimately, they decide against becoming complacent too soon, and approach the next body with maintained attentiveness.

Like as before, the second cadaver is far too charred to make out any real detail other than size, and it rests in the same haphazard, twisted way, encircled by scorched dirt and ashes that had simply chipped off. Atticus, with his shield still in front of his chest, lifts his foot and stomps on the body's head, and it's crushed with ease in a loud crunch. The men become visibly perplexed, and finally – slightly – let their guard down, considering that all of the burned corpses might be harmless after all.

Veros, still not yet totally convinced, walks up to a third body, and instead of stomping on its head, he takes his sword and stabs it directly into its chest, which wouldn't finish it off if it were indeed reanimated. However, there's still no response. The remains still don't move from its prone position and agonized pose.

“I think these bodies are actually dead this time.” The veteran finally breaks the silence to voice his thoughts. “Perhaps this is a different type of ritual? Erik? Do you have any idea?” Veros turns to the noble.

“I haven't read about other types of sacrificial rituals.” Erik responds, easing his posture now that the corpses have been confirmed to be non-hostile. “I can't imagine the mist would discriminate against how a person died, but maybe I'm wrong. There's a lot we still don't know.”

“True enough.” Veros nods. “I guess we can pass through without worrying about them.” He looks around at the remaining corpses scattered around the square, all of which still totally frozen in their blackened, ashy forms. He turns to rejoin the others, but Zyra's panicked voice is suddenly heard.

“Ahead!” She yells, pointing northward down the road.

Veros and Atticus turn and immediately take a defensive stance. A dark silhouette shrouded by the mist is seen in the distance, appoaching at a deliberate pace. As it advances and the mist clears away, it become obvious that the unknown being is wielding no weapons, as both hands are empty and at its sides. It draws closer, and the finer details of its clothing begin to appear – ornate blue robes. The attire instantly strikes the attention of the group.

“Another monk?” Veros asks aloud to no one in particular.

“Seems to be.” Atticus responds. Neither of them take their eyes off the approaching foe.

The supposed monk stops in its tracks as abruptly as it showed up. It stands neutrally near at the northern side of the square, showing no intent of attacking. It's pale, slightly-rotted face maintains a blank, stoic expression. No one among the Mistwalkers makes the first move, opting instead to wait and see how the monk responds to their presence. The silent standoff draws out for several moments before some of them begin to get anxious.

“What the fuck do we do?” Kellar asks. “Why aren't we attacking him? He's clearly undead.”

“He doesn't seem hostile.” Veros responds while still looking at the unknown monk. “We've yet to see any sort of docile behavior from any undead before.”

The undead monk ever-so-slightly furrows its brow, as if reacting to what the Mistwalkers are saying. It seems puzzled at their very existence. Finally, after another long moment of more silence, it speaks.

“You... are real?” The decayed man speaks clearly, loud enough for the group to hear.

“What the hell?” Veros reacts with understandable shock, as do the others.

“He can fuckin' talk?” Kellar asks, his mouth slightly agape.

Silence covers the team once again as they pause to think of how to respond. Veros decides to take initiative.

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“Who are you?” He asks with an authoritative tone.

“My name... is Lias Normand.” The monk responds with a timid, bewildered demeanor. “I am a monk of the Monastery of Idrid... in Evatica.” His odd, strained form of speech makes it seem like he almost gasps for breath after every few words.

“Good Gods, he's still fully aware.” Veros continues to express his disbelief.

“How's that possible?” Royd inquires. “Look at him. He's clearly undead.” He points out the monk's partially decomposed, necrotic face and tiny patches of hair that had yet to fall out of his scalp.

The veteran shakes his head. “I have no idea.” Many questions begin to swirl inside his head; he's unable to clasp onto one long enough to put it to words. “What the hell do we say?” Veros wonders aloud.

“How long have you been here?” Atticus takes over, opting to slowly gain crucial information.

“Since the beginning...” Lias answers. “When the mist swept the land... I was already here, in Adderland.”

“He's been here since before the mist?” Kellar repeats. “Shit, man, he's been here for months, then.”

“He might know more about the other monks we've seen.” Erik chimes in. “He might finally give us some answers about them and the sacrificial rituals being conducted.”

Veros considers the idea heavily. He can't lie to himself by saying he hasn't been curious about those things since discovering the two wandering undead monks some days ago. It's been prodding him from the back of his mind ever since. He'd be betraying himself if he refused an opportunity to find an explanation.

“Fine.” The veteran concedes. “Let's try and talk to him.”

“Can we trust him?” Kellar interjects, as wary as ever. “He might have a weapon on him. If he's been here since the start, then he might've been the one to kill all these villagers.”

“That could be true, but this could be the only chance anyone has to find out what the hell's been going on.” Veros presses for a dialogue.

Kellar shakes his head, willing to play along, but still apprehensive. “Alright.” He replies with a shrug.

Veros turns his attention back to the monk. “Are you armed?” He asks.

“I'm not.” Lias answers. “I've given up on fighting.”

“So if we approach you, you won't attack?”

“I will not.”

Veros releases a small sigh, still slightly unsure of how seriously to take the undead man. At the end of day, however, he has no choice but to approach and talk if we wants the answers he seeks. He lowers his shield and sword, but doesn't slide it back into its scabbard. He looks to Atticus, who seems equally uncertain, but has clear determination in his eyes to go along with whatever the team's leader wishes to do. Thus, they approach.

The team advances closer the monk. His yellowish eyes hold mystery and a strange sense of hollowness that's hard to put into words, but also no ill intent or aggression. However, something interesting becomes apparent when they're close: a long slit along his neck, presumably the injury that 'killed' him.

“You've really been here for months?” Veros asks again, for clarification's sake. “Since before the mist showed up?”

“Yes, when everyone here... was still alive.” Lias answers, a subtle wheeze separating every few words.

“Has anyone been here recently?”

“No. I haven't seen another person in many weeks... At least no one... who still had their wits about them.”

“And you never bothered to venture south? To seek out others?”

“How could I... when I look like this?” The monk gestures to his own, decayed face. “Any sensible person would likely... just kill me before I could explain anything.”

Veros looks around to the bodies decorating the roads of Adderland. “So, is all of this your doing?”

Lias turns his head to sullenly look at the bodies, as well. After a pensive moment, he nods. “Yes. All of this... was me.”

“What the fuck?” Kellar exclaims. “You single-handedly took out every person in this village? Seriously? When?”

“It was early on... when the mist first arrived.” Lias's face changes, showing the first hint of emotion since appearing before the group. His lips curve into a slight frown, and a pained expression overtakes him. “They... were still human then.”

“What?” Veros asks, not so much confused as he is beginning to turn angry at the implication of the monk's words. “Are you saying to killed all of these people before they had even turned? It wasn't the mist that killed them?”

Refusing to look at Veros's face, the undead monk nods timidly. “Yes...” He utters.

Another pause of disbelief washes over the group. Even more so than a moment ago, they question the sincerity of Lias's words. Veros, however, grows furious at the confession, true or not. He suddenly seizes the monk by his robes, clenching the cloth in his large, rough hands, and pushes him back.

“What are you talking about, monk?!” The veteran screams, overpowering Lias and shoving him with ease, as if he were made of cotton. He soon pins the decayed man against the wall of a nearby house.

“Veros, hold on!” Atticus yells, following his livid companion and grabbing him by the shoulder. “We'll interrogate him further, but we should do so calmly.”

“Please...” Lias begins to plea, stricken with fear of the ex-soldier's wrath. “I have no intention of running or fighting... I want to talk... I want to confess...”

Veros, still annoyed, ultimately concedes and lets the monk go. “I want answers, holy man. All of them.” He brings his hand to Lias's face, and points at him in a very threatening manner. “Every answer you can possibly give about why you're here, why you killed people, your connection to other undead monks we've seen, and your connection to the appearance of this mist – if any. Understand?”

Lias meekly nods. “Yes... I understand.” He turns and starts to walk down the road. “Follow me.”

“To where?” The veteran asks, still highly suspicious of the decomposing clergyman.

“To my home... for the past six months.” He bluntly answers and continues walking. With no real other option, the Mistwalkers follow him.