Chapter 69: The Twisted Bodies

The tunnel's air grew colder as the group ventured deeper into the ruins. Flickering torchlight revealed more intricate murals lining the stone walls. Abel's eyes scanned the paintings, which began to tell a story of transformation. What had started as peaceful depictions of nomadic life—tribes gathering around fires, traveling under the stars—soon warped into unsettling scenes. The figures in the murals shifted from serene to frenzied, their faces contorted in ecstatic worship of a large, unidentifiable being shrouded in a celestial aura. Abel’s pulse quickened as he realized the full scope of the nomads' descent into fanaticism.

"They were worshiping something," Ronald muttered, his hand brushing over a depiction of a sacrificial altar. "Something powerful. And it drove them mad."

Tina, standing just behind him, frowned. "What kind of god would do this?" she asked quietly, more to herself than anyone else.

Gravedigger stepped closer to a cluster of ancient text carved into the stone beneath the murals. His eyes scanned the writings with growing unease. “It looks like they performed a ritual to awaken this god,” he said grimly. “Whatever it was... it consumed them."

As they continued, Abu's bird-like sight came into play. "Wait," he whispered, his voice tight. "Something’s ahead, pulsing... like magic." He gestured toward the thicker vines that blocked their path, which now emitted an eerie green glow. Abel noticed the same thing.

The group exchanged wary glances. Abu's ability had been invaluable, guiding them deeper into the ruins, but now even he seemed shaken. Gerald took a step forward, brushing against the vines, only to recoil as one of them lashed out, cutting across his arm. His regenerative abilities kicked in immediately, the wound knitting itself back together, but the attack had rattled him. The vines were growing more aggressive.

As they moved further in, Luke paused, glancing at the strange green mist hovering in the air. "Is that your smoke?" Ronald asked, his voice tense.

Luke shook his head, his face pale. “No... my smoke is darker, more controlled. This... this is something else.”

The mist had a strange, pungent smell that made the group uneasy. Abel's instincts screamed that they were venturing into dangerous territory. They followed Abel’s and Abu’s lead, their sharp eyes guiding them through the increasingly twisted maze of vines, until they found themselves standing before a massive chamber. The air was heavy with the stench of death.

Inside, the sight that greeted them was horrific. Dozens of bodies—mummified figures of the nomads—lay scattered across the floor, vines protruding grotesquely from their mouths, eyes, and nostrils. Some corpses were curled into fetal positions, others clutched their knees as though trying to protect themselves. The sight was almost too much to bear, and the putrid odor in the air turned their stomachs.

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“We should move quickly,” Gravedigger warned, his voice steady. “Don’t disturb them.”

They began to move quietly through the room, but the moment they stepped past the first row of bodies, the vines twitched violently. The corpses stirred. One by one, the twisted bodies began to rise, their dead eyes locking onto the group.

"Move!" Gravedigger commanded, grabbing the massive femur from his back. As it morphed into a bone spear, he summoned two skeletal warriors to his side. They leaped into action, but the corpses were relentless, slow but impossibly strong.

Abel dodged a decaying fist aimed at his head, the stars in his eyes flaring as he moved with newfound agility. He sidestepped the creature's next swing and slashed its neck clean through with his dagger, decapitating it in one swift motion. The body collapsed to the floor, but there were still many more to face.

Gravedigger fought furiously, his bone spear whirling with deadly precision. He had once been known for his mastery of a magical shovel, but now, as an apostle, his skill with the bone spear was unmatched. With a roar, he skewered one of the corpses, shattering its chest.

Nearby, Jane used her wind affinity to push several of the corpses back toward Tina, who summoned sharp pillars of stone from the ground to impale them. They worked seamlessly together, dispatching several of the undead with a brutal efficiency.

Ronald, holding his ground, summoned a torrent of water, blasting one of the creatures with enough force to slam it into a wall, its body crumbling on impact. He panted, beads of sweat forming on his brow, but he pressed on.

The fight was grueling, and the creatures were relentless. Gerald, pulled out a small shield magical artifact the size of a plate and raised it, blocking a powerful swing that sent him sprawling against the stone wall. His regenerative abilities allowed him to recover quickly, but the creatures were too fast for him to fully regain his composure. His fungus-enhanced body could heal, but his slower speed made him vulnerable.

Abu and Luke were fighting side by side, with Abu’s enhanced vision giving him a slight advantage in anticipating the creatures' moves. He worked with his short sword, slicing and dodging, but Luke’s smoke was proving ineffective against the undead. Then, in a horrifying moment, one of the corpses grabbed Luke in a headlock. Abu, seeing his friend in danger, lunged to help, but it was too late. With a sickening crunch, the creature squeezed, crushing Luke’s skull. His body went limp, his lifeless eyes staring ahead as his brains splattered across the stone floor.

Abu’s heart raced, his mind reeling with shock and horror. He barely had time to process what had happened, but the fight wasn’t over. He choked back his nausea and slashed at the creature that had killed Luke, beheading it with a single stroke. His hands trembled, but there was no time to mourn. Another corpse charged at him, and he barely managed to deflect its attack.

The fight continued, fierce and unforgiving, but eventually, the group emerged victorious. The last of the corpses fell, and the room fell into a tense silence. Gravedigger stood over the fallen, his bone spear dripping with black ichor.

Abel, panting heavily, glanced at the spot where Luke had died, a grim sense of loss settling over him. Abu, still pale, wiped the blood from his sword, his face twisted in a mix of grief and anger.

"We need to regroup," Gravedigger said, his voice steady but low. "We’ll come back another day."

With heavy hearts and a growing sense of foreboding, the group turned back, making their way to the cathedral for some much-needed rest. But the memory of what they had seen—and lost—stayed with them.