A light flickered briefly, displaying a filthy, crumbling stone corridor, before it blinked out of existence plunging the surrounds into darkness. Seconds later in the shadowy corridor a measured clicking noise indicated that the corridor, despite its dilapidated appearance still had one more guest that was undeterred by the lack of light and overpowering smell of mould in the area.

“Quite an interesting place you have here,” a young male voice stated before a pale hand reached towards the inoperative light flicking it once before retracting as no response was incurred. “Although it looks like a bit of a fixer upper; could I get a discount for that?” The voices continued down the corridor; two pairs of footsteps that easily navigated the wreckage and rubble.

“Are you trying to usurp the Warden?” a mechanical yet strangely soothing voice replied. “Do you think that you possess the qualifications to run Coldreach? Even if you would, what makes you think we would offer again?”

“Your desperation,” the first voice admitted listening to the steady breaths of his unwanted follower. “Good intentions mean little next to ability. The option remains open until the one I have chosen as my superior grows into his own power and I will support him as his loyal, powerful and handsome surgeon.”

“Pride is a deadly sin,” the second voice rebutted. “But as I age I find that most pride is just a façade to cover up weakness and insecurity. You’re not nearly as powerful as you think you are.”

“Well fuck you then,” the first voice replied with amused indignation wrinkling his nose at the persistent stench. “Everybody has insecurities. Besides I’m barely into my triple-digits and I’m miles stronger than both of them. Man it must burn to see your beloved Warden so much weaker than you. Does that hurt your pride Choir?”

“No but it does trigger my sense of self-preservation, Surge,” Choir’s voice stated. “You may feel free to flee this ship whenever the urge takes you but I am far more limited. If Coldreach ever falls then I will fall along with it; doing my greatest in order to stem the tide of horrors until the last breath I take.”

“Well you’re definitely not from the Choir of Hope,” Surge stated whistling. “But that’s almost altruistic enough for me to respect you,” Surge replied. “It was a pity about you trying to kill my boss. I suppose you wouldn’t make this offer to Wendy.”

“You and I both know how absurd that is,” Choir stated causing Surge to shrug non-committedly.

At that moment the absolute blackness gave way to a tainted sickly yellow light that not only illuminated his features but revealed a roughly hewed together yet massive wooden room looking like some cavernous cabin. On every inch of the room was writing containing warnings written in a vermillion bloody red.

She’s always watching

Don’t look behind you

Run

You can’t run

Save yourself

Save us

Behind you

Behind you

Behind you

“There’s something behind me, isn’t there,” Surge stated in a calm voice. There was a persistent whispering inside this room that was proving to be quite distracting but when he put effort into it listening to it there wasn’t much meaning. Casually he placed down the steel box that he was carrying on the ground.

“I am certain that you have been aware of them since it first started following you,” Choir stated. “They were hardly the picture of stealth; there wasn’t even much of attempt to remain concealed.”

“It’s the nature of the Undead,” Surge stated in the tone of one reciting a lecture. “While the living may fear the Undead those who have twisted their spirits, minds and bodies in a failed attempt to return to life have a much different fear. Mr. Undead over there was doing everything to gain my attention like a neglected child.”

“And you were just ignoring him this whole time?” Choir asked. “Wouldn’t it be safer to just eliminate him? Even if you are safe it doesn’t mean your boss will be.”

“If it had stopped tracking me then I would have ended it,” Surge responded mercilessly. “You could just say I was curious to see just what kind of Undead would have the balls to confront a Necromancer.” He turned around and for the first time he laid eyes on his pursuer.

It possessed a feminine figure that was nevertheless almost double his own height but distorted as most of the Undead were. Its legs were comparatively short but its upper body was massive; a skinless mix of muscle and bone wielding a sickle dripping scarlet in each of its spider-like fingers. Its face was a melted paleness with a mouth from which two leech-like tongues protruded. All around its waist were severed heads; young severed heads.

“Hehehehe,” the thing made a noise, sounding like a dry chuckle, as it came into existence the second he turned around. It loomed over Surge and he could sense an uncontrollable desire to torture and eat him; to add his head to its collection and grow fiercer still. This parasitism of the living was something common to every undead regardless of the type.

Surge dodged the Undead’s cleaver with a simple step to the left. The creature was reckless but slow for that. Deathly energies seeped from its body as it dropped the sickle and lunged forward again trying to grab onto him and he graciously allowed it. The massive hands closed around his body with no difficulty and he allowed himself to be carried up towards the leech-tongues which leapt for him latching onto his neck.

The thing let out a screech of triumph which Surge permitted before he leaned forward and his head morphed into that of a skeletal tyrannosaur, the length of his body. There was a brief moment in which the undead felt the closest thing to terror its twisted soul could contemplate before the skeletal head bit down decapitating the thing instantly.

The squirming creature dropped to the ground and its body bulged unnaturally as suffering faces appeared on its pale flesh and the noise of dozens of people crying out in torment replaced the whispers of the room. For a moment it seemed to stabilise, even with its missing head, before it exploded into a storm of black energy that was slowly sucked into the mouth of the Necromancer.

“Seriously, a ghost hunting a Necromancer,” Surge said smacking his now human lips as the last of the energy from the corpse was swallowed by him. “I think you’ve got the food chain upside down, friend,” he continued sardonically before turning to trudge forward.

“Any idea what type of undead that was?” Choir asked and Surge actually stopped at that.

“That was just an ordinary ghost,” he said. “It was a bit of a weakling despite the rather decent amount of energy in its body; a nice fat snack for a passing necromancer. Do you have no knowledge of the Undead?”

“Coldreach does not intern the Undead,” Choir stated. “That was a specific clause in the agreement with your people I believe. Besides I’ve heard from your people the Undead are mostly beyond redemption.”

“That’s a complicated subject,” Surge replied as he entered into a massive room separated by a cavern. Without even slowing a pair of skeletal wings extended from his shoulders and with a couple of massive flaps he took off the ground easily crossing the chasm. “More Undead,” he said as he landed on the far side of the chasm. They flickered around trying to peek out of his blind spot and letting a creating a chill in the air that transformed his breath into misty exhalations. “There are far too many Undead here,” he said wrinkling his brow. “What on earth happened here? Just how many died here?”

Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

“Too many,” Choir stated brusquely. “You could not comprehend how bad the situation was in the first few days after the old Warden died.”

“This goes a bit beyond bad,” Surge stated as a trio of vehicle sized flayed doglike creatures rose from the shadows in front of him dripping blood. Their elongated mouths split into four parts revealing a maw filled with alien hands that reached out shaking in agony towards the Necromancer and he felt a strong suction force causing his body to be pulled towards the gaping maw. His mind flashed with images of the hands grasping him and pulling him down, down into a stomach that had no end where he would freeze as everything that made him, him; would dissolve until he was just another pair of grasping hands eager to drag another person down to alleviate his torment.

It was good then that such a perverted organism was his natural prey. Without mercy in his eyes he allowed himself to be dragged forward by the trio before he leapt forward transforming his hands into massive bone claws larger than the hounds and grabbing the mouths of the left and right dogs simultaneously. The middle one took that as its moment and leapt forward and dozens of different arms extended like an army’s worth of spears jabbing down trying to seize him. Leaning forward he opened his mouth in response and from his own gullet a hail of bones exploded sending shrapnel tearing into the body of the ghost. The last dog was riddled with shards of bones that crushed the hands and shredded its body but its momentum didn’t slow down and the massive dog hit him head causing him to drop the other two dogs and knocking him flying backwards; right until a bone tail extended from his spine and hooked itself onto the ground and he shot backwards like an elastic band.

A knife-like bone sail grew on his back and tail and he curled up sending him forward like a deadly wheel. This time the defence of the dog wasn’t enough and even as it opened its mouth to try and eat him whole he pushed the sail out further tearing the wounded bloody creature in twain before he hit the wall and flipped upwards landing on the ceiling; jagged claws on bone on his feet holding him there with a casual ease.

“They are a low Class 2,” Surge stated somewhat gravely as he looked down at the two pacing Undead walking below him. “Dropped into a primitive planet these things could rampage and kill hundreds or thousands of the inhabitants without a chance of retaliation.”

“However ghosts rarely rampage,” Choir stated. “And don’t they have many weaknesses. As a Necromancer you would be aware of this?”

“I won’t give you the whole Natural Geographic but no two ghosts are alike,” Surge stated pointing down at the identical pair of hounds. “When we have identical ghosts and ghosts with too much energy that behave like baby fish trying to eat a shark then we have an issue. I don’t know what could have caused this,” Surge said sighing, before shaking his head. “No let’s not wallow in self-delusion. I do have an idea, but if that’s the case then we’re all in the shit.”

“Feel like sharing with the class,” Choir stated as Surge dropped to the ground.

“Feel like telling me why you originally sent me along this way,” Surge replied as he hit the ground and immediately bounded towards the nearest dog. It was keeping a wary distance between them but as soon as he closed it the beast leapt forward trying to catch him with its many hands again.

“I became aware of a large number of the Undead had been patrolling around this portion of the prison,” Choir stated as a pair of bone legs propelled Surge over the mouth of the first beast. “Naturally I wanted to have the resident Necromancer to take a look into the matter.”

“And you say you have no idea what could cause it?” Surge asked in the tone of somebody who was just looking for confirmation. He raised his hand and fired a bone shaped like a spear that skewered the nape of the fleshless dog.

“I have no idea,” Choir admitted with no small amount of regret in his voice. “Congratulations, you’ve got me. When did you figure out that I don’t have all of my memories?”

“The debt that you owe to the Necromancers had been paid off already,” Surge stated. “By hiring a Necromancer you are automatically absolved of any past and current debts with my race and you would have been made aware of this upon originally drafting the contract. In addition Necromancers don’t forbid the incarceration of Undead nor would we ever describe them as beyond redemption. Lastly, that second world you recommended to the Boss…” he paused as he landed on the ground and had to immediately dodge left as the second ghost leapt from the floor.

“Violence?” Choir asked as Surge lashed out with a hand that turned into a giant bone spike catching the ghost in the side before it started to rotate. The impromptu drill tore a hole out of the Undead’s side just as the second creature appeared from behind its mouth growing wide before four spikes fired out of the Necromancers back piercing through the jaw. “What has happened to Violence?”

“I’ve been to the Violence you described but there hasn’t been a war on it for about a hundred years,” Surge stated as he withdrew his drill from the torso and plunged it deeply through the head finally ending the second dog. He slurped up the resulting pitch black energy as the other Undead jerked itself backwards off of the spikes. “Apparently one day a being showed up out of nowhere and wiped out one of the sides. I couldn’t believe that we were talking about the same planet until I double checked. It is a weirdly small universe. Guess what race the guy was?”

“The number of races that have produced members with that capacity are not small,” Choir stated. “I will venture no guess and I would advise you not to take genocide of a species lightly.”

“Fine, then,” Surge stated. “It was a Maatiin,” he said shaking his head. “He even wiped out the sexually aggressive side. I never thought I’d see the day.” He stalked forward towards the last ghost that seemed slightly more cautious after the deaths of two others but once again it didn’t retreat and lunged forward once again.

“Was this Maatiin a swordsman by any chance,” Choir said probingly as Surge methodically tore apart the last opponent piercing through its body before ripping it to shreds and drinking in the energy.

“No idea,” Surge replied as he finished up on the first Undead he killed, draining it of energy before picking up his steel case again. “Do you know many powerful sword-wielding Maatiin? Maybe you have incarcerated this particular one before?”

“No comment,” Choir stated as Surge continued down the hallway.

“You know, the Boss looks a lot like a Maatiin,” Surge said conversationally. “I wasn’t even able to tell them apart until he opened his mouth. I would love to do a full medical inspection, see just how closely related they are.”

“Pervert,” Choir stated immediately earning a bewildered look before he let out a slight chuckle. “From what little I’ve seen of the Medical you wouldn’t be working with a great many advanced tools,” Choir stated. “We are also perilously short on the money required to replace them.”

“That’s fine I should__” Surge started before he went deadly silent. “That smell…” he said distracted before his face hardened. He hunched over grasping his steel chest close to his body before transitioning to all fours as his legs lengthened and four more insectile bone legs burst from his sides before he took off at a speed far faster than before. The corridor was both crumbling and filled with blockages but it didn’t impede him as he scurried around the blockages where possible and tore through them when it was not.

“Can you please tell me what the issue is,” Choir’s stated. “You are approaching an area where I don’t have any surveillance.”

“Even if you had surveillance I doubt you would see anything,” Surge stated his voice steady with just the slightest hint of murderous intent. “How restricted are you in terms of your ability to take action against threats.”

“Unless the threat is to be as gracious as to enter my domain I can exert no influence,” Choir said regretfully. “Do you think you will be unable to deal with this threat?” The question was ignored as Surge had just entered a room and stopped dead. The room was empty for the most part serving as a mere transit to the airlock and the place he would have to exit to install the Solar-Sail Convertor. However somebody had decided to take advantage of the room’s proximity to the Rift and installed a window and it was this window that Surge stared at as the case containing the convertor dropped from his lifeless hands.

“Are you still there, Necromancer,” Choir’s voice announced his continued presence. “I don’t have any forms of observation there. Are you okay Surge. Surge!”

“It’s a Kingdom of the Dead,” Surge stated. His voice sounded dazed at the prospect. “I suspected but it’s actually…”

“Surge I need you to listen to me now,” Choir said again his voice louder.

“Holy shit,” Surge replied not even listening to the angel as he stared into the rift at the massive maelstrom of deathly energies. Something thrummed deep inside him at the thought of all of that energy but it was soon overwhelmed by stark fear at the sheer unearthly malevolence contained inside that hole in reality. “Oh, Death that is bad,” Surge repeated mechanically. “Oh…”

“Necromancer, your Boss is in serious trouble,” Choir stated and something in his voice was enough to drag Coldreach’s Surgeon out of his shock.”

“What happened? Get me there now!” he stated his voice rising as the room temperature plummeted.

“He’s flatlining, go,” Choir commanded as an N-Door blinked into existence. Unlike the uniformly rectangular N-Doors that had formed previously. This one was barely more than a rough hole flickering in the air that Surge dived through before it had even finished forming.