A rider on a horse galloped swiftly through the forest, moonlight flickered through the moving branches above, briefly illuminating the rider's mask with two lines on the forehead. Leaning close to the horse's neck, he dodged trees and leapt over fallen logs. Their shadow flitted across the ground, merging with the darkness of the forest as they hurried towards their destination.
The horse slowed down as it reached a clearing with a campfire that was lit out. The rider got down and examined the place and its surroundings for any clues. At the foot of a tree, he found a discarded mask with a sun engraved on the forehead. Lakhan grimaced behind his mask. In the seven years he had known the Kapala Chief, he had never, not once, had he seen the chief without his mask. His intuition proved right, something was amiss. His gut kept telling him to return to the Kapala Chief and he couldn’t ignore it, so for the first time, he decided to disobey the orders of his chief and act on his own volition.
After looking around for some time, he found the markings of the whip-sword being dragged across the ground and he followed it to the border city.
At this time, the Kapala Chief was at the heart of the border city, standing atop the highest tower of the city and looking at the army of the newly raised undead he had created unwillingly surrounding him in all directions. They clawed at the stone walls through disjointed movements and their hollow groans breached the silent night.
The Yaksha mani does not create undead, he thought as he looked at the grotesque figures staring with vacuous lifeless expressions on their faces. The dark miasma that engulfed the mani and this miasma emanating from the undead is the same. It’s corrupted the mani and caused so much destruction through me.
He looked at his hand that held the whip sword, stained with blood. The pain in his chest had lessened. As long as the mani is inside of me, he thought, the dark miasma would also keep circulating in me.
Lakhan slowly entered the unmanned desolate city, his senses on high alert as he took in the horror before his eyes, the city walls smeared with blood while the silence of the abandoned streets screamed of a recent carnage. His horse balked, its hooves scraping against the cobblestone in nervous protest. Suddenly, with a piercing neigh, the horse bucked, throwing Lakhan to the ground before bolting into the forest.
As Lakhan scrambled to his feet, the sound of his horse's distress echoed off the empty buildings. It wasn't long before the undead, attracted by the noise the undead, and sensing life among them, turned as one, their turn was mechanical, unified, and began to converge on him.
Lakhan's footsteps echoed against the stone as he darted through alleyways. Each breath he drew was a sharp, desperate gasp, his chest heaving as he propelled himself forward with every ounce of strength left in his body. The narrow alleyways twisted and turned before him and behind him, the undead emerged from the shadows, their numbers growing with every corner he turned.
Lakhan risked a glance over his shoulder, his heart sinking as he saw them closing in. Around him, the undead stirred, and hundreds of hollow eyes and outstretched hands crept towards him. The space around him shrank rapidly as they converged from every direction. Trapped and panting, Lakhan found his back against a cold stone wall with nowhere left to run.
High above, Kapala Chief, upon hearing the distant cry of the horse, leapt skyward. From his aerial view, he spotted Lakhan, his sword out, the glint visible through the moonlight warding off the encroaching swarm of the undead. He made fireballs, flickering with voracious flames, and with a sweep of his arms, he hurled them towards the undead. The fireballs arced through the night, trailing embers, before raining down upon the horde clearing a path of ash and scorched earth.
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Descending from his leap, Kapala Chief landed on his feet beside Lakhan, the heat from his powers warping the air around them. The undead, momentarily halted by the inferno, regrouped and started to advance on them. Together, with their backs facing each other, Kapala Chief and Lakhan faced the oncoming army of the undead.
“You disobeyed orders!” He barked at Lakhan while throwing balls of fire at the undead approaching them.
“Sorry chief,” Lakhan said with a feeble voice. “I thought you were in danger.”
“I can take care of myself!” shouted the chief as he threw more fireballs at the horde surrounding them. “I will distract these undead, and escape when I create the path for you.”
“But—
“No buts,” said the Kapala chief. “Just follow the orders, dammit!”
Kapala Chief's focus sharpened, his eyes gleaming with intensity as he summoned his powers. With a movement that was both fluid and explosive, he unleashed a torrent of flame toward the nearest alleyway. The fire roared to life with hungry energy, devouring the encroaching undead, and turning them into charred husks that crumbled to ash on the cobblestones.
Lakhan seized the moment and sprinted into the fiery corridor, the heat searing, the air crackling with the energy of the unleashed inferno. Avoiding the falling embers and the remains of the undead still smouldering in his path, he ran outwards. The heat wrapped around him like a cloak, but he pushed through.
He almost reached the entrance of the city gates when a smaller group of undead surrounded him. With a steady grip, he brandished his sword as the first of the undead reached him and it swung with precision, a swift arc cutting through the air, severing an undead head from its rotting body. Another lunged, and he stepped aside, letting momentum carry his blade through its chest. He fought like a man possessed, taking down one undead after another. But for every undead creature that fell, two more took its place, with the fallen body parts rising on their own.
He kicked, slashed, and dodged, his breaths coming in sharp gasps, the stench of decay filling his nostrils. But the undead were relentless, their bodies impervious to fatigue, their numbers a tide that sought to engulf him. Lakhan’s movements began to slow, his arms heavy with exhaustion, his sword not as swift. They pressed in, hands grasping, mouths agape, their eyes void of life.
A desperate war cry tore from Lakhan's throat as he swung wildly, but the undead swarmed him, their cold hands dragging him down. His sword slipped from his grasp, clattering to the cobblestones. The last thing he saw was the night sky, obscured by the writhing mass of bodies that consumed him, as darkness claimed him entirely.
From the flames, as he was fighting a larger horde of the undead the Kapala chief saw Lakhan being outnumbered and engulfed by them. The Kapala Chief was too far to quickly do anything. Panic and a wave of desperation washed through him and he let out a primal roar that reverberated in the air and a visible shockwave erupting outward in fierce, expanding rings.
The undead horde caught in the path of this unstoppable force were swept off their feet, the shockwave hurling them back, their limbs flailed, bodies tumbled, and for a fleeting moment, the advance of the undead was halted.
As the roar echoed into the darkness, the green diamond in his heart came to life even though it was surrounded by the dark miasma. His body became a conduit for a raw, elemental force that surged forth - a pillar of green light shot into the air and streams of green fire spiralled into life, swirling around him and they surged outward in a wave of searing heat and blinding light. The undead flesh blistered and blackened, bones charred into fragile, ashen remnants that crumbled to dust under the force of the green inferno.
The Kapala Chief stood frozen in the middle of a green maelstrom created by his power, his breathing heavy, the remnants of flames flickering in his eyes
The shockwave spread far and wide, knocking down walls, trees, and everything on his path, the after waves of it spread till where Svetavastra was meditating. He awoke from his cultivation with a start. He got up and with his mind’s eye saw the pillar of green light flashing into the night sky at a distance. The green fire that pierced the night sky had cast a surreal otherworldly hue to the night.
For a moment, Svetavastra remained motionless. His heart raced, a mix of alarm and dismay flooding his senses. With a deep, steadying breath, Svetavastra leapt into the air towards the border city.