The western border gate was built to keep the cambian horrors at bay. The cambians, bred for war by chaos himself were a mighty foe, and the western wall reflected this. At twelve miles long and 300 feet tall the wall was a testament to the human will. Covered in traps, siege weapons, repeating ballista, and paraquet. 10,000 of only the most loyal men stood watch over the gate. As Virgil stood at the top of the wall looking over the uncountable cambian horde he knew the wall would not be enough.

Once the cambians where freed from death, their charge was unbreakable. The 800 pound, 10 feet tall dark gray horrors stood ever strong as the siege progressed. The sea of gray only interrupted by the horns on the crown of their heads and their weapons of war.

Virgil took one more look around him. The guardsmen were broken. Death had grabbed each and every one of them only to through them back onto the wall. But what truly broke their spirits where the husks. The remnants of Undvik’s charge, each husk was a withered and broken man. Looking like a man who had been starved all their life and was then burned at the stake. Their forms were an ever-present remainder of the cambians strength. Worst of all, none of the husks had been given the sweet refuge of death. All were left to draw breath simply to wallow in their suffering.

A decisive roar tore Virgil from his musings. Undvik stood tall above the horde holding in one hand a decorated broadsword and in the other a guardsman. With one more decisive cheer Undvik pieced the guard through and all on the wall were forced to watch as the guard was turned to a husk.

As the men on the wall shuddered and wept only one thought crossed Virgil’s mind.

The wall would soon fall.

***

Surprise, surprise I’m still alive.

I can tell I’m moving, I can feel the occasional jolts from bumps in the road. I have no idea where I am. Though I assume its some form of wagon judging by the jolts. I can’t see, hear, or smell but I still have some feeling of touch. I would explore my new environment, feel my way around, try and find the walls, etc. However, no matter how hard I try my body won’t move. Its as if the nerves that control my body themselves are dead.

Thankfully, I am able to breath again. The few hours of constant suffocation were almost too much to bare. I’m not sure why I can’t die. No matter what happens, being pierced through the heart, my constant suffocation and what I assume to be the occasional beatings do little more than make me lose consciousness.

Perhaps this is one of the perks that comes with being a “corpseling”. I never believed it when people talked about “a fate worse then death”. I always thought those were just empty words, nothing more than a turn of phrase. Oh, how wrong I was.

My one mercy is that my body is completely numb. Just as the nerves needed to move my body seem to have gone missing so too has my sense of pain. I can still feel the force of the beatings and the effects the suffocation had on my mind are nothing to scoff at. But, I assume that I should be in immense pain considering the state of my body.

Just one more thing to think about.

If what that bastard prince Lato said about eternal suffering is true, then this lack of pain may be my only way to remain sane.

This should be the part where some beautiful female rogue and her band of rebels come and save me. I should be wisked away as the chosen one and togethor we will take on the world. Soon as we go through our travels the female rogue will reveal she was actually the princess directly in line for the throne. With the princess now revealed this world will be plunged into a chaotic storm that only I will be able to stop. Then once we defeat the armies of injustice and rip Lato off the throne, me and the princess are able to live happily ever after.

Yep, that's how this will end.

I am interrupted from my daydreams of ripping the shitty prince limb from limb, when everything suddenly comes to a stop.

What happened? Did we finally reach our destination? Did someone come to save me?

I am soon ripped up from where I was laying by what feels to be two cold metal hands. The Knights? Did they take me all the way out here? I didn’t think I deserved such an escort seeing as they don’t think I’m human and all.

The pleasant surprise of my familiar captors is soon forgotten as I am dragged from the wagon. I am stood up and soon chained to what I assume to be a post. Then before I could make out any more of my situation my consciousness began to fade.

“Wake him up. It’s time for the poor bastard to meet the pit.” The words braught me back to life. As I can feel the chains around me being undone. I try to open my eyes, although initially blurry my surroundings soon come into view.

I am chained to a wooden post in the middle of a dark forest. Bonfires light the area, the ground a disgusting red-brown mixture of mud, blood, and guts. A circle of flaming pikes surrounds what I assume to be the “pit”. Most surprising of all is my captors, the two tall knights have been replaced by thin, malnourished centaurs. Each wielded a bow with no arrows, only one centaur was given armor and a gjallarhorn. Probably the leader I thought to myself.

I try to speak, to reason with my captors. Only a pathetic gurgle comes out.

I look down onto my naked self, I am still nothing more than a dirty scab ridden skeleton of what a man should be. Hell, the only thing that separated me from a skeleton are my small shriveled up organs that seemed to have melted into the chains.

Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.

Soon I am freed from the chains, and a single centaur’s palm lifts me by the top of my head dragging me forward towards the pit. I try to resist but my body doesn’t listen. Nothing listens. Soon I am hurled up and over the pikes. My airtime giving me just enough time to look down into the pit.

I saw my fate and it was horrifying.

Thousands of corpselings were piled up on one another. Constantly biting, clawing, and tearing at each other. None kept their limbs for long. Before I could fully take in the horror before me, I fell and was met by the thousands of others keen at tearing apart new flesh.

Every part of my body was grabbed as I was forced deeper and deeper into the pile. I tried everything I could, but I still couldn’t move. My eyes were gouged out by the fingers of a hundred red leathery hands. Teeth were lodged and forgotten in my limbs and chest as I was bitten. The weight of hundreds of bodies slowly crushing me as I was brought deeper and deeper. Worst of all was the pain.

Oh, so much pain.

Unadulterated.

Unbridled.

PAIN.

The blessing of numbness had worn off and now every inch of my body was subjected to the savagery of the pile.

This continued for longer than I could comprehend. But there were changes as time passed. Slowly vitality entered into me. I could move, barely, but it was movement none the less. I was able to fight back just like the other corpselings I bit, ripped, and tore with any strength I could muster. If I could just get to the top of the pile, I might just be able to see a way out of this horrible situation. I just needed to get to the top.

It took a while. I had no way of telling time while I was in the pit but I knew that a long time had passed. I had gained strength. It was slow but I was able to move my way up. One by one, body after body. I tore through the surrounding husks using all my strength to reach the top.

Finally, I felt it.

My hand pieced through the pile into emptiness. Nothing, no more bodies, no one.

The top.

With renewed vigor I raced forward. Pulling myself up. Soon it was one arm, then another, then my head, then my entire upper body, until finally I stood atop the pile.

I won. I reached the top. Now it was only a matter of time until my escape.

I once again took in my surroundings. Aside from the bodies there was little else in the pit. The pikes lined the top of the hole and a black substance seemed to slowly flow and coat the walls. It didn’t just flow down but also defied gravity flowing up creating a sort of loop. I tried to make my way to the walls but was interrupted by a blunt pain in my back. I looked down to see a large hole in my chest.

What?

Again, there was a blunt pain and my left leg gave out. I toppled down just in time to meet eyes with a centaur. It’s bow drown back with no arrow to be seen. He released the string and I felt the pain again as half my face was torn. Once more, a hundred hands grabbed me, and dragged me down. I didn’t bother resisting I couldn’t muster the energy. Whether that was due to my wounds I couldn’t tell. I could care less.

I felt hopeless, betrayed. I had spent so much time fighting, working my way to the top only to be struck down and sent back down to the bottom once again.

It was all for naught.

I spent a long time at the bottom of the pile. Simply being crushed by the weight and being torn apart. I sat there unmoving despite having the vitality to do so.

That was when it struck. The compulsions. The same thing that told me to trust Lato. At first it started off small. A foreign feeling, a notion, a thought. But soon it began to dominate me, hold me down and whisper in my ear.

'Give up' it told me. 'No matter how hard you try you will never escape.'

No

'Its ok to fear the top of the pile. You’ve suffered enough, your safe here. Here at the bottom of the pit, the weight a soothing blanket the pain a lullaby. You’re ok here.'

No

'There is no reason to resist. Accept it. You are too weak to continue. Just stay here.'

No

'Lato was right. You deserve this. This is your fate.'

NO!

Rage began to build up within me. I’ll kill them all! Every last one of them I’ll tear Lato apart and force him into the pit. I WILL NOT STOP.

With renewed vigor I climbed. I tore my way back up onto the top. Over and over again I climbed, each time I was struck down by those invisible arrows of force. Each time I would be tormented by the compulsions. Each time I would give into my rage and climb again.

I learned much in my repeated climbs. The black substance on the walls was a burning hot tar that was constantly moving making the walls near impossible to climb. On the outskirts of the pit flaming dogs patrolled the walls. The hellhounds, as I named them, would only attack if you left the pile. I only had to make that mistake once before I learned to simply toss one of my fellow corpselings into there jaws before moving on. If you can get past both the arrows and the hounds, there is a thick metal barred gate. Near what I assumed the northern wall was.

The gate of hope. My only escape from the pit.

I don’t know what number attempt this was, but I knew this was the one. I would reach the gate. I tore my way to the northern edge of the pit. Despite my lackluster strength due to my decrepit body, I was able to make my way through the pile with only a few minor wounds. I didn’t reach the top. No, reaching the top would only get me hit by arrows. I used the bodies as a shield while I took the time to rip off the arm of a corpseling laying to my left. I don’t have the strength to toss a body, I can barely toss a limb a few feet at most. But what my strength lacks the hunger of the hellhounds more than makes up for.

I gave a light toss to the arm and moved my withered body as fast as I could. I crawled my way to the gate. My flesh tearing as my body sped across the ground but, I made it. I reached the gate.

As my right hand met the metal of the gate my hopes where once again crushed.

PAIN!

Pain equal to when I was turned into a husk ravaged my body. No this pain was worse. It was the worst pain I could ever imagine. As I writhed and let out a gurgle of a scream. The hounds swarmed me and the arrows met my flesh.

I felt true relief as I was eaten alive and torn from the gate. As I was brought back to the pile. The compulsions hit harder then ever before.

'It’s hopeless.'

'Give up.'

'You don’t have the strength.'

'You are worthless.'

I barely resisted the thoughts as I was seated back down in the comfort of the bottom of the pile. The crushing weight, ripping, and biting like the embrace of an old friend. For a moment my rage faltered and I felt calm.

Not yet.

The rage filled me stronger than ever. Any fear of the pain quickly destroyed in the anger and hatred that seemed to come straight from my soul.

I’m not done yet. So long as life beats in my chest I will rip my way out of here. I will never rest so long as Lato lives. NO. not just the bastard prince. I will not rest until this entire world has met its end.

I tore through the pile once more. My body being destroyed as I threw myself forward. I erupted from the top of the pile. Letting out all my rage in a garbled roar.

“ARRRgrrrGHhhgrrrrrrAhhh!!!”

I stood strong ready to face the arrows and hounds, but I was interrupted by a new form of pain. Something different a sharp and pointed incision instead of the normal pounding.

I looked down at the source of the pain and saw a runed bone dagger sticking out of my chest.