Chapter I

He was terrified. He didn't want them to come back. Every time they came, they would drag someone out with them, never to be seen again. He knew they were dead. He would hear their screams abruptly stop shortly after they were taken outside. An eerie silence would always permeate the air afterwards. Although he was scared, he kept his wits about him.

The others seemed to be broken. Sobs and whimpers would break out every time they took someone. None of them wanted this. But they had no choice. The merchant caravan he was with had been attacked and most of them captured. Those that resisted were killed. He was just a normal man from a small village working as a guard for the caravan. Upon seeing the way his comrades were murdered, he lost the will to fight.

Fighting those undead monstrosities was pointless. Ordinary humans couldn't win against them. The undead never slept, never became fatigued, never ate and didn't feel pain. Even their strength was greater than a human's. There was nothing he could have done except to die meaninglessly. He heard the door being unlocked. It was time again. Another would be taken; perhaps it was his turn.

Three figures moved into the room. It was hard to see. It was night and there was no source of light. One of them stayed by the open door. The other two moved inwards searching for their next victim. They were starting to draw near. He could feel his heartbeat quickening. They stopped in front of him. Was it his time finally?

Two bony hands reached down...and grabbed the woman next to him. “No!! Please nooo!!” She screamed, tears rolling down her cheeks. Her pleading fell on deaf ears. It was pointless to beg these fiends. They had no emotions. She was dragged away, her screams echoing in the room. Finally they dragged her outside and slammed the door. Her screams could still be heard for a few moments. But then they abruptly stopped like all the others.

How many has it been now? He tried to recall. There were only nineteen of them left in the room now. Their caravan originally had forty members with himself included. Just what were they doing out there. Some time passed; perhaps a quarter of an hour. It was hard to tell. They were back again. This time they took an elderly looking man. The same thing happened. His screams could be heard from outside but then they abruptly stopped like all the others. 'Eighteen now' He thought to himself. Almost as if counting down until it was his turn. The process had repeated itself twenty-two times.

It felt as if an eternity had passed for the man. Everyone had been taken now, except for him. It was his turn coming and he knew it. The anxiety bothered him but there was nothing he could do. Once more they came, this time for him. They grabbed him and dragged him outside. He didn't scream like the others. He wasn't dragged for long before they dropped him on the ground. He sat up and hastily observed his surroundings.

There were five individuals in black robes with hoods encircling him. The hoods obscured heir faces. They were each holding a staff as they were chanting something. He could see the hands they were gripping their staves with. 'Humans!? Mages!? ' He thought. All around them he could see dilapidated houses. 'Was this a village?' In between a couple of houses there were a bunch of skeletons standing in ranks. He couldn't find any traces of bodies so he surmised that those must have been the other caravan members.

Surrounding those undead were more skeletons, but these ones were wearing armor and looked more menacing. 'Those were the ones that attacked us' he thought. Looking at the ground he noticed he was within the center of some sort of pattern. It seemed like a star inside of a circle drawn in red. 'Star in a circle...this...is this a magic pentagram?'

He had heard stories about the mages of old that would use rituals. In those stories some mentioned magic pentagrams that would serve as a foundation for the ceremony. This was horribly outdated stuff. None of the mages nowadays used these things. In the past these pentagrams would serve as a way for a mage to stabilize rampant mana and amplify a spell. Looking back at the five encircling him, he noticed they were each standing within their own segment of the pentagram.

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The chanting was growing more intense. The pentagram on the ground was starting to emit an eerie red light. 'Shit! I don't want to die! I need to do something. If I run they'll catch me for sure. If I stay here I'll die like the rest...Fuck it! I'll try and run. If I can't get away I'll at least take one of these bastards with me!'

The chanting was growing louder. As it did so, the light was in turn growing more intense. It seemed like the ritual was reaching its climax. Right when it seemed like it was about finish, the man roared and dashed towards one of the mages tackling him to the ground. He pulled back his hood and saw a sickly pale, thin looking bald man.

Surprise was plastered on the bald man's face. One of the mages that were chanting stopped and yelled, “What!? How is that possible!? Quickly, force him back to the center! We can't stop the ritual at this point!” The man quickly got up and tried to run out of the pentagram. But to his dismay he couldn't pass through the red light that was being emitted. It felt as if he was pushing against a wall. “Shit!” The man cursed under his breath.

The bald mage he tackled had just gotten to his feet. He looked in the man's direction, lifted his staff and started to chant some spell. The man, however, didn't give him enough time. Once more he sprinted towards the bald mage and tackled him back onto the ground. This time though, the force of the tackle brought both the man and the bald mage into the center of the circle. The man started beating on the bald mage's face repeatedly. Blood splattered up onto the man's face, but it didn't faze him. He was determined to at least take this bald mage with him in death.

The chanting reached its loudest volume yet. Then it suddenly stopped as the pentagram emitted a blinding light. A resplendent column of red light sprung up into the night sky from the center of the pentagram, illuminating the entire ramshackle village. “Shit! This isn't supposed to happen!” One of the mages yelled to the other three.

They quickly backed out of their positions and gathered to one side. “Damn it! That bastard forced Joss into the center with him!” One of the mages exclaimed. “This is bad. That ritual was meant to sacrifice ordinary humans with barely any mana. In return we'd get a lesser undead. It specifically stated that in the tome!” One of the mages blurted. “Ugh! Klaas! What do we do!?”

Klaas in a cold sweat looked towards the mage that called out his name and shouted, “I don't know! Shit-Give me a second!” After thinking for a moment he shouted, “Teun, quickly order the skeletons to move back some! Remco, order the skeletal warriors to form up in front of us and shield us!” Teun and Remco hurriedly nodded and started to carry out their orders.

Klaas called out to the last mage, “Niek, keep your eyes on the ritual! I'm going to search through the tome!” Having given his orders Klaas started to run to one of the nearby houses as the skeletal warriors moved to shield the other three mages. “Shit, shit, shit!” Klaas was cursing to himself as he was running to the house that held the tome.

'How did that bastard move!? He should have been under the effects of the binding spell.' His thoughts were running rampant. 'He was an ordinary human. He barely had any mana! This doesn't make sense.' He was almost at the house that they stored the tome in. 'Ugh, out of all the houses, why did we store the tome in one of the furthest ones.' Panting and out of breath Klaas had just reached the house.

Before he could enter he almost tumbled to the ground. The ground trembled as an earsplitting roar of thunder shook the heavens. Turning around to see what just happened, Klaas froze in place and his face turned ashen.

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