A tall, majestic building that was similar to the Christian Cathedrals in Mors' memories finally came into view as he rounded a corner, immediately greeted by a solid wall of people, all trying to push their way forward causing the demon to hiss in annoyance. -"I hate crowds."

Making his way over to the wall on the far side, Mors jumped up onto a window ledge and held onto a nearby lamppost to keep his balance as he scanned the building over the heads of the crowd. A couple of hundred yards away, lying behind the Catherdials high, metal bar fence and gates that were blocked by dozens of guards, were rows upon rows of white sheets covering humanoid shaped figures.  Most of the sheets were soaking up brightly coloured liquid, making it apparent to Mors what the cause of death was.

Letting himself drop from the ledge, Mors felt his stomach turn as his hands violently shook before he violently rammed his head into the wall, causing the people nearby to back away, thinking he was going mad with grief. -"Get a grip Mors, You're a bloodthirsty, draconic demon with a job to do. Remember Runt... her silky soft fur, her lovable eyes... the way she didn't reject you for who you are... Your friend. What are a couple of hundred or thousand nobodies in comparison."

Screams erupted from the grumbling crowd as Mors unconsciously released his aura, scattering the people around him in all directions as they backed away in fear. With eyes, that seemed to smoulder; Mors straightened and walked towards the cathedral's gates, the crowd going silent and parting for him, their instincts screaming for them to make no sudden movements.

Due to the terror gripping the city, Mors' abilities had increased tenfold, so much so that the pressure of his aura caused a lot of the more seriously injured to fall unconsciousness, or if they were poisoned, vomit copious amounts of bright liquid hastening their demise.

Mors was so deep in his thoughts that, before he knew it, he was standing in front of seven deathly pale soldiers, dressed in ornate suits of armour displaying the same cupped hands as the flag on the Cathedral, shaking in fear.

The soldiers were frozen in place, only their eyes following Mors as he stepped past them without as much as a glance. Just as he was about to pass the last soldier, he stopped and looked at the middle-aged woman, a few tears streaking down her face, dead in the eye. "Have the healers been gathered?"

Shaking the woman continued to stare at Mors as if he was the amalgamation of all her fears brought to life.

Mors' pupils constricted, and his aura thickened causing the woman and the rest of the guards to take a few steps back, not even able to breathe due to the pressure. "I asked you a question... Do not make me ask you again."

Mors had been limiting his abilities as much as he could as he knew that, if he went overboard, the powers that controlled this city would be alerted to his presence and rally against him. Even with the power up from the rampant fear and terror, he was only one man and until Morrigan was once again in his hands; he was dubious if he could win a fair fight and had to keep a low profile.

You could be reading stolen content. Head to the original site for the genuine story.

A pungent, yellow liquid began pouring out of the joints in the armour of the woman as she fell to her knees. "Y..yes, they are holding a council in the Cathedral at this very moment."

A blur of silver arched outwards, and the soldiers fell to the ground dead, a pool of blood slowly forming around them.

Bloody short sword still in hand, taking from the now dead woman, Mors walked across the square, past the rows of dead bodies and ascended the steps to the Cathedrals doors.

It was only now that Mors realised the entire area was deathly silent, with the only sound coming from the screams and occasional explosions, far off in the distance.

Slowly turning around, he felt the eyes of thousands upon him, as everyone, civilian, soldier and even the occasional group of adventurers stared at him in mute horror.

Mors's lips twitched as he resisted the urge to smile. -"Now this is a golden opportunity, shame the last time I gave a speech, we were massacred down to the last man."

Pointing to the rows of bodies in the square Mors' voice resounded outwards, heavy with conviction. "Brave citizens of Matn... the nobles of this city had plotted against you and hold the antidote to the terrible affliction that is killing our loved ones. If you ask for proof, look no further than directly in front of you, why else would there only be the bodies of us commoners lying on the ground and not a single noble?"

Mors' lips once again twitched as he pretended to a cough, covering his mouth with his hand. -"Well, I guess not being able to get to the more prominent district's water supply was a hidden bonus, if I manage to pull this off that is."

The atmosphere immediately changed as the crowd, almost insane with the confusion and fear that was tearing the city apart, latched onto a single word as Mors retracted his aura. Shouts began emanating from the crowd as they demanded the antidote. It started as quiet murmurings but suddenly turned to a deafening roar causing the few guards to draw back at the intensity.

"CITIZENS! Listen, the antidote is not here; I am here to administer vengeance. My father and.. and... my daughter has already succumbed."

Mors suddenly retched as a vibrant green liquid splatted down the steps, causing the crowd to panic at the thought of not being able to get the information they so desperately wanted if Mors was to die. "QUICK TELL US WHERE THE ANTIDOTE IS! WE WILL SEEK VENGENCE FOR YOU."

Mors repressed a cold grin as he straightened up, pretending to stagger a bit. -"It's amazing how illogical people become when they desperately want to believe something is true, the simplest of acts will completely fool them. I just slaughtered seven people in front of them and was perfectly fine until a moment ago, yet that has been completely forgotten as they scramble for hope."

Shouting out in a pained, rough voice Mors once again staggered as if he was about to drop to the floor at any moment. "The city's fortress, where all the nobles are rushing to secure their share. That is where the antidote is but.... there is not enough for everyone, hence why they are only giving it to those that they deem worthy... Not us common folk."

Mors let his words sink into the crowd. "We are all infected; it takes 4 to 6 hours to show and another 1 to die. I no longer wish to live in this world now that I have lost what is most precious to me. Instead, I will seek vengeance against those I deem responsible... even if I am too weak to go all the way."

"However, those that still have the will to live, or want to save your loved ones... head to the city fortress and exact your own justice."

Mors used his knowledge of his old world as well as the divides he saw while walking the streets, to pray on the pent up emotions and feelings of the common people.

Coupled with the terror and confusion caused by Mors' attacks as well as the fear that there was only a limited supply of antidote, created a false sense of urgency, it was as if Mors threw a match into a barrel of gunpowder as the crowd exploded into action.