Kalaki and Vanalath’s journey to the third and final village had not been completely uneventful. Along the way, they’d run into several isolated ghouls. When this happened, Vanalath would simply pause his meditation, growl, and gather up the rogue monsters, who fell into rank behind him obediently. By the time their destination came into sight, they’d ended up with a retinue of a dozen followers.

Vanalath’s footsteps slowed, and he scanned the village, trying to pick out any obvious signs of danger. In the last village, the movements of the undead might have warned him that they were being controlled, so he looked for anything similar here.

This settlement was the largest yet, perhaps twice the size of the other two. It took the shape of a crescent moon, constructed around a large, circular lake. The lake itself was bordered on one side by the town and on the other by a precipitous cliff. A breathtaking hundred-foot waterfall cascaded down into the lake, watering the valley with snowmelt from the mountains above. The river which Vanalath had been following for hours divided the village in half, though the halves remained connected via a stone bridge built over the river where it sprouted from the lake.

Many of the buildings were built close to the waterside, and some fishermen’s cabins sat over the water, elevated on stilts. Even the cottages built on land rested on poles such that one could walk underneath them.

Many ghouls milled about here. They were distributed at random and either sat around collecting dust or repeating some inane and pointless task. They didn’t have the look of undead with purpose, like those in the last village had, but those had been controlled by the female ghoul. Despite the lack of competition, a single glance told Vanalath that there were too many here for him to control. Another miscalculation he’d made. Should he have brought the female? No, she had her orders. Vanalath would take multiple trips with the ghouls in tow if he had to. There was simply no way Kalaki could herd fifty zombies by poking them with a stick.

He stepped forward, leading the way into the village via the main path, his small band in tow. Upon seeing them enter, many of the village ghouls stared. As they passed by, without any urging from Vanalath, one or two even stopped what they were doing and got up to join his small pack. He hadn’t asserted control over these new additions, yet they followed despite that.

This took Vanalath aback until he suddenly remembered how, when he was a lesser ghoul, he’d followed the human scent trail out of the village, and how when he was on the way he’d found a young ghoul in the dirt, struggling to even move his limbs. When Vanalath passed by, it seemed to energize that ghoul. Once it stood up and began to follow him, Vanalath even felt the imagined weight on his own limbs lessen. Perhaps something similar was happening here.

Ghouls were pack animals. It explained why he’d been able to send the uncontrolled ghouls from the first village to his mistress. There may be a method to gather up the entire village’s worth of undead in one trip, but most of the ghouls they were passing didn’t join up with them, only staring as they moved by. Some made attempts to rise and follow, but their lethargy seemed to win out more often than not, and they collapsed back into the dirt.

He needed something else. More energy. Ghouls reacted to noise, smell, and excitement, like the time he’d decapitated one of their number, or when he howled in the center of the village and drawn all the undead to him. Even those that didn’t fall under his sway were attracted by the noise and movement of the other ghouls. Vanalath needed more than ten-odd followers to get the ball rolling.

A plan slowly formulated as he continued to patrol the village.

Vanalath watched closely all the ghouls they passed, paying more attention to those who made attempts to follow him, since they held a stronger will than the catatonic zombies who didn’t even make the attempt. He growled at each of these in turn, inserting a bit of his willpower into the action, urging them on. If that didn’t work, he then reached for a trace of the dark power inside him, expending it in a weaker version of his [Howl]. He’d thought of this application of his ability after conversing with the female ghoul earlier, and was pleased to find that he could direct it towards an individual ghoul if he desired it, letting him selectively ignore the undead he didn’t want to influence.

He passed by a relatively intact undead who was sprawled out underneath one of the houses. As the group passed, it staggered to its feet, walked a few steps, and collapsed again. Vanalath’s growl didn’t work, so, unfocusing his gaze, he delved inside himself. It had been getting easier the more he exercised this ability, and it only took a moment for him to touch the fringes of that mysterious singularity he first discovered from inside the necromancer’s storm. He isolated a trace of mist that evaporated off it, much like steam from melting snow, and infused it into his next command.

A low rumble emerged from within his throat.

Vanalath felt that sliver of dark mist merge with the essence of the collapsed ghoul, following which it jerked to its feet like a puppet on strings and marched forward to join the rest of the band. Vanalath retained a crude connection to his expended energy, which he perceived as still a part of himself despite it melding with another. Perhaps he could also recover it…? Now wasn’t the time for experimenting.

As he wandered the street, he managed to gather fifty ghouls while actively commanding less than twenty of them. He’d soon reach his limit after another ten or so, but this was a good start.

[Ability increased]: (Lv.0) -> (Lv.1)

He turned to observe his followers after clearing out the entire northern sector of the village, having left behind only a dozen of the truly comatose ghouls. Those weren’t worth wasting his energy on. Kalaki stood at the head of the small army, spear in hand, looking unimpressed by the collection of monsters behind him. Even Vanalath couldn’t ignore the energizing sensation of having such a mass of allies at his back, so it made an impression on him that Kalaki remained unmoved.

In fact, Vanalath was more than simply motivated. His feet were practically humming with a restless energy and something primal was rearing up in him at the sight of the small horde, misleading his instincts. With this many of his brethren gathered, he felt that he was on a hunt. It made him salivate in both hunger and a sort of feral glee to imagine chasing down quarry with a horde of screaming undead by his side.

Pulling himself away from his delusions, Vanalath realized that it was much louder than before. Many of the ghouls had begun growling and moving about more actively. He wasn’t the only affected. Or perhaps his own emotions had incited them. This sensation was dangerous. Even the orchestrator was at risk of getting caught up in the crowd. He needed to remain in control.

Rather than hurting the group’s cohesion, Vanalath sensed that this energy could be beneficial so long as he remained composed. There was no chance of anyone slumping back into lethargy with this electrifying current passing from ghoul to ghoul.

It was time to move to the southern sector. He approached the bridge that divided the two halves of the village, noting that the district they approached looked larger than the one they were leaving. He crossed the span without issue. Upon turning back to watch, however, he saw the rest of his group trying to cram onto the bridge all at once, a mess of twisting limbs and grunts which sent several unfortunate ghouls overboard and into the drink.

The current wasn’t too strong, so most were able to reach the opposite bank, though one or two did let themselves get washed away, either because they couldn’t swim or they forgot they could walk underwater. He considered that acceptable losses.

This new sector appeared much like the first, but quickly it became apparent that the density of ghouls here was lower. Vanalath was somewhat disappointed, having thought by the number of houses that there would be many more than this. But when he learned exactly why there were so few undead in this area, he allowed a slow grin to form on his normally expressionless face. He’d just caught the traces of a human scent.

Pursuing it led them towards the southern edge of town. There were a few differences in the buildings in this area. Though most of the houses throughout the rest of the village and in the other settlements had been constructed primarily of wood and some preparation of mud or clay, here he began to see houses of stone and mortar. Some were only partially built of rock, but a few were entirely made of the material. And they appeared to be recent constructions, too. He wondered why these weren’t built like the rest, but shortly realized during an uphill climb that the ground here was more elevated than the rest of the settlement, making it safer from flooding.

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One building in particular stood out: situated on the outskirts of town, it was one story tall like the rest, but it stood on a small hill and was far larger than any of the others. In front of it was a mass of some sixty ghouls.

The undead here had reached an impasse. They milled about in front of the house, clawing at stone or scratching at the solid wooden door. The door itself was reinforced with iron and rested on metal hinges. This was the first sign of metal he’d seen in the valley other than that used in tools and weapons. He looked over the windows and saw them to be small in number and blocked with iron bars on top of that.

He’d found the final holdout of human survivors in the valley.

Vanalath’s pace slowed to a halt. Many of the monsters gathered here turned at his approach, and as they saw the mass of excited, moving ghouls, some of the energy seemed to bleed over onto them. Those undead who had previously given up hope began to rise again and renew their assault, hammering on doors and walls. Some even came over to stand with Vanalath’s crowd, though some of his followers also left to join those assaulting the keep.

He was taken aback by the appearance of several of these new ghouls. It hadn’t been the case elsewhere, but it was clear that there were some evolved variants gathered here. It wasn’t always easy to tell them apart from the lesser variety, as the only distinguishing feature was the fact that their wounds would vanish. There were other signs, but these were less detectable measures: such as their bearing, intellect, and fighting power. In this case, there were enough of these standouts that Vanalath noticed it instantly. Perhaps five or six evolved were mingled with the lesser ones.

Vanalath rested his hand on the pommel of his sword, ready to draw it at a moment’s notice.

At that moment, a blur shot out from one of the houses to the side, sweeping into the ranks of assembled ghouls. Vanalath whirled around to see a figure dragging away one of his rearmost followers. The rest of the undead didn’t even seem to notice the sudden attack. Kalaki’s gaze followed where the two involved parties disappeared to, though the old ghoul didn’t move.

Vanalath drew his sword and pursued them into an alley between houses, into a yard hidden from the road. Rounding the corner, he narrowed his eyes upon witnessing the appearance of the attacker.

Hunched over a weakly struggling lesser ghoul and eating messily from its rotten flesh was an undead he’d met before. It was the young ghoul: the savage, pale-haired monster who assaulted the cave with Vanalath. He’d evolved since last he saw him, and it seemed that despite the completion of the necromancer’s ritual, he still attacked other ghouls unprovoked. An aberrant, then. His mistress didn’t need aberrants.

Just before Vanalath’s blade met with the young ghoul’s neck, his target suddenly flipped to the side, landing on all fours and charging him with a surprising burst of speed. The show of agility was unexpected, but Vanalath didn’t let that delay his movements. He halted the ghoul’s wide swing with a vertical block.

As they collided, Vanalath noticed something was different. A closer inspection of his foe showed that his fingernails had been warped and blackened, practically becoming claws in their own right. These inch-long talons were something he’d never seen on a ghoul, making his evolution different than any of the others Vanalath had seen. It was almost as if the ghoul’s body had been altered to accommodate his ferocious nature.

The young undead snarled as the sword cut into his palms, and he darted back and began circling Vanalath, looking for some other opening. Everything about him, whether it was his posture, mannerisms, or methods of attack, spoke of a wild animal.

At this point, Vanalath’s followers began flooding into the clearing, and he had to let loose a roar, commanding everyone to stay out of his way. After a moment’s consideration, he let loose a second roar, but this one was to tell them to encircle the two fighters. He didn’t want the ghoul escaping. There were very few single opponents Vanalath was able to fight with, and he wasn’t going to waste this chance. Every battle was a chance for him to learn—and to grow.

The ghoul lunged again, and in the ensuing flurry of blows, there was no time left for thought. It was motion, contact, and violence. The savage was able to follow up each of his attacks with another almost instantly, putting Vanalath on the constant defensive. He was slower than his opponent, and as long as he was trying to avoid taking injuries, he was forced to use every tiny advantage he could to maneuver himself into an advantageous position. But, unlike his opponent, Vanalath was able to build on these small advantages.

A well-placed block quickly turned into an aggressive cut, which gave Vanalath the space to take a step back, which put him on better footing so his opponent’s next strike staggered him less and allowed him to strike again immediately, which slightly shifted the momentum in his favor. It was an unending dance of swordplay and claw.

Though he focused on his foe, Vanalath was oddly aware of his surroundings while he fought. It was like they were a vague, stationary picture on the backdrop of his mind, even while his own frame of reference whirled around, changing with each step he took. This knowledge was a strange thing. It was an instinctual understanding of the environment, something that unconsciously informed his movements, helping him ensure that he never misstepped or was backed into a corner. It centered on him so that he never grew confused or dizzy.

Though the ghoul was quicker with his movements, he had an inferior reach and each of his attacks were less devastating than Vanalath’s. His savage manner also made him more predictable. A trained warrior like Kalaki would have proven far more problematic, as he didn’t telegraph his moves and had the foresight to read the flow of battle. Or at least it seemed that way, judging by his performance in the last fight.

In this fight, though, Vanalath’s weapon gave him his biggest advantage, allowing him to block and attack with near impunity.

After a minute of intense combat, followed by another minute of testing blows with neither party willing to engage fully, Vanalath got creative. His sword strikes were far more devastating than those the ghoul was capable of. He could engage fully at any point, taking some injuries of his own in order to eliminate this wild animal. But he didn’t want that. He wanted a greater challenge.

The ghoul swiped high, and Vanalath leaned back, paying no attention to the claws that nicked the wooden nose of his mask. The ghoul immediately followed his swipe up with a bite, but Vanalath turned his dodge into a backflip, kicking up dust into his adversary’s face and temporarily blinding him. Vanalath ended his acrobatic maneuver by landing neatly on his feet, but the other ghoul had already retreated to a safe distance away, scrubbing the dirt from his eyes. Vanalath began advancing at a sedate pace.

As he approached, he sheathed his blade, spreading his arms out as if inviting an attack. The ghoul looked at him through narrowed eyes, baring his teeth in defiance. Despite this show of boldness, Vanalath saw his pupils darting back and forth, searching for avenues of escape. Vanalath’s followers had surrounded the two of them, kept at bay only by his command, though it was only a partial encirclement which left the area directly behind Vanalath free.

The swordsman decided to give the young ghoul an ultimatum. He growled, low and menacing, which communicated the following:

Surrender and serve or be ripped apart.

The look of shock that followed told Vanalath that his meaning had gotten through.

The ghoul shrunk back like a cornered rat. This was the first undead he’d known to show fear. Truly, this was an aberrant.

Unsurprisingly, the ghoul answered Vanalath by attempting to dash past him. His claws sunk into the earth, rapidly propelling him forward in a burst of speed that couldn’t be replicated by the swordsman. If they were racing, that was.

Vanalath had even put away his weapon to tempt the creature back into the fight. He’d given the ghoul two choices.

There wasn’t a third option.

He kicked the ghoul in the side as he attempted to blitz past, sending him sprawling to the dirt. Before he could recover, Vanalath leapt upon him, grasping the back of his neck and slamming him, face-first, into the ground.

At the last moment before crushing his neck, Vanalath halted. This ghoul had a sort of stubbornness about him that reminded him of Kalaki. He had a method for subduing defiants, didn’t he? His gaze wandered over to where the spearman stood. Perhaps he could make use of this creature.

Vanalath’s grip tightened.

Serve me.

Peon Brand advanced.

Subject’s resistance is moderate.

Rejected.

Snorting, he picked up the ghoul and slammed him into the ground again. And again. And again. Once the wretched creature began to convulse, his face becoming a mess of shattered bones and black, oozing blood, Vanalath gave his order once more.

Peon Brand advanced.

Subject’s resistance is minimal.

Brace for carving.

Vanalath grit his teeth. He expected it to hurt.

And it did.

As if a glowing hot axe had just cleaved into his skull, Vanalath’s vision went black and he was overcome with a paralyzing pain. Visions accompanied the pain: millions and billions and trillions of pictures and words and sensations flashed before him in an instant, and he saw them all yet he saw nothing, because there was nothing—there was only eternity. Blackness.

And the Maelstrom.

Then, it was over.

Carving successful. Brace for melding.

Composing himself, he observed as the young ghoul attempted to groan, or perhaps scream, but only succeeded in eating a mouthful of dirt. Vanalath stood, releasing him.

The ghoul writhed just as Kalaki had, though Vanalath personally only felt some small discomfort. The familiar trail of smoke curled up from the ghoul’s forehead, and a dull red Brand appeared there: the ever-present circle, this time with two larger semicircles resting above and below it, looking much like an open mouth. In the very center, there was a small red cross, the same that Kalaki bore, though his was blue, while this new ones was red.

[Skill obtained]: (Lv.0)

At last, when the young ghoul stopped flailing, Vanalath directed a command towards him to join the rest of his followers. Sluggishly, the vacant-eyed monster obeyed.

Vanalath shook his head, somewhat dissatisfied at the sight of the energetic ghoul being turned into yet another witless zombie. It was just a light beating.

Time would tell whether his choice was a good one.

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