In the green village, just before midnight.
The village was silent, with most villagers sleeping after a busy day. A messenger had arrived in the morning, bringing terrible news from the city. An attack by a mad wizard had caused severe damage to the city and killed over two thousand people, including the city's power figures such as the baron and the priest.
The villagers were terrified when they discovered that the mage had used magic to drive people mad, making them kill themselves. They didn't know what was going to happen to the city now, and the only order they were given was to stay alert. The village chief tried to calm the villagers by saying that there was no reason for them to be attacked, but that they should send the village men to guard the village gates, just in case.
"...It's cold." One of the men assigned to guard the gate complained as he hugged himself for warmth. He was dressed in warm clothes, but standing in the middle of winter in front of the gate was challenging. He carried a single makeshift spear, so it was uncertain if it would make any difference if a mad mage actually showed up.
"Yeah, it sucks being out in the cold winter air, and it's even worse with you complaining in my ear." Another guard spoke up, warming himself by a torch. The village chief had placed torches on either side of the gate and the men had gathered around the flames to keep warm like moths.
"You're complaining about a full stomach. My brother-in-law is patrolling inside the walls and must be freezing right now." A third guard yelled, silencing them both and ending the argument.
Minutes passed slowly as the guards wondered if they would die first to the mage, the cold, or the boredom. One of the men suddenly looked towards the forest with half-closed eyes, seeing a shadow move through the trees, but didn't see much detail because of the darkness of the night.
"Hey, did you guys see this? I think I saw something in the woods." The man spoke, catching the attention of his colleagues as he tried to look for something in the forest.
"Must be just some monster, don't pay attention to it." The colleague next to him replied, not paying him any attention.
The man was about to agree and forget about it, when he saw another shadow moving, and then another, and another, until about 40 shadows appeared. They jumped out of the shadows of the trees and ran towards the men. Out of the shadows of the trees, man can see black skeletons of bears and wolves running towards them.
"Hi, what's that???" The man yelled, pointing his finger at the skeletons rushing towards him. He only knew undead from the stories he heard as a child, but they were always portrayed as bloodthirsty monsters. He walked backward until his back touched the wooden gate, but his companions weren't faring any better.
"Open the gates, quick! We must enter, or we will be eaten alive!" One of the men yelled, pulling him by the shoulder as he opened the gate and entered. The others followed quickly, before locking the gate behind them.
"Bring anything that can be used to block the gate, quick! Raise the alarm, order all women and children to flee through the back gate of the village! All of you, grab any weapons you find and buy time for the others to flee!" An elderly man shouted loudly, seeing the panic on the faces of the men around him.
As a young man, he was a soldier serving in the fortress that separated the realm of Mirkor from the demihuman empire, one of the few who lived long enough to retire. He was used to sudden attacks and knew that a dozen farmers armed with makeshift spears wouldn't stand a chance against the undead.
'The most we can do is buy time so that others can escape. The undead are stupid, so they won't chase villagers until they kill everyone here. If an old man like me has to die for those children to live, so be it.' That's what the old man thought, hardening his resolve. Once, an undead attack happened on one of the frontier fortresses, causing heavy casualties and nearly destroying the fortress. Since then, soldiers have been instructed on how to deal with the undead.
He pulled his steel sword from its scabbard, a sword he'd bought after amassing a year's salary as a young man, and it was gathering dust in his room.
A bell had been ringing for some time and he could hear the sound of people screaming behind him, but what startled him was the total silence coming from outside the gates. The undead were mindless beings and should have been roaring as they advanced, but there was only silence outside. There was only one situation where the undead didn't scream their hatred against the living.
'Is there someone controlling these undead? If so, these men will be killed in vain-' The old man realized the truth, but it was too late. The gate exploded, sending a shower of splinters towards the men as the undead stormed through.
The bear skeletons advanced forward, a dark orange light emanating from their bones, forming a layer of black stone over them like armor. They advanced on the men still wounded and in shock from the destruction of the gate and swung their front paws like blunt weapons, breaking bones and crushing flesh, rendering them incapacitated with one blow.
They did not stop to finish off the fallen men, but charged at the surrounding men carrying spears. The few that were not brought down immediately hurriedly raised their spears, but they shattered uselessly against the bears' stone armor before being brought down by their paws.
The wolf skeletons charged right behind them, leaping at the fallen men and ripping their throats out with their fangs or claws. A particularly large skeleton led them, aiding any wolves that encountered resistance from fallen men.
The elderly soldier watched with regret as the men were slaughtered and charged at the nearest bear, trying to save at least one person. With an agile movement that would not have been expected of someone his age, he positioned himself in front of the young man about to be killed and steadied his stance, ready to fend off the bear skeleton's onslaught.
The bear lunged at him before pausing for a moment and turning to attack someone else, as if it had lost interest. The old man looked at the bear strangely, until a human skeleton appeared in its place. He was wearing a ragged green robe, a mist of darkness forming on his left hand.
With a wave of his hand, the mist spread over the corpses, devouring their flesh until only bones remained. The white bones were smeared, as if black ink had been poured over them, before they rose to their feet and joined the kill.
'A superior undead.' That's what the elderly soldier thought, racking his brains as he thought of a way to kill the thing in front of him. 'He seems to be a mage, so if I get closer, maybe I have a chance.' That's what he thought, pointing his sword at the human skeleton.
"Take care of it grandpa, it's a very precious item. It's impossible to find weapons in the wild and you're the only one with a decent weapon in every village." The black skeleton spoke, surprising the elderly man.
"You can talk?" he asked gaping, almost lowering his sword in sheer amazement. He had heard that higher undead had the same intelligence they had when they were alive, but knowing about and witnessing are different things.
"I can do a lot more than that, but you can find out after you die and join them." The black skeleton rushed at him, at a speed impossible to keep up with.
'Wasn't he a mage??' The elderly thought in panic, seeing the skeleton appear in front of him in an instant. He tried to swing the sword against its exposed neck, but the skeleton easily dodged it, burying its hand inside its stomach and pulling hard, splattering its blood and viscera on the floor.
The elderly soldier dropped his sword and fell forward as he tried to cover his stomach hole with his hands, but Athos quickly caught the sword before it could fall to the ground. Athos didn't give the old man a second look, writhing in pain at his feet, as he inspected the sword.
"You... undead bastard...I pray that...the army...destroys you." The old man spoke, clinging to Athos' cloak. Athos lowered his gaze, looking at the dying old man.
"I hope they try." Those were the last words the elderly soldier heard in life, before Athos lifted his leg and crushed his neck.