"Hasten up, rain's imminent! Linger any longer and I'll kick you to your demise!"
The leading man cursed aloud.
Deep into the night, the sky shrouded in dark clouds, in the forest so thick one couldn't see their own hand. The air, laden with the unique scent before a storm, carried the rustling whispers of leaves.
"I too desire... to hasten... The dead weigh heavily, continually... slipping down..."
The man, torch in hand, was followed by a teenager, sixteen or seventeen, struggling under the weight of a corpse along the forest's rugged path.
"Quit your damned blabbering. Blood's all drained; how heavy could it be? Lack all semblance of manhood, whining like a woman. Bury him quick so we can return for a drink..."
The man kept grumbling, unopposed by the weary or perhaps fearful youth.
Dead always weigh more, possibly due to their inability to adjust their balance.
The youth, adjusting his grip, endeavored to hoist the slipping corpse back onto his back.
Suddenly, he froze. Lightning illuminated his eyes, wide with terror.
Gwinnis Wintaling, awakening from his dreamless slumber, felt himself sliding, as if on someone's back. Instinctively, he readjusted his balance, tightening his grip around the person before him.
As lightning struck again, he let out an involuntary, soft "ah."
Memories swiftly cascaded through his mind.
Once an ordinary office worker on Blue Star, he had suffered a sudden death from overwork, only to find himself in the body of someone named Gwinnis.
Gwinnis, whose heart had been pierced, throat slit, and drained of blood, was now mysteriously healing, the soul from distant Blue Star awakening in his battered body.
After a swift recollection, the best tactic of feigning death on the youth's back, awaiting an opportune moment to revolt, was inadvertently foiled by his own instinctive action.
The charade was up, only affording the adversary time.
Without further thought, Gwinnis bit the youth's ear, simultaneously withdrawing the dagger from his waist. Before he could retaliate, the agonized youth flung him off.
"Ao—"
The youth wailed, clutching his blood-soaked ear, violently ripped off by Gwinnis.
In the dim firelight and flashing lightning, the youth beheld not a man, but a hellish demon.
Drenched in half-dried blood from throat to chest, the once dead man now stood erect, his own ear partway in his mouth!
Engulfed in terror, the youth stood petrified, murmuring incoherently.
"Merciful Lord Agnes, shield your faithful servant, I implore you..."
The man he had personally slain was alive again, not by Agnes's grace, but a demon resurrected... He had returned for vengeance!
As the youth succumbed to confusion, Gwinnis turned towards the torch-bearing man ahead.
"Damn you, you cur, what's this commotion about?! Watch as I end this..."
The man ahead, cursing, turned only to be startled himself.
By the torchlight, he vaguely saw a figure standing, while his foolish nephew knelt beside.
His first thought wasn't of demonic possession or undead revival, but rather a comrade of Gwinnis Wintaling come for rescue or revenge.
Rumor had it, Gwinnis's father was a baron, so having a follower or two seemed plausible. Alas, they were too late.
Before the man could utter a word of negotiation, something was hurled at him, striking him squarely in the face.
Catching it in anger, it appeared to be a half-bloodied ear?
Looking up, Gwinnis's sudden dash had closed the mere two or three meters between them, now right before him.
Sensing trouble, the man frantically swung his torch for defense.
Disturbed by the torch, Gwinnis agilely sidestepped, his dagger slicing deeply into the man's wrist, nearly severing it, blood spurting out.
But the firelight revealed Gwinnis's face.
"How can it be you! Impossible! You were dead! I saw it with my own eyes!"
Illuminated by the torchlight, he could barely make out a figure standing, while his foolish nephew knelt on the other side. The man's mind didn't leap to demonic possessions or undead revivals; instead, he thought of Gwinnis Wintaling's ally coming for rescue or revenge. Considering Gwinnis's father
... was a baron, it wasn't unusual to have one or two followers. However, it seemed they were too late to intervene.
But before the man could articulate any negotiation, an object was hurled at him, striking squarely on his face. Catching it in a rage, it appeared to be a half-bloodied ear? He looked up just in time to see Gwinnis's swift advance, closing the brief distance between them in mere moments, now startlingly close.
With a sense of impending doom, he swung the torch defensively. Yet Gwinnis, undeterred by the fire's flicker, deftly moved, his dagger viciously slicing the inner wrist of the man's torch-bearing hand, almost severing it, as blood spurted out.
In the torch's glow, the man recognized Gwinnis. "How can this be you! Impossible! You were dead! I witnessed your death!" he exclaimed in shock and rage, fumbling with his left hand to draw his sword. But in the next moment, Gwinnis's dagger reached his throat.
A gurgling sound escaped as both his trachea and carotid artery were severed. He desperately tried to stem the bleeding, futilely. Within seconds, he collapsed to the ground.
Having dealt with his formidable foe, Gwinnis turned his attention back to the youth. The lad, overwhelmed by terror, was losing his sanity, stumbling and retreating in a panic.
To the youth, his uncle had been the second strongest man he knew, powerful and ruthless, capable of holding his own even against multiple assailants. But now, this resurrected man had effortlessly slain him. He was no mere human; he had to be a devil!
As the youth lost all will to resist, Gwinnis considered pursuit but was halted by a sudden appearance of a system interface.
"Ding!" "First successful kill, system activated." "One kill in combat, 500 personal points awarded." "Gwinnis Wintaling Life: 5 Stamina: 6 Strength: 7 Agility: 6 Perception: 7" The interface, straightforward and clear, outlined Gwinnis's physical attributes. A progress bar below read 500/500, indicating the experience gained from his recent kill, now ready for reward.
Gwinnis glanced at the youth disappearing into the darkness, pondered for a moment, and cleared the progress bar. "Withdraw 500 personal points, increase ability value by 1." Gwinnis hesitated briefly.
Recalling that Gwinnis was 19 years old, he wondered about the implications of his strength value of 7. What did it signify compared to an average adult's life value of 5?
The torch fell to the ground. By its faint light, Gwinnis observed his muscular physique, a stark contrast to his previous life's scrawny frame. Clenching his fist, he could feel an overwhelming sense of power.
Gwinnis estimated internally, a strength value of 7 was commendable but not extraordinary. His agility, though only 6, had enabled him to surprise his foes under the cover of darkness and strategy, suggesting it was slightly above the norm.
Deciding not to dwell further, as more points would surely come, Gwinnis swiftly chose to invest in agility, curious about the effect. As the number on the panel changed from 6 to 7, he felt noticeably lighter.
"Alright, time to reclaim what's mine." Gwinnis picked up the torch, drew a longsword from the now lifeless man's waist, and headed in the direction where the youth had vanished.