"Just how many were massacred?"
The words slipped from his mouth as he trudged forward looking at the grotesque scene around him.
For an hour, he had walked without pause. He walked on the carpet of lifeless bodies of the soldier who had fought against demonic forces and gave up their life fighting one sided battle.
Their faces turned into gorey due to rot. The stench of decay was overwhelming, a fetid mix of blood, rot, and soil.
"This smell..." he muttered, grimacing as he pulled the edge of his cloak over his nose. "I might need cotton just to survive this."
The rot was not just the only problem here. If the bodies were not dealt with soon, disease would inevitably follow, spreading like wildfire through the air and infecting villages for miles around.
The time flowed like river and The sun, once blazing high above, began its descent, its crimson rays painting the landscape in hues of blood. The sight of the bodies bathed in red felt like a cursed in every sense.
By the time the moon took over the sky, its pale light casting a soft luminous glow over the battlefield, the air had grown colder. Visibility waned. He unsheathed his sword for the just in case senerio if a animal that come in his path than he would be able to defend himself.
Out of respect for the fallen, he tried to avoid stepping on the bodies whenever he could. These were warriors, men and women who had fought valiantly against the demonic forces that plagued this land. But the sheer number of corpses made it impossible to avoid them all.
When his boot landed on a bloated corpse, the result was sickening. A wet, gushing sound erupted as the skin, weakened by decomposition, gave way.
Gas, trapped within the decaying body, escaped in a foul hiss, followed by a torrent of putrid fluids. Blood, bile, and unidentifiable chunks oozed from the ruptured flesh, spreading out in a vile puddle beneath his feet.
He paused, shaking his head in disgust. "Good thing these boots are tight and almost knee-high," he muttered, trying to reassure himself. If the fluids had seeped into his boots... he shuddered at the thought. That would have been unbearable.
"What's that? A flame?"
He squinted at the horizon. A reddish-orange glow flickered in the distance, stretching wide across the darkened landscape. The wavering light resembled flames—large ones, like those from a massive house fire that had spread to nearby buildings. The sight was unexpected amidst the desolation of the battlefield.
"Let's go check it out…" he murmured, quickening his pace, curiosity and caution intertwining in his thoughts.
As he hurried toward the distant light, questions began swirling in his mind. "Why is there a fire out here? Is someone burning the bodies?"
Another hour of walking brought him closer, and with every step, the scale of the fire became clearer. The flames towered into the night sky, their intensity unlike anything he had ever seen. The wall of fire stretched endlessly to both sides, and the smoke it produced rose in dense, churning columns, blocking the night sky.
From the fire's sheer size and the volume of smoke, it was evident this wasn't a village burning. Someone had deliberately set the battlefield ablaze, most likely to dispose of the countless corpses and prevent the spread of disease to the villages further afield. The nearest settlement was at least a day and a night's journey away—too far to be directly threatened by the flames, but not far enough to avoid the risk of airborne contamination.
Standing before the The Wall of Firs, he came to an abrupt halt, frowning. "How am I supposed to cross this wall of fire? Walking around it could take hours... or even a day I since I can't see its end," he muttered, frustration evident in his tone.
As he scanned the area for options, his eyes fell on a patch of damp, fresh mud nearby. A sly grin crept onto his face, followed by a chuckle.
"I have a really stupid and impulsive idea," he said aloud, amusement mixing with exasperation. "It's *really* stupid and impulsive… but hey, who's here to stop me?"
The plan that had formed in his mind was as reckless as it was absurd. He knelt by the mud patch and began coating his arms with the cool, sloppy mixture. "If I cover myself completely, it should protect me from the heat—at least for a short time. If I run fast enough, I might just make it through."
One by one, he covered every part of his body. His arms first, then his legs. Thick globs of mud clung to his back, chest, and head as he meticulously spread the gooey layer over his skin. His movements were deliberate, ensuring no spot was left exposed. Finally, with a sheepish laugh, he crouched down to coat his privates with the same care as the rest of his body.
By the time he was done, he was unrecognizable. Save for his eyes and nostrils, which he left uncovered to breathe and see, he resembled a muddy figure straight out of a swamp—a grotesque statue of earth and determination.
Standing tall, he took a moment to admire his work, unable to suppress a laugh. "I look ridiculous... like some kind of snowman made out of mud."
"I may smell like a swamp, but it's still better than reeking of rotting corpses," he muttered, shaking his head as he tried to psych himself up. The fire roared ahead, reaching closer to him.
"I hope this is the right decision," he muttered, his voice barely audible over the crackling roar of the flames.
Although he had prepared himself, standing before the towering wall of fire made doubt creep into his heart. The flames surged and danced, their heat radiating toward him like a living entity ready to consume anything in its path instantly.
He exhaled deeply, bracing himself. Alright... three..."
His heart pounded in his chest, the anticipation coiling like a spring inside him.
"Two..."
He bent his knees, lowering into a runner's stance, every muscle in his body tensed and ready.
"One... Let's go!"
(End of Chapter)
*****
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