Chapter 13: The Unexpected
As the shambling undead gradually disappeared into the distance, Leon Grant wiped his brow, even though there was no sweat to be found.
He admitted to himself that he had underestimated the undead. The horde that had passed through was relatively small, numbering only a few hundred. None of them seemed to possess the strength of an Iron-tier awakened being, yet their overwhelming numbers had caused chaos. The mere thought of a massive horde numbering tens of thousands was enough to send chills down his spine.
Tonight would be anything but calm. The lingering scent of blood from a dead rat and the noise caused by the rushing undead would undoubtedly draw others to the area. Leon leaned back against the wall of his makeshift shelter, beginning a shallow meditation to replace sleep. He would have to remain alert.
Throughout the night, he heard the occasional groaning or shuffling of undead as they approached his building. Some passed by without incident, while others wandered closer, their guttural noises filling the air. Hordes varied in size: some were several thousand strong, others only a few dozen. The smallest group consisted of a mere ten or so undead, likely stragglers left behind by larger hordes.
Leon watched from his perch on the fourth floor of the dilapidated building. The undead seemed drawn to the bloodstains left behind by a skirmish earlier that day. Several creatures even climbed the staircase to investigate. Each passing minute made it clearer to Leon that his current location was no longer safe.
By dawn, Leon's haggard face reflected his sleepless night. A small group of undead remained at the base of the building—around thirty in total. They were the last remnants of the night's disturbances. However, as the sun's rays began to creep over the horizon, the creatures shifted uncomfortably, growling softly as sunlight fell upon their decaying skin. While the light didn't harm them, it was enough to drive them toward the nearest shadows.
Leon watched, heart pounding, as several undead stumbled into his building to escape the growing daylight. Five of them ended up inside. Three remained on the second floor, while two lingered on the ground level.
Should he wait until nightfall for the undead to leave? That thought was quickly dismissed. Too many variables were at play. The undead might decide to explore higher floors, and staying put only increased his vulnerability. Besides, handing his fate over to creatures that were known to be unpredictable was a risk Leon wasn't willing to take.
Escape via rope? Leon considered it. His backpack contained a length of rope given to him by a classmate, but after a quick scan of the apartment's interior, he realized there was no solid anchor point to tie the rope. The building's fittings were too degraded to support his weight. The window frames were barely intact skeletons of rusted metal.
Leon sighed and sat down, closing his eyes to focus. Every few moments, he used his mental energy to scan the undead's movements. As the sunlight grew stronger, the undead settled deeper into shadowed corners, avoiding the daylight entirely.
Leon slung his backpack over his shoulders, tightening the straps. He gripped his makeshift spear—a short blade tied to a wooden pole—and his trusty fire axe. He moved silently through the apartment, careful not to make any noise.
His primary concern was a single undead lingering on the staircase between the first and second floors—the only route to the exit.
Through a narrow gap in the crumbling staircase wall, Leon spotted the creature. It crouched in a shaded corner, its head hung low. The creature was stuck between two beams of sunlight filtering through shattered windows. Leon couldn't help but marvel at the irony: the very same architectural design meant to illuminate staircases during the building's prime had now become a natural barrier for the undead.
Leon stopped descending at the third floor. He crouched low, holding his spear with one hand while using the other to trace runic patterns in the air. His movements were fluid and practiced, and within moments, a small shard of bone materialized, hovering at his side.
With a flick of his wrist, the bone shard flew through the air with a sharp hiss, heading straight for the undead's head.
"Thwack!"
The creature twitched, its ears catching the faint noise. It began to turn, but the bone projectile found its mark before it could react. The undead's head exploded in a spray of blackened blood and gray matter, the sickening sound echoing up the stairwell.
Leon froze. His heart raced as he scanned the building with his mental energy, ensuring the noise hadn't attracted other undead.
The remaining creatures stirred slightly but didn't open their eyes. They seemed content to stay in their shaded corners, undisturbed. Leon exhaled in relief. Daylight truly dampened their aggression.
Carefully, Leon crept down to the second floor. The three undead stationed there were huddled in the darkest corner of a former office, their backs turned toward him. He moved past them with painstaking precision, his steps as silent as a predator's.
The ground floor presented a new challenge. The two undead were positioned near the main exit. While one was entirely stationary, the other shuffled slightly, groaning softly. Their proximity to each other meant that even the smallest mistake could trigger a chain reaction.
Leon gritted his teeth. He prepared another White Fang of Bone, holding it in reserve. His fire axe felt heavier than usual in his grip, its weight a reminder of what failure would mean.
Moving into the room, Leon took a deep breath and readied himself for a swift, brutal assault.
Additions to the Chapter:
As Leon closes in on the exit, he encounters a faint, unnatural sound—a low hum resonating from a nearby storage closet. Against his better judgment, he investigates, discovering a strange artifact glowing faintly with arcane energy. The object seems tied to the undead, pulsing in sync with their movements. Leon pockets the artifact, unsure of its purpose, but wary of its potential danger.Outside, Leon discovers that his original escape route has been blocked by fallen debris. Forced to adapt, he climbs through a crumbled section of the wall, emerging into an overgrown courtyard surrounded by broken fences and shattered glass.
Leon's escape was anything but smooth, but he survived. Now standing under the harsh glare of the morning sun, he looked toward the horizon. The undead had thinned out in the immediate area, but the presence of the artifact weighed on his mind.
What had he stumbled upon? And why did it feel like the undead weren't the only threat lurking in the shadows?