The graveyard lay still as Aiden wandered back to the site of the ambush, his steps careful on the uneven ground. Moonlight cast a cold, silvery glow over the broken bodies of the grave robbers, sprawled across the dirt like discarded dolls, faces twisted in terror and limbs askew.
The scene was brutal, hauntingly so, yet Aiden felt nothing but curiosity as he took it in. His mind raced, replaying the events in his head, dissecting every detail of the fight.
The undead creature he'd summoned stood nearby, stiff and silent. Its body bore the marks of the struggle: cracked ribs, fractured fingers, and patches of flesh torn free. But it was alive—well, animated—and for Aiden, that was enough.
He felt a strange sense of satisfaction, even pride, knowing he had commanded such power, a force bound entirely to his will.
He knelt beside one of the fallen robbers, his fingers brushing the deep claw marks across the man's neck. The undead's bony fingers had dug into the man's flesh, gripping him until life had left him entirely. Aiden marveled at the creature's raw strength.
For something that seemed to barely follow commands, it had proven to be terrifyingly efficient in combat.
Perhaps, he thought, 'combat instincts are the one thing it knows.'
The creature had followed his orders to fight without question, acting with a strange, primal clarity. Aiden's lips quirked into a smile as he surveyed the other bodies, each marked by the undead's relentless assault.
Nearby, footprints led from the graves into the brush, signs of the robbers' last attempt to flee. He imagined their fear as the undead had pursued them, relentless and unyielding, and he felt a small surge of satisfaction. He had wielded a force that inspired fear, something he'd never imagined possible.
Aiden took a step back, his gaze falling on the undead creature standing beside him.
"Not bad for your first fight," he murmured, almost as if speaking to an old friend.
The creature let out a low groan, its hollow eyes fixed on him, and Aiden felt a flicker of something close to companionship.
'But it's flawed,' he thought, eyes narrowing.
'It's powerful, yes, but it doesn't understand anything beyond the simplest orders. There's no intelligence… no adaptability.'
Aiden crossed his arms, staring at the creature as though trying to see into its vacant mind. He couldn't rely on something that followed commands so mindlessly—not if he wanted to survive. But the potential was there, lurking just beneath the surface, and that was enough to keep him interested.
Once his curiosity was satisfied, Aiden turned his attention to the belongings of the robbers. They had come to this graveyard hoping to loot the dead, and now, in a dark twist of fate, they had become the ones to be looted. A smirk played on his lips as he crouched down beside the nearest body, beginning his search with a sense of purpose.
The first robber's pockets yielded little more than a leather pouch containing a handful of tarnished coins. Aiden pocketed them, knowing that even a few coins could be useful if he needed to barter in a nearby village. He moved his fingers over the man's belt, finding a small sheathed knife.
The blade was worn, the edge chipped, but Aiden decided it was worth keeping. He tucked it into his belt, feeling a small thrill at the prospect of having a weapon, even a modest one.
Moving to the next body, Aiden found a battered flask, still half-full with water. He twisted the cap open, taking a cautious sniff before sipping. The water was stale but drinkable, and he stowed it carefully.
A length of rope was wrapped around the man's waist, fraying at the edges but sturdy enough for basic use. He slipped it into his satchel, satisfied with his growing collection of supplies.
His fingers brushed against something small and hard, and he looked down to see a tiny amulet tucked beneath the man's shirt. The amulet's tarnished silver gleamed faintly in the moonlight, its surface marked with a twisted spiral that resembled an all-seeing eye. Aiden didn't know what the marking meant, but it was fascinating, unlike any symbol he'd seen before. Perhaps it was valuable—a piece that he could use as leverage or sell if he needed to.
He held the amulet in his palm, its cool surface glinting faintly as he studied the intricate design. He couldn't shake the feeling that it had some purpose, though he had no idea what that purpose might be.
'If nothing else, it could fetch a decent price', he thought, slipping it into his pocket.
As Aiden continued his search, he spotted a set of footprints leading off into the forest. They were fresh, and the faint glow of a campfire flickered in the distance, barely visible through the trees. Curiosity flared in him; perhaps these robbers had more supplies or secrets that he could take advantage of.
He followed the footprints cautiously, moving through the trees with his undead creature at his side, its footsteps heavy and uncoordinated. They neared the edge of a small clearing where a makeshift camp had been set up. Three more robbers sat around the fire, their voices low as they spoke, unaware of Aiden's presence in the shadows.
Aiden crouched behind a tree, watching them intently. These three looked more formidable than the others, their weapons larger, their gear more refined. The man in the center, in particular, stood out—he was broad-shouldered, with a scar cutting across his face and an air of authority that marked him as their leader.
His voice carried easily over the crackling fire as he gave orders to the others, discussing the night's failures with a sneer.
"So the others failed to bring back a single relic," the leader grumbled, shaking his head.
"Amateurs, the lot of them. I told them not to underestimate these old grave sites."
One of the men nodded, shuffling uncomfortably.
"Do you think there's more out here? Could be something worth our trouble…"
"There's always something worth our trouble," the leader replied, his voice cold.
"We just need to know where to look—and how to get past the curses."
Aiden's interest sharpened at the mention of curses.
'So they're here for more than just gold' he realized.
These men were after relics, cursed artifacts hidden among the dead. His mind raced, piecing together the fragments he'd gathered, the journal, the map, and now this group with their apparent expertise in finding and handling cursed items.
The third man shifted, pulling out a small sack from their supplies and unwrapping a piece of jerky. Aiden's stomach growled at the sight of food, a reminder of how long it had been since he'd last eaten anything substantial. They also had bread and water skins piled by their bedrolls, enough to last several days.
Aiden steadied his breathing, weighing his options. Perhaps he could use the undead as a distraction, sending it in from one side while he circled around to steal some supplies. He looked around and picked up a sturdy piece of wood from the ground.
'This could work as a weapon.'
Taking a deep breath, he mentally commanded the undead to approach the camp from the opposite side, hoping to catch them off guard.
The undead stumbled forward as Aiden hid, watching closely. But the leader's head snapped up, his gaze darting toward the movement. He squinted, immediately on high alert.
"Something's out there," he muttered, standing and drawing his weapon.
The undead lurched into the camp, swinging the piece of wood at one of the lackeys. The blow landed heavily on the man's shoulder, knocking him off balance, but he quickly retaliated with a strike from his own weapon. The other lackey joined in, jabbing the undead with the end of his spear.
Their strikes did little to the creature; it stumbled back but kept advancing, swinging the wood with mindless determination. The two lackeys exchanged uneasy glances, fear flashing across their faces as they noticed that the creature didn't react to pain.
"It doesn't go down," one of them muttered, his voice tinged with panic.
He struck again, but the undead merely staggered and continued its assault, relentless.
Aiden watched, a thrill of dark satisfaction building within him. The undead was tireless, its movements clumsy but driven by an unstoppable force. He could see the two lackeys growing frustrated, their attacks becoming frantic as they realized their strikes did little to stop it.
The leader observed for a moment, his expression cold and calculating.
"Enough of that," he barked.
"You're wasting your time."
The lackeys turned to him, confused, and the leader took a step forward, his eyes narrowing as he observed the undead's behavior.
"Aim for the head," he instructed.
"That's the only way to stop it."
The two lackeys hesitated but quickly followed his order, swinging their weapons directly at the undead's head. A spear thrust managed to graze its skull, cracking it slightly, but the creature continued forward. Another strike landed hard on its temple, and with a sickening crunch, the skull caved, the undead finally crumpling to the ground, unmoving
The two lackeys looked at the fallen undead, their breathing heavy, relief flickering across their faces. But the leader's expression remained hard, his gaze sweeping the forest around them.
"There's a necromancer here," he said, his voice low and dangerous.
"An undead doesn't just walk on its own."
The two lackeys stiffened, glancing at each other, their faces paling. One of them took a step back, his grip tightening on his weapon as if he expected something to leap out of the darkness at any moment.
The leader's eyes continued to scan the trees, a cruel smile forming on his lips as he watched the shadows.
"Whoever you are, necromancer, I know you're out there," he called, his voice echoing into the night.
"I suggest you show yourself, or we'll find you. And trust me, you don't want that."
Aiden's heart pounded as he crouched lower behind the thick tree trunk, the leader's gaze sweeping dangerously close to his hiding spot.
'They know…' Panic surged within him.
He was outnumbered, and these men were clearly more experienced than the others he'd encountered.
He clenched his jaw, thinking fast.
'I have to get out of here.'
His plan to ambush them with the undead had failed miserably, and now he'd exposed himself. As quietly as possible, he began to move backward, slipping further into the cover of the trees, hoping to disappear into the shadows.
But just as he shifted his weight, a twig snapped beneath his foot, the sound sharp and clear in the silent forest.
The leader's head whipped in his direction, his eyes narrowing with deadly focus.
"There," he growled, pointing his sword toward Aiden's hiding spot.
"After him!"
The two lackeys immediately scrambled toward the tree line, weapons raised. Aiden felt a jolt of fear as he turned, his body springing into action, adrenaline surging through him.
He darted between the trees, his breath quickening as he pushed himself to run faster, weaving through the thick undergrowth to put as much distance as possible between him and his pursuers.
Branches scraped against his face and arms, his vision blurring as he pushed through the darkness. He could hear the heavy footsteps behind him, the grunts of the men as they struggled to keep up.
But they were relentless, and the leader's angry voice rang out above the noise, directing them, driving them forward.
Aiden's mind raced, every instinct screaming at him to keep going, to lose them in the maze of trees. But his stamina was waning; his muscles burned, and his breath came in ragged gasps. He knew he couldn't keep this pace for long.
'This isn't working. I can't keep running like this,' he thought,
dread sinking into his stomach. He ducked behind a thick tree, pressing himself against the bark to catch his breath. His mind raced, struggling to find a way out of this mess, a way to escape.
And then, an idea flickered in his mind. The crime scene he'd left behind. It was his only chance.
Aiden's eyes narrowed, his decision made. He pushed away from the tree and turned, changing his direction as he made his way back toward the graveyard, the dark plan forming in his mind as he slipped into the shadows.