Aiden crouched low behind the trees, his heart pounding with a thrill he'd never known. His undead were closing in on the leader, their relentless assault forcing him back, inch by inch.
The man's face was smeared with dirt and blood, his expression a mixture of fury and frustration as he struggled to fend off the three remaining undead. Sweat dripped down his face, and his movements were growing sluggish, his stamina clearly reaching its limit.
Aiden felt a rush of satisfaction at the sight.
'So this is the fear I can instill,' he thought,
an almost wicked grin spreading across his face. He'd seen the way the lackeys had fallen, one by one, and how the leader, once so composed and arrogant, was now struggling to survive.
Realizing his moment was now, Aiden stepped out from behind the tree, his gaze fixed on the leader with a calm, almost mocking expression.
"Well, well," he called, his voice carrying through the clearing.
"The fearless leader, brought to his knees by his own dead men. How poetic."
The leader's head snapped up, his bloodshot eyes locking onto Aiden. For a moment, disbelief flickered across his face, quickly replaced by raw anger.
"You!" he spat, his voice laced with venom. He swung his sword defensively, holding his ground as he glared at Aiden.
"So you're the one behind this. You filthy necromancer."
Aiden raised an eyebrow, his smile widening as he took a few steps closer.
"I'd save your breath if I were you," he said, voice dripping with mockery.
"You look a little… tired."
The leader's grip on his sword tightened, his face twisted in rage. He lunged at Aiden, but the two remaining undead seized the opportunity, grabbing hold of his legs before he could reach him. The leader staggered, his balance thrown off as the undead tightened their grip, their fingers digging into his flesh, pinning him in place.
"Let go of me!" the leader snarled, struggling against their hold. He tried to shake them off, swinging his sword in a desperate attempt to free himself, but his movements were hindered by his injuries and exhaustion.
Aiden watched with satisfaction, his gaze cold and unyielding. He could feel his own pulse racing, the thrill of control coursing through him as he gave a single, silent command to his undead:
'Hold him steady.'
The undead complied, their bony fingers like iron bands around the leader's legs, refusing to release him no matter how much he struggled. His face contorted with fury and frustration, his gaze snapping back to Aiden.
"You coward! Fight me yourself!"
Aiden chuckled, his voice laced with amusement.
"Oh, I don't think so. This fight was never about you and me." He tilted his head, his eyes glinting with dark satisfaction.
"Besides, I think my friends here have it covered."
With that, he gave one final command to the last undead.
"Kill him"
The remaining undead stepped forward, its gaze blank and unfeeling as it raised its weapon high, swinging down with unrestrained force. The leader's eyes widened as he tried to raise his sword to block, but the weight of the undead holding his legs kept him from moving.
The weapon came down in a swift, brutal arc, striking him squarely across the chest. There was a sickening crack as the blow shattered bone, and blood sprayed across the ground. The leader's body sagged, his sword slipping from his grasp as his knees buckled, the last spark of resistance fading from his eyes.
Aiden watched as the man's body crumpled to the ground, motionless. The silence that followed was almost surreal, the tension finally dissolving as the last breath left the leader's body.
He took a slow, steadying breath, feeling the weight of his victory settle over him. The undead stood motionless, their purpose fulfilled, their gaze blank once more. Aiden looked at them, a faint sense of satisfaction mingling with the eerie realization of what he'd just accomplished.
He had won.
Aiden's hands shook slightly as he reached for the flask he had taken from one of the robbers' corpses earlier. His throat was parched, his body exhausted from the surge of energy and adrenaline that had carried him through the last fight.
Unscrewing the cap, he brought the flask to his lips, taking a long, deep drink. The stale water tasted bitter, but he barely noticed, too focused on regaining his strength.
With a slow exhale, he screwed the cap back on and set the flask aside. His gaze drifted to the three fresh corpses sprawled across the ground, each of them bearing the marks of their desperate, final struggle. Aiden's lips thinned as he bent down, rummaging through their belongings.
One by one, he searched their pockets and pouches. He found another knife, this one sharper than his own, and slipped it into his belt. A small bag of dried meat and bread appeared in one man's satchel. He stuffed it into his own, mentally tallying his resources. Coins, a tarnished ring, and an assortment of small tools that might come in handy later all joined his collection.
Aiden took a deep breath, feeling the last of his adrenaline slowly fade as he surveyed the corpses sprawled across the clearing. The leader's body lay still among his fallen men, the silence settling like a heavy shroud over the scene.
Glancing at his surroundings one last time, he knew he needed to move, but the fresh corpses before him presented an opportunity he couldn't ignore.
He crouched beside the nearest body, his fingers brushing the still-warm skin. The memory of his previous summoning flashed through his mind, and with it, the faint echo of power he'd felt.
Gritting his teeth, he focused, letting his mind reach out toward the body beneath him, drawing on the energy that had brought his previous undead to life.
"Wake up," he whispered, his voice low and filled with intent.
The corpse's fingers twitched, and slowly, the body stirred, its eyes opening to reveal a blank, lifeless gaze. Aiden felt a rush of satisfaction as the undead sat up, awaiting his command.
He moved to the second corpse, placing his hand on its chest, feeling the lingering warmth of life slipping away. Concentrating, he summoned the same energy, willing it into the body.
"Wake up," he commanded again.
This time, the response was faster. The corpse jolted upright, its hands clenching into fists as it settled into the same eerie stillness, awaiting orders.
One by one, he repeated the process until all three of the freshly fallen robbers rose to their feet, joining the undead he had summoned earlier. Now, six pairs of empty eyes stared back at him, each waiting, unthinking and unfeeling.
Aiden felt a surge of power, a thrill he hadn't anticipated. He was building an army, a small force that answered only to him. It was both exhilarating and terrifying, the weight of responsibility settling over him. He didn't fully understand the extent of his abilities, but he couldn't deny the satisfaction of having these silent, loyal followers at his command.
'But I can't stay here,' he reminded himself, feeling the weight of his situation press down on him.
'If those robbers came for something, others might too.'
Without a word, he gestured for the undead to follow him. They moved in unison, their footsteps heavy and uncoordinated, but obedient as they fell into line behind him.
Together, they left the clearing, Aiden casting one last glance over his shoulder at the site of the battle before disappearing into the shadows of the forest.
The deeper they ventured, the thicker the trees became, casting long shadows across the ground as moonlight filtered through the branches. Aiden led his undead followers in silence, his gaze shifting to every shadow, every rustle of leaves, his senses heightened.
His mind raced with thoughts, piecing together the fragments of what he knew. The robbers had been after something, something important enough to risk their lives. The thought gnawed at him, and he felt an uneasy suspicion take root.
'If I stay here, more will come', he thought, a chill running down his spine.
' But what exactly were they looking for?'
Unknown to him, the answer was far closer than he could have ever guessed. For he was the artifact they sought, a hidden power that none could suspect. This fact, however, remained a mystery to Aiden, leaving him to wonder why they had been drawn to this place, to him.
After wandering through the woods for what felt like hours, Aiden finally found a small clearing surrounded by thick trees and dense foliage. One particularly large tree had thick, twisted roots that rose from the ground, creating a natural hollow beneath them, large enough for him to slip into.
"This should do for now," he muttered,
Glancing around the clearing to ensure they hadn't been followed.
He directed his undead to stand guard, arranging them in a loose perimeter around his hiding spot. Their blank, unseeing eyes scanned the trees as they settled into place, motionless but alert, ready to protect him if the need arose.
Aiden crawled into the hollow, feeling the cool earth press against his back as he settled in. The night air was chilly, but he wrapped his cloak around himself, grateful for the warmth it provided. He let out a slow, steadying breath, his body finally relaxing after the night's ordeal.
In the quiet of the forest, with his undead sentries standing guard, Aiden allowed himself a moment of rest. His eyes drifted shut, his thoughts still racing as he replayed the events of the night in his mind. The power he'd wielded, the lives he'd taken, the dead he'd commanded. It all felt surreal, like a dream he couldn't quite believe was real.
And yet, as he lay there, the faint pulse of energy within him was a constant reminder of the power he now held, a power he barely understood. The memory of the amulet in his pocket tugged at him, its cool surface pressing against his side as he shifted. There were mysteries yet to unravel, secrets he had only begun to glimpse.
As he drifted into a restless sleep, one thought lingered in his mind:
'This is only the beginning.'