Pestilence: Rise Of The Pure Undead-Chapter 544 : Wisp

The world kept flashing between dark and light, orbs of light appearing within sight, disappearing as quickly as they manifested, spinning and bumpy, there was the memory of being strapped to a chair, and then being wheeled into a dark corridor, phasing through the wall as the ground subtly turned into a slope, little by little, lower and lower it went.

All around was imbued with the blackest of darkness, only the flashes of another place brought illumination.

All was silent, nothing produced the slightest of sounds- The wheel that allowed for travel should have groaned, created friction with was it passed over, but naught was produced, at least one person should be directly behind, allowing for the controlled motions of this chair, but their existence was impossible to prove, for they too were immaculately quiet.

All was dark, all was silence.

The pain that had been nearly imbued into the body was all but gone now, and nothing had gone to replace it, nothingness laid within, the physical form was hollow, or perhaps filled with something unknown, a thing that could not be so simply grasped, be it by hand, or by mind.

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At one point, flat ground was reached, whether that travel had lasted a minute or a year was impossible to tell, time held meaning no more, there was existence, there was constant, and that was it.

Senses did not go beyond self, but somehow, there was conviction that this room was impossibly large, ceiling as high as the sky above, edges as far as the distant horizons, in the center of all the dark and silence, laid the final destination.

Picked off the chair, it seemed that the restraints had come loose at one point, or had they not been there the entire time?

Limbs chained, heavy nails driven through every joint, through the heart, then, weightlessness as everything was risen, still in perfect quietness.

'I guess… I guess I am not strong enough' and as thinking returned to him, Griar's senses came alive, allowing for the dark to become see-through, even if only in a minuscule capacity.

"Foul bastards… Don't think you've won just yet"

"Indeed, we haven't won yet, it would seem that your swordsmanship is only lesser than your speech aptitude" Carnifex was standing off to the side, his arms crossed as his subordinates were once again hanging just on the edge of Griar's senses, their form unseen but presence known.

The vile mind splitter Citil was right beside him, standing around with way too much decorum for a corpse with a bloated mass of rot filled with brains and eyes.

"My mind is not yet completely broken, what is the point of this?" asked the negator, currently, he was nailed to a sort of huge object forged out of pale iron, decorated with a precious dark blue gem whose sharp point was digging into his back.

"I suppose you never bothered to learn, this is a Mort-Cross, or Cross Of Mort, this the holy symbol of our church of death, the design can vary, but the appearance of this one is the norm, Pietrus, the Church's Pontiff has personally bestowed blessings upon it, he strongly believes in culling runaways- Those who run from death, run from the good into the bad, after all" surprisingly, Carnifex provided an explanation, and it wasn't boding well for Griar.

"So what? Are you all going to try something else to get me to give in?" his efforts to break free were met with utter failure, the undead body he inhabited was immobile, not receptive to any actions he wanted to undertake.

The horned undead just shook his head, no longer responding to anything the negator might say, and instead, all undeads just waited for someone to arrive- It did not take long, in a familiar scene that may have occurred days or perhaps months ago, the vanguard's general stepped into the room, fear seized Griar with every step taken.

Something wasn't right.

With a word of death tongue, Loimos ordered the undeads around, two of which were carrying what looked like hooks upon long poles, not hesitating for a second before stabbing into Griar's flesh, there was no pain at all, but a blinding sense of dread.

"Loimos! Answer me! What the hell do you want?!" hurling whatever he could think of at the wall, it did not stick as the undead did not dignify his plea with a reply, the negator's chest being teared open as the hooks were forced into the opposite direction, revealing the dust-filled insides of a headhunter.

The dust within the chest contained the mind and soul of the person used to create this special category of undead, and what Loimos was after had been safely tucked away in the depths of Griar's living mind this entire time, a minuscule, mere grain of a wisp, shining with a potent emerald light.

The mind peelers had successfully breached the negator's defences and left an easy way in, which Loimos used to bring that wisp into his hand without moving from the spot he stood, although Griar had not truly known the exact reason why the undeads were trying to invade his mind, he had quickly realised that it was all an effort to find those who had escaped from Tamaris as the undead overwhelmed all combatants and invaded.

Griar had breathed his last before being taken away to safety, being the only of the livings who had possessed that little wisp ahead of time, having been granted it at an unknown time, out of all that had escaped, only a small portion had been carrying those, a mark that they were to be saved in priority as representing future hope.

Seeing this thing being in Loimos's possession was terrifying, Griar had resisted for a long time to stop this from happening, he did not know how, but he had been capable of sensing the joy, the peace, the healing occuring on the other side of this wisp, he had been made aware of so much, of the fear Loimos had inspired into his old companions, of the rage Milo held toward him, of the tranquillity of this other realm, allowing a being of vileness to even set foot within was out of the question.

"What is there to gain from hunting them down?! Has death not progressed far enough already?! Can you not satisfy yourself with one slaughter?!" at last, the body responded to his demands, the nails groaning as they ground up against the Mort-Cross.

Once more, Loimos did not respond.

One nail was forced out, and then another, then two more, soon enough, Griar's figure came crashing to the ground.

"Your insolence knows no bounds-" Carnifex stepped in front of his lord, hands already drawing upon the sword.

"No need" hearing Loimos's voice, the horned undead stepped away.

Similarly to his final stand as a living, the negator seemed to be flaring with newfound power, the so-called indomitable spirit of life, one might suppose.

The light blue light, indicating of his unique battle art manifested around him, a sabre finding its way into his hand somehow, despite the horror and terror nestling within him, Griar swung anyways.

With full force, this sort of strength had been enough to push back a heavily weakened Loimos, which is impressive, but even then, the outcome of that fight had been clear.

In this situation, the sabre didn't even leave a single scratch as it struck the skeleton's shoulder.

"Griar" spoke the champion, putting one hand up against the negator's shoulder "You can not defeat me"

Reaching into his chest, Loimos did what would have been done if Griar had not held value as one that lived in death, like a puppet whose strings had been cut, the headhunter collapsed to the ground.

Loimos walked away, casting the wisp onto the ground and without clamour, manifested a pathway directly to the Emerald Realm.