They moved as one, five figures walking down the abandoned street. Ahead, nestled in the town’s heart, stood the tavern they sought. Reaching it was simple, just follow the road. Keep moving forward. Don’t think of what lurks in the shadows.

  But then, the scent hit them. The smell of blood and decay crawled into their lungs, clinging to their senses like unseen fingers. It was suffocating, as if the town itself tried to choke them out. All became narrowly focused. The source of it should have been in the middle of the town. Rederick was the only one who tried looking around, noticing... nothing. No bodies, no blood, only the remnants of rotting food left to fester outside the shops. Doors stood open, the wind moving through, yet there was no sound. Only his own breath could be felt, his heartbeat heard.

  Still, the only thing to do was walk where instinct told you to go. Shadows stretched unnaturally more and more, twisting along the walls. Darkness swallowed the road in brief, suffocating intervals. As they went deeper into the village, if looking back the village would seem endless now with the darkness taking over and letting go. All felt at their hearts. Even Albaras looked tense, as if his experience was taking over his senses, just like the two Toden J?gers. Only Rederick slowed his pace, looking around, something holding him off from the engulfing darkness.

  Kian didn’t notice how he slowly disappeared in the back of the line. As Rederick’s gaze was fixed on a building beside him, his eyes narrowing at a small, hunched figure. It stood inside, a fragile posture pointing to a message scrawled onto the window.

  ′HELP.′

  Rederick lingered, as the others went on further into the village. They didn’t even notice Rederick standing still, were they too tense? Only focused on the path ahead, so unaware of their vulnerability. Knights or not, they could be struck down from behind with ease.

  Kian felt that his senses were wrong. No one took the surroundings into consideration.He looked around there had to be something. How can you notice anything if it was swallowed by darkness. Rederick he seemed a bit loose unlike the others. Kian looked around the group, Rederick he is missing. Kian spoke up. Tried to yet something, fear it could be something different yet what than. There are no words to find no lips to open. It stayed stuck as if sewn together. He wanted to stop turn around to look for Rederick yet his legs kept following Albaras.

  Albaras. Why follow him? He should be the one among us who still needed to feel… normal or at least himself. He wasn’t he didn’t have any weapons drawn but his hand was hovering over it. As if he needed to have the feeling to draw out his weapon out in a second when needed.

  A pit opened in Kian’s gut. No one here has control. His breathing shallowed.A feeling crept up his spine, coiling around his ribs. Fear. Not just fear, paranoia. He turned, scanning the alleys, the rooftops, the empty windows. The shadows moved. No, they didn’t. Or did they? No one dared look; the darkness was too thick. Rederick was gone.

  Kian wanted to coil himself up into a ball yet even with his own wanting his body denied it. Falling to his knees instead. Without thinking it He crawled himself under a building as his body caved in on itself. Trying to become one with the shadows. Even knowing that something could be in it, the liquid creeping through this town the one that already knew how to do the same like the tree.

  Morsan was the next to snap out of it. His senses returned in a rush as if he could feel how others were slowly disappearing around him, his gaze darting around to check this back in mind thought, only three of them remained. He turned sharply, tapping Methussun’s shoulder with his halberd, jolting him back to awareness.

  ′We lost the Ribbon Knight. And the kid.′ For some reason, Morsan whispered. Methussun’s grip tightened so much that metal clamped softly against metal.

  ′The kid is the priority. You and Albaras finish the mission. I’ll find the boy, maybe even save the White Knight while I’m at it.′

  Without a response, Methussun quickened his pace, trusting his comrade, moving to Albaras. He tapped him the same way Morsan had done.

  Albaras didn’t turn. But he spoke. His voice was off.

  ′Trust... me.′ Then, he turned.

  Instinct took over. Methussun staggered back, halberd raised. Albaras moved slowly, unnaturally. Black liquid seeped through the slit in his helm, dribbling down the metal like ink. Covering his purple cloth in darkness

  ′Happened... before...′ His words were disjointed, slurred. ′Nothing... happened...′

  Methussun didn’t lower his weapon, not at first. He held his ground, watching, calculating. Then, carefully, he pointed down the road. Albaras was still for a moment. Then, with a sluggish, almost too-human motion, he raised a thumbs-up.

  Morsan stood still, holding his halberd like a spear, as a horse stood before him. He reached out and tapped its side. The horse snorted sharply, tossing its head in frustration. ′How is it possible... you’re not taken over?′

  His eyes flicked around as shadowed figures loomed in the distance, watching. But they weren’t attacking. Why?

  Then, the first one stepped into the light. Then another. I shouldn’t have said that.Morsan thought grimly. Without a second thought, he swung onto the horse’s back and kicked it into a gallop. The wind lashed against him as he rode, halberd swinging, each precise strike cutting down the things that tried to lunge at him to stop the horse.

  Then, something dropped from above. A figure, plummeting off a rooftop, aimed toward him. Thwip! An arrow pierced its skull midair. The body collapsed to the ground. Twitching as it lay there for a few seconds.

  Then as if vampirized it sat upright, stiff and unnatural. Others of those things gathered around it.

  Morsan turned to see what was happening.Before he could take in what Before he could take, in what he had seen

  Boom!

  The creature’s head exploded. Black liquid sprayed outward, latching onto the bodies around it, crawling into them like living veins.

  Morsan’s gaze snapped away from the explosion, tracking the direction the arrow had come from. He steadied the horse, guiding it out of the ruined village at a gallop.

  For a moment, nothing. Then, movement. From the shadows, a figure broke into a sprint toward him. The kid.

  The horse barely slowed as Morsan leaned out, arm outstretched. At the last second, Kian leapt, catching his hand. Morsan pulled hard, and the boy landed in front of him, breathing ragged, eyes wide with fear and relief alike.

  Morsan instinctively shifted, shielding him with one arm while still wielding his halberd with the other. Kian, not missing a beat, nocked another arrow. ′Good,′ Morsan thought, glancing back at the horde. ′Let them focus on us… the others will have a better chance.′

  Rederick approached the house, sword in hand, shield raised. With a swift kick, the door swung open almost too easily, as if it had been waiting. Inside, the room was disturbingly ordinary. A wooden table sat in the center, its surface littered with long-rotten food, blackened and fused with the wood over time. The trapped stench now flooded into the open air, curling into Rederick’s lungs. He swallowed the nausea. He had no time for weakness.

  Moving through the room, he reached the narrow hallway. At the end, a staircase wound upward into silence. No crackling fire. No shifting floorboards. No whispers. Just dead, suffocating stillness. He ascended cautiously. At the top, only two doors stood before him. Left, the window, the child’s room. Right, the unknown.

  He hesitated. Something was wrong. The fog in his mind lifted, the weight of his self-loathing vanishing in an instant, leaving behind only one thought. Kian. Where is he?

  A sudden urgency overtook him. Without thinking he pushed open the door on the right. All of his instincts said to go there first.

  Inside, he found a massive corpse, a half-giant, its stomach grotesquely split open. From the ceiling, a black, pulsing tube of liquid snaked downward, feeding into the open wound. The man’s head turned, milky eyes locking onto Rederick.

  ′K-Kill me... K-kill everything you see...′

  The words barely escaped his lips before the tube convulsed as if it knew he told something, its grotesque form expanding inside his broken body. His face twisted in agony, but his voice never came—just silent, voiceless screams.

  Rederick instinctively stepped back. Retreat was the logical option. But then, a familiar, burning guilt crawled up his spine. I can’t leave someone behind. Not again. Not like I did my brother.

  With a single, decisive strike, his sword severed the liquid cord. The sound that followed was not of this world. A shrill, inhuman shriek that pierced the air, rattling his bones.

  The dying man’s eyes flared with fading life. ′Don’t… touch me… or you’ll become… the same…′ That was all he could manage before the last of him slipped away. Rederick whispered an apology to him, to God, to his brother. Then drove his blade through the man’s neck. No time to mourn. He turned and opened the other door.

  This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.

  Inside, the room was barren save for a bed. On it, something small, trembling hiding beneath a blanket. ′P-please… save me. They took my father… He died protecting me…′ A girl’s voice. Fragile, pleading.

  Rederick stepped forward. ′Don’t worry, deary. Rederick is here. Maybe you know me by another name like the White Knight? Or the Ribbon Knight?′ ′No… we don’t get visitors from the outside…′ She whispered. As she spoke Rederick didn’t hesitate, he lunged. His sword piercing the blankets in a series of rapid thrusts, aiming high, aiming for the head. As he was done, he only looked at the blankets not removing it.

  Stepping back into the hallway, he watched the unmoving bundle. Silence. Only when he closed the door did he exhale. Turning away, he made for the exit. Just in time to see a rider flash past the window. A Toten J?ger. On horseback. And it looked like he was holding onto something, Kian.

  Rederick surged forward through the window throwing his sword around a wooden beam its lint following it as it was tied around it making sure to damp the fall. As he steadied himself, something emerged from the alley. No… not something. Someone. Or what used to be someone.

  Then another. And another.

  His instincts took over taking a stance. Even then, he knew how pointless it was, Rederick instantly shifted into one meant for escape. He turned, sprinting down the path. Hoping, praying to find one of the others.

  Behind him, the shifting figures hesitated. Two broke into pursuit, while the rest slithered back into the darkness.

  Albaras and Methussun finally arrived, staring up at the towering structure before them. It looked more like an abandoned hotel than a tavern. Weapons drawn, they stepped inside, Albaras taking the left, Methussun the right. The interior was eerily clean. Dust coated the surfaces, thick with age, but nothing else seemed out of place. The air carried no foul stench, just the dry scent of wood and time. They exchanged a glance. No words were needed; they knew what had to be done.

  Albaras moved to barricade the door while Methussun began his search. It didn’t take long. The sharp clang of metal rang through the silence as he tapped his halberd against a pot, his signal.

  Albaras strode over, understanding immediately. The entrance to the cellar had been found. Methussun stayed behind, scavenging for anything that could be used to light a fire, while Albaras descended.

  Step by step, the flickering light above grew dim. Shadows stretched long as the air thickened. Then, at the very bottom, the darkness gave way to something else.

  The sight before him was both a nightmare and a revelation.

  Thick, black liquid coated the cellar like a spider’s web, glistening in the faint light. Suspended within it were dozens of bodies. Men, women, and children, hanging limply, their hollowed faces frozen in silent horror. Veins of dark fluid snaked through them, pumping something unnatural through their corpses and seeping something out of them.

  Albaras exhaled slowly. This wasn’t just a place they needed. It was their heart.

  Before he could retreat, a shape emerged from the darkness, moving closer. As Albaras fixed his gaze upon it, realization struck. He knew exactly what was coming.

  With a sharp inhale, he made a swift, precise slash. A single turn, and the head fell. The body crumpled, dark liquid pooling onto the floor, then it turned back into a human.

  Albaras barely had time to react before the second one leapt onto him. The creature clawed at his shield, its form quivering, as if it meant to spill its putrid essence onto him. But then, it stopped.

  It saw something. Something inhuman.

  Albaras was already infected.

  In that single moment of weakness, Albaras seized his chance. He shoved the creature down with his shield, pinning it to the floor. Then, with brutal efficiency, he drove his blade into its skull once. Twice. Again. And again.

  As his blade tore through flesh, the bodies hanging in the air began to shudder. The pulsing cords of liquid that had suspended them snapped, their hosts crashing to the floor. One by one, they stirred. Their eyes locking onto Albaras.

  ′Where can we find some food?′ one gurgled, thick liquid dripping from its lips.

  ′Have you found my son?′ another rasped, its voice barely human, a ghostly remnant of what once was or is.

  Their bodies twitched as their final shreds of humanity flickered in the rotting depths of their minds.

  Albaras did not answer. Instead, he laughed.

  It was not the laugh of a man. It was like an alarm.

  A sound not meant for men but for the sky itself a piercing warning that echoed off the walls of the enclosed room.

  The grotesque mass suspended above them pulsed in response, a sickening, rhythmic beat a heart, warring against the shriek of Albaras’ laughter.

  And then the battle became physical. The small horde charged. Albaras dropped his shield. No defense needed for this one. He reached for his golden axe.

  Methussun froze, his hand hovering over the cellar door as a faint clang echoed from below. He stared at it for a moment, then shook his head.

  ′Not today.′

  He placed his gear on a nearby table—supplies for Albaras when he returned—before stepping toward one of the windows. Peering out, he scanned the streets, searching for any sign of the others.

  Movement caught his eye.

  Outside, Rederick was fighting.

  His blade sank deep into the creature’s skull, the force driving it backward. But he didn’t stop there, the ribbon bound to his wrist and sword snapped taut as he yanked downward, slamming the thing into the ground. The weapon came loose, and in one fluid motion, Rederick retrieved it.

  Still clean. Still himself. Not infected yet, Methussun noted. Not possessed.

  Rolling his shoulders, he took a few measured steps back. A small crack of his neck, a deep breath then he leapt. The window shattered as he hit the ground, tucking into a roll before springing to his feet. His eyes darted left, and right.

  A thing lurched toward him. It moved fast, but not fast enough. Methussun’s halberd flashed a swift arc, a clean cut. In the blink of an eye, the creature’s head hit the ground.

  Rederick turned at the sound just as Methussun pointed toward the window. A silent signal.

  Rederick didn’t hesitate. He ran.

  Without breaking stride, he jumped. But the landing wasn’t as graceful. He hit the floor hard, coughing as he gasped for breath.

  Methussun glanced at him unimpressed.

  Morsan and Kian rode through the darkened forest, swallowed by shadows. The torchlights were gone. The pursuit, if there had ever been one, was over.

  Yet they didn’t know.

  They pressed forward, hooves pounding against the earth, their breath visible in the cold night air. Only when the moonlight pierced through the canopy, cutting through the blackness, did they see again. And even then, the darkness whispered of failure should they falter.

  Morsan slowed his horse, his grip tightening on the reins. He turned, gazing into the abyss behind them.

  And he waited.

  And waited.

  And waited.

  Methussun fought from the front porch to the middle of the street, driving back the corpses of the condemned, refusing to give even a single step.

  Rederick leaned against the shattered window, his breath steadying. For a moment, he looked almost like Albaras, a wall of sheer force, pressing forward, crushing everything in his path. With a final breath, he climbed through the frame, stepping into the open air. A sudden chill settled over him, an unnatural coldness that seemed to seep from the bodies strewn across the ground.

  He rolled his shoulders as he walked forward. His shield was long gone, abandoned in the frantic escape. But now, as he took in the scene, he saw them lurking in the dark. Not just men. Not anymore.

  Deer. Horses. Rabbits. Their lifeless forms stood unnaturally still, waiting. This was how it spread.

  Rederick yelled, hoping Methussun could hear him. ′Get back! We need to get inside!′

  Methussun didn’t react, not in any normal way. He stepped backward slowly, his eyes never leaving the horrors ahead, yet his movements were unnervingly precise, as if he already knew the path by heart.

  Rederick scrambled back through the window just as Methussun suddenly turned. In an instant, he sprinted toward the opening, leaping through it without hesitation. He landed in a flawless roll, mirroring the exact way he had left.

  Rederick barely dodged as Methussun torpedoed past him, crashing inside.

  Albaras snapped the head off one of the creatures with his bare hands, the force of his grip making a sickening crack. But there were still two more standing. His axe lay embedded in a body several paces away, and his sword was just out of reach four steps away, too far to grab.

  A chilling laugh escaped him, mingling with the shrieking sound of the orb that beat like a heart. The two creatures advanced, but Albaras did too. He reached through the black liquid as if it were nothing. Grabbing one by the skull, he blasted its head open with a single punch.Blasting its head open. The second creature gnawed at his armor. Its teeth ground against the purple cloth, now nearly shredded.

  Albaras’ armor was now dented, his leg and arm in a position that made them look like they should have been broken, but still, he moved them.

  The creature’s teeth sank with no effect. Albaras didn’t even flinch. Instead, he turned to face the final one. This one, unlike the others, looked scared, hesitation flashing in its eyes that should have been dead.

  Without hesitation, Albaras grabbed it, holding it in place. With a brutal headbutt, he crushed its skull, leaving only the remnants of a shattered face.

  Now, all that remained was the orb, the beating heart of the chaos.

  Albaras’ laughter faded, swallowed by the silence as he began climbing up the stairs, time to finish it all.

  ’Morsan, I think we need to go back,’ Kian said.’We need to help them finish the contract. Morsan held Kian tight. ’No, we have not’. They will succeed, and I have questions for you, Kian—the kid with nightmares, with a protector at his side.

  ′Wait, what? No, you can’t keep me!′ Kian struggled to get off the horse, Morsan held him firmly in place. ′Don’t fight back,′ he said calmly. ′I mean no harm—I just have a few questions for you.′

  We rode away from the forest, the trees thinning as open land stretched ahead.

  ′Kid, what is the thing you fear most?′ Morsan asked. He hesitated for a moment. ′Being abandoned,′ Kian admitted. Morsan didn’t pause. ′And how do you feel around the dead?′ Kian thought about it. ′Sometimes I feel a little nauseous. But at a distance, it’s not so bad... It gets easier the longer I look at it.′

  Morsan remained still. ′Kid, I am sorry for this.′

  Before he could finish, he yanked Kian’s hood down with the same arm that held him in place. The moment he did, Kian seized the opportunity and slipped from the horse, landing lightly on his feet. His face remained in the shadows even with the hood down, but he could tell—deep down Morsan already saw. Morsan knew exactly what stood before him now.

  He raised his halberd, pointing it in Kian’s direction. ′Kid, you’re not safe. Not here, not by the hunters.′

  That was all Kian needed to hear. Without hesitation, he turned and sprinted into the woods, vanishing into the darkness. Even as he ran, he heard the sound of hoofprints closing in.

  ′Wait, kid, hold on—it’s not—′

  Before he could finish, something shifted in the shadows. A multitude of creatures emerged, their bodies slick with an unnatural, dark liquid. Morsan pulled hard on the reins, urging his horse to flee, but the animal shuddered violently beneath him.

  Not now... There needs to be some time left, Morsan said to himself out loud.

  Morsan’s eyes locked onto his mount. Black ichor oozed from its eyes, ears, and every opening it had. So it was time, he thought, as the beast let out a sickened, gurgling noise.

  Before it could do anything else, Morsan acted. In a single, swift motion, he swung his halberd and beheaded the horse.

  ′Kid, if you’re still here, get out! I’ll hold them off!′ Morsan yelled into nothing.

  Kian watched from above, crouched on a thick branch, bow in hand. He aimed at Morsan, but after hearing his words, hesitation crept in. He didn’t have the intention to harm him.

  Below, the creatures lunged at Morsan one by one. He moved swiftly, forcing them to shift their approach. They surrounded him, but even as they closed in, two of them already lay lifeless, their bodies flickering back into the light as the liquid crept into the earth. Seven more remained.

  The battle raged on, but something else caught Kian’s attention, movement stirred in the deeper shadows ahead. More of them were coming. There would be no escape, only one way to stop it: defeat it.

  As they said in the books, destroy the heart and the bleeding will stop. Destroy its mind, and it becomes clueless.