Bro, I'm not an Undead!

Millennia of peace had the habit of dulling the senses, inhibiting cautionary stimuli and steadfastness. Sadly, this was true for both common folk, and those who claimed to stand at the heights of power. For when the world shook so fiercely, and so certainly that most, even if for a moment, were led to believe it was about to crumble, and somehow manifest a wide chasm in its midst, all that erupted was the most primal fear that clung from flesh-stripped bone.

The quaking.

The rumbling.

The shaking.

Human life had not experienced such a wide scale disaster since the Grand Wars, since the Ashing of Time, and the conquests led by self-proclaimed Kings and Warlocks spread out through history.

Now something similar had begun, when the hearts of man had experienced the longest years of peace yet.

Humans and beasts scrambled everywhere, fleeing from shelters that fell apart, from unsteady ground that decisively sank inward, taking with it those who were mere moments late in responding to its manoeuvre.

Tides and stampedes rang about, those responsible for them donning pallid faces that prophesied faith in the likely future where being unsubscribed from life in the next minutes wasn’t impossible.

And when the mind accepted that life could very well end, the truest forms of individual souls bashed against the facades living beings wore when all was bright, flat and still.

No further could all this be seen, than in a town called Harifrast, a little settlement that housed a lot of tourist sights as well as the gift of a unbearable cold. Quite like Genhuis, even when the season shifted, snow and ice remained within and around it however subdued, and the continent-wide shaking turned the mostly clear day white.

Snow flew everywhere, like the leaves of autumn strewn violently about by the wind. Visibility was murdered, and so were many when tens of thousands rushed about in a flurry, seeking shelter, loved ones or the more common option… sanity.

Many were trampled underfoot, and none of those inflicting the harm could be made to care. The chaos outward – with the wind and shaking – seemed almost comparable to that going through the minds of the citizens of Harifrast. When things got worse, some who had nobly wrestled against the tides of panicked men seeking their spouses, children and kin gave up.

Each for themselves and the Deities for them all.

What was this condemnation?

Who had brought on this disaster?

As if this madness was insufficient, a more tame grumble added to the quake from the ground, its advent heard faintly from the distance before it brought on its true nature.

It was a nigh on endless wave of beasts that passed, rushing from nearby forests, Sacred and otherwise.

Like a thick, coloured wave from the ocean, they crashed through Harifrast with the same fear, blindness and resilience as man were stricken with. None of the Knights and guards stationed around the town made a difference, for they too had been smitten silly by the sudden turn of events, some making attempts to rush to their own loves ones and others simply fleeing.

The brave ones were drowned under the paws and hooves of different beasts sharing a once in a lifetime journey to safety despite previous hostilities, and a lot of blood was shed.

The wails of fully grown men, the cries of children and the coos of infants could be heard amidst the loud shudders of Feinheath.

It seemed like the end of the world.

But it wasn’t.

No yet.

For the quaking reached a pause – following a less than smooth transition from its loud roar.

All seemed to settle, revealing the carnage that had been left behind in the wake of the strongest fear possessing living-kind – ripped, torn, shredded, mangled and trampled flesh mostly. Structural redecoration where top became bottom, side becoming up and floor turning oblique could be found everywhere.

Prized mansions were shattered, historic relics were devoured by the ground underneath, and most common of all, everything was bathed in white and frost.

Those who fled had not gotten far, and those who hadn’t were far into the afterlife.

Harifrast truly mirrored the scenes in more than a few settlements within the human continent, yet it seemed like the people who settled here were somehow chosen to be more worse off compared to others.

Those who survived this ordeal, however, could afford to emit breaths of relief.

The earthquake. It had passed.

Those who had managed to escape with most of their families intact – whether man or beast – were most grateful and held them so tight it might have been impossible to pry them apart. Those who lost everything but themselves could only embrace their own arms and tremble at the thought of rebuilding life and love again, if that was even possible. Those of strong hearts and minds, couldn’t help but think more over what was going on instead.

Why was there such a sudden quaking?

It seemed far from natural.

It had never happened before in most people’s lifetimes.

So why?

To this question, the world seemed inclined to give a response. One not very soothing, reassuring or truly satisfactory.

The survivors in Harifrast felt the ground shake again, but it was not to flip the world about again.

Instead, it was merely for ominous ambiance.

A great tower rose in the sights of the miscoloured humans, casting a dreadful shadow onto their images. As it soared in height slowly and thoroughly, it cast a darkness in those whom its shadow touched, chasing away hope, relief and even breath.

Never had such a thing existed in Aigas.

Even the beasts that looked on could testify.

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How could that be when the conical behemoth before them featured mangled images on its surface that seemed nothing like artistry, but more like vile sorcery meant to banish monsters?

How could relief not flee when the sheer presence of the tower seemed toxic, breathing out in low whispers an energy denser than air and mana, its silent waves so hostile, that they killed several with the first touch?

Unlike with the great trembling moments ago, none saw it fit to scream or run.

The leaf green tower marred with what looked like dark, exotic algae aged to filth through eons, demanded silent demise. The Primus it emitted offered it to the common folk with momentary ease, and then to the awakened combatants in minutes.

By the time the tower rose to its full height at a staggering four hundred meters, with a similar girth, nothing remained to gaze at its magnificent figure with the backdrop of the arching sun darkening its face.

***

Gillewart wore a grave expression.

His monocle reflected light from the second sun in the sky that for once, shone brighter than the natural one. He expelled a great deal of mana which flushed down to Genhuis City, quelling most of the effects of the great trembling around the large settlement.

The vibrations coursing from the city were no greater than the ones that would make a water glass wobble lightly because of this, and many of those within the city seemed largely settled.

The City Guardian’s eye scrolled across the settlement from his height over a large, broad building – a popular Inn – and he only felt partially grateful that he had responded in time. The minute or so it took him to react to the violent quake of the continent had cost quite of lot Plasma Coins worth of damage to important infrastructure, not to mention lives.

That said, the opposing feeling Gillewart felt was because… the city was mostly empty compared to its full capacity. Everyone had vanished to the Premium Age Royale as always, which would have made him entirely grateful, but he wasn’t sure the fates of the people were any better there than here.

After all, that old hag had left him a message before she suddenly fled along with all of her six colleagues from the tall, lean towers of Genhuis City.

‘This city is no longer worth guarding, boy. It will have a new lord soon,’ she had said.

This had greatly angered Gillewart at the time, but right now, he felt more frustrated and frightened than anything else.

What did she mean?

Why had those seven Diviners suddenly decided to run away?

  Did they know that something bad was going to already? Then why not share it so that it could prevented?

Gillewart grumbled.

Now that he thought to it, could he count on Ruhrees to have taken care of the situation at the Venue for the Royale given what he had just been told?

He didn’t know anymore.

Gillewart looked over to the Mages scattered around the city to assist him in stabilising the foundation of the settlement. Since most Capital Service personnel remained to back him up, this whole ordeal turned out much easier, though he would have appreciated a few more helping hands from the mercenaries that had burst out of the Guilds Association building when the great trembling began.

Some of them were scattered around the city, doing what they could to help, but most were only focusing on the quaking, wondering where it was coming from. The same was true with the Priests from the Temple, and of course the Mages from Reacher Academy.

Both groups had people stationed in the sky or tall buildings to search for oddities outside the safety of Gillewart’s veil of stability-inducing mana.

On any other day, Gillewart would have yelled at them, but today, all he could do was keep it all in thought.

The shuddering suddenly stopped.

At this, the Priests reacted first.

Several of them dashed towards the wall to Gillewart’s left, much to his confusion.

He understood why seconds later, when a great tower started to rise from outside the city wall, a malevolent air flowing from it quietly while its dark shadow cut across the large settlement.

Gillewart shook when the cylindrical structure, partly leaning to the side, horrible symbols carved onto it, rose to a height of six hundred meters in seconds. The Priests expelled bursts of a radiant Primus energy out of their hands, and it quickly rushed to counter that which seemed to spread through the city through from the tower’s shadow.

Still, the cruel presence smote many, even if not as hard as intended.

Gillewart mobilised his sense and rushed to the great tower, Nitros already colouring an outline around him.

That tower was incredibly dangerous. Whatever it was for, he couldn’t allow it to see fruition.

As he reached the top of the city wall, however, Gillewart found that he was too late.

Down below, at the foot of the tower, the vile green exterior muddled with dark algae had already partly collapsed as if made of stacked cards, and something treacherous had walked out, taking its first steps into the light.

This something then turned its head up and gazed into Gillewart’s eyes with a crimson pair of its own.