Rebirth of the Undead King: Book 2

by Ink Bamboo

  “No, I insist,” said Amro, reaffirming the firmness of his position. “In fact, I’m eager to visit your true self after all of this is over. And when I do, I’ll take the time to solve the current issues plaguing my church.”

  “Issues?” Argent asked, his instincts warning him of Amro’s true intentions.

  “Yes,” confirmed Amro. “I’m afraid all of you have strayed from the true path for far too long.”

  Argent didn’t answer, the mind of his true body alarmed to the point the connection with his puppet had momentarily faltered. Only after what seemed like an eternity did he react, looking back at the face of the boy who was still evaluating his every move, doing his best to answer with a straight face. “I’ll be waiting for you then, my lord.”

  “Good,” said Amro, taking out a white pearl from his pocket, a swirling vortex visible within. Casually, he pointed it in Argent’s direction. “See you then.”

  *Thud*

  Losing contact with the puppet-master behind the curtains, the body of the king finally laid silent. Amro had forcefully broken the connection between their souls. It was a move that would surely damage the man’s soul wherever he was, but not one Amro particularly cared about. He knew Argent’s attitude had been a charade all along, a futile attempt to avoid inciting the full extent of his wrath.

  Luckily for him, Amro was a man of his word. In exchange for having interfered with his duel against Alexandra, he had chosen to give him another chance. One he had partially granted because he still had uses for the man.

  ✽✽✽

  Reality and illusion returned to one, and Zaros felt Amro using his foot to walk over the king’s body. Defeated, the man was now laying on his back, limbless and dead. Some might have said it was an act of disrespect to treat a dead man in this way, but unsurprisingly, neither Amro nor Zaros really cared. Some people didn’t deserve peace. Not even in death.

  “It’s done,” said Amro. “With this, I’ve fulfilled my side of the deal.”

  “Thanks,” said Zaros. For the past few minutes, he had seen Amro fight against both the young girl and the king. Secretly lurking in the darkness, his mentor had managed to assassinate both of them without spending a great deal of effort.

  Some dialogues were exchanged between them, but for the most part, Zaros still felt ignorant about what they were speaking. He felt like asking for an explanation, but something deep within him told him he shouldn’t. Amro would explain the truth on his own time.

  “What now?” eventually asked the boy. He was still partially shaken by the fight, its revelations and destruction leaving his mind in a similar state.

  “Well,” said Amro, “now, we reap the benefits of the aftermath. This is a victor’s privilege.”

  “What do you mean?” asked Zaros. He was slightly confused by the statement. “What is there to gain from what’s happened in this kingdom?”

  “Watch.”

  ✽✽✽

  Magnus was nervous. Running through the alleys of the city, he had insistently searched for Erin everywhere he could. Unfortunately, he was yet to find her. And given what had happened with the cardinal and his followers, he couldn’t feel at ease with that fact.

  Moreover, a series of equally surprising events had followed.

  The first of them had been the collapse of the soul-puppeteered civilians in the city. Those who had been fighting the drone-like horde had noticed their unresponsiveness in all but a moment’s notice. Following the first, the rest of them had fallen to the ground on their own accord, their consciousness withdrawn to somewhere unknown.

  The second shocking event was the collapse of the city walls. The blood-inscribed glyphs in its rocky surface had lit aglow, melting with them the stones that made up the towering structure. Free from the muddling influence of the magical formation, Magnus had been able to regain part of his strength. The mana in the environment answering his call once more.

  But none of that mattered. Not to Magnus, anyway. All he cared for in this moment was finding Erin. If the goddess had kept true to her word, then she had to be alive. Something he intended to confirm as he extended his control over the environment’s mana to cover the entire city.

  “Erin!” shouted Magnus. He had sensed a weak trace of her aura in the distance. If not for his extreme familiarity with it, he would have probably missed it. “I’m coming!”

  Running with all of his strength, Magnus eventually reached a desolate area in the middle of the city. Buildings were destroyed in the surroundings, with only one person still on his feet, standing there alone amidst the rubble. A young man, probably in his early teens. Someone who Magnus felt an odd sense of familiarity with.

  “Who are you?” asked Magnus. In the scan he had done moments ago, Erin was meant to be by herself. Seeing the young man standing next to her was surprising, to say the least.

  “Your salvation,” said Amro, his demeanor back to his cold, royal-self. “Or hers, if you want to be precise.”

  Magnus turned to look below Amro, finding a young girl coughing blood at his feet. Immediately, he ran next to her, raising her from the ground as he took her into his arms. The cold, divine aura that had surrounded her in the past was gone. She was back to her normal self.

  “Erin,” said Magnus, tears dropping from his eyes. “You’re alive...”

  “But she won’t be for long,” added Amro’s voice, interrupting their meeting.

  Magnus glared at Amro with threatening eyes, only to recoil back when he saw the boy’s indifferent own. Amro was looking right through him without any difficulty, much like the goddess had done in the past. Firm and unchanging, he seemed not to care for what Magnus’s thoughts really were.

  “Not in the way you’re thinking,” continued Amro. “Her soul has been damaged to a point beyond what any mortal can take. If you don’t believe me, you are free to check.”

  Following Amro’s prompt, Magnus focused his senses into Erin, using the mana in the environment to check the state of her origin. It turned out to be the right choice. Much like Amro had described, she was in a condition where no one would consider her alive. A significant percentage of her soul had been damaged. Concentrating, Magnus could see that the parts of her soul that used to be covered by her church’s brand had been burned away, likely by that same flame that had wiped out the rest of the clergy in the area.

  “Who are you?” asked Magnus. Very few were as knowledgeable about the soul as someone who had delved into the arcane for decades. It was knowledge that was considered taboo even back in the mainland.

  “You can call me Zaros,” said Amro, once again assuming the identity of his host. “And like I said, I am her salvation.”

  ✽✽✽

  Facing Amro while on his knees, Magnus finally lowered his head. Kissing the foot of the boy, the proud mage did something he had sworn he would never do again. “I swear my allegiance to you.”

  “Good,” said Amro, taking out the white marble from his pocket. “We can begin. Are you sure you want us to follow through with this?”

  “Yes,” said Magnus. He had done hundreds of divinations, all telling him he would find Erin’s savior amidst this forgotten kingdom. Being given a chance to trade his mortal life in order to save her from eternal damnation, he didn’t need a moment to reconsider. “Even if it takes all of my life-force, please save her.”

  “I respect your resolution,” said Amro. “Fine.”

  Taking hold of the white marble in one hand, and placing the other over Magnus’s head, Amro’s eyes suddenly lost their focus. Not letting another moment of time fly past him, the fallen god started muttering words in a language long forgotten.

  “Pretium vitae mors est.”

  “Mors pretium vitae est.”

  Seconds became minutes, and slowly, Magnus felt himself withering away. This ritual was something he had agreed to, for according to the boy before him, only a shell made of life-force was enough to nurture Erin’s soul back to health. Unfortunate
ly for him, that life-force needed to come from a willing individual. Forcefully extracting it from someone else would taint it, making it unviable for their current purpose.

  Looking at Erin’s weak figure, Magnus had not hesitated to accept Amro’s offer. The boy had more than proven his capability. Showing the mage control extending beyond his own over the Church of Death’s artifact was only one amongst many ways he had done so. With that display, Magnus had been convinced the boy was the figure of his prophecies.

  In exchange for saving his granddaughter, Amro had requested only one thing: Undying loyalty. An allegiance that would extend beyond both of their deaths. Obedience that would have to be placed even above his own morals and principles.

  Conditions Magnus had agreed to without thinking twice.

  Eventually, amidst Amro’s unceasing chants, a white silhouette exited Erin’s body. Being on the verge of death, Magnus was able to unlock the spirituality he needed to see it with his own two eyes. It was Erin’s soul. Damaged, fragile, and close to extinction, but much to his fortune, still alive.

  Confused and disoriented, the girl’s soul looked upon her own body, the realization of her own death sinking into her astral consciousness.

  “Do not worry,” said Amro, finally speaking the common tongue. “It’s still not your time.”

  “Time?” The spirit looked at him in confusion and annoyance. Up to a few minutes ago, she had been merged with the consciousness of her goddess, something she had considered the ultimate blessing. Alas, it was this same boy standing before her who had forcefully caused their separation. She still remembered the thousands of curses Alexandra had thrown his way upon her departure.

  Sensing the girl’s hesitation to approach him, Amro shook his head. “Child,” he said. “How about you listen to your elders?”

  Extending the hand carrying the white marble, a gentle vortex formed upon the insides of the artifact. Before the spirit of Erin even had time to react, it had latched onto her, slowly drawing her inside.

  “Please,” said Magnus. “Do not fear it.”

  The spirit turned to look at her former guardian, the sense of confusion she had been feeling multiplying several times over. Forming a part of Alexandra’s self, she had been able to pry into several truths. Magnus’s identity being a part of them.

  Unfortunately for her, that momentary distraction was all Amro needed. Before Erin even had the chance to turn and look back at the boy, the vortex had finished drawing her into the marble, her soul disappearing within its milky interior.

  “It’s done,” said Amro, turning to look at Magnus’s withering figure. “She’s safe now.”

  “Good,” said the old mage, the last breath of life leaving his mouth. “Please take care of her.”

  “I will,” said Amro, waiting as Magnus closed his eyes for the last time. “But so will you.”

  From white, the marble gradually changed its color back to its usual black hue. As two parts of the same coin, life and death shared the same principles. Having received Magnus’s promise of undying loyalty, Amro was not letting this opportunity pass him by.

  “And this,” said Amro, now speaking to the consciousness of Zaros watching everything within him. “This is how we benefit from our acts.”

  Following Amro’s words, black flames converged upon Magnus’s body, the essence of death gathered around the city serving as their fuel. Consuming the old man’s flesh, the flames continued doing their work until only bones were left behind. But they didn’t stop there. Instead of vanishing, the black embers dug deeper into what was left of Magnus, fusing with his remains.

  “Watch carefully, boy. This is what true life after death should look like.”

  “Are you planning to make an undead out of him?” asked Zaros. His tone carried a little unpleasantness, for he had seen undead many times in the past few months. They were always empty husks of their former selves, creations without any will of their own. Up to this point, he was convinced they were nothing but an affront on their past living-selves.

  “Yes,” answered Amro, sensing some of Zaros’s hesitation. “But not the kind you know of. By all means, he will not be like those fake monstrosities you have previously encountered. No, he will be beyond that. He will retain his will, his memories, and if circumstances permit, the desire to take care of his granddaughter. You wouldn’t rob a man of that, would you?”

  Zaros found himself in silence, his mind conflicted over Amro’s sudden offer. If he understood correctly, Amro wanted the old mage to serve as his guardian. An un-living extension of himself that would permit the boy to take further risks in his path for improvement. A basic requirement for what his partner had in mind.

  “Fine,” said Zaros, eventually agreeing to Amro’s offer. So far, this other part of himself had never betrayed him. Not to his knowledge at least. Compromising on things like this was the least he could do for him, as he had taken his past former self and granted him the only thing he wished for. “I hope it is as you say.”

  Nodding, Amro smiled, his face full of certainty as he accepted the boy’s decision. “You won’t regret it.”

  Raising the black marble on his hand, Amro channeled some of his energy, directing it into the bones lying at his feet. And using what many would consider an unholy ritual, he voiced a word that had been spoken many times before in history.

  “Rise.”

  Epilogue

  Unending.

  Drops of morning dew reflected what little light shone to mark the start of a new day. A sunrise that looked like no other, for the morning star behaved dully, lacking the warmth it usually carried. Together with the rain, it was a sign of the future that awaited the rebels.

  It was in this morning that Richard opened his eyes into two tiny slits, restlessness dictating the end of his sleep. What should have been a peaceful night of rest, that would allow him to heal his wounds, had turned instead into a nightmarish time full of doubt and uncertainty. One that forced him to reflect on the future.

  Annoyed by the uncanny feeling, Richard rose from his bed, shaking his head as he tried to recover his usual state of mind. Thousands of people had died, and once the towns and villages got the news, there would surely be endless waves of disturbances. Trouble that would most likely come his way, naming him as the one responsible.

  But it didn’t end there. Villagers and townsfolk were not all that he would be up against. Something much worse awaited him — the Church of Light.

  He had seen it with his own eyes. Trained paladins and clerics, followers of the same faith burning in a golden fire that didn’t care for their bodies. The screams, the way the contorted, it was all still fresh in his memory. If what had happened to them ended up being placed on his shoulders, no place on earth would be safe for him anymore.

  “Damn it!” yelled Richard. Why couldn’t things just go the way he wanted them to? He had schemed for years to get this city back under his control. Countless nights had been spent formulating plans, ironing out alliances, tailoring every little detail so that he would one day be victorious. But now? It was all ruined. Torn to shreds because of circumstances that were truly never in his control.

  Trying to calm himself, Richard got out of bed, removing the clothes that had been used to cover his injuries after the battle. Feeling the need to focus his mind on something else, he started examining the building he had taken as his own. One of the few that had survived the disastrous events on the day before.

  It was then that he noticed two silhouettes reflected on a murky crystal that served as the house’s window. Something he felt fortunate about, as glass was rare to see even in the homes of most nobles. Focusing, he could eventually make out who it was. Arkus and Katherine, two members of the council who were surely as worried as him about their own futures.

  Opening the door, Richard let them in, ushering them towards two empty chairs in the house’s living room. The half-finished drinks and scattered tools told the story of the original owners. P
eople who had probably fallen victim to the spell formation alongside the rest.

  Arkus looked around, shaking his head in sadness, finally releasing a sigh as he took his seat. Looking one more time towards Katherine and seeing her nod, he turned back towards Richard, a hint of disappointment in his eyes. With a tone that betrayed the content of his question, he eventually asked, “Did you sleep well?”

  “No,” Richard stated firmly. “I didn’t sleep at all.”

  “Neither did we,” said Arkus. “Everyone’s been busy.”

  “How so?” asked Richard. Focused as he was on the future that awaited him, he had spent most of the night considering his own options. He had already delegated the work of moving the dead and searching for survivors, not bothering to deal with it himself.

  “Jan has been busy convincing the officers and troops to see this through,” explained Arkus. “No one wants to live in a barren city. They already did that for almost a decade. Moreover, they already know it was the Church of Death that caused this, and they fear what reprisals may come their way for stopping them. If not for Katherine calming them down, they would have already left without reconsidering.”

  “And just how did you do that?” asked Richard, turning to look towards the woman in question.

  “Concessions,” answered Katherine. “The troops were easy to convince after we promised part of the land around the city. Convincing the rest, however, won’t be as easy. They were outside the city when it all happened, Richard. Even with the troops telling them all about it, deep down they don’t truly believe it. I’m afraid you will have to speak with them. In the past, it was you who convinced them to come together. You have to do so again.”

  Kneading the temples of his head, Richard released his worries in the form of a grunt. As if worrying about the rest of the kingdom and two churches wasn’t enough, he now had to worry about his own followers. It was fortunate that at least the troops had been dealt with. As they were mostly former soldiers, nobles, and mercenaries, they were still rather easy to blind with greed.