Rebirth of the Undead King: Book 1

by Ink Bamboo

  The party of mercenaries took a moment to regain their breath before they got ready to depart and continue the search for the boy’s corpse. As far as they were concerned, the poison should have finished its job by now. They were about to leave the spasming wolf to his own fate when they saw a silhouette approach them from within the forest thickets.

  The figure seemed oddly familiar. Wasn’t that the boy they had chased for the last hour or so?

  Zac raised his brows in doubt. Did he decide to come back and surrender himself? Perhaps he had sensed the poison’s effect and decided to beg for mercy. If that was the case, Zac was more than happy by the situation’s development.

  The archer at his side, on the other hand, thought differently. He was more familiar with his own poisons than anyone else. Just how can he still be alive? he thought. That poison was more than enough to take down a beast, much less a regular village boy.

  Before they could think anything else, the mercenaries felt an instinctive fear crawl through their spines. It suppressed any idle thought they were having the moment the boy’s appearance was fully revealed. The cause wasn’t his appearance, for he looked exactly the same as he had some minutes ago. It was something else. Something darker, harder to understand.

  The air around the boy seemed to have changed. No longer were his legs trembling with fear and exhaustion. Now, only arrogance and confidence remained in each of his steps. Something about him was fundamentally different.

  The mercenaries’ instincts screamed at them to run, to hide, to do as much as they could to get away from the boy. Alas, their opportunity to do so was eradicated once the boy spoke.

  "So are you the ones responsible for harming my vessel?" asked the boy, his voice filled with unquestionable authority.

  Silence, however, was the only answer he received. None of the mercenaries could find the strength to answer. They were bound to remain silent by the aura of oppression exuding from their previous target. His presence alone reminded them of the fear of death ingrained in every living being.

  “I guess it will take some time before I can control that,” said the boy. Seeing that the mercenaries were unable to answer, he had quickly lost his interest. These men were not worthy of him uttering another word.

  Bored by their cowardice, the boy’s eyes moved onto another target. The dying wolf next to them.

  The beast whimpered in fear, for his instincts were far sharper than a human’s. Unlike the mercenaries, he could understand the meaning of the existence before him. Alas, he had no choice but to lay on the ground, unable to escape the being approaching his side.

  "Don't fight it, embrace it, let it take you whole," said the boy, a solemn look on his face as he knelt next to the wolf. His expression carried the vicissitudes of time. It felt lonely, yet reliable.

  The wolf whimpered, carrying all his regrets within his cry. All living beings instinctually rejected death.

  The youth smiled and nodded as he stroked the wolf's fur, placing his face on top of the beast's. "If it makes it easier for you, I'll let you have your revenge," he said. "Embrace it, forget about everything else. I am one to keep my promises."

  The wolf closed his eyes after sensing the truthfulness behind the boy’s words. The remaining threads of life inside him snapped and the fire of his life-force extinguished. Following what the boy had instructed, the beast let go of his fears, entrusting his regrets into the boy’s hands.

  The boy smiled as his hands kept petting the wolf’s fur gently. His touch was as tender as a mother’s, and each stroke of his hands vanished a regret from the beast’s mind. The movement of his hands slowed over time, stopping only when the beast breathed its last.

  "Welcome, to the next stage of nature, young one. As promised, it's time for your revenge."

  The eyes of the mercenaries opened wide at the phenomena happening in front of them. Decades worth of decay assaulted the body of the wolf as a now skeletal body rose from the ground. The group of men felt their sense of reality snapping at the sight.

  What they saw defied their understanding of the world. It challenged everything they believed as common sense. As mercenaries from the outskirts of the kingdom, they had never heard of something like an undead beast, much less seen the birth of one.

  As if he was unaware of their plight, the boy rose up and patted the undead wolf's head. His treatment towards the wolf remained as gentle as it had been during the creature’s life. Strangely enough, his actions seemed more natural now that the beast was made out of bone.

  The boy’s fluid movements just intensified the fear inside the men's hearts. What kind of mentality did it take for someone to pet such a transgression of nature?

  "Go, have your fun," said the young boy, a smile covering his face. With those words left behind, he turned his back to the mercenaries, leaving the wolf to its own mission.

  The idea to follow after the boy didn't cross Zac's thoughts this time. The thought of being punished by his captain was pushed even farther back as he faced the imminent threat in front of him. An insult to life stood in his path.

  The wolf stood there, completely motionless. Its eye sockets were devoid of life, but the mercenaries could feel its gaze over them. It felt unnatural and repulsive. If it was not for the pressure, the boy had been exerting moments ago, they would have already acted on their instinct to run.

  The moment the boy vanished over the horizon, Zac and his comrades separated in fear, running towards the forest in an attempt to save themselves from the unknown creature. Their movements, however, served as a trigger to the beast’s own.

  Seeing them move, the wolf pounced at them. Thanks to the boy’s intervention, his wish for revenge would finally be granted.

  If only our revenge was that easy, thought Amro, watching from a distance. He was now a fragment of his former self, no longer a god, but a mere shadow. Despite that, the certainty of achieving his goals remained as absolute as it had been before his fall. It wasn’t arrogance, but confidence.

  Alas, those goals would have to wait. For now, Amro had decided to focus on a much simpler task. He would get revenge for his host and finish his side of their deal.

  He looked towards the sky, enjoying the sight of the blanket of night covering the firmament. It was a sight he had long forgotten. A beautiful one at that. Being back in the mortal world had its benefits.

  Amro’s steps grew steady as he moved northwards, back to his host’s village. Therein lied his next targets. As he did, he confirmed Zaros’s consciousness remained asleep. The shock of a near-death experience was not an easy task for a mortal to overcome. The boy still needed time to rest.

  For now, the forest remained silent as night finished claiming the sky. Its inhabitants refused to make any noises as if calling attention to themselves carried unimaginable danger. Enjoying this peace, Amro made his way swiftly towards the village. There was still a death quota to fulfill.

  Chapter 04

  Revenge’s first steps.

  Amro made his way to the village in his new host’s body. There were many things he had to do before he could achieve his own revenge. Upholding his end of the deal with Zaros was only one of them. The young man had given him a chance to erase his regrets. In exchange, it was only fair for him to put in some effort as well.

  His steps were light and graceful, helping him reach the entrance to the village within minutes. Fortunately for him, the rest of the mercenaries were waiting inside, mumbling among themselves. It saved him the time hunting them down would have taken.

  “Where’s Zac? He and his party are taking too long to return,” a man complained. He was the captain of the group, the one responsible for the entire operation. After waiting for couple hours, his patience towards his missing subordinate had started to get thin.

  “I bet he is just searching for stragglers, sir,” said someone else who was trying to appease him.

  “And I bet he is just avoiding work. Isn’t it weird that he left when we were j
ust about to burn everything down?” complained another mercenary.

  “If he is not here by night, I’ll have him strung up by his legs and dragged by our horses once we find him,” added the captain in anger. Zac’s constant slip-ups had led him to lose his temper, especially so since he let a young man escape.

  After killing everyone in town and taking all their valuables, the mercenaries were getting ready to burn the corpses in order to get rid of the evidence of foul play. The absence of Zac and his party were the only thing keeping the captain from setting everything on fire.

  As the group complained amongst themselves, Amro’s figure finally approached. He strode inside the village without much care for their presence, spending no effort to hide himself.

  One of the mercenaries spotted him immediately and reported it to the rest of the group. “Sir, someone is approaching!”

  The captain turned to the incoming figure. It was only a youth still early in his teens. Aside from the amber eyes boring into his own, nothing special could be said about the boy.

  The captain frowned as he seemed to recall something. Wasn’t this the youth his party had met earlier that day? It made sense if it was him who Zac was looking for. Perhaps the kid played a fast one on his scout, causing him to lose his tracks on the forest.

  With his aura suppressed, the mercenaries had no clue of the power coursing through Amro’s borrowed body. Years of waiting inside his phylactery had made him impatient to have some fun. Seeing the eventual desperation on the faces of humans as they realized the impossibility of their survival was one way to achieve that goal, despite how twisted it may seem.

  For Amro, containing his aura wasn’t a hard task. It was only a matter of growing used to his body. Moments ago, when he met the mercenaries in the forest, he had just taken control of Zaros physique. During that time, he had been unable to contain his aura. Now, however, he had managed to hide it from prying eyes, looking no different from a regular boy.

  “Someone bring him to me for questioning,” ordered the captain.

  A young and lanky mercenary approached Amro. He believed himself to be smarter than the rest of mercenaries who had attacked the town with him. Taking this chance to please their contractor was an opportunity to enter the army. Even though being a mercenary had its advantages, freedom being one of them, the pay received by a soldier was worth the compromise.

  Amro watched the lanky youth’s approach with a sneer on his face. He found it specially fun to crush the spirit of arrogant youngsters. Seeing the despair surface on their faces when they realized their own weakness was a guilty pleasure of his.

  “Kneel,” ordered Amro. His voice carried hints of boredom as if just dealing with the young man was something beneath him.

  An invisible pressure assaulted the young mercenary as an unquestionable urge to kneel filled his body, leaving him with no choice but to obey. All of his instincts urged him not to move without his target’s permission, lest his life be forfeit.

  The captain stared at the lanky mercenary with confusion in his eyes. He couldn’t help but ignore the other mercenaries’ mocking laughter. Why had he kneeled? Was he somehow afraid of the kid? His instincts told him there was something more than what appeared to be on the surface.

  Amro approached the kneeling mercenary, using the height advantage to place his hand on the young man’s forehead. A displeased expression appeared on his face as he voiced his next command. Had Amro been at his full strength, the youth wouldn’t even have been able to approach him without fainting on his own.

  “Die,” Amro ordered. His voice carried unrefusable authority, giving the target of his command to option but to obey.

  Just like that, without any fanfare, the young mercenary’s body collapsed to the ground — lifeless.

  Amro stretched his hand, grabbing something escaping the body of the dead man. Earlier that day, he had promised Zaros to help him achieve his revenge. It made him question whether letting the mercenaries reincarnate would count as a slight to his promise. Thus, in order to avoid any troubles, he decided to take care of their souls as well.

  A small speck of grey light squirmed inside Amro’s hand, refusing to be contained. Unfortunately, it lacked the strength to escape, and could only struggle in vain. Seeing the useless strife of the soul in his hands, Amro used his power to ignite it ablaze. After that, he waited for the soul to start burning on its own before tossing it toward the rest of the mercenaries, allowing them to see the price of blocking his path.

  From the mercenaries’ point of view, their comrade had collapsed on his own, making a joke out of himself. The uncommon reaction unleashed laughter amongst the battle-hardened mercenaries, words of ridicule streaming constantly out of their mouths.

  However, the captain and those with cautiousness in their nature could sense that there was something strange going on. They knew that there was no way for someone to react so dramatically unless they were legitimately scared. However, once they saw Amro throw something their way, their suspicions became a reality.

  Initially, the boy’s toss seemed like an empty gesture, something done just to mock them. That, however, wasn’t surprising. Most mortals held no magical talent, and definitely not the amount needed to perceive a soul’s very essence. Amongst the mercenaries, only the captain was fortunate enough to sense a disturbance in the surroundings. He instinctively rolled away, not even taking the time to warn his subordinates.

  As he did, the burning soul landing onto the group of mercenaries, killing everyone caught in the blast radius with soul fire. The captain alone managed to escape the explosion. Sweat rolled down his back as his mind filled with shock.

  The waves of pressure assaulting his senses reminded the captain of the old master who had built the neighboring kingdom’s mage division. Had he not seen the young boy throw something their way, he wouldn’t have believed him to be responsible for the deaths of his comrades. How was it possible for a child to muster such an absurd amount of magical power?

  Amro smiled, entranced by the chaotic feeling of wailing souls. It was common knowledge amongst gods that when a mortal died, their soul would leave for the reincarnation cycle. However, even to this day he was ignorant about what happened when a soul was destroyed.

  This uncharted territory provided endless amount of entertainment to someone who had seen it all. A soul’s death, to his eyes, was a spectacle worth treasuring, no matter how many times he witnessed it. Such deaths were pure, unadulterated, blessed by an eternal nothingness. Ah, the beauty of the unknown. This was a realm of knowledge even he, a former god, was unable to comprehend. He would be willing to sacrifice all living things just for a chance to peer into it further.

  Seeing the youth in contemplation, the captain stood still on the ground. His mind operated at its fastest speed, trying to decipher how he could appease the youth in front of him. Could this boy be a legendary being, hidden amongst common folk? He had no way to know, but every second the youth spent in silence would be an extra second for him to rearrange his thoughts and fix his composure.

  Amro enjoyed the spectacle from the burning souls until the very last one of them eternally departed from existence. Only when the last languishing soul had its last moment did he turned to look at the pale-faced captain. A sadistic smile crept up his face. This particular specimen might be of some use to him.

  “Kneel,” ordered Amro.

  The captain did not dare to disobey. Ignorant as he was, he recognized the difference in power between him and the young man. He knelt obediently as he cursed the day he was given an order to attack the villages from this forest.

  “Speak, who is behind this?” said Amro, going straight to the point.

  The captain felt troubled after hearing this question. Even if the answer pleased the mage in front of him, he would still lose his life at the hands of his king once his betrayal came to light. On the other hand, if he was to displease the mage right now, his life would probably be forfeit all the
same.

  “Honorable mage, I was foolishly blinded by greed and followed my king's orders. Please appease your anger. I’m sure my king would reward you handsomely if you were to overlook this situation and pledge your services to him.”

  Amro frowned. Him? Bow to a mortal man? It had been eons since such a notion was even considered. Oh, how the mighty have fallen, for him to be looked down upon this much.

  “Such a stupid notion is not worthy of my answer,” he said. “Speak. What kingdom do you serve?”

  The captain was not surprised. High ranking mages were always arrogant and aloof, often looking down on the rest of the world. Having one of them accept an offer would never be an easy task. The best he could do right now was to attempt to entice him with as many different resources as he could think of.

  This part of the continent lacked those talented in the arcane, if he could get one to serve his kingdom, he would be handsomely rewarded.

  As such, his answer followed the highest of etiquette. Bowing down, he continued, “I serve the kingdom of Nyx, honorable mage. I’m sure my king would be happy to grant you a fiefdom of your own if you joined his side. You don’t have to care about the loss of this small village.”

  Amro frowned. Even if he placed little value on the lives of the peasants who died in this town, he had made a deal with Zaros. One which he planned to keep. Not doing so would bring dissonance between him and his new partner, something which could spell trouble for their future.

  “Thank you,” said Amro, bringing an expression of surprise in the bowing captain. “You’ve saved me the trouble of interrogating you any further.”

  The captain went pale. Was this mage already be working for another group? If so, just how far had the kingdom of Nyx been infiltrated by other kingdoms? If this sorcerer was to use the information from his troops as political leverage, he would be forever remembered as a traitor to his kingdom.

  Worrying about his own future, the captain carefully selected his next words. “Honorable mage, forgive me for overstepping my boundaries, but I have something to ask.”