Deathless Reign
Chapter 4
By: Noobwriter96
The Deadman felt no hate nor altruistic compulsion towards the risen dead. Although capable of thought, reason and restraint, he himself was still undead. He may have been a cut above the rest, deep down he shared one unifying trait to the ones that ambled aimlessly before him. There are instincts within each and all undead, an inherent desire. The difference between him and them was that he was able to realize it. Make coherent steps towards that end goal.
And that goal was the desire to return to life once more.
From their decaying limbs and exposed bones, there was a tethering of green light stringing the rotting corpse together, invisible to mortal eyes. Raw desire and emotion fueled them, and prevalent among these was an uncontrollable hunger.
It was a strange thing, the green light. The Deadman was compelled to devour as much as light as he could, shattering walking corpses with his supranatural strength. He crushed their feeble skulls with his open palm and tore limbs from their sockets, breathing in the frayed green energy escaping. These were meager, barely fulling meals.
The three necromancers were like an entire roasted piglet compared to these morsels of green light. The only caveat was there seemed to be a ceaseless amount of the risen dead walking these lands. He knows not how far he had strayed from that village. It didn't matter. With each breath of the green light he took, the less grey the world seemed, less cold. It was a feeling he couldn't pinpoint. He didn't know what it was but he did so anyway. Something drove the animal inside of him to consume the pool of green energy from the necromancers and their risen undead.
He was driven out of these thoughts when an ambler suddenly grab hold of him. Its legs had long since decayed as it crawled on the ground. It did not attack, simply stared at the Deadman with its hollowed-out eyes. The darkness still and unbreaking.
The rotting thing could see him.
He looked around and true enough, nearby others looked towards him, not drawn to feed but as if they had seen him the first time, as if popping suddenly into existence. And then he realized then and there what made them look as he stared deeply into his own body.
The green light he had taken from so many others, including the three necromancers, amassed into a great vessel that lit up his surroundings like a sun.
He drained the fell light from the last of the ambling undead.
And for the first time in a long, long time he felt the winds brush up against his skin. A cold feeling with an energic tinge to it. Something was changing within and without him. The Dead man was suddenly, painfully, aware of something wrong as he fell to his knees.
He felt pain.
Dead or not, not even a single necromancer could hold such FelLight within themselves. And the Deadman had exceeded way past his limit. Whatever perversion his existence as an undead was, he was still subject to the natural order of the world to some degree. That pool of power he amassed must be harnessed as his very nature sought to correct itself.
His armed squirmed, convulsing uncontrollably. Bony fingers stretched and curled and the sound of flesh boiling reached his ears as he grit his teeth at the searing pain enveloping his right arm. The amassed pool of excess energy within him sought other ways to release pressure or risk destruction. That power coursing through him unlike anything he had ever felt. Muscle grew abound. Stretching and reforming much of his flesh.
Eventually the pain subsided. He still felt cold. When he gazed at his arm, muscles trailed and sinews reformed on his boney hands. Flesh once more covers his right arm. His left hand however was still but bones.
He heaved if it were ever possible with his heart still lies quiet and blood unmoving. But that was not the only thing that changed. As he became more aware, more solid in his existence in the world, he hear things.