Pestilence: Rise Of The Pure Undead

"Ah ah! You defend well with that big sword of yours, but what about offence?

Would you mind swinging it for a moment?!" relentlessly hammering away with his fists, like a machine with only one purpose, Frenand was hitting so hard that the gauntlets upon his fits were being flattened and extended from the repetitive strikes, cracks steadily forming upon the black iron, the pride of the undead forges was being reduced to pieces.

'A mad dog…' Alisart Cleavster was familiar with those, blooddrunk warriors that only sought battles after battles in a manic frenzy, seekers of conflict were plentiful, but only a handful of them could be regarded as obsessed.

It was clear, this undead would not be backing off even if his arms and legs were slashed off, if anything, only the orders of a higher-ranking officer would get him to retreat, and said superior was further behind, holding onto his sword limply, letting it swing from side to side like some sort pendulum, something definitely gathering up as he was doing so.

Obviously, Ourlst had not enunciated his plan in the pale tongue, so the warking was none the wiser about what was being done exactly, but there was typically a constant in every fight of all kinds, which was to not let an enemy just do whatever they wanted, problem being that Cleavster had to get past Frenand in order to do just that, and as the left hand had claimed, he was not the best fighter around.

His knights and soldiers were having a hard time all around, especially with the other lieutenants of the dead.

Stomping down, Alisart's strength was enough to shake the ground, swinging his greatsword with all of his weight, feet stanced to perfectly, hips twisting like immaculate clockwork, posture enough to send waves of dread through the bones of lesser warriors, the undead was unfazed and rushed forward, crouching underneath the wide slash, punching up at the finger's holding up the handle, the position did not allow for an especially powerful blow, but it was enough to disrupt the king's flawless grasp, allowing for a follow-up. Enjoy more content from My Virtual Library Empire

Bringing his right hand back, left hand forward, moving it back as the other moved forward, landing a right hook straight in Cleavster's helm, bending it inward, a good sign, the living did not budge however, that was not a great sign.

Grabbing the undead by the back of the skull, with a groan, headbutted Frenand, causing a blast of chainmail to explode outward, flaying the veil all soldiers of the vanguard wore over their head, revealing exactly what kind of undead the champion was.

Stumbling back from the sheer strength of the blow, rising one foot, Frenand dug his heel into the soil, stopping himself from falling backward, as the veil slid off, the undead grabbed what remained of it and just completely tore it off, clacking his jaw, teeth perfectly lined up, an angular and thick skull shape, unlike the typical skeleton, Frenand's body was especially dense, giving him an especially strong defence and strength naturally, also allowing for a denser quantity of death force to course within the hollow marrow.

Apart from this, he was perfectly clean and white, as though tended to regularly, free of any rot, mummified remains or anything of the likes, clacking his jaw together again, producing a loud sound boom, striking both knuckles together, he shattered his gauntlets once and for all, exposing his bony fingers and hands.

Without saying anything, only clacking his jaw repeatedly, sounding like a malfunctioning bear trap, clenching both fists, striking the living's sword once more, significantly stronger than before, so Alisart responded in kind, exchanging blow for blow, his greatsword was surprisingly resistant, Frenand was trying to shatter it with every punch, with every kick, striking with his elbow, the living pushed him away and dug half of his blade into the ground, uprooting the ground before him into a volley of dirt, bursting forward, tackling into the undead, who ate the full force by redirecting to the side, throwing the living away, or at least attempting to as Cleavster grappled as well.

Leading to the both of them momentarily spinning in mid-air, the living swinging his sword, hitting the side of Frenand's skull, the undead throwing a kick the moment he touched ground, managing to slip past his opponent's guard, striking right in the chest, where the solar plexus would be, the concussive force managing to get through the iron armour, but not quite enough to deal damage, enough to make the man move however, allowing for another series of strikes to land.

Going for another straight punch to the chest, Frenand aiming for the strength of his blow to go right through the already damaged portion and hopefully impact the heart or lungs, knowing well that even superficial damage upon these organs would open up a living for a devastating follow-up.

Seeing his attack getting closer and closer, Cleavster was not trying to protect himself.

'Shit-!' just as Frenand's attack connected, an horizontal slash appeared right across his chest, tearing right through the durable armour and nicking every ribs in the way, displacing him from his posture and rendering his straight punch ineffective.

Clacking his jaw furiously, he ignored the damage and moved forward again, the blade thrusted right at his nasal conduits, hands flaming with Loimosfire, leaning forward, he stopped the living's greatsword, right in its track, pushing it aside with one hand, with such strength that he sent himself spinning around for a second, the sudden inertia not disturbing him as he went in for a flaming uppercut, taking the warking's helm right of his head.

Immediately going for the revealed weak point, Alisart's head was thrown back alongside the helm, his eyes were staring at the sky instead of the fight, the opportunity was golden, even if this next strike did not inflict a lethal wound, it would irreversibly change the tide in Frenand's favour.

Somewhere however, an assumption turned out to be completely false, or rather, an eventuality had been left unconsidered, the undead went in completely, committing to the attack with incredible momentum, leaving him with no other choice than see that it was not the uppercut that had landed Cleavster in this position, tensing up, heart beating powerfully, the southern warking could feel his blood boil, it had been too long since he had had to fight a worthy opponent, the warlords never clashed and anyone below them was not worth such a reaction from him.

Grinning toothily, his whole body moved, guiding his head right up against that of the undead, he had just obscured his next move, which broke Frenand's skull right open like a nutshell, propelling the skeleton straight to the ground.

Of course, even with that, he was not dazed and quickly retreated back, grabbing at his shattered skull in confusion.

'Did… Did a living's unprotected skull shatter mine? So Easily? He did not even sustain any damage himself…' there was no doubt about it, Frenand had unknowingly gotten the warking excited for a fight, and thus, gotten his heart to beat with trepidation as it seemed like he was facing a truly worthy opponent.

"Incredible… Then- Alisart Cleavster… Let me show you the wrath of a man… Who fights for Loimos, Death's Champion!" this was the very first time a living had pushed him even close to this extent, clearly, he was still too weak to take off this armour.

Unlike his fellows, for whom acknowledgement from Loimos was all that it took for them to understand their position and duty, Frenand needed to prove it to himself, and clearly, his performance was not worthy.

"R-"

"Frenand, that will be enough"

The undead froze and stepped back, the sudden presence that seemed to engulf him retracting into nothingness.

Ourlst was done, his sword planted into the ground, a scale now held within his left hand.

Tilting to neither side, simply emitting a wide sensation of deep discomfort within the living.

Hunger constricted the stomachs of all, sapping away all strength, the bodies of each and every one of them trying to reach into every possible reserve to stop them from starving.

"I guess… This is goodbye" Cleavster said, only that he was smiling, with a clear hint of disappointment, but without sign of worry or fear.

Bringing some sort of roundish object in between his teeth, bitting it into pieces, and in the blink of an eye, all that still held onto life vanished.

"..."

"Teleportation?" commented Frenand.

"I know what it is, was this one of those meals from the feasters? Dammit…" realising that escape was always open, Ourlst fell to one knee, the scale of famine falling apart.

Ourlst never had the chance to end things here.