- A wandering undead in armor! - Zenaris exclaimed loudly, slapping his palm on the table as if to confirm the importance of his words. - How about that?
A new week has begun, and we are back to work. Everyone is healthy, which makes one wonder: how long has it been since we got out of the dungeon? Two weeks? Maybe a month? Judging by the injuries we sustained there, I was amazed at how they recovered so quickly. Okay, I, unlike the others, have a trump card up my sleeve. But what do they have? Could they be superhumans?
- Undead in armor? - Michael asked, clearly not sharing my surprise.
- That's right. One of the elders of Zoldasan's village district claims that many people have seen someone in armor walking strangely through the neighborhood," Zenaris continued, gesturing vigorously as if to show an image of a wandering foul creature that chops up any unfortunate on its way.
- Does he interfere with them in any way? - I asked, trying to catch the gist of the conversation.
- Of course! After all, it's not just undead, but a wandering warrior in armor, and probably with a sword. It could suddenly attack and slaughter another traveler," Zenaris replied.
- Are we allowed in Zoldasan? That's Frousal's territory," Goliath objected.
- There will be no problem with that," Zenaris reassured us. - Frousal's troops have their own concerns right now, and they don't look into that region. There aren't even any Hol'ds messengers there, according to the headman.
- The villages of Zoldasan have been plundered. What will they pay with? - I wondered.
- That's a good question! I don't think there are any rewards," Zenaris said with a smile.
- What? How come there's no reward? Not even a beer? - complained Goliath.
Michael smiled as if he understood something, and Zenaris continued:
- Michael has already guessed, I see. Who else would?
I wondered: what is the benefit to us of hunting these undead if there is no reward? What will they pay with? Women? Slaves? No, we're not like that. Maybe they'll give us some fruit, a sack or two..... And then it hit me: armor! Armor is worth a hell of a lot, and if you carefully remove it from the undead, you can sell it as a rare find.
- Armor! - I exclaimed, struck by an idea.
- That's right! If we're careful enough, we can neutralize the undead without damaging the armor. We'll take off his armor and sell it," Zenaris explained excitedly.
A gleam lit up in our eyes, as if coins were jingling in every thought. A favorable deal was in sight! I personally didn't know the exact price of the armor, but a hunch promised a decent profit. The inner demon of greed was bubbling within me, anticipating the clinking of my golden share. We immediately packed up and set out on our mission.
As I sat in the wagon and watched the sunset spill across the sky, I thought about the strange stranger I had met in the village. His gaze and manner of gait made me wonder if he was the wandering warrior in armor. I was lucky he didn't attack me, but why? Maybe he thought I was dangerous? I only knew of the undead through small rumors and tales passed down by the local old-timers.
- Zenaris, what is the undead, anyway? - I asked, trying to clarify the situation.
- As you can guess from the name," he answered calmly. - It's something between life and death, a person brought back from the dead. Not much is known about them, for most such creatures are killed immediately, and the reasons for their reanimation remain a mystery. My father told me that a man with an unquenchable will to live could slow death.
- That's nonsense," Michael objected skeptically.
- I'm telling you the truth! My father saw it himself in the war: one of his comrades fell in battle, but his thirst to destroy his enemies was so strong that he literally came back to life and continued fighting until he finally died," Zenaris insisted.
- If he finally died himself, how could it be called undead? Apparently he just fought to the last man," Michael continued with increasing skepticism.
- Think what you want! - Zenaris replied irritably.
- For someone who hates his father so much, you trust him too much," Michael added mockingly.
Those words hurt Zenaris. His hands clenched into a fist, and I saw him barely restrain the urge to punch Michael. However, he soon pulled himself together, smiled, and said:
- Consider yourself lucky. I could have beaten you up right now.
Finally, we arrived at our destination, one of the few villages in Zoldasan. As we approached a wooden house, Zenaris knocked on the door, and soon an elderly man appeared before us. After a short conversation, he disappeared behind the door and Zenaris returned with news.
- Here's the deal: we're going to explore the neighborhood in search of this undead. There are five trails leading out of the village; we'll each take one and search for the lost one. The most important thing is to be careful, because even though it's dead, it can still be dangerous," he explained.
- I'm afraid to go alone in the dark! Can someone come with me? - Goliath asked pitifully.
- Don't whimper! You're the biggest among us," Helen teased him.
- The sooner we find it, the sooner we can get back to town. I'm off," Michael said, heading down one of the trails.
Our group chatted for a bit before parting ways, and I ended up being the last one left. I chose the remaining trail and headed deeper into the forest, wondering where this stray could come from. Mercenaries are not usually found in these parts, and neither are Frousal's troops. The word "lost" suggested he came from faraway lands. And so, not an hour later, I sensed the presence of someone in the distance. Using my magic vision, I recognized the silhouette - it was him! A wanderer in armor.
I tiptoed toward him, wondering how I would deal with such a target. Charging him with a burst of magic seemed impractical: the armor would shatter like thin glass. It was more logical to attack with a sword, but the protection of his armor made it particularly difficult to hit him. It might be worth targeting unprotected areas, such as the neck or the cavities between the armor. The chance of a decisive blow was slim, but it was worth the risk.
As I came closer, I saw that the stranger's gait was unusual, more lively than one would expect from the undead. Perhaps it wasn't the rumored dead man at all? But there was no time to ponder. Concentrating my magical energy, I thrust my sword at its neck. The blade slipped, but the blow wasn't fatal - I'd screwed up. Without wasting a moment, I drew my dagger and delivered a precise blow to his neck. This time the barrier was breached, and warm liquid splashed onto my fingers.
I looked at my victim's face, a flicker of fear and surprise, and then the eyes, rounded with fear, faded under the rush of blood. He collapsed to the ground, and the realization shuddered me: I had killed not an undead, but a living man.
For a couple minutes I stood there, gripped by panic and regret. I wished I could turn back time and not make that fatal mistake. Coming to my senses, I began to ponder the implications. Who is this man? Judging by his armor, he could have been a Frousal soldier, but there was nothing on the crests or insignia. In my pocket I found a roll of paper with text I couldn't read - perhaps I should have learned to read. All his equipment was typical of a warrior.
I had to decide what to do with the body. If it was a mercenary, they might be looking for him, and even more so if he was a Frousal soldier. And given the value of his armor, the lost ammunition would certainly be sought. I decided to hide the body. Looking around, I found a small forest about a kilometer away. There was no choice - a heavy corpse, weighing a hundred kilograms, with armor, had to be carried with effort. Reinforcing my legs with magical energy, I moved towards the forest.
On the way, I pondered: how could I be sure it wasn't undead? I had never met a real undead, I had only heard legends. Maybe that's what they look like? I'll be sure to ask about it when I get back, and if it turns out to be undead, I can always take the armor back.
Half an hour later, I reached the forest and found a suitable tree with a spacious hollow. I tossed the corpse nearby, using magical energy to lighten the deep darkness inside. The hollow was large enough to accommodate the body if I removed his armor. I carefully undressed him, leaving only his naked body, and, feeling inwardly disgusted, hid him in the hollow. With effort I pushed the corpse in, and I heard a crunching sound - had I damaged something? But there was no difference: he was already dead. When I finished with the body, I covered the hollow with snow and leaves to hide the odor.
Then it was my turn for the armor. It was easier to hide them: digging a small hole and burying the armor wasn't difficult, though the cold chilled me to the bone. Working myself to exhaustion, I tried to clean up the tracks, covering the path where I was sure there was plenty of blood.
Exhausted, I headed back to the village, where we were agreed to meet by morning. The sun was already rising on the horizon, and I knew that the night with the corpse would be a challenge. Sitting down by the stairs in the village, I tried to fight fatigue, but sleep overcame me.
I awoke to the sound of arguing. Zenaris had already gathered everyone: Goliath and Michael were arguing.
- Couldn't you have been more careful with him? How are we going to sell the helmet now? It could be worth at least a hundred gold! - Michael was indignant.
- I warned you that I was afraid to go alone! So I was afraid, and I screwed up a little," Goliath tried to shift the blame.
- Scared enough to rip his head off? Damn it!" Michael cursed, anger boiling in his voice.
- All right, all right, calm down, the main thing is that we'll get a good sack of coins for the rest of the armor," Zenaris tried to defuse the situation.
The argument died down, and I asked a question, not holding back my curiosity:
- Did you kill him after all? Is there a body? I want to see what the undead looks like.
- Yes, it's hidden behind that tree. I'll take you to it," Zenaris answered and led me to it.
As we approached, I saw the naked, armorless body of the dead man. It looked really creepy, the skin slightly blackened, with scraps of tissue hanging down like a real zombie. I felt goosebumps run down my spine, not so much from fear as from the realization that I'd killed an innocent man. Zenaris, noticing my expression, asked:
- Does it look scary? Look, his head was even torn off and flattened by the kanabo's impact.
- Yes... it's a terrible sight," I muttered, trying to hide my inner turmoil.
We gathered up the armor, each taking a piece, and headed back to Greenhaven. Sitting in the wagon, I couldn't help but feel remorse and regret: my hands were bloody. Sure, I'd killed in self-defense before, but now... now those thoughts could eat me up inside. I tried to drown them out, knowing they'd keep me going for too long.