Pestilence: Rise Of The Pure Undead-Chapter 400 The Carver

Much similar to the beast worshippers, the sun worshippers had green sun warriors and green sun battlemonks at the bottom of their castes, and above, the emerald heralds, who were said to commune with the sun itself, all channelled its light, but if there was one thing that was a cause for wonder, it was the fact that both of the two beliefs put much emphasis on strength and martial prowesses despite the realm being rather peaceful.

The Emerald Realm was not surrounded by an ocean, but by an endless green void, this entire place floating within this space, small islanded and bits of earth could be seen in the distant, all desolate, without a speck of fauna, the people here did know to call this place a realm, but did not actually realise what a realm was in contrast to the wider world that existed outside of its reaches.

And they did not really need to know about this, all here were native to this realm, they may not even be capable of exiting it, Milo looked to the green void, and thought that this might not actually stretch into infinity, and even if it did, he imagined that this was the edges of this small world, like everything thing else, the undead would eventually want to breach it.

Walking through the wilderness, the fresh and lively air still felt overwhelming even now to him, the life everywhere was different from that which had been within the barrier, suffused with life mist, this was all natural, the blue vegetation was everywhere, trees blooming with orange, sometimes, the contrasting colours were still a shock to the eyes, but Milo ignored this and tried to manoeuvre through the trees, Antieeld had spoken to the locals about the grievous injuries some of her companions had endured, both the beast and sun worshipers was pointed them at a particular area, where a man capable of helping in this regard supposedly resided.

Milo had decided to go and check it out immediately, as no healers of this realm were capable of healing the wounds of those that were not graced by their fate, their techniques too focused and marked by their beliefs to be applied equally across the board, moving deeper and deeper into the woods, the trunks growing distorted and crooked the further he went, but eventually, the amount of trees grew lesser, leaving place in the guts of this forest, to a small, dilapidated shack.

Deep trenches and holes riddled the surroundings, leaving bare rock and stone hidden beneath the soil, carved pieces missing out of it, within this run-down hut, a single man with a bent back, hunched over something Milo could not see, repeatedly slammed, scratched and peeled at something with simple metallic spike, sometimes producing bright sparks.

Dressed in simple, tattered clothes, hair and beard in total disarray, overgrown, odd, pale white spots amidst the dark strands, forearms, hands and feets even also covered in an awful lot of hair, the entire place reeked of sweat, overflowing with stone sculptures, ranging from small trinkets, to life-size creations, it was questionable how long this unknown man had been sitting there in this back-breaking position.

"Well… Who do we have here? A Smoke-less one… You lots have not shown your faces in at least- At least some time…" turning his head to look at Milo, his eyes were bright, utterly covered by cataract, his skin was grey, but rough, less smoke appeared above the body, behind the clouding, Milo could still spot the shifting patterns.

"...Quite some time indeed, what do you want?

Lay down your arms, no one comes to me without a demand in mind…" he was rather sluggish in his speech, but not in his movements, Milo had moved to the side, getting a better look at the man's work, both hands and fingers moved with rare nimbleness, even though his craft might seem crude, simply moving a nail-like spike against a piece of stone, currently carving what seemed to be a baby cradled in a cloth, even though it was not done, even without colours, the piece of art was incredibly convincing.

"I have been told to come to you…" Milo explained that many of his fellows had lost limbs, and that the beast and sun worshippers had both pointed to the reclusive carver, a misfit that had not chosen to join either of the two religions, instead dedicating himself to carving stone, day in, day out, secluding himself in the woods to partake in this faithless craft.

"Aah… Smoke-less folks rarely arrive in the Emerald Realm, and even less often with bits missing, what happened?" without ever stopping carving, the man talked.

"In the world outside of this realm, life is being consumed by death, we tried to fight against its champion, an undead by the name of Loimos"

"Loimos? I do not know what an undead is, or how death could consume life, but if all that is needed is new limbs… Then that is easily solved, I will just need to see those people for myself, what is your name, young man?" the carver asked.

"Milo"

"I am Arzt, tell me more… About those undeads, and this Loimos, will you? There is a certain… Something about that name, wouldn't you agree?"

"What do you mean?"

"Not all names are equal, some are granted by parents, some are self-assigned, some are granted by the gods, some are given by the system, and others- Others are given via the system, but were not of its own creation, do you not know… Of this? Of The power of names?

When I carve a name upon one of my creations, I don't use my mind to decide on it, I let my hand work of its own… I let it be guided by something I don't understand…"

"...Heheh, this gives something special to my carvings, have you still not noticed how easily we converse with one another? Despite your hazardous grasp of my language? That's thanks to this little fellas name over there" he pointed to the tall carving of a man with a benevolent expression.

"But… Names, carvings… That's what I do, but there are names greater than others, the greatest of all, are those that bear nothing inherent to it, that are given from something powerful, with the intention that it is the bearer that will give the name its power and allure, those… Those are the greatest names of all…"

"Loimos, Loi-mos… It has that flair, indeed"

"So tell me about this Loimos, what is it about this undead that is deserving of one of such names? And what could have named him? Mmh, do I wonder…" said the man, smiling gleefully.

This content is taken from freeweɓnovel.cѳm.

Milo felt somewhat uncomfortable now, but considering that this guy seemed to know the secret to replacing limbs, he did as was asked and told everything he knew about Loimos, the scourge of all that lives. Your journey continues at novelbuddy