Pestilence: Rise Of The Pure Undead-Chapter 518: Memories

Multiple rows of stakes layed upon a piece of cloth broided with an unknown pattern, of both metallic and wooden in nature, each of them infused with a distinct vibrance, around them many other tools were also to be found, strange weapons that could shift in between two distinct appearances thanks to nothing but ingenious mechanisms, allowing for anyone to wield them as was intended.

Watching over these many contraptions and items was an old man sitting cross-legged over a boulder, garbed in a long coat, its original colour hard to decipher from many years of usage, tainted by filth and blood many times overs, torn and ripped before being put back together again, it almost seemed like this garb was older than its wearer.

Still, on the inside of the collar, a name was emblazoned with care, done with a loving hand, different from the one that had stitched it into one every time damage was inflicted.

It read : Abraham.

This was the name of the older man, yet, he was not the original owner, having been passed down the generations, each of them always taking upon the mantle of their parent or sibling when their body failed them, or when their endless mission ended in defeat, for this singular piece of cloth to have somehow survived through the ages when many of its previous wearers were killed with this very coat on their back was nothing short of a miracle.

Abraham had also been the name of his illustrious ancestor, the first to join the death hunter, and more precisely, one that hunted down the vile bloodsuckers, to protect life from the greasy paws of death.

The current huntsman of this bloodline had witnessed all that work amount to nothing however, hordes of the undead ravaged the continent, enclosing it into miasma, killing and changing the inhabitants.

This was a tragedy, of course, they had never stood a chance, to think that even after aeons of relentlessly hunting down all signs of undeath- That their empire of decay would rise again with so much force had been unthinkable, the livings that remained knew a lot about this enemy now, but it was all meaningless.

Abraham had not even become a vampire hunter for the same reason as those before him, for he had had multiple older siblings willing to take upon this task instead, so as young man, he had instead been like everyone else, worked the earth and got married with a girl that lived just across his home, a girl he had known since being a child.

Together, they had children and lived without much, but happily nonetheless.

He was quickly reminded why the dead did not deserve to exist however- Why his ancestor had first taken it upon himself to destroy them.

Whenever Abraham closed his eyes, it was like the scene was still playing, coming home as a heavy rain relentlessly crashed down from the clouds above, he pushed open the door to his house, with some unexpected difficulty as a chair had fallen right behind it.

Everything inside was turned upside down, blood smeared the wall, piles of red intertwined with skin and hair laid upon the ground, slowly seeping in between the floorboards, an unknown figure crouched over that of his wife in the middle of this senseless carnage and destruction.

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His monstrous, claw-like nails smeared with blood, flesh struck on the underside of each of them, jagged teeth and lower face painted red as both foetid green eyes shined in the dark, directed them at the living that had stepped into this scene of horrors.

"Ah… If it isn’t the man of the house! I hope you’ll forgive me for teaching your wife a lesson-" a nosferatu vampire, speaking with a slight slur to his speech, appearance warped- Deformed, nothing but a runt with little blood in common with the lord.

Abraham was fairly certain that the foul undead had spoken beyond this, remembering the vampire’s jaw moving some more, but all sound had already been cut off, all beside the filth before his eyes faded to darkness, and then, all turned black.

The grizzled vampire hunter only remembered the vampire pinned to the ground, all sorts of blades, weapons and even broken fence part stabbed through his body, limbs and head crushed with such brutality that bits and pieces had been flung dozens of meters in every direction, in fact, Abraham was nowhere near his house anymore, at least a hundred meters away.

Sun rose then, burning away the vampire’s remains, who had probably already been destroyed with sheer brute force.

Burns covered the living’s hands, arms, all over his body as the foetid blood, no matter how diluted, had been splashed everywhere, leaving marks of chemical scorches.

When finally managing to walk back to his home, all strength within his body gone, he was able to see with his own eyes that no one had been spared, the undead had forced himself into the house from the backyard, well aware that no one would hear anything with the torrential rain, slaughtering everyone inside with excessive brutality, keeping Abraham’s wife for last.

Having seemingly been interested in her specifically from the very beginning.

It was on this day that the old hunter had earned his eternal ire for the undead, and then that he found a greater purpose, for his beloved neither died, nor was turned into an undead as a result of the assault, be it because the vampire had been nothing but a wretch without real power to turn anyone, or because she was unfit to be one of the dead- His wife remained stuck between life and undeath, between humanity and vampirism.

Abraham convinced himself that there was a way to cure her, and that this way would be found out by analysis of the blood of nosferatu vampires, taking the coat for himself, he set out to do just that.

Eventually coming to the conclusion that the purity needed to be perfect, and that he thus required to shed the blood of their lord himself, whomst he now knew as Gravelord Nosferatu, Of The Foetid Blood.

Strongest of the gravelords, presumably vilest of his kind.

The old man had lost his purpose however, with Viridis conquered and the undead now without living opposition anywhere nearby, he had not only failed as a death hunter, but also failed his wife, now, she was probably dead or fully turned undead, he would prefer the first option.

Still, a fire burned behind his eyes.

Having lost, defeated entirely, there were only two options left before him, both would most certainly end in the same way, but one might just allow him to regain even a little bit of honour.

Pushing the hat atop his head a little bit, moving out of the way of his gaze, staring at each of the objects laid out before him.

All that there was left to do was to mindlessly slaughter all nosferatus without exception, destroying them one by one.

There was no solace for him in the Emerald Realm, there was no peace for him to enjoy anywhere, there was no life for him to start again since that fateful night, he could only keep on hunting.