We continued our journey, forging through the dense woods where towering trees stood like sentinels and ancient stones marked territories once belonging to the Llevians, now swallowed by the ever-expanding presence of humanity. The landscape bore witness to mankind's voracious appetite for land, a trait mirrored only by the Ozen. It was a stark reminder of humanity's relentless expansion, claiming territories at the expense of others. Whispers of the past emanated from the trees. This land, once pulsating with the Essence of Llevians, now bore the scars of humanity's relentless pursuit. Yet, this was not the time for contemplation. The encroaching threat demanded our full attention—the very darkness that forged an alliance between Lord Alterran and the late hero Dango, a legacy resonating through centuries.

  "Here," I announced, bringing our progress to a halt at the edge of a vast clearing by the mountain's foothills. Birds soared and sang, creating a symphony heralding the onset of a tranquil evening. The setting sun casts a warm glow on the flowing rivers.

  "Do you have the supplies to descend?" William inquired, his eyes surveying the unfamiliar terrain.

  "Not necessary. We're here. This is it," I responded. William and his son exchanged puzzled glances.

  "On this small spot? I don't see anything," Thamolin remarked.

  "It's an illusion," Indo retorted sharply. "The necromancers created their nest in the open and masked it with an illusion. This is why I said this is no place for your son. You couldn't see past the visage."

  Thamolin looked skeptical. "How did you…"

  "Just watch the last blades of grass by the edge, as they dance in the wind. If you watch closely, the tip starts disappearing when it veers too close to the edge and becomes visible again once the blade of grass comes back."

  I observed as Thamolin scrutinized the blade of grass, his eyes widening as he unraveled the truth. The intricacies of the illusion were fascinating even to me, bound by my connection to the world. Before I led the way, Indo strolled towards the edge and seamlessly vanished as he walked off.

  "That was a keen observation, Indo," Osei commended, acknowledging Indo's disappearance from sight.

  "What do you see over there, lad?" Davorn asked. Silence greeted them. There was not a word to Osei nor a response to Davorn.

  "The illusion blocks out sound. See the birds in the distance? You can hear them chirping, but we know they aren't real. It appeals to all our natural senses. That's why you can hear the birds that aren't really there. This is no lesser spell. Proceed with caution, for although Indo is likely okay, there is no way to find out for sure until we're inside."

  Leading the way due to my affinity with Essence, I unsheathed my verdetyne longsword. Its emerald metal gleamed with a vibrant hue of Essence and power. With both hands firmly on the hilt, I advanced cautiously, poised for battle. Briefly closing my eyes as I passed through the illusion, the sudden shift in scenery induced a momentary dizziness and nausea.

  "Took you long enough," came a familiar voice. Indo stood over a dozen docile Shamblers and four Wights, each torn apart with impressive radiant essence. The twisted sanctum reeked of searing flesh, the acrid scent lingering in the air. Scorch marks adorned their bodies. While Shamblers were nothing more than walking rotting corpses, Wights were nearly impervious to steel weaponry of Human craft, except for firearms, which would leave holes but ultimately lacked reliable stopping power.

  "It was less than 20 seconds," Roderick stated, almost fearful of the blood-stained inquisitor.

  "That's the might of the inquisitorium, lad," Davorn clarified confidently. His expression showed he was impressed yet unsurprised and unfazed at the onslaught.

  "I wish I could say that. I must confess in all humility that I could not do what he did as quickly and effortlessly, and I believe most inquisitors would not be able to, except those as experienced as Osei," Guan shared, examining the display with perhaps even more admiration than we had.

  "God guided my cross. Anyone with the faith of a mustard seed could have done the same," Vescaro replied, his body showing no sign of wear. He did not even have a drop of sweat on his brow. "Now come. I detected wards in the vicinity. They know we're here, and they probably know their sentinels are dealt with."

  Just a few meters away were stairs that descended into the depths of the world. Now I could sense what lay amidst, and although it would pose no threat to a paladin, it was no laughing matter. We'd be fortunate to have no casualties this day, for inside these crypts, I could sense a legion of Shamblers and a few dozen lesser demons that possessed a similar threat range to Wights.

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  "This will be no mere stroll in the woods, my friend; these crypts, all that remain inside, the remnants are not merely deceased. Perhaps a thousand villagers and the like, dead for centuries, with an insatiable hunger for the living." The boy looked at me with a gaze of confusion and fear.

  "What do you mean?"

  "They've been raised, boy. Walking corpses, empty vessels of a life long forgotten. They're zombies, with no fear, no pain, and no morals," Klein explained.

  "But, zombies aren't real. Just folklore told to scare children."

  "You've faced Wights and question the existence of zombies?" Jeremiah chuckled.

  "That's different. Wights are monsters, and monsters exist. But what you're describing…people who have been dead before any of us were born, how could they be alive and kicking?"

  "Kicking, yes, but not alive. There's much I haven't told you about, Thamolin," William explained.

  "You've faced zombies too, then? So you're saying my mother could be one of the raised corpses and could kill us?" William's face paled as his mouth remained slightly ajar from his son's comments.

  "We must move. I will scout forward while you all establish your loins," Indo said as he began to descend the staircase. Talia and Osei followed, as did Guan, though she turned back for a moment before proceeding.

  "It would be very unlikely. I really don't think she's here, Thamolin, and even if she were, you wouldn't recognize her."

  "So you're saying it's possible?"

  "Come on, son, you know her gravesite is elsewhere," William reasoned.

  "But they have been going around gathering corpses to make an army, and they attacked Old Oak, which means they could have taken her body too."

  "The Old Oak cemetery is relatively small. They…"

  "But our defenses are weak, so they would have free reinforcements to expand their army," Thamolin insisted.

  "Boy, there's no point in worrying about it. If she's here, either the inquisitors would have to save us or she would kill me where I stand. I can not strike her down even if I tried. Now let's go, before we lose them."

  The man's voice resonated with love for his late wife. Her demise had been abrupt and unforeseen, eliciting a surge of sympathy within me. The fickle nature of Human existence, akin to fleeting summer breezes, rendered their lives unpredictable. One moment, they basked in youth, and in the next, their mortality became undeniable. The vitality that once coursed through them was abruptly supplanted by the frailty of death. I'd lost comrades in arms, yet the grief was distinct. To lose someone so intimately entwined, so abruptly—my father, his father, and his father still living—I could only empathize with the anguish.

  "Follow my lead; I shall illuminate our path," I declared, conjuring a luminous sphere that hovered by my side, casting a radiant glow. This elementary spell demanded minimal concentration, allowing me to devote my full attention to our mission. Empty caskets lined the crypt, and the atmosphere exuded a frigid morbidity.

  "This place has been abandoned by the very grace of God," Roderick uttered, his voice trembling with each syllable, his breath visible in the chill.

  "I could feel the pain of all the lost souls, desperately asking for rest. The sorrow that fills these halls is enough to burden the toughest of ozen…" Davorn solemnly intoned, displaying an unusual gravitas.

  "We must put a stop to this, before this blight spreads further. To hell with the sorcery and demons. These people settled too close to my home, and they will learn the folk in Old Oak are not pawns to be used in their cause," William declared.

  "I think we've lost the inquisitors," Klein observed.

  "Our map shall guide us to the necromancer; there is no need for their company. I trust in their tracking abilities to lead them to the same destination we seek. Besides, we possess the skill to navigate these depths unaided," I affirmed. "We are yet far from the dark sorcerer, considering the multitude of deceased that sprawl between us and our destination. Stay vigilant, for our adversaries may lurk among us even now."

  "I'll be damned if I let a shambler get the jump on me," Jeremiah asserted. The stench in these catacombs had grown potent. We had traversed too great a distance without encountering any undead—unless...

  "Agh!" Thamolin's cry echoed, and I felt the tremor beneath my feet as I turned. In horror, I beheld a shambler clamping onto Thamolin's leg, teeth sinking into his calf. Simultaneously, multiple arms and heads emerged from the ground.

  "We've been waylaid!" My resonant command reverberated through the narrow corridor. The rhythmic clash of weapons ensued, a desperate endeavor to repel the advancing undead horde that threatened to overwhelm us. Roderick, an unfortunate comrade, stumbled backward, finding refuge against a wall of loose soil. The undead emerged from the ground beneath him and the very walls, skeletal hands reaching with ghastly determination. Panic etched Roderick's visage as he screamed, ensnared by the clamoring horrors. In an instant, I channeled my arcane prowess, transmuting the earthen substance into unyielding stone, confining the undead, and thwarting their attempt to drag Roderick into the abyss.

  With blade in hand, I hastened to liberate Roderick, severing the appendages that bound him. The cost, however, was evident – his left eye, a casualty of the relentless undead. A petrified scream echoed distantly, sending disquieting ripples through my consciousness. Despite fortifying my mental defenses, the trained humans, especially those lacking requisite skills, were exposed to peril.

  Upon turning, an unwelcome dread tightened its grip. The once-vibrant youth now stood amidst a grisly spectacle, blood cascading from eyes and ears. His animate spirit seemingly departed, leaving behind a lifeless husk. Limbs dangled listlessly, his weapon discarded, and vacant, bloody eyes stared ahead, ensnared in a chilling gaze that would persist long after this dreadful day.