There used to be a beautiful village on the side of the road. This village was home to many woodworkers and hunters. They rarely got any visitors, and when they did, they were mostly lost travelers taking a wrong turn or merchant caravans that came once a month to trade. The village was peaceful and calm. No one really caused any trouble, and any conflict could be resolved through simple mediation. However, this peace soon ended, for the Stampede came from the green seas around them.

  The first time they heard about the stampede was through the grapevine. While some people brushed it off as nothing but a once-in-a-blue-moon incident, others began to worry if things would truly be alright. Such a terrible and awful event could wipe this entire village out in a second. They didn’t have that much guard since this village rarely experienced any trouble. Moreover, this village doesn’t have any defensive buildings at all, making it really vulnerable if a monster decided to attack.

  The first to come was the crown messenger. With this he brings such grim news that sends a wave of panic throughout the village. The men of the village began cutting down the woods around and erecting a wooden wall around the village. A militia was formed, and now people rarely venture into the woods alone. Midnight watch began to be a necessity and visitors to the village became nonexistent at this point. Merchant caravans that used to visit them also vanished leaving the village isolated.

  As the time moved on, the situation got even worse. Monster that seemed foreign to them began to appear in the forest. Even though they were not targeted directly by the Stampede, the increase in monsters made it difficult for the village to sustain itself with building materials and food. Letter upon letter are sent towards the nearest city begging for help, but all they receive is a deafening silence in return. Slowly they realize they’re being forgotten, for an insignificant village like them is nothing but a small loss to this country.

  As weeks become months and months become years, the situation of the village becomes even more desperate. The wooden walls around them began to crumble and the fighting force became smaller and smaller. None venture outside the wall anymore. Even when they’re starving, no one dared risk getting brutally mauled outside or eaten by countless monster roaming around looking for food. The once beautiful village turns bleak and worn down. Then in desperation they turn into the only thing that gave them hope in this troubling time.

  Everyday people crowded the church, asking the almighty god for salvation and help. They could not hold on much longer. All they asked for was for someone to come and save them. Send someone to free them from this nightmare and bring them to a safer place. They didn’t ask for God to kill those monsters, all they want is to be free from this torment. However, as day grew by, the same silence greets them from above.

  God has abandoned them, just as their country had. Nothing will save them from this nightmare. Their heart becomes tainted by doubt and anger. In desperation, they sought for another path to salvation, and an infernal voice answers their cries. At first it was done in secret, some people began to dwell on the occult, meddling with unknown and wretched power beyond their comprehension. then their number grew and kept on growing each single tick of a time. Not long before the whole village began to chant cursed hymns and praise towards the unholy.

  The village began to split between the cultist and God-fearing people. Parents and children began to turned against each other because of their beliefs. It did not take long for this smoldering ember to ignite into a raging fire. Then a full blown civil war began in this small and rotten village. Powered by their abominable magic, the cultists managed to push the believers into their last safe haven—the church. The cultists began to siege the church hoping to break into it with their newfound power. But God wouldn’t let these heretics enter his house and so they began sought another way to break into this holy place.

  The cultist ritual began to turn even more violent and abhorrent. Gore and blood are spilled in front of the church’s doorstep as they chanted their masters name. Then, finally, their prayer is answered. The dweller of the underworld began to imbue them with power they never felt before.

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  Their souls were ripped apart from their bodies, their flesh melting as their bones fused together into a single entity. They all felt pain—the searing agony of their bodies twisting into something inhuman. But those pain sensations pale in comparison to what they felt in their soul. It was as if they were being boiled and stirred in a cauldron filled with needles. They cried and begged for the suffering to stop, but all they heard was echoing laughter, for the lord of hell did not care about their meager suffering.

  After the pain came the cold—the most bone-freezing cold they had ever felt. Their souls, now belonging to damnation, had been cast out from God’s warm embrace. Now they can’t even feel the warmth of summer and the sun, because those are God's blessings and gifts for mankind. No longer could they feel the sunlight or the summer breeze, for those were God's blessings to mankind, and they had forsaken them. They were no longer human. They had gained the power they sought, but in doing so, they had trapped themselves in a new torment far worse than the last.

  In their anger, they burst through the church doors. Their wailing howls, filled with agony and fury, echoed through the village. With their monstrous hands, they slaughtered the believers, hoping that their wrath would grant them some sense of warmth. But all they felt was the unforgiving cold on their skin. In desperation, they burned the church symbol, hoping God would smite them and end their suffering. But there was nothing. No divine punishment, no sign of recognition—only silence.

  Then, as if mocking them, as if playing the cruelest joke of all, their new master bestowed upon them a blue torch. A voice, filled with malice and amusement, whispered to them.

  "Why should you endure this coldness alone?" the voice laughed. "Bring others into your torment. Let them walk this world with you.”

  And so they did. With the torch, they called the dead back into the world of the living. And now, those souls suffered the same fate—wandering the earth, unable to feel God’s warmth, searching for someone to free them from their suffering. Waiting and waiting, for the day they would finally be released from their unimaginable torment.

  *

  Sebastian leapt towards the massive Revenant. His hammer glowing brightly like a sun, and his eyes burn with fury and vengeance. His hammer violently clashes with the Revenant’s massive sword, sending shockwaves to the surrounding area. Both of their powers are terrifying. There’s none who can match up to them around. The revenant arms trembles as they receive Sebastian's attack upfront, but then, from its grotesque body, many hands suddenly emerge, each gripping weapon made from bones and coated with thick hard skin.

  “IPSILAS! YOU’RE GOING TO DIE HERE! I SWEAR IT! I’LL END YOU!” Sebastian roared, his scalding breath steaming in the cold night air.

  “Ipsilas?” The Revenant’s hollow voice echoed. “We are Legion, for we are many.”

  “SHUT UP SHUT UP SHUT UP!”

  Sebastian’s ears rang as if his mind refused to acknowledge the truth. He spun his hammer, slamming it up against the Revenant’s massive sword, sending it flying into the air. Then, without hesitation, he dashed toward the abomination, aiming for its body.

  “DIVINE HAMMER!”

  A massive burst of holy magic erupted from Sebastian hammer. It directly hits the Revenant body. But His attack seems meaningless. Not a single injury or dent can be found on the Revenant body. Sebastian gritted his teeth, preparing for another attack, but the Revenant’s many arms lunged at him all at once.

  “THOUSAND BLESSING!”

  Sebastian's attack came thundering down with overwhelming force. The afterimages of his strikes made it seem as if countless arms swung alongside him. Their attack shook the ground and everyone who watched this battle. Their eyes couldn’t believe what’s happening in front of them. The magnitude of this battle is simply terrifying and awe inspiring. They never realize Sebastian could fight with such vigor and technique. Most of them always chalk up Sebastian as some kind of rude and overconfident martial artist. However, now they see how skillful Sebastian is and they feel ashamed for their prejudice.

  Each blow of their weapon sends a thunderous sound around. Sebastian and the Revenant are locked in brutal stalemate. They are both waiting for an opening, a chance to strike and turn the tide back in their favor. But as they realized no opportunity would come, they both reached the same conclusion. There would be no strategy—only brute force.

  Sebastian holds his hammer tightly. All his muscle tensed up with power and ready to release its explosive power. He takes a huge breath as if he’s inhaling all the wind in the area. Then he released those accumulated powers like a piercing strike.

  “SANCTIFIED NAIL!”

  “Misery.”

  A massive dome of Unholy power engulfs Sebastian and the Revenant. All the soldiers looked shocked at what’s happening in front of them. Dalia covered her mouth as she felt the unholy power creeping towards her.

  It was not fear they felt—no, it was something far worse.

  It was the absolute loss of hope.