Zeek’s body toppled to the ground lifeless, leaking blood out into the dirty road, slowly pooling around the nub at his neck. Everyone gazed on in horror. The prisoners thrashed about more, trying to free themselves as they looked at the new terror that emerged from the forest beyond. Somehow, the black-armored menace was more terrifying than the bandits that imprisoned them.

  A hushed voice whispered from the bushes beyond, dark eyes watching the whole thing unfold, “By the gods, is he real?” Her body shivering, slinking back into the bush, staying out of sight. An oppressive heat overtook her, sweat began to bead down her forehead.

  Hef swallowed atop the cart, “Zeek, ya dumbass, get up.” He looked at Zeek’s dismembered head, his face not moving an inch. Hef slowly looked back at the black-armored knight before them. Sweat trickled from his forehead. Something wasn’t right.

  Juan scoffed, “This prick come out of nowhere an’ attack us. Do you know who we is?” He held his saber high, looking back at his comrades, jerking his neck toward the black knight. “Copperhead ain’t gonna like that you killed one of his captains.”

  Jeb held his axe up, “You done fucked up, mister. We gonna skin ya, and leave you to the birds to pick dry. “Ave fun living out ya days in bird shit.”

  Juan glanced sideways at Hef, “Get yo ass down ‘ere, yellow belly, and ‘elp us git this gout.”

  Hef dropped down, pulling out a makeshift machete of thick iron sharpened on one side. His hand was shaking as he kept glancing down at Zeek’s unmoving head, not even a twitch. He was, he had to be… there was no way. Hef let his eyes settle on their assaulter. Those milky white eyes brought a truth to Hef that made his heart sink into his stomach.

  Rigor stepped forwards, his foot planting right in the blood pool. Red liquid lifted into a tendril, sliding up his boot and into this armor, filling him with a new energy. He twisted his hands around his axe, sizing up the three men in front of him, then he stepped forward, causing the men to flinch. He snorted. Easy.

  “Fuck this guy.” Juan rushed forward, Jeb at his side. The two men tried to surround Rigor, attacking from each side.

  The sounds of deep breaths, smells of blood, sweat, and fear all invigorated Rigor, his heart rushed with anticipation. It had been too long since his last battle. Rigor Mortis sidestepped, ramming the haft of his axe into Jeb’s nose, breaking it with a loud crack.

  Jeb staggered backwards, dropping his axe as his hands shot up to his broken face. Blood gushed from his nose, his skull ringing from the impact. Hef gasped as his friend’s face has half caved in. Jeb staggered about, screaming in pain.

  Juan swung his saber at Rigor. The blade clanged off the black armor uselessly. Juan’s eyes shot up in surprise. Rigor swung his axe up, crashing it down on Juan’s skull. The axe sunk deep into Juan’s skull, splitting bone and skin with a sickening crunch, lodging the axe right down into his chest. Rigor braced his foot against the body and wrenched the axe free, blood spraying in an arc across the air. The half-splayed body dropped to the dirt with a heavy thump.

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  Mortis turned to the man holding his face, shouting in pain. Rigor swung the axe at his stomach, cutting open his flesh and spilling his innards to the floor. Jeb grabbed his guts, falling to his knees, holding his intestines aloft before falling forward into his own gore.

  The Death Knight turned to the last bandit remaining. The smell of fresh blood raging through his skull. His muscles ached for more action. He was alive again.

  The older man tied to the cart felt a small hint of joy. Was this the savior he prayed for? Did something actually listen to him in this god-forsaken land? He tired to loosen his bonds in case he was living in a delusion. He watched his loved ones stare in horror at the carnage in front of them. They had to get out.

  Hef held out his machete, trembling as he did so, “Stay back, I’m warning you.” His eyes darted around the piles of dead comrades in the dirt road. He knew that they had truly died here today. There was no denying it. After centuries of endless life, death had come for them all, and it was staring him right in the face.

  His pants dripped freshly wet as he pissed himself in fear.

  Rigor swatted the machete away with his hand, grabbed Hef by the throat, his gauntlet sinking deep into Hef’s flesh, and squeezed with all his might. Hef gasped, gargled a few times, trying to beg for mercy. The Death Knight lifted him up and began repeatedly smashing the back of his head against the cart until his skull caved in, dropping brain matter down on the young woman below, who gave a muffled screamed into the forest.

  The father thrashed about, spat out his own gag, cursing at the turn of events.

  The Death Knight tossed away the body into the dirt road, crashing into Jeb’s pile of viscera. Rigor glanced down at the prisoners below. They stared back with a mix of terror and surprise, and a dash of hope.

  The father looked at the Death Knight in awe, “Thanks, mister, those men were going to do…terrible things to us.” He chuckled nervously, looking at his family, “You saved us all. We’re in your debt, mister, anything we can do to help you, you name it. And I mean anything…” his voice was cut off abruptly and replaced with a gargle.

  Rigor’s axe cut clean through the man’s face, cutting off his speech, chopping the top of his head from the bottom. His head tumbled, his tongue wagging, as Rigor pulled the axe back, turning it on the screaming women, slicing through both their heads in one chop. Blood pooled around his feet, slowly rising in crimson tendrils up his legs and underneath his chainmail. He huffed. No one shall be exempt from death.

  He slashed his axe through the air, cleaning the blood off, spraying it off into the forest. He took a few breaths; the stench of death was heavy in the air. His purpose was already on its way to completion, but his work was far from over.

  The horses neighed and snorted, trying to break free. They eyed him in terror, baying up, but unable to escape their reigns tied to the tree. He strode over to them, slicing their necks until both beasts thrashed to the ground, lifeless.

  Around him, the carnage of death. Flies already moved in to claim their meal.

  A twig snapped in the forest edge. Rigor’s head shot in its direction. Brandishing his axe, he slowly walked towards the sound, not seeing anything in the brush. His metal feet clanging closer and closer.

  The person hidden within held a stiff white talisman, rubbing it profusely, “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” she whispered, saying silent prayers to whatever god would listen. Sweat trickled down her body as she dared not to move. The screams still fresh in her mind.

  “Hey Zeek! Get your ass down to the river! We ‘bout ready to leave. We gonna leave ya ass behind!” A voice rose from further down the road, in the direction the stream was flowing.

  Rigor froze. He eyed the brush one more time, and then turned to the direction of the voice, stomping off down the road.

  The hidden figure held her white talisman tight, thanking whoever would listen, peering out at the death in front of her. Nothing stirred. Nothing breathed. Everyone was still and lifeless.

  Death had truly come to the world once more.