Pestilence: Rise Of The Pure Undead-Chapter 1208: Twice, Now
Chapter 1208: Twice, Now
Griar leaned backwards, avoiding the undead’s singular claw as it extended for the other end of the room and through the furniture and walls themselves, cutting right through everything in its path without encountering even the smallest bit of resistance.
Everything was cleanly sliced through. The attack wasn’t quick enough to catch Griar off guard, but he knew to be wary. This could have been a probing attack. For all he knew, the undead might just be able to swing much faster than this.
The living took a step back as the claw retracted into the pale corpse’s right index finger.
“Nice dodge”
‘…Does he only have one claw? Can it only come out of his index finger? Can it come out of his other index finger?’
Griar thought quickly before boosting his speed with wind, picking up one of the steel tables of the kitchen and flinging it directly at the undead.
The brain-eater casually waved his index finger around, slicing the table into several pieces, preparing to say something before he realised that Griar was nowhere to be seen. The energy signature he had focused on was just a very well-made decoy.
“Trying to run…?”
The cadaver muttered something to himself, running toward the door, only to be nearly immediately met with the sight of knuckles smashing into his face, throwing him backwards into the opposite wall with enough force to send countless deep cracks right through it.
Griar stepped back into the room, glancing down at his bleeding knuckles without channelling any healing spells. The undead had been quick to react to the surprise attack and had guarded himself with energy right before the impact, on top of ensuring that Griar would be punching straight into the black teeth.
Sensing no toxins or any other type of foreign substances within him, the living shrugged it off. He did not consider such a minor flesh wound to be worth spending mana on to heal.
The corpse did not say anything. He swung at the living. His attack was evaded, but it was clear that the undead had not been expecting it to hit. He closed the distance between him and Griar, deflecting all ranged spells with abnormal ease.
Even the strongest of spells seemed easily dispelled by the simple touch of his claw, and the cadaver was also incredibly mana-sensitive when it came to danger, parrying even spells cast behind his back without any problem.
The undead got close and unleashed a flurry of rapid attacks at Griar. The living was already enhancing himself with magic, managing to dodge every strike as he moved around the entire kitchen, with the undead not stopping his assault for even a second.
Griar closely analysed his adversary’s fighting style, trying to decipher the secret to his specific capabilities to defeat him more effectively.
There was nothing grandiose or complicated to discover. His opponent was a simple yet effective combatant. Griar channelled all that he had learned to peer into the inner weaves of what truly made the undead a warrior.
The icy breath he had demonstrated earlier had not come into play–The reason was simple: All of his power was concentrated into speed and his claw.
If Griar was not incorrect in his assessment and appraisal, then this corpse actually only had a single claw that could only extend from his right index finger–These were self-imposed limitations that greatly served to enhance the cutting strength and mana-dispelling properties of it.
Not only that, but he could manifest and retract the claw even quicker than he could move, allowing him to attack unpredictably. He could poke at Griar constantly, forcing the living to be constantly on the move and to exert himself–His most dangerous attacks remained his slashes… They could bisect the human with ease.
Griar’s face was scratched by a swing of the claw.
‘Seems like there is nothing more to it…’
The undead moved to attack again, but he found his wrist to be suddenly grabbed by the living, who instantly shattered it and bent his pale hand in the wrong direction, causing his own claw to nearly stab him right through the head as his index was momentarily pointed straight at him.
A broken wrist was of no issue to the undead. He could still move his finger all he wanted–In fact, it might just be for the best. Committing to a hold would render the living stationary, and thus, a perfect target for the corpse to skewer.
There was no time, unfortunately.
Griar flung the undead’s right to the side, casting a powerful reinforcement spell on himself as he let go of the corpse and lashed out into a flurry of incessant punches. Strikes came out so quickly that some would genuinely wonder if Griar had not grown extra arms.
The undead was able to perceive the attacks, but the moment he was struck, the force of the blow took his feet off the ground, and by then, he had already been struck a dozen times, each blow turning bones to dust and crushing dead flesh into paste.
Within moments, the corpse was once again thrown against the wall, his body in such a poor state that he could barely move.
Frozen mist escaped his dislocated mouth, swiftly washing over his body. It did nothing to fix the damage, but it put what was left back together well enough for the undead to rise and strike again.
He swung in a wide arc, extending his claw as far as he possibly could, slashing through untold amounts of steel, stone, and dirt in a single motion…
The living turned into a gust of wind and went low to the ground, evading the attack and reappearing directly beneath the extended arm, grabbing by the forearm and brutally pushing against the elbow, ripping it off, before throwing the disembodied limb at the corpse’s face before resuming his earlier flurry of punches, but this time, the enemy was backed up against a wall, unable to escape the rain of attacks.
The wall cracked and caved as the downpour kept going, rotten, frozen blood was smeared upon the walls, chunks of flesh and bones were propelled all over the surroundings, until finally… Griar stopped. His chest was heaving, his heart beating wildly as his reinforcement spell faded away, leaving him with aching muscles as he watched what was left of the undead–Basically nothing.
The worst part was that the undead wasn’t even done for just yet. Griar was not sensing the confirmation of his victory. There was no experience flowing through him like there should have been had he truly defeated the corpse.
He thought that it was just the cadaver’s resilience, but he soon noticed a stream of frozen mist floating from the scattered pieces. Without a shred of hesitation, the living cast several spells, dispersing the mist to the best of his abilities, stopping it from coalescing into a single point until, after ten whole minutes of this, he finally sensed his victory.
Griar didn’t immediately relax, fearing that it was a feint, but no. It was genuine. Griar had successfully defeated an undead.
‘That was way too much work for just one of them, but… I would rather not go all-out when these things don’t stay down. If I showed my cards, they would become known to basically all undeads within just a matter of days…’
Griar was aware that the undead he had defeated were not gone at all and would probably be back in action in only a little while. It was for the best not to reveal too much.
Besides, that undead’s abilities had been very simplistic. It was just that Griar had required excessive force to actually put this one down.
The living stayed on the move and looked around the bunker for any sign of life, but as could have been expected, the cadaver had not been sloppy at all. No one was spared. Only lifeless remains were left of the many people who had once inhabited this bunker.
Everything stenched of blood and fear. Griar couldn’t bury all of them–Not with decency, considering that he could barely tell which dismembered limbs belonged to whom–So he settled on the next best solution.
His accomplishments in elements besides wind were low, but with enough concentration and time, he was able to manifest flames, burning everything within the bunker, before placing the peeled-off hatch back in its place, sealing the bunker.
Griar took some time to rest and take a breath, but soon caught something out of the air. Another one of those bullets, and this time, there were many more.
It seemed like the wastelands were indeed quite dangerous, though it was likely that these thralls had been lured here by the sound of battle and the black smoke that had come from the cremation.
Nonetheless, Griar rushed at the distant thralls, quickly realising that this group was far larger than the previous one.
These were also equipped with weaponry shaped in a somewhat different manner than what Griar had already seen…
…Turns out, not just the shape was different.
