1 Rise

Fires burned, their crimson flames reaching high into the sky, the acrid black smoke covering the sky in thick black clouds.

Thousands of corpses burned, both empires, even the losers, burning their fallen so they may not rise as vengeful undead. The fires burned for days, the stench of burning flesh blown on the wind for hundreds of miles.

The nearby armies packed up and left, leaving hundreds of piles of ash behind, a reminder of the lives lost.

The sheer scale of death and suffering formed a haze of miasma, deathly energy made manifest. Despite the gaseous death left in the air, such a large battle was bound to attract scavengers.

Like clockwork, they appeared, showing up once the armies of soldiers were gone.

One such scavenger pushed through the foliage, the sharp brambles cutting at his forearms, legs, and face. It was worth it though. The blood trail Carlos had been following lead him to a soldier in the thick brambles.

Miasma hung thick in the air around the corpse, seeping into its skin, letting him know it was definitely dead. If left alone for much longer it would become undead, a vengeful spirit returned.

That was not a big deal. The newly awakened were easily dealt with one at a time.

With a shrug, he drew his short sword and approached. The corpse lay on his back, the man's brown hair a dirty mess, his once handsome face marred by three days of being in the hot sun.

Thankfully the dead man's eyes were closed, as he hated to see their vacant stares.

The corpse stank but was pretty well preserved, defended from the crows by the thick brambles. Carlos's greedy eyes locked onto a silver locket around the man's neck, glinting in the dying rays of sunset.

"My lucky day," Carlos said, eagerly reaching down to snatch the prize. He needed to hurry, loot this one, and get back to camp before dark. His hand wrapped around the delicate chain, brushing against the dead man's cold lifeless skin.

Sensing lifeforce nearby, the dead man's eyes snapped open his hands coming up. An iron grip clamped on his arm, and Carlos was dragged down before he knew what was happening, screaming as jagged teeth sunk into his exposed neck.

"Help! Help! Nooo!" Carlos begged. Sadly for Carlos, no one was around to hear him, his cries falling on deaf ears.

Well, no one except the undead that ruthlessly tore out his throat. And that asshole didn't care for his screams, enjoying the hot blood washing down its throat.

A soft voice filled the head of Carlos's killer. "Level up! Congratulations, you are now a level-one dusk stalker. Proficiency increased, ambush is now level one. Proficiency increased, essence drain in now level one."

The newly awakened Dusk stalker ignored the voice in his head, much more interested in draining the life from his prey. Yeck! He was startled as a thick red haze was sucked from his prey.

The haze drifted in the air for a moment, glinting in spectacular fashion in the light of the sunset. Most would find the sight beautiful, stunning even.

The dusk stalker was not one such person, and the beautiful sight was completely lost on him. He didn't give a damn, more focused on the meal in his grasp.

Or it should have been a meal. Now the corpse looked withered, wasted away. He took a tentative bite from the man's meaty shoulder, chewing, and spit it out, gagging. The husk tasted absolutely foul, worse than dirt.

Feeling tricked, he took a bite from the man's leg, gagging at the taste, spitting it back out. Blah!

He narrowed his eyes at the corpse, suddenly angry. Wait, what happened? Was someone playing a trick on him?

A small colorful butterfly flapped through the clearing, drawing his attention. That must be the culprit. Furious, he chased after the little insect that dared spoil his meal, intent on smashing it to a bloody pulp.

If the newly awakened dusk stalker wasn't a complete moron he would have realized he activated his essence drain ability. He could be forgiven though, only being a few minutes old.

Having been duped by a mere butterfly, the dusk stalker went in search of more food, his hunger egging him on.

Something sweet was in the air, his stomach growling, pulling him deeper into the thick forest.

A small cottontail rabbit chewed on some grass, alert for stealthy predators. A humanoid in a torn and bloody blue uniform blundered from a bush, arms stretched in front of him. The rabbit blinked, dumbfounded.

The rabbit cocked its head to the side as if to say, are you serious. Yeck!! screeched the dusk stalker. Yup, he really was serious. The rabbit then thumped the ground and ran into its burrow.

The dusk stalker screeched a blood-curdling howl, clawing at the hole in the ground, furious the little fur ball escaped.

On his knees, he dug, his fingers making a poor shovel. He wouldn't let that little asshole escape so easily.

Even still, he was relentless. After hours of tireless digging, he finally reach it and….. The little bastard ran right between his legs before he could snatch it.

The dark forest was filled with a high-pitched screech of anger and frustration, the sound traveling for miles.

Merric startled from his daydreaming, the high pitched wail sending chills up his spine.

"Is that what I think it is?" Asked a woman sitting across the small fire from him.

"Yes... That is definitely an undead." Merric said, giving the woman his best reassuring smile. It scared the shit out of him, but he put on a confident façade regardless.

She smiled back, hesitant but also excited. "I hope there are a few of them so we can get a few levels. I really want to get to level five so I can get a new skill." Cathryn said.

"Don't worry, I have killed an undead before. I will just crush a few more rotten skulls and we will both get to level five in no time." Merric said, smacking the pommel of his mace, giving her a confident grin.

It was all bluster of course. The last time, Merric had paid an adventurer to help him kill the undead. Even if the adventurer broke its legs and arms It wasn't that hard to finish it off. Getting a few levels should be a piece of cake.

Besides levels were only a small part of the reason he made the decision to come out here. Cathryn was looking for someone to help her get levels and he saw that as an opportunity to get in her good graces.

"Do you need help on watch?" Cathryn asked, glancing one more time at the dark, gloomy forest.

"No, I should be fine, I will keep watch. No undead will get near your tent." Merric offered.

"You are the best." She said, smiling, the gesture making his heart flutter.

Cathryn got up and moved to enter her small tent, which was pitched right next to his. His eyes roved her silky black hair, tracing her slender neck, down to her narrow waist and lingering on her shapely rear.

Just the sight of her hips swaying made his heart race, desire flooding his veins. Okay, he had to admit, he was definitely hoping to get in more than her good graces.

The first couple hours weren't so bad, but he was just so bored, his eyes drooping. The night was quiet, the sky cloudy, the stars absent, making him wish for sleep.

It couldn't hurt, could it? Just close his eyes and get a few minutes of sleep. He was dozing off when something cracked in the woods, snapping him awake.

Still groggy, he looked up, expecting to see nothing. The fire was burning at low coals, nearly out, letting off faint illumination. He rubbed his eyes. He must have been asleep for a few hours, despite it still being dark.

Shivering, he pulled his cloak tightly around himself, standing. "Fucking idiot, why didn't you gather more wood?" He cursed himself for not getting more dry wood, moving towards a nearby fallen tree.

It was an honest mistake to leave his mace beside the fire, a mistake many rookie adventures would make.

Many would forgive and forget the mistake, but not this dusk stalker. He barreled out of the trees, his passage breaking the branches he had been hiding in.

It wasn't the most subtle approach, and hadn't worked yet on those blasted rabbits, but still. Merric froze, eyes locking on the shadowy humanoid rushing towards him in the darkness.

"Hello, who is there?"Merric asked, foolishly pausing to ask questions. The dusk stalker was now only twenty feet away, his visage lit up by the faint firelight.

Merric's eyes widen in fear, and he turned, frantic to get his mace. It was already too late. The dusk stalker leaped a good ten feet, wrapping Merric in a wide embrace.

The shorter man fell forwards on his face, grinding his skin on the hard rocks and dirt. He flailed and struggled but couldn't free himself from the deathly hug.

He screamed as jagged teeth tore into his neck, ripping and tearing the arteries. His screams turned to gurgles, the blood leaking out onto the hard rocks.

Another much higher-pitched scream filled the air, coming from the tents. The dusk stalker looked up, his chin covered in thick red blood, his teeth stained crimson.

Cathryn stood frozen in fear, horrified at the sight of the monster in front of her. Blood leaked from his mouth down its chest, the undead eyes like black orbs reflecting the dim firelight.

Arms shaking from fear, she raised her hands, splaying them in front of her. "Shadow bolt!" Cathryn chanted.

A dark glob of shadow condensed in the air, flying across the twenty-meter gap and missing the undead monster. The ball of shadow struck the ground, gouging a head-sized hole, rock shattering, and sending fragments of dirt flying.

The dusk stalker focused in on his next prey, crouching low, his instincts warning him of danger. For a moment he considered running. But that was just a fleeting moment.

Most sane people would make a plan before charging at someone who could throw shadowy death. He was not like most people.

He charged her head-on, running as fast as he could, screeching like a banshee. The sight of a bloody undead running at her full tilt, screaming its lungs out, freaked Cathryn out, causing her focus to waver.

"Shadow bolt!" She chanted, her hands trembling from her terror. The bolt of darkness was unfortunately not even close to hitting its mark. She opened her mouth to chant another spell.

"Shadow-

Before she could get off her next incantation, the dusk stalker leaped, slamming into her with enough force to knock her over. She kicked, punched, and scratched furiously, desperate to keep those sharp teeth from her neck.

"No, please! Nooo. Help!!!" She begged. Her words fell on deaf ears, the dusk stalker too hungry to listen to her words. Once caught, her struggles were futile, her screams echoing through the night.

Once she stopped kicking, That soft voice filled his head again. (Level up, level up. Congratulations, you are now a level three dusk stalker. Intelligence plus 5, vitality, plus 5. Proficiency increased, ambush mastery is now level two)

The dusk stalker promptly ignored the voice in his head, his rage having returned. That red mist flowed from his victim's corpse again, flooding into his body, leaving the corpse no more edible than a pile of dirt.

(Proficiency increased, essence drain is now level 2), said the voice in his head.

He snarled, glaring around, looking for the thing talking to him. Was it the one responsible for stealing his prey? The dusk stalker's eyes narrowed on the first one he killed, his mouth watering.

Pushing the now inedible woman aside, he cautiously approached the man lying dead on the rocks. He paused beside the corpse, frantically looking around, hoping to catch the one taking his food.

Nothing... Hesitant, the stalker reached down and took a tentative bite. He suddenly felt weak, a familiar sensation to before, one he had ignored.

It was his mana depleting from using his spell, but the dusk stalker was too much of a simpleton to recognize that. The red mist came back, floating from his victim, and entering him.

The deep scratches on his torn-up face slowly closed, but he was too furious to be happy about the pain going away. That odd voice must be stealing his food and turning it into this foul, junk. When he caught them, he was going to tear them apart.