Blacksmith of the Apocalypse

Cromwel had returned to fulfill a promise. Back then, they were just people who had come to plunder and steal his research at the command of their undead masters, but they had also been dragged into the treacherous trap of the Scene.

Now, they were compatriots who had experienced the same horrible fate and Cromwel promised that he would return, once he was able to help them. Although the Scene was gone, their suffering was not over. Even Cromwel was only able to weaken the side effects, not get rid of them.

Partwise, they were also research subjects, that might be able to help him, to recreate his masterpiece. He would also take a surviving immortal from the Scene, but the Tower Master had obliterated them all, at least those who were in the city.

There were also some that were caught in the roots of the Guardian tree, but Karina and Seth had denied him access. Neither of them wanted him to bring back his masterpiece, saying it was a failed creation because it had no failsafe.

For now, he wanted to give the three who survived together with him at least a humanoid form, so they could return together. While looking for a vaccine for the Zombie Plague, as the tower Master asked him to, he would also work on a cure for himself and them.

Still, had he known how precarious the journey had become, he might not have come. At least not alone. Gamme, or rather Arget Nore, had made it really annoying to travel north. The borders of the former district were heavily fortified and patrols of high-ranking undead with hordes of low-ranking ones kept scouring the wood and planes surrounding the district.

It was probably because Arget Nore lacked the soul membrane barrier Minas Mar had come up with in Delta. Even then, they might not have been able to use it, since the low-ranking undead might be directly killed by it.

When facing a zombie plague that could even affect the dead, the undead were the most afraid of it. It almost seemed like a trauma to them. It was quite funny, but because of this Cromwel had to be especially careful.

Were he to be involved in a fight, they might find out about his identity as a carrier of his immortal serum. Even if they didn’t know about the backstory, those crazy liches would start a witch hunt for him, to find out how he kept his sanity despite being technically infected by the zombie plague.

It was so annoying that he deliberated cutting directly through the mountains when returning to Delta, instead of going along the foothills near Gamma. However, now he was here and had to find the three stooges before he could get on the way back.

The mad scientist traversed the massive crater on foot, going further north. When he left, they had lived in a cave close by until they had healed up and Cromwel managed to stabilize their condition. He started looking there, but when he arrived it was empty, and it didn’t seem like there had been anyone recently.

Instead, he found a note scribbled on the back of a scrap of paper that looked like a decaying newspaper. Only Cromwel, would have found this suspicious since it was not originally in the cave.

“HaD tO LeAvE. UnDeAd CoMe To ClOsE.”

The very intelligent man interpreted this as the patrols of Arget Nore coming to a close, trying to find out what had happened to the research facility. To prevent being found, the group relocated somewhere further away. Fortunately, and unfortunately, they were not stupid enough to write down where they went.

This way, even if the undead found the note, they would not be able to find them, but it was just as hard for Cromwel. However, he knew that they had moved, and they didn’t go South toward Gamma, for obvious reasons.

That meant they had to be somewhere north, probably not in the mountains west and northwest of the cave, either. This only left the northern Mountain range in the direction of old Sigma. Coming to this conclusion, Cromwel mounted his Alpeka and went Northeast.

…

---South of Delta---

“Is that the place?” a man wearing an elaborately tailored gray robe asked as he lowered his binoculars. They were standing on a cliff at the mountain's sight, looking up at the night scenery, where the lights on Delta could be seen illuminating the edges of the volcanic crater it was built in.

Behind the man were two knights, wearing armor of foreign design, holding down a badly beaten orc warrior. He was kneeling in the snow, looking up at Delta with his one good eye, the other was swollen shut. The knights felt him shudder at the sight.

“We are too close, way too close...” he mumbled in a broken dialect of Chrona. “The monster will come to eat my soul!” he exclaimed, crying bloody tears.

“Again, with your barbaric little horror stories. Do you think these fairy tales for children would stop us?” the man asked with a mocking smirk. They were the followers of Kavala, the slayer of Kova. They were not afraid of some monster or delusions of barbarians.

The orc could only look at him in disbelief. Even the great beasts feared coming close to this human city. The surrounding mountains were home to the great calamities like the Lightning Tormentor, the Earth Serpent, or the Sky Centipede.

Beasts of terrifying might that had engraved their terror on the hearts of anything that dared to enter these mountains close to the human settlement. Anyone here knew them, saw them, and ran for their lives from them! Coming here was insanity!

The orcs disbelief, fear, and panic in his eyes slowly dimmed, as the man in gray pulled the dagger from his throat. He had enough of the savage’s rambling. Since they had reached their destination, there was no need for him, or the hostages anymore.

With a wave of his hand, the group of orcs, women, and children, they had taken from the village they came across, lost their lives to the polished weapons of their captors.

“Get ready, we will go and enter Delta now.”

As they got ready, the mountains started shaking below their feet. The great calamities, or rather, Seth’s golems that were running wild in the mountains to level up and inadvertently farm Power of Existence, usually differentiated between people and monsters.

To the group's great misfortune, this calamity was rather new, and they had killed the group of orcs a little too late. The mountain cliff below their feet crumbled away and they fell. Now, a simple fall couldn’t kill a great warrior. The fall itself couldn’t.

The man in gray tried to stand up. His arm was hurt, probably broken. Otherwise, he was fine, until he took his first breath. Breathing felt like sucking liquid fire down his throat. Helplessly looking around the darkness, his eyes also started burning, as if someone poured acid on his face.

He wanted to scream, but only a hoarse screech came out. The group of knights and the rubble of the cliff they stood on had fallen into a dense cloud of poisonous fog that was quickly decomposing their bodies with incredible speed.

In his last moment, the man in gray looked up to the night sky, only to find the light of the stars blocked by a giant figure made up of a writhing bundle of bodies. Only then did he believe the story of the beasts of calamity. Just a few minutes too late.