Chapter 146: Things That Should Have Stayed Buried
Voss studied him for a moment longer, then gave a small nod, as if acknowledging something unspoken.
"We’re here because we were hired," he said.
The town lord blinked slightly.
"Hired?"
Voss adjusted the grip on his saber, resting it more comfortably against his shoulder.
"Clear Water Sect," he said. "They sent us to help defend this town."
For a brief moment, the tension on the town lord’s face cracked.
Relief spread through it again, deeper this time.
"...Clear Water Sect," he repeated, almost in disbelief. "I didn’t think they would pay attention to a place like this."
A faint, tired smile appeared on his lips.
"Thank you," he added sincerely. "Truly."
Voss didn’t answer right away.
Instead, he looked past him again, toward the people in the streets, toward the guards who still looked like they might bolt at any second if things went wrong.
In his mind, the thought came and went, quiet and cold.
They’re not doing this for you.
They’re pushing the fight away from themselves.
He didn’t say it.
There was no point.
The man in front of him already had enough to carry.
"Save your thanks for after we survive this," Voss said instead, his tone calm.
The town lord gave a small nod.
"Fair enough."
A short silence followed before Voss shifted slightly and looked back at him.
"We need to talk properly," he said. "This isn’t something we handle in the middle of the street."
The town lord immediately understood.
"Yes. Of course."
He turned slightly and gestured toward a large building nearby, one that stood out from the rest, built with thicker stone walls and guarded more heavily than the others.
"My residence," he said. "We can speak there."
Voss nodded once.
"Good."
He glanced at one of his men.
"Keep the formation tight. No one wanders off."
"Yes, captain."
The mercenaries adjusted instantly, some peeling off to reinforce the nearby guards, others maintaining a loose perimeter as Voss followed the town lord.
As they walked, the town lord spoke again, his voice lower this time.
"We’ve already started reinforcing the gates," he said. "But our men are... not used to this kind of pressure."
Voss gave a short grunt.
"I can see that."
"They’re afraid," the town lord admitted.
"They should be," Voss replied. "Fear keeps you alive, if you don’t let it control you."
The town lord let out a quiet breath.
"I hope that’s true."
They reached the entrance of the residence.
Guards opened the doors quickly, stepping aside without a word.
Inside, the atmosphere was different.
Still tense.
But quieter.
Maps were already laid out across a long wooden table in the center of the room, with markers placed across different sections of the town.
The town lord gestured toward it.
"I’ve been trying to prepare," he said. "But I don’t know if it’s enough."
Voss stepped forward, his eyes scanning the layout in a single sweep.
Positions.
Entrances.
Weak points.
He saw them all almost instantly.
"It’s a start," he said.
Not praise.
But not dismissal either.
The town lord walked to the other side of the table, his hands resting on its edge.
"Tell me what we need to do," he said.
Voss looked up at him.
For the first time since arriving, there was a faint, sharp edge to his expression.
"Alright," he said.
"Let’s make sure this place doesn’t fall."
---
Far from the town, where the roads turned quiet and the night stretched wide and empty, something moved through the darkness.
Not alive.
Not in any way the world would recognize.
Carrion walked at the front, his pace steady, unhurried, yet nothing around him felt slow. The ground beneath his steps seemed to grow colder, the air heavier, as if even the world itself was aware that something unnatural was passing through it.
Behind him, the army followed.
Eight hundred and thirty-three normal undead marched in silence, their movements uniform, their hollow eyes fixed forward, each step landing at the same time, creating a low, dull rhythm that carried across the night like a distant drum.
Mixed within them were ten body tempering undead, their presence far more oppressive, their movements smoother, more controlled, each one carrying a faint aura of strength that separated them from the rest.
And behind those ten... another ten.
Different.
These were Aiden’s summons.
Their bodies were more refined, their presence sharper, closer to that of real cultivators, each movement carrying weight, each step grounded with power that matched true body tempering practitioners.
Not yet.
Their aura flickered faintly, restrained, limited.
Only thirty percent of what they could truly be.
But even that was enough.
More than enough for what was coming.
At the side, walking slightly behind Carrion, Vermis moved with a light, almost casual pace, her hands loosely at her sides, her expression calm, though the faint shifting beneath her skin never truly stopped.
Ahead, the outline of the town slowly came into view.
Walls.
Gates.
Torches burning along the top, their light flickering against the dark.
From a distance, it looked alive. Guarded, and prepared.
Carrion slowed slightly, raising one hand.
The entire army stopped.
Instantly.
No delay.
No sound beyond the final step settling into place.
Silence returned.
Vermis stepped forward just a little, her eyes fixed on the walls.
"I can feel them," she murmured. "Humans. A lot of them."
---
The wind shifted along the top of the watchtower, carrying with it the faint, dry scent of dust... and something colder underneath.
Voss stood at the edge of the wooden platform, one hand resting on the rough railing as his eyes fixed on the army gathering beyond the town walls, his usual calm finally cracking just a little as he took in the sight in front of him.
Below, torches flickered along the walls.
Above, the night stretched wide and dark.
And beyond it...
They came.
Rows upon rows of figures moving in unnatural silence, their steps too even, too precise, like something that had no need for breath, no need for rest, no need for fear.
Skeletons.
Corpses.
Things that should have stayed buried.