Published at 14th of October 2023 4:51 pm

Chapter 3 The Second Brand

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As the Ghoul hunted into the waning hours of daylight, his mind began to slow. It stayed active for as long as there were either credible threats or prey nearby, but as soon as neither of these were about, he found it increasingly difficult to keep moving. Occasionally, he would pass by other dazed ghouls who had left the village for the same reason as him: tracking the scent trail of the humans who fled. These ghouls were now all idling by the roadside. They looked at him as he passed by, and some even moved towards him, but as he continued on, they slowed and came to a halt, returning to their apathetic, blurred existences.

It was a struggle. His motivation continued to fall until it seemed as though anchors weighed each foot down. It had been an hour or more since he passed the last one. It wasn’t a struggle with physical energy or even stamina, but with his mind. The Ghoul’s consciousness, which had been so active and predatorial when he was fighting the other ghouls seemed now as if it were trying to communicate his will from underneath miles of ocean. It was a constant battle just to remember what he wanted.

Step.

Everything was tinted gray.

Step.

The torpor of death calls.

Step.

What use is want? Need?

Step.

And then a noise—something moved up ahead, and a flare ignited in his brain. His downcast eyes became alert, searching for the source of the noise. But it wasn’t a human. A dozen yards up ahead, a ghoul dragged himself along the ground.

He took another few steps. Faster, now.

He was going faster than this ghoul, and it didn’t take long for him to catch up. When he did, it glanced up at him.

It was a young man, barely into adulthood. Its single remaining eye stared back. It had pale hair and paler skin, and blood covered its clothes, though it didn’t look too injured compared to the other undead around. Like the others, it must have been fighting against its growing apathy when the Ghoul chanced upon it.

This was the first fit male ghoul he’d seen. The ghouls he’d encountered so far had all been young, elderly, or female. The Ghoul didn’t give any thought to what happened to the rest of the humans. That wasn’t his concern.

The two ghouls paused, looking at the other with expressionless eyes. Fight? No. They could, but something about it felt too wasteful, now. They’d tracked the living this far. The Ghoul, though he had yet to see any, instinctively knew that warm flesh would make for better prey.

He continued on, leaving the crawler behind him.

After a moment, there was a grunt. He glanced behind to see the young ghoul standing. It shuffled after him, at a faster clip than before. The Ghoul didn’t mind. They had reached an agreement, of sorts.

Sticking to the lead, the Ghoul and his associate continued, the other's presence acting as a stimulant, keeping their shared will alive, even as the trek steadily grew more and more uphill.

By the time it had reached the deepest hour of night and begun to pass into early morning, the scent suddenly grew stronger. People had doubled back in this area, and recently: as if they were searching for something. They were close. The two ghouls felt little fatigue at this point, and their pace unconsciously quickened. By this point, they had neared one of the walls of the valley. Half a mile further, and the hike would have become a rock climbing session.

The terrain here was mostly loose gravel with patches of scruff weeds sticking out from the earth. Their footsteps weren’t quiet, having no concept of stealth.

A dim, flickering light appeared up ahead, illuminating a hole in the face of a small cliff. They headed towards it. A large rock dislodged by the Ghoul went tumbling down the slope, and there was a cry of alarm from nearby. Thirty feet away, partially concealed by scrub, were two old men standing watch. One of them stood up and called something out in their staccato language.

Electricity spiked in the Ghoul’s brain. His vision widened, then narrowed again. His feet picked up speed. Behind him, the young ghoul followed, almost as fast. The two men leveled their weapons, backing up and casting their eyes about as they searched the darkness. They heard the ghouls, but couldn’t see them yet. Shadows played off the cave walls as figures from deeper within the cave began moving around the fire. Yelling echoed out from within.

The Ghoul closed the last few feet between him and the first sentry, practically sprinting. He lunged, and the old man lifted his spear, aiming at his chest. Dodging at the last second, the Ghoul was instead skewered in the side. Rather than retreat, he twisted himself off the spear, leaving a chunk of his flesh behind. A fatal wound for anything but an undead. The man let out a wordless cry of defiance as the Ghoul darted forward and stabbed him in the chest. As he stared at his murderer with burning eyes that slowly faded to dimness, blood spilled from his mouth onto his white beard. Then, folding slowly inward, he collapsed.

The smell of fresh blood suffused the air. Falling upon his prey, the Ghoul sunk his teeth into the meal. This meat had a far better taste than his earlier sampling of ghoul flesh.

[Level increased] x 4

Strength +1

Agility +2

Dexterity +1

A flicker of movement to his left made the Ghoul look up. The second ghoul hadn’t fared as well as him. The remaining sentry held it off with a spear which had been sunken into its stomach. The man was struggling to hold the slavering monster back, his wiry arms trembling even as he glanced over at his fallen friend. He called out once more in a panicked voice, but there was no motion from the direction of the cave. Whatever reinforcements he expected weren’t arriving.

Getting up, the Ghoul left his victim and approached the second man. He felt energized: more in control of his movements than he had ever been before, even back when he fought the two ghouls in the village. That same electricity ran through him, informing his actions, but no longer did the Ghoul feel that he was fighting a rapidly flowing current. He still felt a little sluggish and clumsy, rather like a child, but his body had begun to respond how he imagined it should.

The old man began to back away, trying to keep his spear with the impaled monster on it between himself and the Ghoul, but it was futile. The skewered ghoul grabbed the spear, and the man tripped over at the sudden resistance. The Ghoul was upon him in an instant.

This time, it wasn’t a quick death. The man rolled as he hit the ground, squirming to avoid a fatal blow. The Ghoul stabbed down with the skewer, but only hit a leg. The second ghoul closed in, grabbing an arm and biting down.

The man screamed. He’d been crippled, but was too panicked to realize that escape was impossible. He kicked and punched the monster who chewed on him, but it didn’t even notice the blows.

The Ghoul could have followed the example of his companion and begun eating the still-living man. A part of him wished to. His urges drove him to drop the skewer and feast on warm flesh. He posed no danger. It would be satisfying.

Instead, he drove the skewer through the man’s chest, ending his life. When he went still, the Ghoul moistened his throat with his blood.

[Level increased] x 2

Stamina +1

Dexterity +1

The Ghoul was forced to stop his feast when a searing pain shot through his head. He collapsed to his knees as something akin to a white-hot knife began to cut into his forehead.

The second undead looked up when the Ghoul began to groan. Being bitten and stabbed was nothing like this. Physical pain hurt, but for a ghoul such things were of little concern. Though they could feel, undead lacked the ability to react to stimuli like living beings. This was different than physical pain, however. It went deeper, piercing directly into his mind and bypassing whatever inhibitor stopped other agonies from affecting him.

Within his original red ring, which was framed with horns on either side, a new symbol appeared. This one had a bluish sheen to it. A small dot appeared in the very center, surrounded by a circle, which itself had four T-shaped runes attached that pointed in each of the cardinal directions. They looked like hammers, and taken together, the symbol was similar to an ornamented cross.

This design was blockier than the first Brand, and smaller—as it existed within the dimensions of the other. If one observed closely, they could see both at the same time, though the red Brand was currently much dimmer than this new one.

You have received the <Brand of Patience>.

Brand recognized.

Select a class.

[Feral], [Martial Artist], [Swordsman], [None]

Four paths opened before him. The Ghoul couldn’t read these bright characters that floated before him, but he could dimly sense that three of them were ways forward. What that truly meant, he didn’t know.

The first path had a savage aura. It smelled of blood, of speed, of instinct ruling above all. The Ghoul’s tongue ran over his lips. His vicious urges trembled when he imagined stepping down this path. But it felt limited, somehow. A straight line, without diversions. There was always a method of progress, but its direction was predetermined.

The second felt almost alien to the undead. It was a path of discipline. Of rules. It was nearly the opposite of the first, yet similar in some ways. There was an inner strength to this one. It had many more twists and turns than the first, and the Ghoul sensed that it could eventually turn into something incomprehensible.

The third, like the second, required discipline, but there was a degree of abandon here, too, like with the first. Recklessness and control vied with each other, breeding conflict and growth. This path started off straight, but later it appeared to have the most detours of all, painting an image of a snarling, contorted mass of intersecting and dead-ending routes. The beginning of this path felt familiar, though the Ghoul couldn’t comprehend even a portion of its later vastness.

All three of the paths seemed to stretch forward infinitely, but the third path seemed the widest.

The fourth path was no path at all, but a closed door. It terrified him.

He chose the third.

[Class obtained]: <Swordsman> (common)

[Skill obtained]: <Swordsmanship> (Lv.0)

The Ghoul stood. His companion ghoul was still eating their last prey. A noise made him turn, only to see the body of the first sentry beginning to move. A groan spilled though its whitened lips, and it pushed off the ground, propping itself up on a knee. The Ghoul watched as it rose unsteadily, still clutching its spear.

For a moment, he eyed the old ghoul, but when it made no motion to attack him, he lost interest.

He glanced down once more at the second sentry, who had begun moving as well, but the damage the two ghouls had caused to the body made this newly born undead unable to even stand. It was trying to crawl away, even while his young companion stubbornly continued gnawing away at an ankle.

The Ghoul had since lost interest in the flesh of the dead. He looked up. Though he hadn’t heard anything since they attacked the sentries, the cave ahead of them was soaked in the scent of human fear.

He started forward, and the other three ghouls began to follow behind.

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