Myths Reawakened

The deceased townspeople dragged their stiff bodies forward, stumbling as they walked. It was as if all moisture had been drained from them in an instant, leaving them withered and rigid, without a trace of life. And they craved what they lacked, making Wayne and William their primary targets.

Wayne didn’t know what to call these people—undead? Or perhaps zombies? If this was the result of the Deathwalker’s ritual, the ritual was far too sinisterly powerful to have not only killed the entire town in an instant, but also erased all vitality, removing even the energy of the living from the air.

The horde surged forward, totaling over a hundred in number. Even livestock such as chickens and dogs were among them. Wayne hefted the crowbar in his hand and compared the power on both sides. In the end, he followed his heart and hopped into the car, starting the engine.

“Where to?” William took the passenger seat.

“Find Veronica and get out of this damned place as soon as possible,” Wayne said gravely.

The zombies were slow and fragile. With a crowbar, he could fight his way out until dawn. It would be as easy as cutting weeds. Given a wooden sword, a mischievous child would ensure that no canola field within ten miles was taller than a meter.

But Wayne’s supernatural sense wouldn’t lie. Something terrible permeated the town, omnipresent and threatening his life. Since he didn’t know much about magic, he tentatively defined it as a curse.

“Do you know where Veronica is?” William asked. “The town’s big. How about you retreat first, and I’ll find her and Monica?”

“I know where she is by scent.”

Wayne reversed the car for some distance before shifting gears and accelerating, driving straight into the zombie horde.

The car had a low chassis, and its affordable price made it clear that it wasn’t meant to survive a crash. It bounced and shook as the tires rolled over withered zombies, managing only a short sprint before it couldn’t push through further.

Good enough!

The car broke through the encirlement and created a path, completing the task Wayne asked of it. William jumped out first, his crowbar whistling through the air as he shattered any zombies that got near him, leaving none intact.

Out of respect and fear, Wayne kept some distance from William, swinging his crowbar while shouting, “Veronica’s at the church. We don’t have much time. Let’s hurry and get her out.”

William growled, reaping the zombies easily with the crowbar in hand like he was playing a hack and slash game. Meanwhile, Wayne had found his groove after the initial fumbling. Since zombies didn’t elicit the same fear in him as ghosts, he was able to kill them efficiently. His awakened muscle memory manipulated his body to use simple techniques subconsciously to conserve stamina.

EXP +1, +1, +1...

When they passed the inn, two withered, hunched figures blocked their path. The mummified faces retained no trace of their living visage, but Wayne recognized their clothes—the ladies who were generous in sharing their assets, with bills under their collars that he had stuffed there himself.

He still remembered how they looked and sounded. With figurative tears of regret in his eyes, he whacked them with the crowbar. He picked up the money before catching up with William.

Fire blazed throughout the town, the heat evaporating moisture at an accelerated speed. Strangely, no matter how fierce the flames got, they never completely burned down the wooden structures, and even the flammable zombies didn’t catch fire.

The two ran breathlessly to the church located at the end of the street. It was the only building in town that wasn’t surrounded by flames. Amid the hellscape, the quiet church stood out like a sore thumb.

A gunshot rang out. Wayne and William both froze before rushing through the fenced lawn and throwing their bodies against the church door. They barged in to find neat rows of pews. In front of the cross on the other side of the church, candles cast dancing light and shadow, illuminating a priest.

He wore black clerical garb that was impeccably kept smooth and neat, but his withered face was no different from those of the zombies outside, marking him as a living dead.

Veronica held a pistol at him, having just shot him squarely in the chest and left a visible hole.

“You need not stop the ritual. The town has been dead for many years. It is time for the townspeople to rest,” the priest said, his jaw bones opening and closing to produce a decayed voice that seemed to have come from underground.

Veronica called out to William, who stepped forward and swung his crowbar at her without missing a beat.

A white halo bloomed at her feet, enveloping her and forming a prison to stop her from stepping out or using magic. It had been the priest’s handiwork. The kind of magic was known as divine arts within the Church of Heavenly Father, a power granted by Heavenly Father to imprison evil and make it listen to His grace.

It sounded powerful, but far from indestructible, it could be broken from the outside. Moreover, the magic had not been updated in ages. Several patches had been released for firearms, while the church’s divine arts remained the same old tricks, failing to keep up with the times.

With William’s efforts, Veronica soon escaped the prison. She made a punch, and the same white light shattered to release Monica. The black cat blended with the environment so perfectly that it might as well be invisible when it wasn’t speaking.

“What do you mean that the townspeople have been dead for years?” Monica demanded. The strange moon got on its nerves for its apparent sacrilege against the Goddess of Moonlight. It demanded an explanation.

“Fifty years ago, a curse befell Klofron and turned all townspeople into the living dead. They didn’t know that they were dead. They breathed, their heart beat, they bled when they got injured, and they aged and bore children—just like the living.”

“But the dead are still dead. The Nelson family discovered the truth, and those who knew the truth were invited to a meeting. I was one of them...”

“As followers of the Goddess of Death, the Nelson family demanded to hold a ritual to return the deceased to Death’s embrace. The mayor and councilors disagreed. None of them wanted to give up their lives, and none believed they had the right to end others’ lives. We were living even in our death. We could’ve continued on like normal people.”

“I was on the side of the mayor and the councilors...”

“The Nelson family refused to back down. They summoned their family members from out of town and held the ritual, slaughtering many that night...”

“We won and swore to bring that night’s secret to the graves. We all believed that by hiding the truth from the townspeople, they would die of old age like ordinary people. But then, the younger people took over the town.”

The priest retold the story of the past fifty years mechanically like an NPC. His magic allowed his dying wish to linger—the wish for a Nelson to complete the ritual. But that was all. His mind had long decayed. He answered whatever he was asked of and revealed every truth without reservation.

“Time proved us wrong. Every year on this day, flames sweep the town and return it to that fateful night...”

“The dead crawl from their graves, and the ‘living’ are exposed for what they are. The town has no future. Newborns lose their lives at the moment of conception, and outsiders become cursed upon entering this place...”

“This isn’t just a curse. It is an eternal death and a natural law that refuses to stop tormenting us.”

“I realized my mistake: back then, we cut away the healthy tissue to keep the infection alive—”

“Wait!” Wayne interrupted, his expression grave. “What do you mean that outsiders become cursed?”