Pestilence: Rise Of The Pure Undead

Chapter 448 Memories Broken

'Closer... Listen... Hear it... Understand it...' approaching a door, one really needed to stretch their sense of hearing to the utmost limit, forget all other senses to get a chance at eavesdropping.

The walls were thick, and were constructed to prevent such actions, the doors were the same, and even if a room was open, someone, anyone that was not within the chamber would struggle to even make out white noise, the blessing of death's silence rippled throughout all undead buildings.

But thankfully, this effect was not as potent when it came to the dead themselves, garbed in pure white, golden decorations lining the uniform, a certain headless corpse attempted to listen attentively to discussion in between two undeads who outranked him, he did not get here right at the beginning, much too worried to arouse suspicion otherwise, the headhunter could not hope to go unnoticed when tailing the battle-hungry champion, he had waited for him to go inside before making any move.

Only faint whispers reached him, and then, quickly enough, Frenand stepped right out of the room, one could not even read from his behaviour that he had been given a mission of great importance, this was one thing that had truly disturbed the man in white, how utterly blank undeads were, even one that seemed as boisterous and loud as Frenand was virtually unreadable in many aspects.

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But having heard parts of the discussion, the one nicknamed Grigri, thought he sensed reluctance for a split instant, hesitating, he debated whether to address the champion of Loimos, perhaps this could be another ally- But no, he could not trust in undeads, especially not members of the vanguard, each and every one of them were followers of a personality cult concerning Loimos, they revered him, they admired him, they loved him, they worshipped him.

And the more he approached that self that was supposed to have died and been reformed into a tool of death, a grim collector of heads, a purpose he himself did not know the point of, when he had severed the heads of various creatures, and then that poor family, their heads had simply vanished from the bag he had shoved them in.

His incomplete living mind led him to find it difficult to utilise the abilities granted upon him by undeath, darkness awareness, the various powers specific to becoming a headhunter, what had been natural before, had become alien after being awakened, this could easily give him away as one that lived in death, but thankfully, Ourlst had yet to give any orders that could force him to show his mastery of such things, the headhunters scoured the flatlands and small forests for the most part.

The fact that his mind was that of a living, also led to the fact that whilst his mind and soul could get tired, his body could not, this frigid body was a prison that threatened to tear his being apart, he had to find a way to escape this corpse that was not even his, but first, he needed to find a way to make sure Isilt would not go through with his plans whilst under surveillance, he was a proud warrior and living, and also Pitit's brother.

Navigating the odd hallways and staircases with much difficulty, as not only were they confusing, the architects had had the brilliant idea of making the entire fortified wall into a shifting mess, meaning that the already illogical corridors and such never stayed the same for long, for undeads, with their senses, they could find their way every time without a problem, for Grigri, this was a challenge.

He had only managed to find Ourlst's office because he had followed Frenand with much difficulty, so he tried to retrace his steps, having to act like a normal headless whenever undeads passed by, which was not easy considering that he barely saw them coming.

When he finally stepped out of the keep, his attention set.