A dark night.

C louds flooded the earth with rain not too long ago. It
was quiet. Not a soul in sight – or at least, one of this
world.
Parting through thick forest shrubs, a darkly-clad figure
appeared, stooping on a hill, brandishing a shovel. Its fiendish
presence was displaced in this unfamiliar grassland. Eyes like
amethyst admired a nearby cemetery, enamored as if all they
ever needed.
This worn relic plainland was buried within a blanket of
trees, down a slick and treacherous path of mud. No other
business this far from civilization.
Nothing good.
It was keen, trotting graciously in the muck pits, elegant even
in heavy boots. Their strut spelled perceptive, allusive—
aroused, even. The shadow observed their surroudings; not a
single stone left unturned as it glazed over, suspicious and
picky with every inch. Despite being burdened with a need for
perfection, its movements were swift. Common eyes couldn’t
defile the work here; not after all they’ve done. It halted,
absolved under a double-gated archway.
The innards were barren.
Forgotten by time, but their contents survived by legends and
peasants alike.
The hooded anomaly began snooping around. Gloves
disguised their intentions, but telling veins pulsated; hairs rose
from their entitled grip. Careful to savor each moment. He was
no stranger to stealth.
Tranquil as these times had become—seeing an end to a brief
conflict just weeks before—another troublemaker was eager to
kick the hornet’s nest that was the region of Licentia.
 She is without peace for long and is beaten tender. Her
mountain ranges wear centuries old scars for the bloodhungry.
They, themselves, share a chorus.
Didn’t work for them up this hill. What makes you so lucky?
Craters litter the land, lifelessness abundant in certain areas.
Yet, some bristling wilds rebel against the cycle’s fate in other
biomes. Lucky them
When this troublemaker assumed all was clear, they pulled
from their cloak an amulet that shared the likeness of a skull.
The shadow admired it with great pleasure.
A grin curled on its face under a telling cowl. The symbol
looked very authentic to actual bone, even holding a worn,
whitish tint. On its forehead, a depiction of a serpent climbed
over the center of its scalp.
Curious as it may be, the figure ceased his advance and
examined it closely, allowed its string chain to dangle with a
liberal hold. But the question remained: what to do with such a
fiendish trinket?
The mysterious item slid back into their cloak pocket.
Unopposed, it proceeded through the gates easily; the lock had
been broken before arriving. Not planned, but welcomed all the
same.
It strolled through the graves, scanning with great
determination. The search produced a grave which appeared
hastily erected with the name Gyone Irensho carved into the
rough-cut tombstone.
The man was a legend in his own field and infamous among
many discrete circles. But why was his final resting place
constructed so … sloppily? Questions for another day.
The figure wasted no time as it began digging. Minutes
passed. Mounds of moist dirt built, and soon the coffin laid
exposed for the taking.
It leapt into the fresh hole.
 The silence was sabotaged when suddenly, the coffin flew
high into the night sky as to shine on mortal ability. Reality
shone through, however when the steel-lined box collided on
mushy soil and momentarily dug its way back.
The figure unhinged the locks of the coffin and cooed while it
opened the lid with a lazy lift. It cradled Gyone's body
impossibly, no more taxing than a mother lifting her young.
It lain Gyone on the ground flat as offering to the dampened
grassland.
Gyone burdened himself with long, grey hair and wore a
tattered battle vest—lacking an undershirt, signs of a hurry.
Black steel-toed boots shielded his feet from the elements,
though they stunk of mulch and amend.
The figure, again, pulled the amulet, but this time was no
mere admiration. It was the catalyst: the first piece to set in
motion what their greedy heart desired. Brought on by a violent
snap of its necklace string, divorced now from the amulet.
Hostility ebbed within their whiplash tug.
It rested the amulet on the chest, carefully laying it just above
Gyone’s rib cage. At the slightest touch upon their body, spikes
shot from the object, pierced into flesh like claws of a wild
animal with a puncturing crunch.
The eyes on the amulet began to glow dark purple and
strange, root-like markings engraved themselves into Gyone's
head and left arm. The body was then willed off the ground
with tremendous, otherworldly authority. However, he soon
plummeted to the ground, accompanied by a sonic boom. What
had inhabited him now ceased its tampering of the laws of
physics.
The strange ritual ended as soon as it had begun. Gyone now
laid cold and limp.
The figure checked the body as if expecting movement,
perceptive eyes travelling rapidly. Then it appeared that the
tamperer had been granted their wish. Gyone's hazel-green eyes
sprang open when his lungs caught up; he gasped with an
inhale of deprived breath. The figure could hardly contain his
delight. It gazed into the famed killer’s eyes – with a sly
chuckle.
Gyone slowly propped himself upright, with a groggy daze
about him as though he had been sleeping. Despite the fresh
embalming, he regained a very lively appearance. Not even as
much as a discolored pigment soured his complexion.
The hunter struggled to steady himself, feeling stuck in the
blurry mess of his vision; all blotchy details and muffled
sounds. Unbeknownst to his satisfied benefactor, Gyone was
far from grateful when he spotted what appeared to be a man.
In the blink of an eye, he sprang into action. He forcibly
grabbed the figure by his cloak, strung up to dry.
Adrenaline overclocked his kick-started heart. Gyone’s vision
slowly regained clarity.
"Who are you? … Where the hell am I?" The slender man
said nothing. Gyone conjured a more demanding demeanor as
he yanked him closer. "Where. The. Hell. Am I!?” He could
only barely conceal his gush when they finally met face to face.
"Welcome back to the world of the living, Gyone."
 Chapter 1
Arise, Irensho

"Are you out of your mind?!" Gyone shouted. He jerked his

reanimator closer in an angry jolt, “Make sense, and fast!”
The mysterious man took an unexpected pause from his
trained action to reach through his coat, with a satisfied smirk
unraveling his anonymity. 
"Well, aren’t you the persistent type?” he coyly suggested.
The man whipped out a soggy piece of parchment and began
reading aloud. “Let me level with you, Mr. Irensho. When your
human body expired, so did all thought; your sight, hearing,
and other senses ceased to exist.” He recited while counting all
the reasons on his gloved hand. "Your body couldn't possibly
had known if you were dead or not so it is understandable if
you're still very confused."  
"Well, aren't you the smartass-y type?"
Gyone clenched his left fist so the joints would crack with
rejuvenated life; fresh blood slaved through his veins once
more. "You really expect me to-" 
"There's no brain to process thought anymore (obviously,)”
with an eyeroll. The figure had interrupted Gyone as if he had
not spoken a single word. He continued rushing along the paper
with all the enthusiasm of a wet rag.  
“Time itself, from your perspective, merely froze." He
flavored his final words with a silly forebode, but nothing close
to heart-pumping. Eager to move on, the man casually
crumpled the paper, threw it aside. “Now, that’s page one out
of the way, let’s move on to-”
"Okay I get it, I was dead! But that doesn't explain one damn
thing as far as I'm concerned.”
 Gyone’s face expressed great frustration, his snarly
exclamation cutting the man short as he roughly hucked him
astray.
Rain began to pour yet again within their exchange. First,
with a crack of thunder.
He crushed the prompt paper further into the soil in his stride,
closing the distance he had created.
“How am I here talking to you, if that's true? Shouldn't I be
motor-boating angels in the sky or something?” The hunter
made no vague threat in the way he stared. “You've got ten
seconds.”
The man began to chuckle, disregarding any weight.
He must’ve heard this times before by now.
"Just look down. It'll all start making sense soon enough." He
elicited a grin to curl under his hood.  
Gyone spotted the amulet embedded in his being. Shock and
fury soon took the reins all at once at the sight. In a fit of panic,
the hardened hunter then distressingly attempted to dislodge the
accursed object. 
"What the hell is this thing?!" He pried, giving a hard tug on
the amulet with both hands. As hard as Irensho tried, all that
was managed was more harm; each pull surged piercing pain
throughout his entire body.
The man turned away.  
"Now, I don't think you'll want that to come off anytime
soon," he said.
Gyone, now aggravated beyond reason, locked and loaded
like a gun, halting with piercing eyes.  
"Agh—and just why the hell not?!" under grit teeth.
The man craned his head back. He shrugged. 
"No, no. Please keep pulling!" sarcasm physically seeping
through the man’s concern. "Especially if you want to be buried
a second time …"  
 Gyone peered back: “What are you saying?”
The man laughed as if unveiling some propostrous surprise.
"Isn't it obvious yet, Gyone?! I’d have thought you would've
caught on much sooner than this! What you love, what you
hate, what you desire, and everything else that is and whatever
you will be is inside that amulet. It is now your absolute anchor
to life.”
The man shot a flagrant glare, complete with accusative
pointer finger. 
"Remove it, and you will be joining the others in this
godforsaken cemetery once more!" 
The playful entity had fully backed his delivery, a line
possibly under one of those introductory scripts he had
practiced. In spite of his sparks, all fell somber for a moment.
Gyone clenched onto the amulet, throbbing and beating as if
it were a human heart.
This silence was only encompassed further when new winds
whisked each of their clothes to drum against their persons. A
piano percussion was left to resonate for a critical mass.
The hunter soon broke the rhythm, gazed astray into the wild
forest brushes beating against itself. 
"So why me?" 
An erupting urgency muddled the man’s precise, sagacious
chords.
"Simply put: dead or not, you are the only one who can help
us with our 'problem.'" 
Gyone adapted well, considering how bizarre these moments
had proven to be. Calm as he may get, though, nothing could
avert the aggression he harbored for uninvited clients
demanding contract work. An age-old assumption was put to
rest as the hitman, indeed, carried this resentment to the grave
and back. The hunter glared at the figure, erupted. 
 "Hold on just one goddamn minute!" Gyone shouted. "Who
are you? Who do you work for? What’s the pay? At least a
damn name would work! Anything before you start barking
orders at me!"
The figure shifted, addressive tone turned pondering for a
moment as the hunter ceased his assault—panting like a mutt.
At the very least, the figure was ready for questions.
"Hmm ... Well, I can only imagine what you feel entitled to,
Mr. Irensho. I'll explain everything in time.
“Right now though, our 'problem' may be closing in soon
and-"   
"And what would this 'problem' be exactly?"
Not a moment sooner, Gyone’s fiery, mock-jested approach
was challenged when a large, shadowy beast molded itself from
the ground like culling into existence. A process clanging
ghastly, restless noises as it shook the cemetery’s foundation –
and its inhabitant’s sleep.
It arose just a foot over either of the two’s height when fully
assembled. A mound of pure, tangible hunger.
Their oozing body beat into the soil, unearthing gleaming
silver claws as red eyes peered violently into Gyone. Sharp
horns perked from its misshapen head, and shackles barely
clung upon each hoof. This new horror had escaped
imprisonment, but from where is uncertain.
It didn’t dig up to the surface. Rather, the ground below
remained a muddy patch-grass lot. Virtually untouched
beneath.
Without reprieve, the daunting monster roared demonically.
It was fully intent on quelling its chops with whatever was
stupid enough to stand in its wake. 
"That’s our problem!” The man’s immediate backpedal
relayed tasty cowardice to the beast.
 Gyone surveyed his immediate surroundings on instinct,
searching eagerly for something he can use as a weapon.
Luckily for the hunter, he spotted his coffin. And resting
awkwardly against his wooden tomb was a scythe weapon.
The shaft glowed with a glossy black. Two silver blades lined
the top; one large, curved blade at the peak and another smaller,
straight-edged blade not unlike a dagger base far down. The
smaller blade also possessed two iron brackets, spread apart by
an inch. A bite from these blades could easily create a foothold,
able to rip and tear through bone.
“Gale …” Gyone uttered faintly. Familiarity was prominent
in the way he let it slip.
The beast blocked the way, however, standing the ground
before the two with ferocity. Almost as if it knew the dangers
of such a reunion. 
Gyone’s eyes met with those of the shadow creature. Though
frightened, he accepted its challenge as he broke into a sprint
towards the coffin.
This Irensho was famous for his reckless abandon; and
despite lacking any sort of knowledge on this abominable
enemy, his true colors shone through the bleak greens and
overcast grey as he whisked his body to the left of the beast.
In quick response, the man shouted, "No, you careless
bastard!"
All his work, bashing its head into a brick wall to spite its
creator.
Suddenly, the beast called the hitman’s bluff. It lunged its
razor-sharp claws ferociously and swatted Gyone into that of a
cascading ragdoll.
Tough shit for Gyone, the frame of the incoming coffin was
very sturdy and lined with steel. He braced for impact.
Soon, his spiral ended with a crunch from the base wood.
However painful, the coffin was the only bit of matter keeping
the hunter from plunging six feet under again straight into the
hole. Not a death sentence, but certainly a disadvantage. One
lesson he learned long ago always recited itself in moments like
this.
Headstrong, with a dash of luck, goes a long way.
Gyone steadily clambered back to his feet against the coffin.
The attack was far from a lethal strike, but left a nasty tear in
his left arm atop some body bruises.
Nothing he couldn’t walk off.
Though more questionable was the dark ooze from the beast
that lingered upon his wound. His own blood was cordial and
mixed in the gout.
Gyone looked up to investigate this monster; the very body
was unstable, stringy flesh and dying hair all soaked in sludge.
The hunter figured that if he were to destabilize its balance, it
would have to slime around like a pile of snakes.
In that, he couldn’t imagine which foe would be worse.
Suddenly, a grunt forced itself out from the hunter when that
very same substance collided in his cut, lined it completely. It
burned him like fresh ash rubbed in from a cigarette.
He gritted his teeth.
The beast then lurched around, immediately stomping its
mangled claws in an attempt to intimidate. Another pounce was
near.
Both of the desperate animals continued to dissect each other,
ready to exploit one another’s body language at a moment’s
notice.
Finally, the beast lunged to strike.
It wildly soared through the air with both front claws splayed.
Gyone was quick, hurriedly grabbing his scythe and flinging
his body in a backflip across the six-foot chasm at his back. The
beast toppled through the coffin and feeble craft of the
headstone, sending a hail of cobble and wood forward.
Charging wind alone willed debris to further follow the beast’s
flurry like spears.
With Gyone only marginally able to escape, he clenched onto
the beast’s slimy hair atop its back as it passed. Gyone clung
on, clashing against the beast’s primal velocity with only the
slimmest of prayers. The reckless hunter then let go with his
right arm and gathered his weaponto ride the current. He
desperately strengthened his left hand’s grip—Don’t give into
the pain!
He thrusted forward with all of his might, a hook to catch the
chest.
Now or never.
It stuck!
He had cleaved into the heart of the beast at its chest where
an amulet similar to gyone’s own lye.
The charging momentum sloppily halted. The beast slowed,
toppled under its own dying weight and crashed its head to dig
into premature mud.
Gyone leapt from the beast.
While descending, he watched the unnatural animal then
slowly begin to deteriorate into a pool of dark ooze as if there
were never a bone in its body. The only thing left behind were
its shackles.
Unnerved, the victorious hunter counted his blessings. He
retreated, turned about-face to walk away with a fresh victory; a
shining start to a second wind.
He couldn’t help but smile.

Gyone began rummaging through the coffin debris. To his

surprise, this death bed was a very decaded place to be laid to
rest. Silk red bed lining—all it was missing was a mini bar.
Gyone began thinking of who could have afforded such a thing.
 He soon found a strap of flexible rubber material which
appeared to be worn at the ends of each side. He took it upon
himself to tie each end of the shaft with this strap.
Tightly wound, bottom to top.
A bow without an arrow.
Gyone threw the makeshift holster over his right shoulder and
swung the lightweight scythe around to a rest, the curved blades
hanging sideways down his back. He leaned his elbows against
his scythe. 
"’Mind explaining what that was?" asked Gyone.
The man shook his head, turning away from observing the
beast's remains: "We don't know." 
"Bullshit!"
Gyone stoked an absolute roar: "What was that thing?! It had
the same damn—skull in its chest!” He fumed, “Just like
mine." He approached the figure with a stern advance. “We
won’t ask again: start. Talking." He rose the beak of the blade
in warning and an icy stare that assured he’s killed for less.
The man—breathing a calm air, not a guilty bone in his body
—exhaled, more than happy to oblige.
"As you wish.
“We were able to mimic this phenomenon and used it for
reanimating you. That skull is a relic of pure necromancy, and
whoever harnessed it—or created it in the first place is
planning much more, surely. Normal humans and weapons
work, but not well enough, as me and my men have
unfortunately realized.
“So, how do we combat this event efficiently and with little
to no casualties?
“We fight fire with fire. In turn”—he presented both hands,
open palms upward—"you, Mr. Irensho: the most deadly man
in all of Crygor." 
 Gyone scoffed: “Looks like Valkyrie’s throwing out contracts
on my behalf. Crazy, old man.”
“No, no. Your reputation alone is what brought us together.
However, I can pay you in much more extravagant ways than
any employer ever could.”
Gyone parted an inquisitive hum.
"So what, like … are those humans turned all beastly n’shit?
How does it work on me? How does any of this, while we’re at
it?"
"I told you already. We don't have the slightest clue of what
those things are, but our experts have successfully harnessed
this unholy and evil power to its most limited potential. It's a
miracle the process worked on you at all, if I'm being honest.
“We definitely had our doubts that the boundaries of death
itself could be blasted away!” His hand shot to the sky with
flair. “Call it a miracle.” His hand lowered, “We’ll call it
engineering.
“But what we know for sure is that you’re needed—passed.
Or not. Please, Gyone Irensho. Help us bring this horrible
poison to an end."  
Gyone turned away to the gates which trailed down a
bristling road. It threatened to steal him away. The rain now
sopped the earth again; thunder could be heard cracking in the
distance. His breath exhaled into a sigh, sure as to not give eye
contact to the offer. Guilt, even longing appeared to envelop the
hunter’s expression. 
"No, thanks.” Gyone depressingly scoffed. “Find somebody
else … I have somewhere to be.
“Sorry." 
With those words, Gyone began to make his exit. A slight
limp still hindered each step he took. Nothing could hold him
back now, though.
 A sigh escaped the anonymous man: "We're not forcing you
to cooperate. Just a simple ‘no’ would've been fine," he said,
bolstering to a tangent. "I mean, it's just a matter of life and
death, right? No big deal or anything!" 
Gyone spoke nothing more as he persisted onward.
As the hunter pushed open the duel gates, the man, now
without an audience placed his finger on a small bud in the
center of his ear canal.  
"This one's not going to cooperate so easy, unfortunately,"
regressed the man. "Release the experiments.
“See if we can't persuade him yet."