A Zombie's Path to Power

Grunting in confusion, Azel scanned around the area. He saw a pool of blood from where the yeti had its throat cut, he saw the outcrop of rocks that had a web of cracks from where the Yeti charged and yet the actual corpse was nowhere to be found.

Did the beast survive and crawl away? No, Azel removed its mana core straight from the yetis heart, it was no doubt dead. So… Did someone else take the corpse? But the monster was at least 9 foot tall and as heavy as ten Azel's!

Suddenly Azel's pace quickened. A hungry mana-beast found the yeti corpse and consumed it, leaving nothing behind. And since Azel had only disappeared for about fifteen minutes this creature was of considerable size.

Azel quickly begun running back down the mountain. After all, he happened to have a very nice smelling bunch of herbs hanging on his waist, and the zombie did not want to meet whatever did this to what was supposed to be his meal.

Of course the zombie was annoyed. He had been looking forward to eating the yeti. But the fact that there was no blood trail or spatter could only mean that the yeti was eaten in just one bite. And Azel had no confidence fighting what could potentially be a fiend-rank monster.

Reaching the edge of the cliff, Azel lowered himself down and begun steadily descending. He was only a few meters into the process when he heard it. An raspy, ear-deafening hiss from way out in the air. After the initial cry everything sounded muted and judging from the blood running down his cheeks Azel's ear drums had popped.

Suddenly going very still, the zombie debated cutting the herbs loose to save himself but decided against it. After all their scent was no doubt already intertwined with his, besides the zombie doubted the monster would choose to go for the herbs over him...

His still heart would be beating out of his chest if the zombie was still alive, but thankfully being a corpse meant that he was unnaturally quiet as he descended the mountain. Even so with every loose rock that fell Azel grew more worrisome.

Not that Azel dared to look, but the monster itself was truly a horror. Its form was colossal and monstrous, something in between avian and serpentine. If anyone was to look upon its elongated beak, sharp talons, and vast, bat-like wings spreading out into the sky they would immediately identify the creature as Behemoth-ranked mana beast.

That puts it a one stage above fiend, and therefore one stage above Azel. The creature's glowing white eyes radiated an ominous intensity as they locked onto the lone cloaked figure eagerly descending the mountain.

The titanic monster pondered for a moment, almost as if it was considering how appetizing the young man would be. But before it could decide to consume him, the horror saw something hidden deep within Azel. The vulture saw the most fundamental piece of the zombies existence, his soul.

A fragment of power, ancient and foul, made the creature recoil in disgust. In what seemed like a miracle to Azel, the vulture swiftly flew back up the mountain to its nest, leaving the zombie who had silently kept descending in a cold sweat.

Waiting a few moment before speaking, Azel found his voice to be a dry, raspy cough, "What the hell is something like that doing so close to the city?"

In fact, they were still hundreds of kilometres out from the city, but to that dark horror of a monster it was just a trip that would take a few minutes at most. If something of that scale wanted to, Azel had no doubt that the vulture could kill thousands of innocents before the higher ups of the sun chasers intervened and fought it off.

Azel had spent more than a few days in the city, and everyone there spoke of the templars like they were hero's. Exchanging stories of their feats and accolades, despite this, Azel doubted that mere humans would be able to ever contest with something of that scale.

Suddenly pausing in thought, Azel had to acknowledge something. He was terrified for the first time since his birth (or rebirth). Even when he had first encountered Colwyn and believed himself to be dying at the hands of the knight the only emotion Azel felt was a sense of bitterness for living a short life.

Not even the yeti had given Azel a sense of true terror. Maybe a strong sense of nervousness or something akin to anxiety, but nothing like this.

Azel's rasping voice broke the silence again, the sound barely audible over the howl of the wind. "A Behemoth... this close to the city…" He trailed off, his mind racing. The implications were staggering. Mana beasts of that rank didn't simply wander into the outskirts of civilization unless driven by a purpose.

Reaching the base of the cliff, Azel's boots crunched against the snow, his movements deliberate and careful. The herbs at his waist felt heavier now, not because of their weight but because of what they represented. He had risked his existence for these flowers, and though they were a rare prize, the cost of this encounter loomed large in his mind.

Taking a moment to catch his breath—not that he needed it—Azel's gaze turned toward the distant silhouette of the mountain. The vulture had retreated to its nest, its form lost in the swirling snow, but the memory of its screech lingered. It wasn't just a sound; it had been a warning.

"I need to get back to Colwyn," he muttered, brushing frost from his cloak. But Azel couldn't shake the thought that the vulture's presence wasn't a coincidence. Behemoth-ranked monsters didn't merely stumble into populated regions. Something had drawn it here.

As he began the trek down the mountain toward the city, Azel couldn't help but glance back one last time. For all his strength, for all his cunning, he had been reduced to a silent, trembling figure on that cliffside. And for some reason the vulture had spared him.

For the first time in his undead existence, Azel felt small. And that realization, more than anything, drove him forward.