Forged Legacy

Chapter 165 - Baptized by Undeath

Marcus constantly faded in and out of consciousness, his mind barely able to recognize the screams of the dozens of other humans dangling in the graveweaver’s unholy larder before the pain made him pass out again. It was like his soul had been poked full of holes, each leaking a steady stream of life for the silk to transform into more thanum. The entire cave was soon full of the cerulean mist, filling each of their lungs and choking them from the inside.

With every fitful moment of awareness, the fog grew denser and denser. At first, all of the cocoons holding his friends hostage thrashed and wriggled, but the cave grew increasingly still with every awakening. Eventually, it was only his own screams that yanked him out of the darkness, reviving him just long enough to suffer a little bit more.

“Ah… you survived,” Anton sang.

Marcus' eyes fluttered open, and he found the cave utterly devoid of thanum once more. The silk prisons dangling beside him had all shriveled up like raisins, now looking more like shrink-wrapped skeletons.

Following his gaze, the wicked grin on Anton’s face grew even wider.

“You ate them, you know. It takes a lot to create a revenant. Don’t worry, though, if you hadn’t consumed their life, I would’ve.”

As if to prove his point, Anton cut down one of the bodies, letting the bones clatter across the floor. A few wispy strands of brown hair still clung to the skull, the only remains of the once beautiful woman.

“Cary,” Marcus whispered, barely able to croak out the words. He wanted to cry. To scream! But more than anything, he needed to breathe. The cave was suffocating, like all the oxygen had been sucked out of it. His body gasped for air, but it didn’t have what he needed.

“Still hungry?” Anton taunted. “Don’t worry. I’ll feed you.”

His sword flashed, cutting just above Marcus's head. For a moment, he thought the prophet had come to finish the job, but instead he found himself sprawled on the floor. Marcus wanted to leap up and tackle the revenant. Steal his sword and drive it through his black heart. But he couldn’t even break free of the cocoon.

Instead of cutting him free, Anton dragged Marcus through the rocky tunnel, happy to let his head bounce off the occasional boulder blocking their path. A particularly nasty hit to the head made him black out again, and he awoke to find himself in a cage. The bars had been carved with arrays that transformed the pure ambient essence into thanum, and a massive black sheet surrounded the cage on all sides.

“Gah!” Marcus recoiled, scrambling away from the geyser of undeathly energy. He knew just how toxic it was, so he covered his mouth with his hand. Sadly, there was no escaping the vile cloud. He held his breath for as long as he could, his eyes threatening to pop out of his head, before he braved a gasping breath.

He was… fine.

Better than fine. In fact, his body was soaking in the mist faster than the bars could produce it. He wanted more. He needed more! His body was incomplete. Something primal deep within wanted to shove a handful of undeath resonance crystals into his mouth and finish his transformation.

Instinctively, he tried to activate one of his skills. A mistake, he soon discovered. His weave was broken beyond repair, and the sigil inked onto his newly pallid skin didn’t look like it used to. Like him, it was being twisted, mutating into an expression of undeath. Trying to activate it triggered a seizure, leaving him thrashing against the bars so hard the cage nearly toppled over.

“Hey! Keep it down back there!” Anton shouted from just beyond the sheet. They were on a carriage, rumbling across a forest floor on the way to who knows where.

“I’m not letting you out until we’re on planet!” Anton growled, picking up the sheet and thwapping Marcus on the head with the butt of his sword.

The next thing he saw was the regal purple sky of his homeworld. Rough iron bars were digging into his bare back, but Marcus didn’t care. He was home! The familiar songs of birds and rustle of grass filled his ears. He smelled limflowers and glassberries blooming all around him. For the first time in a long time, he drew in a long, deep breath of home.

It was suffocating.

“Help,” Marcus wheezed.

“Alright, turn the arrays back on,” Anton commanded before slapping an armored hand against the cage. Runes inscribed on the bars flared to life once more, spewing thanum that Marcus lapped up like a dog drinking from a hose.

“Once your weave fully heals, you’ll be able to transform the essence inside your own body. It’s enough to live without one of those gods damned collars the Ossari use, but it will still feel like you’re breathing through a gas mask,” Anton grumbled. “You and I are going to change that. We will take over this world and claim it for the Necrolords.”

Marcus began to speak, but Anton raised a hand.

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“Listen. I know you’ve got loved ones here, and I know we tricked you onto this path. I know you probably won’t believe me, but I was in your shoes not too long ago. I, too, was turned, forced to conquer my planet, and allowed to bring my loved ones home to the holy land where beings much greater than ourselves were able to turn my family into revenants without the same pain and sorrow you and I had to bear. Once I finish taking this planet for the Necrolords, I’m going home to them,” Anton said wistfully. “That’s the way things work with the Necrolords. Bring them two worlds, and they’ll help you rule your own as the God-King you’ve become. Help me finish this, and soon we’ll both have a throne.”

“I’d rather die,” Marcus spat.

Anton grinned, “You’ll come around. Cut the arrays!”

The steady stream of thanum disappeared as the massive sheet was draped over his cage once more. Before long, Marcus was screaming his apology, begging for the suffocation to end. Just as he was about to succumb to all the ambient life trying to snuff out his undead soul, the arrays ticked back on.

For weeks, he was baptized by undeath. His body and soul were remade, and a simple look at his status screen showed just how powerful the transformation had made him. In the end, he had to be dragged out of the cage, long after his new power could’ve easily broken him out himself.

Despite his hatred of Anton, his fear of drowning in life was worse. Marcus fought by his side, helping him expel all the other factions who’d made it down to the planet one by one. The farther they spread, the more tolerable the air became. The power he gained was addicting, and by the time the portal back to the Necrolord homeworld had opened, Marcus had reached the peak of F-Grade. He could evolve whenever he wanted, but Anton convinced him to wait, since evolving now would preclude him from leading the invasion that would buy him ownership of his newly terraformed homeworld.

As promised, their entire army celebrated Anton’s success with a feast lasting 30 days and 30 nights. Marcus danced with the Ossari awakened from Cary’s corpse. It wasn’t the same soul residing inside her old bones, but he told her all about the woman she once was anyway. All of the dead Veilstriders from his trial were slowly being awakened, becoming the first soldiers in the army he would lead to the next planet.

“Enjoying yourself, Marcus?” A D-Grade revenant liaison representing the governmental body of the Necrolord faction asked him, offering him a flute of milky white liquor.

“Very much,” Marcus nodded respectfully, taking the glass and nursing it slowly. This was the strongest ascendant he’d ever met, and he could feel the power radiating from her overwhelming aura. She had it politely restrained so as not to hurt anyone, but she still showed enough to scare him.

“Good,” she beamed. “The Necrolords would like to extend an opportunity to you. Something that should help with your upcoming invasion.”

“Oh?” he asked.

“A new clutch of thanefire drakes should be hatching any day now. They are offering a chance for you to bond with one.”

His heart skipped a beat. A dragon? A real-life dragon? Well, an undead one, but a dragon all the same… They were only creatures of legend back on his home world, and he never thought he’d get the chance to actually see one, let alone bond with it. In his old life, he’d been a zookeeper. Working with animals had been his greatest passion, and now he was given the opportunity to work with the greatest beast of them all.

“I… I would love to,” he nodded furiously.

“Good! Follow me, and I will help you prepare,” she replied.

Even at a day old, the dragon's backs were almost as tall as his head. They stalked around him, coughing up fitful gouts of thanefire in between snapping at him.

“Ok. It’s ok,” he lilted, yanking his fingers away just in time. As the liaison instructed, he bathed them in his aura while releasing a steady stream of pure thanum from his hand. The goal was to give the drakes a taste of his own strain of undeath. If one resonated with his path, they would supposedly approach him. Although their bodies were strong, their minds were still relatively weak in their infancy, and they knew they needed someone to guide them down their path of ascension.

“Ow! You’re supposed to taste my essence, not my fingers!” Marcus swore.

One by one, the dragons sampled his path, most losing interest almost instantly.

Come on. One of you has to love me! Please!

His fear grew with every passing moment, until the runt of the clutch, barely as tall as his waist, stumbled over. It couldn’t push past its larger brothers and sisters and had to wait for them to lose interest before it could take its turn. The beast greedily sniffed at the plume rising from Marcus outstretched hand, the smoke sucking into its bony nostrils despite not having any organs to facilitate the motion.

Time stood still as the drake lingered, and Marcus felt his heart melt as the creature chirped merrily. Incomprehensible bliss overwhelmed him as he knelt down and wrapped his arms around its long neck, pulling the creature into a sobbing hug. The Mark that had formed on his chest began to glow, and he knew he was finally getting his first Imprint.

Many of his old compatriots had already managed the feat long before they’d been captured by Anton all that time ago, but his life up to that point hadn’t been filled with many uncommon feats. The power he wielded now had been forced down his throat, not gained by any special accomplishments on his part. He knew he’d get a nobility Mark when his invasion began, but that was nothing compared to the feat of bonding with a dragon.

His dragon.

Out of nowhere, the world began to shake. Marcus was standing outside, under the cerulean sky, yet somehow it felt like something was pounding on the ceiling. The drake held in his arms yelped in fear as the rest bolted for the various caves of the hatchery. Caves that began to collapse as the pounding grew louder.

“Help!” Marcus called. “What’s happening?”

His drake tried to pull away, but he held on tight. “It’s ok. It’s ok!” he fretted as he patted the milky white bones.

The slams grew faster and faster, until the sky cracked like shattered glass. High above, the bony head of a dragon burst into view, a white, drywall ceiling visible through the hole behind it.

KRAAAATH! It roared.

[HARVEY! SNAP OUT OF IT!] Julius screamed.

There was that name again. Harvey. He hadn’t thought about it in so long, but he’d been dreaming that he was a human named Harvey right before he woke up in that cave where Anton had turned him into a revenant.

[HARVEY!]

Suddenly, Harvey’s consciousness was expelled from Marcus's body. He looked down at the scene around him like he was an astral projection, and memories began flooding back through the hole in the sky.

His name was Harvey. This was a vision. He was trying to turn Marcus' Legacy, the very Imprint he’d just gained after bonding with the dragon Harvey killed atop the Hell Hotel, into ink he could use for a magic thanefire bullet.

You’ve got to be kidding me!