The snow-covered woodland seemed to have gone through a fierce battle; the snow and bushes were full of the corpses of Winter Wolves. The corpses were turning into black particles, like black smoke, and the winner of the battle obviously belonged to the other party who was not lying down on the battlefield: the human knights from Kirrlutz.
Yoakam expressionlessly watched this scene, while slowly advancing along the clearing between the woodland. His leather boots stepped into the accumulated snow, “Damn it.” Yoakam cursed in a low voice and frowned as he lifted his foot, took his boots off, patted the barrel of the boots, shook the snow out, and then put them back on.
A grayish-white Winter Wolf came out of the bushes and whimpered to him a few times. Yoakam lifted his head and rubbed his chin, “A quarter of an hour or so? They’ve fled to the north?”
“Who are they, the group of Kirrlutzians?”
“I guess so, there’s no one else to be found in this forest except them.”
“Don’t worry, they’re just resisting, they can’t get far.”
The Winter Wolf whimpered, and Yoakam seemed to understand what the beast was trying to say as he touched its forehead.
Although he had long since ceased to be as self-appointed as he had been in Ampere Seale, he had indeed been killed by the swords of the disorganized soldiers in the rout in that war, and the wounds on his body from that time had then left him with indelible damage. Now his skin was as pale as paper, lacking radiance and moisture; his bare arms and palms were like bones wrapped with just skin, and permanently blind in one eye so he wore an eye patch with a skull printed on it.
He was also left with a fatal wound on his chest, which was caused by a heavy sword, which had not yet healed. The wound led to a gap in the rib cage, piercing the heart, but the heart once born as a human’s had long since decayed and no longer beated, instead, it was replaced by a blazing white flame.
All because of the deal he made when alive to those unnamed beings who promised him the power of eternal immortality, which he did enjoy in death, but in a different way.
He became an Undead.
Only after being an Undead he understood how painful eternal immortality was, as the Soul Fire was constantly bringing up the memory, pain, regret, anger, sorrow, and all kinds of negative emotions from the past, torturing him day and night. Day after day, humane emotions gradually wore away, leaving only cold hatred for everything in the past in his mind now.
Although he had become an Undead, he was not entirely at lost, as those unnamed beings did keep their words and gave him power; summoning the Winter Wolves in the forest was just one of them.
This was a power that was far beyond the mortal world, a power that was very different from the shallow power of humans that was based on status; it was a true power that could be mastered.
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