In the ruins of Old Tristam, the area was much larger than Slade thought it would be, and since he wasn't confined by the limits of a game monitor.
He could see the figures in the shadows hidden by the darkness of the sky and the strange mist moving around in candid shambling dead form.
If anything, this wasn't a hindrance at all since Slade had to deal with worse things in his times as a special forces officer, that included in a thicker gas cloud that was incredibly toxic and called the need for gas masks.
Anyhow, as Slade wandered in the mist straight towards one of the shambling figures in the darkness.
The monster he was aiming at shivered before hunching over.
The sound of wretching came out in the distance as the distint sound of vomit being spilled reached his ears.
Eyes twitching in slight disgust, Slade hurried onwards and saw the Wretched Mother birthing another zombie.
Called forth by the toxic green sludge, an undead risen crawled out of the ground.
'Well that's not really great.'
Jumping forwards, by using the shield bash Slade flew forwards while dragged by an unseen force and slammed straight at the Wretched Mother, stomping at the half risen in the processes.
Moving onwards, a slaughter occurred in the mist as Slade began smashing open the heads of various undead.
From the gigantic lumbering ones called Walking corpses that were near double his size to the more normal foes that were the Risen undead forms of humans.
They were all the same underneath the heavy metal flail.
'A sword?'
Upon smashing open the skull of a walking corpse, Slade pushed the giant body away to reveal the small silver sword on the ground.
'So this is how it works?'
When killing the monsters, it was usually up to luck whether or not one would receive a new piece of equipment.
And the rates upon which equipment fell was rather low.
But this was made up by the sheer number of monsters that proliferated like the black plague in the 1700s.
Nevertheless, the way the pieces of equipment appeared was slightly peculiar.
Manifesting upon the death of the monster by just appearing in a brief flash of light, if the Undead weren't so weak and fragile despite their appearance, Slade would've been hard pressed to notice the armament and would've noticed it at the end of battle.
And by extension the strange light which caused it to appear.
But shrugging it off as one of the games mechanics since normal logic didn't really apply in a world where magic existed, Slade picked it up and began comparing it to his current armaments.
It was better.
And as it was a sword and all of the skills he currently had only needed the shield it was a no brainer.
Sending the sword which occupied a few slots in place flail, the flail mysteriously disappeared from his hands and in its place a sword appeared.
Staring at it, he made a mental note to experiment with his inventories capabilities later and continued onwards into the mist.
And from the mist, all sorts of undead horrors emerged.
From the Crawling corpses which had their exposed entrails lagging behind them as they dragged themselves with their two arms.
To the gigantic lumbering Walking corpses that the crawling corpses usually come from.
Lots of undead crawled out of the mist and tried to ambush me as best as they could.
Keyword tried.
Slade twisted his body as the sword audibly whistled through the air and snuffed the second life of the Risen by cutting straight through its throat.
'At least that Risen doesn't need to bear such a heavy weight on its shoulders anymore.'
Enjoying the morbid joke he had just made within his mind, Slade's feet unhurriedly moved around and carried him to the next target who was rendered incapacitated by the shield in his hands.
With a twist of the wrist his shield flung the risen clinging onto it right before the edge of the blade dug straight through flesh and bone.
Continuing the momentum drawn by the steel of the blade, Slade turned around and bisected the creature in half.
Dull red blood that bordered on black coated his blade not unlike the colour that his flail before.
If anything because of the relatively streamlined shape of the blade I liked the multi spiked star shaped flail head the blade itself was less covered in blood.
'And at least viscera and blood won't be splattering everywhere.'
Facing the relatively small backlash of blood and guts, Slade calmly stepped through the battlefield filled with undead.
With several undead trailing behind him in numbers that would've already overwhelmed less skilled people, Slade calmly replenished his rage before slamming his shield into them with an abrupt charge.
'And I already killed two wretched mothers.'
Having bisected the women with red hair marking them as wretched mothers in half, the undead in their pallid skin tones devoid of blood filled his vision.
Glancing backwards and taking in the surroundings, several things were temporarily imprinted in his mind as a 3D map of the battlefield filled his mind.
Relying on his acute battle trained memory and lots of experience alongside some good depth perspective, Slade hopped over a rock behind him that wouldve tripped him and sent him overwhelmed by the undead and shield charged into them again.
Stabbing through the skull of the risen, the undead briefly continued walking forwards before falling limp.
Using the weight of the corpse to slide it off the blade, Slade felt his breaths shorten as he continued fighting.
'Bloody Hell, I really took myself for granted.'
Missing his well trained battle forces styled adapted style that he used till his middle aged, Slade continually swung the blade.
Shield bashing once more the undead who had continuously received the residual shockwaves of the attacks finally fell apart.
Tumbling downwards as if their strings had been cut, the fallen bodies which tumbled downwards hindered the rest of the undead.
Seizing that moment, Slade dived into the horde.
Taking it as their chance to strike, Slade wasn't a special forces soldier for nothing.
Making sure that he wouldn't have to deal with more than one zombie at a time, he swung his shield.
Pushing the Risen back, they tripped over the corpses.
Lunging forwards the steel blade flashed through the air and slit straight through the neck of an undead.
Following that he spun the blade so now it was facing downwards, holding it in a reverse grip he pushed the blade down where it stabbed through the chest of the risen, sneaking through the path of least resistance.
Dodging between the ribs with nothing but instinct and experience, the blade found purchase in its heart where he continues to fight.
Ripping the sword out of the chest like how King Arthur Pendragon unsheathed the sword in the stone.
Slade spun around still holding his blade in a reverse grip and stabbed it straight through the skull of an undead lunging at him, glancing at the arms outstretched in front of him.
Slade used the Shield Bash Skill to drag him out of an outflanking manuever from an undead and slammed into another rising one.
Using the momentum to spin the blade in his hands to a normal grip, he turned his body sideways and thrust the blade straight through the neck of the Risen.
Spinning around once again, the blade whistled through the air before cutting between the jaw and skull of a Risen sending the upper half of a human face flying.
Watching the rotting face fly into the air, Slade glanced around with vigilance from where he was.
But the only thing of note besides the field of corpses in the areas of Old Tristam was one thing.
A figure in sparse leather armor holding a sword and shield covered in a layer of cold crimson black blood that dropped downwards in small moments.
Standing around the Corpses with a satisfied gaze, Slade sheathed his sword.
'No Zombies anymore' noting that Slade turned to one of the not destroyed houses in Old Tristam.
'But no matter where I go I haven't seen the final Wretched mother of any signs of that damned Queen.
Licking his lips, Slade glanced at his glum surroundings before making his way to the building.
Made from a mixture of stone and wood, it was a wonder that the wood hadn't rotted away and collapsed the house already.
Glancing at the two story wooden hut that seemed by all means abandoned.
Slade knew that appearances could be deceiving, no matter the amount of cob webs there, there was always a chance of people living there.
'And since living dead exist, there is a chance undead linger in the house'
Since the dead didn't need to eat or breath the chances rose exponentially.
Entering the small house, his leather boots slapped against the wooden floorboards.
Manuevering through the strewn around furniture, Slade found something.
In his vision, in the small alcoves of the not so abandoned house.
A small group of undead lingered there.
But despite seeing the undead, Slade's eyes were focused on something else..
An undead, much larger than it's smaller counterparts, more unique looking than it's ragged cloth wearing cousins and surrounded by Risen undead that looked small before it stood before him.
Staring at the undead covered in a golden glow within his vision, a small chuckle tore through his lips as Slade widened his stance and crouched in readiness.
In front of him was a monster known as an elite, or in other more game like terms...
"Hello there Goldie, fine weather we're having."
Activating the Shield Bash Slade flew forwards in a abject readiness to fight.
+++
Hello there.
Sorry for not so many chapters.
Just wondering how to ruin canon and mix game things into the world.
So far I have thought about saving an old guy and telling the truth to bald man.
If you played the game then you know, if not well.
No spoilers.
On that note, it's incredibly hard not to call them zombies instead of Risen.
Also Hello Krokrok007
Tree