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Pestilence: Rise Of The Pure Undead

Moulded from rot and souls, Loimos is born as an undead, as a skeleton. An undead linked to the weakest category of its kind, yet, he has something no other of the dead have. He is pure. Follow the journey of Loimos as he fulfils his duty and hunts down the living with extreme prejudice and faces off with the hypocrisy of those who live in death. In a world thriving with life, magic and heroes, he stands as the solution and its end.

Ready_ · Fantasy
Not enough ratings
651 Chs

Dealings En Masse

"Ah crap, is it me or it's getting even warmer?" a guard in darkish armour expressed his distaste toward the weather.

The siamese suns had grown brighter, glancing up could earn you a good few seconds of complete blindness at this point, inside of their suits of armour, the brave defender of the city were getting cooked, a terrible stench of sweat emanating from all of them, even those having taken refuge under shadows couldn't escape the extreme heat.

Thankfully, their smell was shared by pretty much everyone, only those remaining inside, in their magically cooled interiors could enjoy themselves without being assaulted by the spheres of plasma in the distant sky beyond.

The people avoided coming to the outside for too long, whilst they, the armoured ones had to reinforce their bodies with mana to avoid passing out whilst standing, his vision distorted, one guard brought his hand just above the slits for his eyes on his helm.