"Meow!"
The black cat's cry echoed in the clearing surrounded by a secluded forest. Both the adult man in black robe and the teenage boys and girls, who were only fifteen or sixteen, simultaneously cast their gazes upon the corpse lying in the center.
A cold, gloomy wind blew past, and the black cat landed on the ground, staring intently at the human who had thrown it away, constantly sweeping its tail.
Suddenly, its fur bristled again, and then it pushed off with its feet, leaped up, and fled quickly in another direction.
Unfortunately, all of this attracted no attention; the humans present were all focused on the motionless corpse.
Time ticked by, and the corpse did not undergo any expected changes.
"Failed again?" a boy approached, crouched down, and poked the corpse's skin with a finger.
"No reaction." He half-turned and said to the black-robed man and the other companions.
Just then, he felt a wind blow up from below into his face.
Whoosh! The corpse sat up!
The boy was startled, but then he cheered in surprise: "Success! Success..."
Before he could finish, the corpse suddenly grabbed his shoulders, pulled him into its embrace, opened its mouth, and bit down, making a pop sound, causing blood to flow everywhere.
"Ah! Help!" the boy screamed in terror, struggling with all his might, but he couldn't break free.
The corpse lifted its head, revealing white, gleaming teeth with shreds of flesh hanging between them and blood flowing from its mouth.
The black-robed man was stunned for a moment, then took out a brass-colored whistle, put it in his mouth, and blew.
Then, he said in the language of
As the voice echoed, the corpse stopped biting and stiffened in place.
The boy, whose neck and shoulder were bitten raw, also collapsed there, seeming to have lost his soul, while the mud below his waist was wet.
"It really works..." the black-robed man whispered in surprise, pointing at the corpse and once again speaking in the language of Hermes, "Rise!"
The corpse suddenly stood up, then swung its arms and ran stampeding into the depths of the secluded forest.
"Come back!" the black-robed man shouted in surprise, but the corpse showed no sign of stopping.
He quickly blew the whistle again and shouted with authority: "I command you to come back in the name of the God of Death!"
With his words, the corpse's back disappeared into the cover of the trees.
"I told you to come back..." the black-robed man stood stunned, muttering to himself.
Inside the forest, Klein held the Azik copper whistle and a matchbox in one hand, while with the other hand, he kept lighting matches, then flicking them out and throwing them on the ground.
During this process, he retreated in an arc.
Stomp! Stomp! Stomp!
The corpse, with a pale face and reeking of foul odor, charged over, its lifeless eyes staring straight at the ancient and exquisite copper whistle.
Klein, while retreating, puffed out his cheeks, aimed at the corpse, and simulated a sound: "Bang!"
The corpse suddenly shook, and a penetrating wound appeared on its chest.
"Bang!"
Klein puffed his cheeks and expelled air again, firing an air bullet.
Pfft! A small part of the corpse's head shattered, with decaying liquid dripping down.
But this was not a fatal wound to it; its stampeding run only paused briefly before continuing.
Seeing this, Klein took a step back and snapped his fingers.
Crack!
A bright flame burst from the ground, just encompassing the corpse, igniting its outer clothing.
Stomp! Stomp! Stomp!
The corpse charged through the flame, continuing forward like a mad bull.
Crack! Crack! Crack! Klein snapped his fingers repeatedly, causing crimson flames to rise from the ground one after another.
The corpse, feeling no pain, charged through these flames, its body gradually burning, growing more intense, giving a strange sensation of a candle melting.
Finally, the corpse, now a torch, charged up to Klein and swiped a claw at him.
At the same time, a flame burst up, enveloping both it and Klein.
The corpse grabbed Klein's shoulder but only clutched scattered sparks.
Klein's figure dissipated in the red flames and reappeared at the farthest fire pile.
And the corpse seemed to have finally used up all its strength, no longer struggling, and rapidly melted away in the flames tinged with a bit of eerie green, turning into ash and grease.
"It's stronger than all the zombies and vengeful spirits I've encountered before, hmm, not as good as Mr. Azik's descendants... Without me, they would all have died here today." Klein shook his head and walked through the forest toward the clearing.
At this time, the black-robed man had already noticed the changes in the forest and unhesitatingly turned and ran away. The seven or eight teenage boys and girls had first scattered in all directions, but as they ran, when they found themselves alone, they timidly stopped and returned to gather together.
Having just experienced the awakening of the corpse and the bloody biting, they truly didn't dare to flee alone in the deep night.
It made them feel a chill on the backs of their necks.
They looked at each other, no one daring to help the boy whose neck and shoulder were raw and bloody, afraid he would turn into a zombie at any moment.
In the brief silence that made hearts beat like drums, they were astonished to see a clown walking out of the forest, wearing exaggerated clothes and painted with red, yellow, and white makeup.
This was an illusion directly created by Klein.