Perytos woke up quietly. He held in his morning yawn, quickly reminding himself of where he was; what his situation really looked like. He had been dreaming tonight, with an ally close by he managed to relax. The dreams were oh so sweet... They spoke of the familiarity he had lost. One that was taken away from him.

  Once he rubbed his eyes, he looked around. It was dark, Celarity still hidden along the curvature of the world. His thoughts were muddled, swimming in the land of warmth and love. After a few short minutes, he sighed. Nothing but the way forward.

  The shield put on his mind helped him, it eased the burden. His eyes found Mercel’s form; the Lykani breathed calmly. That too-This also helps. Though I’m not gonna enjoy the next part.

  With that thought, Perytos rustled his companion. “Come on, we have to get moving.”

  The Lykanos surely liked his beauty sleep because he didn't wake up. Perytos had to nudge him once... twice. After the third a scowl stopped him.

  They had no rations to speak off, no packs to gather and no rolls to fold. In a few minutes, they were already down.

  The initial walk was uneventful. Both were on edge, the darkness lingered and wrapped every form; every shape, every blind spot could spell their doom. Especially Mercel seemed off... His nostrils flared repeatedly, gagging at the unpleasant smell in the air.

  Perytos’ nose was always pretty bad, he deferred to his hearing or eyes instead. Despite that, even he noticed something wrong. The cold, biting air of dawn carried with it the corrupting stench of rot. Of a carcass left for too long in the sun. Undead...

  Perytos was deeply familiar with it, he had the scar on his wrist to prove that. The wound was sealed and with Mercel’s blessing any infection was purged- That didn’t change the fact that he had a bone to pick with the living corpses.

  It turned out he had a perfect occasion for his revenge.

  The smell of death grew stronger. The grass swayed and leaves rustled as a form emerged from behind the tree line.

  The monster was quick. Quick but unorganized. Its movement was sloppy; its hands didn’t work with it to find balance. The undead charged the moment it sensed them, ravenous maw wide open.

  Perytos didn't desperately rush for his knife; his hands were steady, controlled. He prepared for impact with the experience. There was no fear in his mind, not anymore. Just tiredness.

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  Mercel didn’t hesitate. The lykani didn’t growl, didn’t bark. It turned invisible instead, fusing with the rich vegetation. If Perytos was a lesser man he would be outraged for the wolf ditching him. He wasn’t- His emotions were smooth like a wave. He’s just preparing for ambush, that’s basic tactics. Nothing to worry about.

  Unsurprisingly, the undead didn't stand a chance. Its beastly body covered by a superior weight, too distracted with the tasty human in front of it to notice.

  Perytos just took the finishing blow. His pocketknife broke the skull easily- Too easily. It went further; guts and grey matter covered his hand. His skill triggered at the wrong time, despite the fact he didn’t need it right now, it activated anyway.

  “Ugh, disgusting.” Perytos tried wiping his filthy hand on the grass. To no success. The filth stuck. He took a deep breath, controlling his frustration.

  Your skill(Oath resonance) has reached level 6-7.

  Mercel began snorting and shaking. Was he poisoned during the fight? Perytos rushed to the beast rolling on the mossy ground. After a few moments he realized what that was and shook his head in exasperation.

  “Don't scare me like that you fool; you laugh like an antique chair.”

  In an instant, Mercel let out a high-pitched whine. He twisted, in an attempt to dodge.

  Too late. The muck riddling Perytos’ hemp sleeve landed onto the pristine wolf. “Who's laughing now, huh?”

  With a dignified huff, Mercel walked off, not even looking back. I swear, he's such a drama queen. Perytos had no other choice but to follow his offended companion.

  Thrice more they were assaulted, the undead were unrelenting. At least they seemed to be at their power level. He shuddered just thinking what would happen to them if they were to encounter a monster higher tier than them. That didn’t mean he wasn’t getting annoyed.

  The second time their opponent went down even easier, its leg was broken and dangling with sinewy cords. It took only a little push.

  After the fourth though, he began getting worried. Something wasn't right. Not once were they in real danger, but the amount of un-alive creatures set a worrying precedent.

  At least they figured out their dynamic by now. Mercel would pounce and pin their target from the shadows while Perytos dispatched it with terrifying efficiency. I even got a few levels... So far so good, I guess. The skill was just before its first threshold. That didn't stop Perytos from getting even more gunk on his arms though. At least Mercel stopped laughing at him, tired of the smell.

  Your skill(Oath resonance) has reached level 7-9.

  Their progress, even though small, was constant. It was midday by now. The forest began clearing; they reached the first signs of civilization. The abandoned wrecks of carts and other machines didn’t keep Perytos optimistic though.

  With the trees growing scarcer, they could see a bit more; the giant, looming trunks no longer created an impenetrable web of tangled vines.

  Perytos gazed nervously, looking for the source of his growing worry. It occupied most of his ambient thoughts. The forest is... somehow wrong, intruded upon maybe? He couldn't recognize the feeling, but he could see that the wildlife of the Tremor woods was roused. Animals that would normally be out at this time of day hid deep in the safety of their burrows. The thrum of critters he had been getting used to was muted now. And the main offender, the smell of rot still permeating everywhere they went.

  He was so focused on the forest that he didn't see the group of Carrion Eaters jumping out from behind. His only warning was Mercel's loud bark. Just in time to save himself from certain death.