City of Valmitor
The city of Valmitor, known as the Red City, owed its name to the peculiar color of its walls and buildings, constructed with a reddish stone abundant in the region. Although small, with about seventy thousand inhabitants, it was a vibrant city, protected by a solid twenty-five-meter-high wall that completely enclosed it. Four watchtowers—one at each cardinal point—housed sentinels who remained alert twenty-four hours a day.
The streets were lively and bustling. Merchants of all kinds offered their goods, and guards patrolled to maintain order. Despite the turbulent times, Valmitor felt safe and alive.
However, not everything was perfect. The biggest issue was the lack of sanitation: waste was thrown freely into the streets. It wasn’t uncommon for an unfortunate passerby to receive an unwanted “gift” from the top of a building.
In the center of the city, a small plaza featured a water canal where women came to wash clothes, accompanied by their children who played nearby as the mothers chatted. Outside the walls, large fields of crops stretched in every direction, worked from dawn until dusk by men who supported their families with hard labor. Other trades, such as blacksmiths, butchers, or bakers, offered better living conditions but were still demanding.
Everything seemed calm… until the sound of a horn shattered the peace.
From one of the watchtowers, the long wail of the horn made everyone freeze. The entire city fell into a profound silence… until the bells began to ring urgently. Chaos erupted quickly. What had been an orderly and cheerful place turned into a frantic swarm. People ran in desperation, and outside the city, a crowd gathered at the gates, trying to get in however they could.
From atop a tower, Gerse Vatryl, lord of the city, watched with a grave expression as an army approached at high speed.
—My Lord —reported a soldier beside him—. We’ve identified the banner of the army. It belongs to the Bedralt family, from Emerald City.
—Are you certain?
—Completely, sir.
Gerse frowned. The Bedralt family governed Emerald City, an ally and friend of Valmitor for generations. There had never been any conflict between them.
—Give the order. All units are to prepare to defend the city at my command!
The soldier nodded and shouted the orders.
—To your battle stations! Let’s go, move quickly!
Within minutes, the entire city transformed. The walls were filled with armed soldiers bearing bows and swords. Seventeen thousand men prepared for defense. The city gates were shut and reinforced with an iron grate.
Gerse looked again at the army that had reached the gates… and his face darkened. Something didn’t add up.
There were only about four thousand soldiers. Far too few for a siege. And they looked terrible—open wounds, torn clothes, haggard faces, and blood-covered bodies.
One man stepped forward from the ranks. He wore elegant and ornate armor. It was John Bedralt, commander and brother of the lord of Emerald City.
He approached close enough to be heard from the walls.
—Please inform Lord Gerse that John Bedralt is here to speak on an urgent matter.
Silence reigned for a few seconds. Finally, Gerse appeared at the top of the wall.
—Lord John Bedralt! Can you explain why you’ve come to my city with an army… without prior notice?
—My apologies, Lord Gerse. I wouldn’t have come like this if it weren’t for the urgency of the situation. Emerald City has fallen, and Valmitor is the next target of the disaster that is approaching.
Gerse turned pale. Emerald City was comparable to—if not superior to—Valmitor.
—What are you saying? How could it fall? What exactly happened?
—We were attacked by an army of undead. Everything happened too quickly. When we received word of the wave, we tried to return to the city… but we ran into 19,000 scattered undead. By the time the fighting ended, the city had already fallen. I brought with me what was left of the army, hoping to help defend Valmitor from the next assault.
Gerse’s face turned even paler. Now he understood why that army looked so devastated.
—Do you have any idea how many are coming and how long it will take them to arrive?
—Between 80,000 and 90,000 undead, based on our estimates. They’ll be here in about four hours if they maintain their pace.
—Open the gates! Quickly! Let them in! —Gerse shouted to his men.
Soon after, the gates opened, and the four thousand wounded and exhausted soldiers entered the city.
Emerald City – Abandoned House
In an abandoned house, six people rested: Lavitz and the five soldiers he had met during his escape. The day had been exhausting. They had reached near the edge of the city, but a group of twenty undead blocked the way. With no other options, they took refuge in a well-preserved house and blocked all the entrances.
Lavitz sat in a corner, leaning against the wall. His mind drifted aimlessly, trying to make sense of everything he had experienced. Nothing made sense. His whole life had changed in a single day.
Victor watched him from the other side of the room and approached.
—Are you okay, kid?
Lavitz looked up. Victor, about twenty-three years old, had a handsome face, blond hair, and blue eyes. With a muscular and elegant body, he could’ve been a model back on Earth.
—Yeah… thanks. I’m just trying to remember… everything. Who I am, where I am, what’s going on…
Victor frowned.
—You don’t remember anything? Did you lose your memory?
Lavitz nodded.
—Seems like it. I remember my name… and I woke up in a ruined house. Then I ran from those things until I found you.
He had planned that excuse ahead of time. He knew they would ask questions he couldn’t answer, so pretending to have amnesia seemed like the most sensible option.
Victor sat next to him, letting out a sigh of exhaustion.
—I don’t know if you’re lucky or unlucky to not remember anything. We all had families here… and remembering them is torture. Maybe, for you, it’s better not to have those memories.
—You might be right. By the way… were you all soldiers from this city?
The other men approached. Jack was the first to speak.
—Kid… do you seriously not recognize Lord Victor?
Lavitz looked at him, confused.
—I’m the heir of the Bedralt family. I was meant to be the lord of this city once my father passed. They —he pointed— are my personal guards: Jack, Marco, César, and Carlos.
—Can I ask something? What exactly happened in this city?
—A massive horde of undead emerged from Satcnes, the Dark Land —Victor answered in a somber voice.
—Satcnes?
—A cursed land, full of miasma and undead. It borders our kingdom and the kingdom of Farves.
Jack, lying on the floor, added:
—The city fell for two reasons. The first: bad luck.
—Bad luck?
—Every year, Lord John Bedralt—Victor’s uncle—organizes military training outside the city. This time was no different. Just as he left with the army… over 80,000 undead attacked. With most soldiers gone, we couldn’t defend the walls. It was a massacre.
—I see why you’d call that bad luck. And the second reason?
—The surprise attack —added Victor, irritated—. We have patrols on the Satcnes border to prevent this. But this time… no one warned us. When we found out, it was already too late.
—How could such a massive army go unnoticed?
—That’s what we still don’t know —Victor said, his eyes burning with fury—. If we get out of here, I’ll personally investigate.
Marco spoke up, noticing his anger.
—Calm down, Lord Victor. We’ll find answers. For now, we need to rest. The undead are more dangerous at night. I’ll take the first watch. Then I’ll wake the next one.
The Dark Lands of Satcnes
A place forgotten by time, where light barely dares to seep through the perpetually gray clouds. There, in the heart of that poisoned wasteland, stands an ancient city whose name has been lost to the whispers of millennia. Its streets, made of black, cracked stone, slowly sink into the cursed earth, blanketed by a dense, tar-thick miasma that drifts among the ruined buildings and wraps everything in suffocating silence.
That miasma, poisonous to all living beings, seeps from the earth itself and from the cracks in the corroded walls. Breathing it for too long weakens the body, dulls the senses, and eventually shatters the mind. Even the beasts that prowl the edges of Satcnes recoil from its reach, as if sensing something more than just poison in the air.
Yet something still dwells among the ruins.
The dead do not rest in the ancient city. Soulless bodies wander the deserted streets, roaming aimlessly, devoid of purpose… or so they seem. Some have begun to change. The passing millennia and constant exposure to the miasma have deformed certain creatures—not only preserving them but evolving them. Not all undead are the same: some appear to remember, others have mutated into grotesque forms—stronger, faster, more aware.
And in the deepest part, hidden behind mist and centuries, there is something else. It has no face or form, but its presence can be felt. It watches. Waits. And perhaps, guides what roams among the ruins.
Stories that still circulate near the borders of Satcnes speak of an ancient legend: millennia ago, when the threat of the ancient city began to spread beyond its limits, the great kingdoms united for the first time in history. Humans, elves, dwarves, beastmen, tritons, giants, and even ancient dragons formed a crusade without precedent. It was an impossible alliance, forged from desperation and sealed with blood and fire.
They entered the Dark Lands with all their might, with forgotten artifacts, legendary weapons, and the promise of redemption. They carried banners of a thousand colors, war chants, and hopes burning like suns, vowing to wipe out the evil that dwelled within.
None returned.
No bodies remained. No traces. Only the distant echo of their entry and a heavy breeze blowing from the wrong direction.
Since then, Satcnes has remained silent, like a dead heart that never stopped beating. The ancient city, swallowed by poisonous mist, still stands.
And the evil that dwells within… still lingers.