Chapter 18 - Death March

Kuro's Village - Shortly after dawn

Simon rounded a corner and came face to face with his unwilling caravan. Several of the villagers were staring at a flayed corpse tied to the top of the lead wagon with different expressions. Some looked on in horror while others smiled gleefully at the sight. For his part, Simon merely nodded at one of the rescued women staring at him with respect in her eyes. He glanced up at the flayed corpse once more before taking it down and tossing it into the back of the lead wagon.

It had served its purpose. None of the bandits had tried to flee during the night. The flayed corpse of the trophy collector served as an adequate reminder of what would happen to all those who dared to run away.

"Everyone, Drink what water you can. We'll be heading out shortly."

Simon's booming voice echoed across the entire village, startling several of the villagers who turned to watch the commotion.

Low groans could be heard coming from the men crowding around the now emptied wagon train. The wiser among them had already foreseen this outcome. They had already pleaded with passing villagers tasked with tending to the horses for something, anything, to eat or drink as they unloaded the supplies. While the less intelligent ones scurried around frantically, searching for the nearest source of water. Barely any of them managed to find any before Simon issued the order to march.

Shortly after they departed Kuro's village, one man foolishly tried to make a break for it. He sprinted towards a nearby hill while Simon was busy directing the lead wagon. A dull thud reverberated across the plane. All eyes were drawn to the fleeing man's corpse, gracelessly rolling down the hill, leaving a trail of red blood behind. When his body had finally stopped rolling across the ground, Simon quietly approached the man before crushing his head and tossing the mutilated body into the back of a nearby wagon. No one said a word and quietly continued marching forward as if nothing had happened.

Upon their arrival at the former camp, Simon unloaded a single barrel and placed it in the center of the caravan. With a loud crack, the barrel was opened revealing the freshly created jerky within. Without saying a word he silently began eating while sitting atop the barrel before pointing towards the yet to be loaded crates and swallowing. "We leave in an hour. The faster you load the wagons the more time and more jerky you'll have to eat. You're on your own for water." He ended his impromptu speech by taking out another hand full of jerky and quickly devouring it, making his intentions clear for all to see. The longer they took to load the wagons, the more jerky he would eat, and the less they would have for themselves.

-

"Time's up," He said loudly as the hour was up before picking up the barrel and hurling it far beyond the tree line. Barely half of the men had a chance to eat, and even fewer had decided to bother trying to find any water. Fools, he thought while shaking his head and glancing up at the shining sun. Unfortunately for the marching bandit, the torrential rain had cased while they were loading up the wagon. Leaving the ground muddied and preventing them from collecting any rainwater as they raveled. A thin savage grin appears across his face as he takes his seat atop the lead wagon. 32 degrees and nearly 100% humidity. I wonder how many will make it.

-

Of the original 30 men that had survived the first round, four more had passed on the return trip not counting the one foolish man who tried to flee. Kuro watched the ragged men march into the village and wordlessly begin unloading the cargo where he directed. His face was one of conflicted emotions. Kurtin soon appeared beside Simon as the two watched the setting sun. "More than I expected, honestly," he said truthfully to the old wolfen.

"Aye. The ones that died were all in the low 60s," he replied while glancing into the corpse wagon. His eyes glowed green again for a moment before speaking again, "See that one with the heavy armor?" Simon nodded. "He's 65. I bet he put most of his points into Vitality and Versatility. Probably had some free stat points saved up and dumped them all into those stats just to make it this far. I'd I had anything to bet with I'd say he doesn't make it back to the camp tomorrow."

Simon raised an eyebrow, "Tomorrow?"

"Aye, you’re heading out in the morning aren't you?" Kurtin replied before turning towards the now smiling man beside him and smiling himself.

"We're pretty fucked up, ant we?"

Simon merely shrugged as the last crate was safely unloaded, "You got the barrel?" he said still grinning.

"Aye, Got two of um right here. Gotta admit I'm glad we don't have to eat this shit anymore." the old wolfen says with a sigh.

"Speak for yourself," Simon says while giving the old rogue the evil eye.

"Bah. Not my fault you decided that was the best way to convince them."

"Meh. I've had worse."

Kurtin closes his eyes with a nod, "I bet you have." the two men sat in silence for a moment before he spoke again, "Have you told um yet?" the old wolfen says, turning his head to the man beside him who shakes their head no.

"Not yet. Didn't want them blabbing to any of the villagers. Deadmen tale no tales and all that."

"Ant that the truth." he replies glancing at the unloaded wagons, "It time?"

Simon merely nods before walking off towards the lead wagon with two barrels before tossing one onto the ground and causing its contents to spill across the muddied street, "30 Minutes." he yells and takes his seat on the lead wagon.

-

During the third round trip between the former encampment and Kuro's village, another man clad in heavy armor fell down, breathing heavily. Despite the best attempts of the men surrounding him, he refused to stand up. Before long, Simon appeared beside the man, followed by a sharp cracking sound and a dull thud as the man's body was hurled into the wagon.

What little moral the men possessed suddenly evaporated, the reality of the situation ultimately dawning on them. Despite the fatigue building within them, stopping meant death, and so they continued forward on their death march. One by one, the men collapsed onto the ground. At first, some of those nearby tried to help the fallen ones to their feet, but eventually, those who stopped to help wore themselves out and collapsed. None were spared.

Finally, on the eve of the third day, the last of the encampment was loaded. Of the thirty men that initially started the march, only seven were still standing. The rest were rotting corpses piled high in the lead wagon, a grim reminder of their ultimate fate.

Simon was currently leaning against a tree, quietly observing the men with uncaring eyes. The encampment by this point had been completely stripped bare. Not a single tent stake or a scrap of fabric was left. All that remained was a large open clearing in the forest. Even the rocks surrounding the fire pits had been taken, and the ash scooped up and packed into barrels.

Sprawled along the muddied ground, seven naked men were panting heavily. They were the smart ones. Where their brethren had stubbornly clung to their armor, they had instead opted to toss theirs into the wagon to lessen the burden on their aching bodies. That wise decision had allowed them to survive this long.

"Disappointing" he mumbled softly while observing the pathetic display in front of him. Seven? That's it? I had expected at least half of them to survive, especially since they were aided by this 'world system' as Kurtin called it. Is this really what passes for humanity in this world? No. Anyone incapable of enduring this level of physical exertion doesn't deserve to call themselves human. They wouldn't have survived a single day back on earth. His expression darkens as he recalls those final days. The blood and the screams. The expressions of complete hopelessness and despair he saw as the fleeing caravan of children he failed to protect slowly dissolved into a blacked goo. Their faces and their screams were still firmly burned into his memory. They would never fade, he knew, some wounds time can't heal. With a grunt, he spits on the ground after coming to a chilling conclusion. These things aren't human. They're less than human.

"Get up. We're heading out. Anyone still playing in the mud by the time I reach the wagon will be heading back ON the wagon."

At his command, seven breathing corpses forced themselves to their feet. Some of them muttered things underneath their breath along the lines of I have a family or some other drivel, but the old soldier in front of them no longer cared.

Out of the corner of his eye, one of the remaining corpses started to run away. Admittedly, run was a figurative term. In reality, it was more of a slow, lurching motion. Simon let out a sigh before kicking a nearby rock in the man's direction. The stone embedded itself deep into the corpse's spine, causing it to convulse slightly before finally collapsing onto the forest floor.

"Load him up but don't fall behind," He ordered coldly without even turning to face the walking corpses behind him.

The ghoulish convoy continued marching onwards and stopped suddenly when Simon held up a hand. One of the men appeared to be unable to stop himself and bumped into the rear of the carriage he was following. He collapsed to the ground, dead, despite that fact his legs appeared to keep moving. His mind had died at some point during the march, but his body kept on marching.

Simon approached the curious sight slowly before gently picking up the corpse and loading it into the front wagon's seat, seemingly having admired the sheer amount of determination required to keep marching forward even after death.

This man, and this man alone, has earned a proper burial.

With his task complete, Simon turned toward the remaining five men and addressed them coldly.

"We're stopping here for the night. Anyone still able to move is free to sleep inside the wagons. Everyone else can stay where you are for all I care."

Simon returned to his prior position at the head of the wagon train and observed his surroundings. Among the lush vegetation surrounding him, one plant, in particular, stood out to him. This plant was the reason he had ordered the march to a halt.

{Analyze}

Well now.

Simon's foul mood improved slightly as he scooped up the herb, dirt and all. It was the last herb he needed to recreate the old woman's powder. He turned his head back towards the wagon train. Three walking corpses were lying on the ground, seeming to have collapsed where they stood. In contrast, the other two had barely managed to board a nearby wagon before collapsing inside.

Simon nods his head quietly and leans against a suitably large tree before closing his eyes.

Loncouche Forest - Midnight

Simon's eyes slowly opened, looking upwards beyond the forest canopy. At some point during the night, it had started to rain. He turned his gaze towards the wagon train. The sound of three men breathing evenly could be heard. He quietly removed his armored boots and approached the three walking corpses that had collapsed onto the ground earlier. Only one of them was still alive. A cruel smile spread across his face after confirming that fact.

Beneath the crying sky, a lone figure clad in black could be seen entering each of the wagons and emerging shortly after, leaving an early silence in its wake.