Unbeknownst to the two frightened livings, Loimos watched them retreat into their hos before turning his attention to one of the many darkened farms.
He could tell which were inhabited at the mont and which were empty, most were rich with multiple sources of life, so dwindling, so flourishing, so stable.
They were all living still.
The vast fields Loimos had encountered on his way there were vibrant with life, the sheer variety of crops was quite surprising, so even seed to be cultivating flowers or trees, the expanse of the farmlands reached beyond his undead sight.
His dead mind went to work as he looked over his surroundings, prowling the fields and the outside of the farms, looking through a window, which was nothing more than a small hole in the wall.
He could see slumbering younglings, if his arms were just a little bit longer…
No matter, it was clear to him that agriculture was a big deal wherever he was now, probably much bigger than adventuring or any other profession, the living conditions of the farrs didn’t tarnish his view, they had importance, even if they failed to take advantage of their positions, that didn’t change.
Slaying farrs would certainly result in the fields they watched over to be overtaken by another, if he started to kill too many, hysteria would settle in.
Loimos didn’t want the living to start going haywire by touching sothing of such importance, at least, not so soon.
Instead, the undead, headed deeper, further from the fields and into the inner part of the village, perhaps calling it a village wasn’t correct, it was large, it seed like many villages had rged together.
They had probably all flocked toward what laid in the center, a city, with stone walls and guards positioned above, although they lacked attentiveness.
The guards seed well-equipped, perhaps better equipped than the adventurers he had t, but they were definitely less perceptive, and they seed to only patrol the city, not the village.
Whilst it appeared like the village stretched as far as the fields did, it wasn’t the case, so patches were left uninhabited and the farther he moved from the city, the more habitations he found that were abandoned, until what could have qualified as a prosperous village were left deserted.
Though, so people still lived amidst those forsaken habitations, unwanteds, criminals in hiding and simply elders that had never left their hos.
Seed like so of those places hadn’t been abandoned for nearly as long as it might appear.
It was a good place to start doing so work on the population, Loimos stepped out of the darkness of a crumbled house, which had been made with sturdy rocks, a clear sign of the wealth of the forr occupants.
Leaning against the old ho of a small bourgeoisie was a crippled middle-aged man, his legs swollen and blistered, he could definitely still walk, but not without great strain and pain.
Without any hesitation, as soon as he appeared under the moonlight, he grabbed the man by the top and his head, driving the weathered machete straight into the side of his neck, twisting and shaking the blade in the wound, producing a sickly cracking noise as he separated two vertebrae.
Ripping the weapon out, he left the not quite decapitated body of the man spurting blood right where it was, he hadn’t even made a noise, it was night ti after all, he had been sleeping soundly.
Walking up to the other side of the street, if anyone had seen what had happened, they would have questioned their own sight, for no one could be so casual after butchering a man like this.
Loimos wasn’t leaving the cri scene, he was heading toward a new one, there, a leper was not sleeping, but definitely out of it, the undead positioned himself in front of him, aiming his next slash with care, he slashed right through his throat and watched him bleed out until he was dead for good.
Turning his head to the side, Loimos locked eyes with a man that had the closest appearance soone could have to a rat whilst still being completely human.
A cold sweat traced his balding head as he and the undead stood about ten ters away from one another.
"S’rry sir… Didn’t an to intrude…" he rose his hands and began running away, quite impressive speed right there.
Loimos didn’t bother to run after this random criminal that couldn’t even handle the sight of a few dead bodies and locked in on the next beggar in sight.
Judging by what the system was shoving in his sight, those ’humans’ were worth quite a lot of XP, worth more than that Stolgob, despite the goblin certainly being stronger and more capable than those defenceless people.
He could feel his death force growing deeper by the kill.
He had cleaned up the surroundings of all the easy prey, not one of them had had a strong enough survival instinct to notice the looming danger, or perhaps Loimos was simply that much more stealthy.
He walked down a moderately wide street, the ground beneath his feet had been nothing but dirt, for it had been overtaken by grass that almost reached up to his knees.
It was understandable why they all chose to pass out here, the ground must have been quite soft.
Loimos wandered through the ghost towns, sotis coming upon a living that he could slaughter, be they a person, an animal or even just an insect.
The night beca day, but the atmosphere didn’t change much in these abandoned parts, Loimos kept on prowling for multiple days and nights, of course, no guards or such ever ca to investigate the death of the people he had butchered, no one knew, nor cared about them and the sole witness was nothing more than a lowly criminal that couldn’t even show his face in public without being thrown into a cell.
Though, there were still people willing to get in his ways.
Bandits, so of the beggars and cripples probably had so dealings with must have taken his actions as so sort of provocation, and finding him wasn’t exactly difficult, since Loimos hadn’t been hiding himself, it wasn’t like the typical dwellers of the surroundings could run away from him.
"Now, who the hell are you working for?" another bald man, but much bulkier, asked him with a tone that was sowhat threatening.
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