Seeing the line, Du Pont's fingers twitched slightly as he searched through his religious knowledge.
This line clearly could not have been written by an undead creature itself. So was the mastermind here the Cultists, or some unaffiliated necromancer?
As the sounds behind the tomb door grew increasingly shrill, Du Pont gave up thinking and retreated twenty yards. He put away his staff, raised a shield with his left arm, held glass shards in his hand, and focused on the empty tomb entrance.
Ten seconds later, the already dilapidated wooden door to the burial chamber was smashed to pieces. Several purple-brown humanoid monsters rushed out from the tomb passage with chilling howls. Their mottled skin clung tightly to their clearly visible bones, and their clouded eyes were like glowing coals sunk deep within their sockets.
They were walking corpses eternally tormented by hunger, yet never eroded by time.
Ghouls.
The lead monster looked at the fresh young boy ahead, drool dripping uncontrollably from its plague-ridden mouth.
"Flesh... delicious!!"
Yet the boy seemed frightened senseless. He only let out a terrified cry before backing away.
The human's fear excited the ghouls even more. Unable to restrain their eternal hunger any longer, they endured the irritation of sunlight and charged at him.
With a thud, the fastest ghoul stepped on a Bear Trap. The tremendous impact snapped off its already inelastic lower leg, while also tripping the ghoul behind it, whose arm was caught in the massive trap.
But however miserable those two ghouls looked, two more remained behind them. They leaped over their companions' bodies, swinging their long claws as though they wanted to tear the living creature before them to shreds.
As the stench of blood rushed toward him, there was no fear in Du Pont's eyes. His lips moved