In an infirmary, corpses lie. Corpses long forgotten, their names wrought to nothing by time. But some corpses did not fade as fast as their origins. Some corpses struggled, wriggling out of death's shackles until they eventually broke loose. The sciences are unimportant, the corpses rose because they had vitriol, that is what guided them at least. A wronged corpse is a great foe, long past reason, long past hope, those who may have reinstated such concepts were far too late. So, the corpses left...

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