《Being Undead》


 Prologue - Didnt Go As Planned (reworked)

    An army stands at the ready, 500 strong, banners flitting through the air as officers check their ranks.


    These men are the future of the Empire, fresh out of training and on their first excursion to blood themselves in the ways of war.


    Among their number of sculpted bodies, confident stances, and prideful glares, a man of average countenance stands shoulder to shoulder with them. Were it not for his uniform and equipment matching that of his neighbors, one would assume him to be a malnourished commoner rather than the son of a noble with his manner failing to elicit any connection to the wordnoble. With his lazy gaze across the barren land one could even call him to be closer to the wordruffian due to the complete indifference he''s showing to what should be a respected honor, to serve in such a honorable battalion as he is in.


    These men are indeed the Empire''s future, as is so clearly shown in their training, their equipment, and their haughty nature. To put one such as this man into such a group sounds like an act of pure folly, a twist of fate that leaves those affected to only frown at such a situation. Alas, it is true, for even the man himself does not want to be here. He himself even working actively toavoid being here.


    But the wishes of him and those he now serves under were trounced by the deep pockets possessed by the man''s family, whom wished for him to garner some honor to them. Even if it meant dyinghonorablyin battle.This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.


    To their credit, he is dying, lying in a pool of his own blood with an axe lodged in his shoulder, his pool of blood constantly added to by the stream pouring forth from said would.


    The battle that was told to be easy, had been far from such. To the dismay and doom of this battalion of the future of the Empire. They had met a force of darkness that would make one cry out for a destined hero. An undead army, thrice their number descended upon them.


    Even with the superiority that came from being alive and thinking, their foes sheer number as well as their ancient yet durable equipment, ended with their deaths.


    Our average, ruffian man is lucky, however. Due to being less of a meal than his previously alive compatriots, the zombies left him to bleed out to death. How considerate!


    Time passes, and the man yet lives, nothing to be said about his will to hold on for even a moment longer. Out of the corner of his eye, which has begun to grow bleary, he sees the cause of this army. A black robed figure, untouched by the horde around him yet invariably immersed in the death that is now this land''s fate.


    A necromancer.


    And from his hands a dreadful feeling is felt for the man, as though death itself is coming for him faster than before. He''s half right.


    Before long the corpses closest to the necromancer begin to rise, men who had only previously been fighting for their lives now mere puppets on a string for this mage, given only semblances of autonomy in the way of base instincts.


    Before long this miasma of death approaches the man, and he can feel it as it grows closer. Were it not for the utter lack of strength in his self, he would fight against it, struggling to edge even a inch away. But he has lost too much blood, and the wave washes over him.


    Before he can even cry out, he is met with blackness.

 Chapter 1 - Still Alive? (adjusted)

    I can feel something. Something bad.


    It''s a sticky feeling, almost like feeling nauseated but without knowing why, leaving you to speculate if you ate something bad...


    It''s progressively getting worst, each moment the urge to vomit grows.


    But what would I vomit in this black void in which I can not see.


    Wait, can I not see? I haven''t actually tried opening my eyes.


    Huh, while it''s still the same black abyss as before, I can definitely tell trying to see if my eyes worked, worked.


    This is confirmed by the sight of something other than the endless black. The same black-grey smoke that came from the necromancer.


    It circles around me, and seems to be pushing me. This too is confirmed by me looking at myself, finding I appear to be a ball of light although I do not radiate any out into the darkness, and looking around I spot what seems to be a crack in the void. The crack itself is black, much like all else around me, but I can justfeel the opening. Why do I know it''s an opening..?


    Ah, it''s getting closer. Like I thought, it''s pushing me towards it.


    And the closer I get the more I wanna just hurl. I don''t know what''ll happen if I go through that crack but I trust this nauseating feeling in the pit of stomach that it willnot be pleasant.


    I try to exert force, but this light body of mine doesn''t respond, as though I''m detached from it like a rider from his horse.


    Wait, could this be my soul?!


    WAIT, SOULS ARE REAL?!


    God damn.


    Wait, shit probably shouldn''t say that, if souls are real I don''t wanna piss off whoever it is that''s in charge of them after death.


    And if reincarnation is real, woah nelly, do I not want to be the guy who irritated the supreme being who''s in charge of, ironically, whatyou''llbebeing.


    Alright, with that out of the way, and the acknowledgement I should take religion more seriously, back to the problem at hand.


    How do I move my soul?


    Trying to move it like my body isn''t producing any results, and with every passing moment I''m move ever so closer to that crack.


    I''m guessing that crack was made by the very magic trying to expel me.Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    It''s standard education for a soldier to be taught about the basics of how necromancers go about their business, and raising a zombie is one of them, at least as to the how, and not anything on the actualdoing.


    Firstly, the intended target to be raised must be a corpse. Considering my current situation, that''s notentirely true. It appears that the target has to be soulless, and it so seems the magic will force that to happen if need be.


    Secondly, I don''t remember.


    I slept a lot in class, despite the undead being sorta interesting, the allure of sleep in lieu of the soul crushing reality of anything you remotely love turned educational caught me in its unrelenting jaws. I even sometimes snuck in a pillow.


    Maybe I''m going about this the wrong way, perhaps the spiritual works differently from the physical?


    Maybe I''m stupid and this situation is stupid and I should just let what''s happening happen, because from that redundant statement and the fact I even had issue coming up with it has left me a strong desire to kill myself, if only by letting death happen.


    But despite that, the fear of death won over and gripped my heart, er, my soul.


    Now to check on trying to manipulate this soul body of mine, perhaps it''s like magic?


    I''m no mage, but from what I know about them it''s all mental, mind over matter.


    Clearly by me possessing the awareness of my soul, on a literal level, it is something if not matter.


    I mentally command myself to stop.


    HOLY DAMNATION OF A FUCK!


    Catching my non-existent breath, I did not notice that my ever approaching doom has stopped, while the death magic that had previously surrounded me shivered.


    As soon as I felt my soul conform to my will, I felt the most excruciating pain of my life. Forget that axe in my shoulder, this was like having your brain used for a play ball, kicked around until it pops, only to then get stepped on over and over again by oblivious passerbys.


    In short, I found out that one can literally fry their brain.


    Luckily the pain was only for a mere breathe of time despite the extensive amount of knowledge it taught me in the ways of pain unimaginable.


    As in, I can not imagine that pain being used on your worst enemies. Perhaps the scummiest of people, perhaps, but a simple hatred fueled relation isn''t appropriate.


    It is now that I notice that my original goal has been achieved, as that had been my destination no longer approached like a due date for an assignment you hadn''t even finished.


    Furthermore, the death magic that got so cozy in this space with me that it sought to show me out personally, stopped whatever shivering it had been doing. It then, to my surprise, surrounded me but no longer pushed me further towards an unknown end. It seemed more like it was cloaking my soul, covering and smothering at the same time. I did not feel any discomfort from this, the nausea from earlier no longer increasing.


    Actually, it felt like it was lessening, and along with this I could feel from the crack that it was closing. Around that area I could also see the death energy acting like a sewing needle, closing up the hole.


    Wait, why would it do that? It''s no longer trying to oust me?


    Unless ousting me wasn''t it''s original goal, and my attraction to that hole in the darkness was not its doing.


    My mind whirling as it tried to make sense of what''s going on now.


    Maybe the crack wasn''t made by the death magic?


    I can''t be sure on that. I''m not exactly an expert on wherever it is I am with my soul body in tow.


    Perhaps that was where my soul was to exit my body to ascend to wherever souls go to after they die?


    Plausible.


    But without any knowledge of what''d happen after going through the crack, and with complete aversion to such a thing, I was stumped.


    Before long, the death energy finished sewing together the crack, and I was immediately met with relief from my nausea. That explains that, at least.


    Before long, though, I found myself once again losing focus, and descending into another void I was much more familiar with.

 Chapter 2 - Hey Im Back

    When I came to once more, I found myself still lying on the ground, the axe still embedded in my shoulder, my blood thoroughly soaking it.


    After the shock of what just happened, it was only then I noticed that I did not feel any pain from the wound.


    I could certainlyfeel it, but only that it was there.


    The next thing I noticed was that I wasn''t breathing, but even with this realization I felt no panic, no urge to freak out.


    It was like I couldn''t feel anything actually. No pain, no emotion, just my thoughts. Even without them though I could still feel apphrensive about this situation, the desire to survive transcending whatever situation I''ve found myself in.


    Time passes and before I know it I''m trying to stand up, with difficulty considering the axe. I should take it out actually.


    Gripping my hands on the rather long handle of the axe, I pulled it out, leftover blood dribbling down my chest and arm.


    Looking closely at the axe, I notice it seems to be ancient, the rust that tortured me so in my last moments rather recent looking.


    How I figured that, I don''t know. I never learned anything about weapons beyond using them, and even then I tried to be subpar. But going by the wear of the extremely brittle looking wooden handle (which surprisingly felt firm) it seemed like there should be more rust for how old the weapon seemed to be.


    Gathering my thoughts, I once more try to stand, finding much more success this time now I don''t have the axe in me, even using it as a sort of cane to prop me up until I''m on both feet.


    While my movements don''t compare to when I was alive, feeling more mechanical and forced, not half bad for being dead.


    Nearly forgot that part, I''m a zombie now. Perhaps I should come up with a new name for myself? I can''t exactly use my old name, since I''m nobility. And I don''t wanna be a noble zombie. That just doesn''t sound cool.


    Despite not feeling emotion, the idea of a bad reputation doesn''t sit well with me, if I''m to spend my time as a zombie then I shall have some dignity.


    I said that, but after many discarded ideas my uncreative self settles on Zombie.


    My excuses for using it are that it''s easy to remember, hard to forget, and a little bit of wanting to feel like a teenage rebel who came up with a cool nick name for himself.


    Well, look at me now, I get to also make the name literal.


    Besides, how many people are actually named Zombie? This and many more attempts to excuse my awful naming sense came and gone, until I noticed a shift in the horde.


    Whilst I was thinking such deep thoughts to rival a poet I had been observing my undead bretheren. Each one was standing stock still, unmoving like scare crows in a field, save for a few exceptions of newly raised ones and some feasting on dead corpses.Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.


    I noticed though even the feeding ones had ceased, and the newly raised quickly blended in with the others, all in the horde unmoving as only the dead can achieve.


    It was then I noticed that the necromancer had ceased his chanting, the death energy that had been seeking out the slain had begun returning to him. There was a extreme amount of difference between the amount he started with and what''s there now.


    The way death energy and Necromancy works in terms of magic, is unlike other magics it requires Death. Thankfully, Death doesn''t actually mean someone has to die, at least not at the time it''s used. Places of the dead, graveyards and that sort, are like wellsprings of the stuff. Though they can''t compare to the instant amount a person can gather after a battle full of casualties, they''re renewable and gradually get better the more corpses are buried.


    I know this much from having once had a dream of being a necromancer. The idea of loyal servants who could never deny me nor betray me, nor judge me for that matter, was the selling point.


    But I had not talent for magic, nor did my family want to be associated with a necromancer despite the tolerant view of the Empire.


    So I got stuck being a soldier, in the Emperor''s Future no less. The Emperor''s Future being the destination of the army''s finest recruits. The place I wanted to avoid at all costs.


    I barely met the requirements to be a normal soldier, on purpose no less, yet why was I sent to them? My damned parents and their connections is why.


    The Emperor''s Future are the rising stars for the war machine that makes up most of the Empire lifestyle, our Emperor''s future plans bloody and violent.


    If it weren''t for the fact that he''s strong, charismatic, and producing results, I''d imagine he''d he ousted by a war weary nation. Instead his praises are sung, even by those he''s conquering. It helps that the Empire has immense benefits for those under its rule, especially economically.


    Economics aren''t my thing, though, and neither is war. I wanted a cushy job just being some random guard, not having to go to the frontlines just to be sent back with praises but missing some limbs. I really wanted to just be a mage, my entire life set due to how awesome I am and my magic, having enough influence to choose what I do.


    Instead, for some bullshit about earning our family glory I got sent to the Emperor''s Future.


    And now I''m a zombie, because the rogue necromancer seemed to have found an ancient tomb or something, and completely stomped our rookie asses. Undead, like zombies and other humanoids, are more effective at combat if the corpse they''re raised from was also a combatant, something about muscle memory or some other explanation.


    Judging by the axe in my hand and the gear of the zombies we faced, they fit the criteria to be good undead soldiers.


    Not to say a zombie, even with good source material, is better than a trained soldier. But it is when those trained soldiers are outnumbered three to one.


    The necromancer finally finishes retrieving his death energy, and it''s now I notice he''s joined by two others. Wait...


    One of them is flanked on each side by a death knight body guard while the other has a chimera looking creature, the upper half of human bodies jut out from what resembles a war horse going by its size, each one armed with a blade in each hand. If I could feel fear I''d shiver at the thought of that thing ramming into a formation, the men passed being met by the blades, chopped and sliced.


    The reason for my shock is because zombies, what I am now, are low tier undead. It wouldn''t be a stretch to call them the bottom, but skeletons have that spot. Considering that the zombies we faced are ancient but aren''t skeletons I can only assume some form of preservation magic or practice was used, the rust on my axe a sign it''s no longer working for these bodies.


    As it was, during the one sided slaughter we only fought against zombies, yet the creatures flanking the new arrivals are mid tier undead, serious threats in their own right. The pyramid only gets smaller as you reach the pinacle, but that doesn''t mean it''s easy to get there. And from what I know about Necromancy, which I''ve exhausted so far in explaining, is just to create the undead before me requires serious power.


    It seems like whatever is at work here truly is a growing darkness poised to sweep the land....


    And I just got conscripted on the side of evil.

 Chapter 3 - Urge

    Making peace with the fact that I''m now a lackey of evil, after several minutes pass and our necromancer friends complete their discussion, they depart, and we move out.


    Now, he didn''ttell us to move out, as in talk to us. Somehow or other, the connection between minion and master allows him to simply will us to do what he wants.


    That includes me, somehow, despite my retaining my mental faculties. A difference between the rest of the horde and myself seems to be that I canchoose how I complete that task.


    If I were to try to stop, or walk in the opposite direction, then the magic would bully my body forward.


    However, if I''m atleast moving towards the direction indicated, as long as it''s not expressly the wrong way than I''m still in control.


    Course, I don''t know where we''re going, for all I know our goal is pretty damn broad, but I like to think I''m smart. Emotions are gone but it seems desires, at least ones not associated with my body, remain. A desire to feel superior is especially strong.


    Which isn''t a hard desire to fulfill, when my peers are mindless undead who can''t talk. They can groan though. Oh can they groan.


    Thankfully it''s only the guys from my army that do, as it seems the original zombies ran their vocal cords ragged. Or they were told not to groan. I don''t know much about this necromancer or anything, but I know most people wouldn''t want to hear "ooaah....gaahhhh..." everywhere they went.


    I hope it''s the latter and he notices the noise, I would rather not wait till these guys kill their ''voices''.


    Aside from that, it''s boring as all hell. Something to do with being the only one who can formulate a thought among countless brainless creatures, while the only thing you''re allowed to do in walk.


    It''s making me want to march up to the necromancer and spark up a conversation, but I''m not dumb enough to believe I''m normal and that he''s understanding.


    Suppose I can just think about things, and try to space out.


    This worked for awhile too, up until I was rudely interrupted by the command to be quiet. Guess the necromancer finally noticed the groans. Thank goodness, too, they made zoning out really difficult for me. Which is funny since I''m supposed to be a brainless undead. Ah, woe is me for my gift of smartness in this sea of ignorance....smartness is a word, right? Ah, who''ll correct me? Thus it''s true.


    Following that line of thinking, I once more devolved into mental seclusion, until I could take it no longer and was about to axe a guy in frustration and hope it goes unnoticed, when I saw it.


    It was a village, albeit a rather cruddy one. I ever mention where we came from was desolate and the locals are nomadic? Well, being the tireless things we are with our necromatic slave driver leader, we made great time and have reached the slightly less desolate, still really shitty, region. Hell, I don''t even remember where it was we came from, it was such a backwater.


    But that doesn''t change the situation. It seems that''s our target, my connection to the necromancer giving me inklings of his excitement. I suppose he loves more subordinates, even if they''ll be cannon fodder peasants. Although it''s not much lower than cannon fodder soldier, especially when you attach the zombie modifier to the name, but at least we got weapons.If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.


    Talking about weapons, I spent some of the time on the move examining my axe, trying to figure out where it came from. My conclusion?


    No fucking idea. Nice axe though, minus the slight rust.


    It''s got a nice weight too, even if you add in the fact as a zombie I have more strength than a living person, and it''s the perfect weapon for myself.


    When your movements are stiff and mechanical, a simple method of attack is highly effective.


    Our approach towards the village doesn''t go unnoticed, and quickly it''s visible that the inhabitants are trying to flee. Unluckily for them the necromancer''s friends left us some more bodies. These bodies, however, weren''t made from human corpses.


    Reminiscent of a dog yet definitely not your best friend, these creatures actually rank lower than a zombie in terms of combat potential, but leave us in the dust in speed and pack hunting. Don''t remember their proper name, but for now I''ll call them ghoul hounds, since they don''t look as eaten upon as your usual zombie.


    Thank goodness I''m not your usual zombie, the axe wound in my shoulder is already a hassle. Thankfully it''s healing. I can tell because I can feel the death energy in me working on it, but it''s certainly not at the pace of what a living person would do. The only benefit is that I can find is the inclination to believe it''s able to heal more than what a living being can.


    The necromancer had the ghoul hounds circle around the village previously, boxing the village between our marching host and the rabid packs of canines, certain death on both sides.


    From then on, it''s a one sided slaughter, one I took part in.


    My place in the horde was towards the front, since out of impatience I wanted to hurry up to wherever we were going, and so I was one of the first to strike against the villagers.


    I came upon a man who looked to be a farmer, going by the hoe he had in hand and the utter look of despair plastered across his face.


    He tried to swing down on me, aiming for my injured right shoulder, but I completely ignored the incoming weapon and struck out with my axe. While a zombie has mechanical and stiff movements, that does not mean they are slow. At least, that seems to apply to me, as my axe lodged itself in the man''s side as he toppled over from the force, my hands still clutching the axe handle.


    I think it''s because I still retain my mind that I''m not as slow as the other zombies, as though whatever it is that animates them is inept at controlling the body beyond a certain level. While I, having been with this model for over eighteen years, know it like the back of my hand. Well, it feels immensely different from when I was alive, so that statement doesn''t hold true anymore. Especially when my hand is now pale with dead flesh.


    By the way, the farmer man I slayed isn''t dead yet, though he''s not far from it. That''s when I feel it.


    I can''t describe it, beyond calling it a sixth sense....a feeling of death.


    It''s triggering in me some primal desire, something I was thinking I couldn''t feel anymore with an undead body. I gazed upon the man. I hungered for him.


    I reached down, grabbing his arm as he weakly tried to fed me off, and I bit. I bit with enough force to crack bone and ripped off a chunk of meat.


    But this didn''t satisfy me, and I tore into his throat, ending his cries and his life, and feasted upon his body.


    From then on it was all instinct, I bullied through a group of my undead allies, axe in hand, upon a barricaded door. I could feel the fear emanating from those inside. I began to axe the door down, my undead strength showing with each swing. Before long the door and whatever was holding it shut gives way, as the undead with me at the front burst through.


    I first see a woman, fair of face and well endowed, I would surely think her pretty when I was alive. But at this moment I am consumed by a desire for death. Behind her I see two children. Even their innocence is helpless against this urge, which is further fueled by the necromancers order to kill everyone.


    We descend upon them, devouring, the desire for death overpowering all my mental faculties I held so proud of retaining.


    Before long, we exit the building, in contrast to before I''m the last one out. I wipe my mouth, as I feel full. I do not feel satisfied however....

 Chapter 4 - A Siege Cometh

    I knew it from when I first bit into that man''s arm whatever it was this urge was driving me to crave, that wasn''t the way to go about it. But in the face of the instinct that it aroused I was helpless to do nothing but the hunger.


    There were many more villages after that, everytime I would end up in that state, searching for prey. Honestly it wasn''t just annoying to lose myself like that, it was dangerous too. There were a few times when a villager put up a fight that very well could''ve had my head caved in, if it weren''t for the ferocity I can swing my axe and the sheer number of us undead.


    It makes me appreciate that I''m mostly intact after the battle that took my life, my best guess is that the necromancer made sure his undead didn''t go into a feeding frenzy facing off against trained soldiers, along with my luck to get ignored long enough for the necromancer to raise me.


    I''ve been trying to fight against the urge, and to understand it. I think it has to do with what it is that''s making me move in the first place. Death energy.


    From what I know about death energy, it''s akin to energy shed when a thing dies, used in Necromancy as fuel for their spells and raised minions.


    As for why we zombies crave it so bad, I would compare it to food, whereas we need it for energy. The comparison is lacking though since I only ever feel the need to eat when around the recently dead and dying. Maybe it''s more primal than that?


    For now I can''t make a proper conclusion, and on controlling myself, I''m unsuccessful.


    On the upside, I''m fairly certain Icould control myself, if the necromancer''s influence was to be removed from the equation. His command to kill everyone multiplies the effect to a point where I''m unable to even offer a shred of resistance.


    But this all will have to wait till a situation like what happened with the soldiers occurs, where he curbs this desire in us.


    It might work to kill him, which wouldn''t be very difficult, considering the nature of a necromancer is completely obedient undead slaves he wouldn''t see me coming. However, I have no idea how that''ll effect myself when he croaks as one of his minions.


    What generally happens when the one controlling the undead dies, is that they too die, albeit over a period of time.


    Think of it like a fire no longer receiving new logs and burning away till it sputters out.


    For myself, a self aware fire, that is not a very desirable outcome.


    Luckily we''re approaching a town that I remember stopping by during the days before my demise, as we marched to that fateful place. There they have stationed soldiers, along with a palisade wall with stands along the inside for archers, so I''m sure that the necromancer will give us the command to ignore our hunger and focus on killing the civilized way. The civilized way merely being kill them all and THEN enjoy the spoils.


    I also imagine that after this town we''ll soon face the true wrath of the Empire, as the time we''ve rampaged has been over a week and mobilization of a subjugation force should already be on its way. It''s only because of the remoteness of those villages that they did not evacuated before we fell upon them.This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    These past slaughters I''ve also found some interesting things about myself, and my relationship with the other undead. For starters, I can order them around some what. Nothing fancy, restricted to simple orders such as ''hold back'' and ''don''t eat that one'' among others. I discovered it from the latter when I saw a particularly enticing morsel of a man bedecked with a few fat rolls, along side a scared and naked woman. Suppose a noble come to enjoy himself on those who can''t resist.


    Good thing I discovered that talent at the time, as it lead to my undead brethen dealing with the mans guards, five very thuggish individuals. They turned to babies when they were being eaten though. I myself enjoyed the flesh fat nobleman, along with his cries and whimpers. It might not do anything for me, eating him, but it certaintly feels good to appease the hunger and his pain filled screams only serve to enflame it more, like the sizzle of meat as it reaches perfection.


    As for the woman, she as well was killed, although she was not eaten, the necromancer having begun raising the corpses and hers got to be one of them.


    Talking about that, our friend Abs has been doing some work. I swear I saw a farmer shove a pitchfork towards his stomach just to see it fail to penetrate. The hell kind of work out did he do before he died?! Does he have an actual steel plate inside of him?!


    Aside from that, our horde which at my joining had been 1500, with the addition of the 500 from the force I was a part of, had us at around 2000 undead. Throw in the numerous villages we''ve razed with average populations of around 50 people, and I''d say we''re around 2300 and 2400. And lets not forget the contigent of 200 ghoul hounds, those adorable death machines. I say adorable if only because they''re as close to a dog as an undead can get, their living counterparts far less receptive.


    For the town we''ve set our sights on, which I estimate to have around 2000 people, with only a quarter of that being combatants, it should shape to be another slaughter albeit longer. We certaintly won''t come out unscathed though, especially with the palisade that surrounds the town.


    I don''t believe we''ll be using siege equipment, considering the lack of it, not even a ram. Course we may make a ram when we get there, since it''s just a chopped down tree with its branches removed, but due to the region''s disposition the tree''s are hardy but they aren''t very durable. Think of them like rats, you can kill it with ease with an axe. But in surviving? It''s your superior.


    And the palisade the town has isn''t made from these trees, both due to the aforementioned lack of durability and a lack of them, with them being quite sparse. The wood used for the palisade is imported from farther south from the lumber camps of the Empire. Thick, strong, and plentiful, it''s the mainstay building resource for all towns aside from the cities which opt for the incomparable durability of stone, even then still making up a good chunk of it.


    So if we scratch out siege equipment, that leaves us two options to take the town. Full out frontal assault, using our nature as unliving creatures of death to death ball over the wall in a single concetrated mass, or to resort to devious means.


    The issue with the first one, despite sounding like a lot of fun if looked at from a blood thirsty and violent angle, is that it fails to capitalize on our strength in numbers by allowing the opposition to strenghten their own defense at that single point we try to breach, along with immense casualties by being served kills on a silver plate. Don''t even get me started on the archers having it easy picking us off this way.


    This leaves us with the devious, the cloak and dagger, the knife in the dark, the also fun stuff from a cruel and calculating angle. I assume the necromancer will also choose this method, considering it''s the usual operating method for them, myself in eager anticipation for what it is he comes up with.


    It is only when we arrive a ways from the town that I was wrong all accounts yet so very close.


    Our necromancer''s friends from before, or new ones, hard to tell when they''re hooded with no distinguishable features.


    Behind them are behemoths of undead flesh, each over 5 meters tall with crooked, jagged teeth and boorish faces that somehow contained both a promise of violence and thoughtlessness.

 Chapter 5 - Budding Desire

    With our unliving siege towers with us, assaulting the palisade of the town was as easy as 1 2 3. Literally, took 3 hits from those monsters to break through. And this was with them being pincushions due to their immense size making them huge targets.


    If it wasn''t for the fact that the town streets often narrowed to widths they can''t access, and the need to clear buildings, I feel like just these things alone could annihilate the defenders.


    That is until I saw him, dressed in resplendent armor and armed with a fiercesome blade, a true heroic image of which I will think reverently of for the rest of my days. The joke is I''m already dead, and now so is he.


    He put up a decent fight, even managed to kill one of the behemoths, but that was one out of around six, and he was quickly smashed into bloody paste by a cudgel that I think it got from the palisade, one of the logs that made up the wall.


    Beyond him though none of the others fared so well versus the behemoths, at best the archers and crossbowmen hindering their movements with how many arrows and bolts filled their bodies. Unlike the man who slew one, whose blade was able to fully sever the thick neck of the behemoth, their attacks could at most pierce the outermost layer of skin, the crossbows making it a little further in.


    Even when they had arrows enter their eyes it worked against them, as the beasts grew more violent from it while still retaining the ability to find people to kill.


    Truly a pitiful sight, the poor bastards.


    As for us zombies, we weren''t just gawking either, myself especially eager to see if I can curb my desire to eat flesh to try and acquire what it is I want the right way.


    We slammed into lines of a hastily thrown together group, around a dozen men against my pseudo-squad of thrice their number. I hope the necromancer isn''t able to tell I''m directing these zombies, but I feel like it''s a instinctual thing for them to follow my orders than a magical one, that it''s ingrained in them to follow the smartest and therefore the strongest. Or it could just be I can exert control over lesser undead, but I''m not that experienced in the matter, with just a week of experience under my belt in being a zombie.


    Back to the battle, as I dislodge my axe from the head of a soldier, my undead bretheren swarming over the rest using their superior number, I try to do something I''ve wanted to do since the first frenzy.


    Berating myself for ending his life so quickly, I try to find a way to channel the death energy released into myself. Despite never doing this before, for aforementioned reasons, I feel like I can do it. Like how a baby knows it needs sustenance and how to get it, I feel like an undead will have an idea as well when they can think about it (with less crying of course, even if I wanted to).This content has been misappropriated from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.


    It...didn''t work as I imagined.


    Beyond feeling the death energy, I couldn''t actually see it or tell where it was beyond knowing it''s there. Then there was drawing it into myself, another thing I hadn''t a clue in doing.


    However, not being under the influence of frenzy, I could feel the death energy in me swirling around my soul. I also felt a light tug on it, to what I would compare to a magnet though very faint.


    Scrambling to find a way open the connection between the death energy inside myself and that from the corpse, I remembered the crack from when I was reduced to my soul. I wonder what would happen if I were to loosen it, ever so slightly, to allow the death energy to enter in.


    The result, however, was I lost death energy. Not a lot, thankfully, but enough to warrant caution in attempting this again. Like I said, it''s like a magnet, and my conclusion is if I don''t hold onto the death energy in me it''ll seep out to meet with the rest like two water droplets merging together.


    Several desperate cries of agony and mercy later, and I finally got it working. Sorta. The process involved a lot of concentration to ensure my death energy didn''t leak out while at the same time loosening the seal on the crack to allow the connection, which was harder than I originally thought it''d be.


    The process was also highly inefficient, as I could barely siphon 1% of the death energy before it was whisked away to the necromancers.


    But the result of it I could tell immediately.


    I already knew that an undead''s power is linked towards the culmination of death energy within them, as well as the source material for them. I just didn''t know that death energy could be increased. Usually an undead is stuck at a certain threshold, the power of the necromancer as well as the corpse(s) used determining where it lies.


    If it weren''t for the necromancer attached to my very being, I would try to replicate what it is he''s doing but in reverse, connecting to a target and draining it instead.


    But I''m certain he''d pick up on it, noticing the change. That''s a benefit of my current method, it''s at a below the radar amount that allows me to keep doing it.


    From whence the attack began, I would say my accumulated death energy to be the size of a pebble if completely condensed. After all my efforts to acquire more death energy, despite the initial leaks, it''s doubled in size.


    The difference in before and after is apparent. My already increased strength rose ever so slightly, enough for me to tell, and my movements became more fluid. My ''subordinates'' also responded better to my commands, still not able to give overly complex commands or anything close, but now able to add some details to them.


    I also just felt better, like I had been missing something but didn''t even know it. Since the first increase, a new desire welled up within me.


    I wanted more. More death. More power. My own freedom.


    I have no complaints about the past week, mainly because I can''t feel anything emotionally. Which is odd considering my previous statements...?


    I suppose my emotions are tied to the necromancer''s influence, its hold loosening enough for me to feel just a bit of that sweet nectar that is an irrational desire for strength.


    But I don''t enjoy being a bad guy. I mean, like I said no complaints, but I always wanted to be a bad ASS guy. And that is most certaintly not the lowest rung zombie soldier, even if he is leading a pack of them into a skirmish.


    However, for my new dream to come to fruition, I must bide my time, accumulating more power. Thankfully plenty of opportunity to do so is before me, our conquests sure to bring a high body count....

 Chapter 6 - The War Effort

    With the city razed and its populace added to our host, our number swelled to over 4000 zombies, along with the ghoul hounds who''ve been reduced to 150, and the remaining five undead behemoths.


    I can''t say I''m not interested in what forces are work here, with the strength that these necromancers can exert I''m feeling like whatever is going on is big.


    This is less of a upstart necromancer attack and more of a full on invasion, albeit still rather minor to the few million inhabitants of the Empire. A lot of conquering nets you a large populace.


    Luckily that populace, and subsequently the military force, is spread out to cover ground, which works in our favor, as we don''t need to fight the entirity of the Empire''s war machine. Still though, just a fraction of it is a force to be reckoned with.


    It''s to our advantage that the terrifying soldiers of the Empire are all at the various front lines, adding yet more territory to the already mind boggling size.


    In the grand scheme of things, we''re still relatively low key, thankfully.


    Yet I''m certain we will be meeting real resistance here in a few days, as the Empire has had plenty of time to prepare a subjugation force, which is bound to have a mage or two tagged with it. Rather than the soldiers, who will still be to their credit a threat, the mages will be what truly makes it a tough fight.


    From what can be seen by what the necromancers have done here, you can see the might it can showcase. However the other schools of magic, the elemental and others, are no pushovers. If there''s just one thing we have them beat in, however, is that due to Necromancy utilizing death energy instead of mana, it''s the perfect magical source for war, where death is as common as fish in a lake.


    Mana, unlike death energy, is all around us at all times. But unlike death energy, it is far more difficult to draw in and harness. This is due to the nature of death energy, having been a part of a living creature, it naturally and willingly enters a new vessel, in this case the necromancers. Imagine the necromancer using a straw while the other mages have to dip a sponge in and squeeze what they can out.


    On the flipside though, death energy isn''t as abundant everywhere, said straw needing to be used on an oasis while the other mage uses his sponge on an ocean.


    But in war these oases are created before the necromancer''s eyes.


    That isn''t to say we''ll come out unscathed, as the necromancer won''t be able to raise up new bodies wily nily due to the pressure exerted by the opposing mages, having to divert his power to mitigating their attacks from crippling our number.


    There''s also whatever new addition his companions add to our force, considering that seems to be their theme. There''s no telling what it''ll be, since the type of undead is only limited by the level of power that raises it and the corpse it''s raised from. And humans aren''t the only race there is that can be called ''civilized''.Stolen content warning: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.


    Actually speaking, the Empire has many races under its rule, from your elves to your demons. The former aren''t actually that tree huggy, despite the stories, to call them longer lived humans with pointy ears and an affinity to Nature magic wouldn''t be a stretch. As for the demons, they''re about the same except more demonic looking though they usually stay looking human, and as for their affinities it depends on the type of demon. Some are good at Necromancy, Fire, and Water believe or not, amongst others. Personally they''re mywere my type. A downside to having a little of my emotions back is that I can feel depress I won''t be able to enjoy such things anymore, but the fact my body doesn''t even react to any thoughts helps to lighten the feeling.


    They say your dick has a mind of its own and now that it''s dead I''m inclined to believe that. Still, you will be missed old friend.


    Anyway, point is that with the power these necromancers are showing off, I wouldn''t be surprised if they had a demilich. Not a full lich, a demilich is an undead magic caster that is still ranked in the mid tiers, unlike a high tier lich. The difference between them is that a lich is like a power plant of death energy, while the demilich simply loses the problem of needing to find death energy and gathers it at a speed comparable to other mages.


    The reason why one would be used instead of just another necromancer, is because a demilich still retains a shred of intelligence and an affinity for whatever school they were in before they were raised. This adds unpredictability when fighting an organized undead force like this, as you can''t just assume to only be facing Necromancy.


    Moving on, to a more interesting topic, myself, I''ve acquired enough death energy to condense it a size of about the space between the joints on your finger, the middle one.


    My goal is to acquire enough death energy to encase my soul in it, on a theory I came up with that it''ll make me immortal. I mean, if my soul can''t leave my body will that mean I would not be able to be killed? That would without a doubt bad ass, and that''s what I''m all for.


    Oh, and there''s been a new development. When the soldiers had been effectively overran and routed, the necromancer released his order to not frenzy.


    And I retained control over myself!


    I believe it to do with my success in absorbing death energy, as though whatever it is about my undead self realizes it''s idea wasn''t working and has handed the reins to me.


    That''s not to say I don''t have the urge to take a bite, and do give in when I''m particularly absorbed in killing, but it''s more of a back seat kinda thing.


    It''s really good for my plans that it''s done this, as the necromancer''s order can''t increase the hunger enough any more to where I lose myself.


    I begin to tend to my axe, having grown a fondness for it through our traipsing into people''s homes and letting it greet their faces.


    There''s nothing real fancy about it, it''s decorations few and far between beyond the ornate piece at the end of the handle, that ends in a spike that just adds more utility to the weapon. It''s size is just a bit longer than a longsword, not a large as your average battle axe but it''s got enough reach to get the job done and give me the option to choose between one-handing and two-handing the weapon. Still have yet to acquire a shield, as it wouldn''t be fitting to just pick up some wooden one, it wouldn''t fit in with my axe. Bad asses don''t have mismatched equipment to that degree. And also because the ones I do come across are always beaten to the point of useless by straight forward attacks from a mindless zombie.


    Mentally sighing to myself, I noticed from my spot next to a house in which I can still hear screaming in, a pocket of survivors who will be surviving no longer, I observe the necromancer, once more meeting with the usual (in number at least) two companions.


    I stare with expectant eyes for the new addition to our army, wondering what it''ll be.


    As I said, my money''s on a demilich.


    Ah, one of the other left, I guess it''s either a necromancer or a demil-


    "....."


    It removes it''s hood.


    "....."


    It''s a fucking lich.

 Chapter 7 - Battle For The North 1/2

    A...a lich....


    Even with my emotions for the most part held in check by the necromancer''s magic, the little that I have recovered back is enough to send me into shock.


    A lich is....a lich is a HIGH TIER undead....


    To qualify to be high tier anything you must have the strength to rival an entire nation...


    That is the creature before me.


    There is no confusing a demilich and a lich. Even if I were still alive, I would be able to feel the immense power it radiates, it''s own self so intertwined with death that it produces it like a fountain, it''s mastery over death apparent in its own being.


    To become a lich requires such knowledge of death that you can remove your own soul and put it into a phylactery, something I myself applaud having felt the pain of just making my soul resist the pull of death.


    This effectively makes the lich nigh-immortal, its only weakness that phylactery yet it does not require to have it on. It must be kept relatively close, however, as the farther the body moves from it the less control it has over it.


    I learned all this about liches, as many children have, through the numerous old tales about them, their role almost always that of the evil dark lord.


    I say almost, as there are actually hermitic liches, who seclude themself away to further their research, not believing they''re at the pinnacle like their more ambitious peers.


    And now one of these creatures of legend stands before me, as we prepare to march forward into battle with the Empire''s subjugation force...


    As it stands, we shall have nothing to fear. Funny, as I''d be the only zombie to even think about fear.


    Tearing my eyes away from the dessicated, but not skeletal being before me, I move further into the town for more victims to acquire death energy.


    ________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________


    Our march sends us further into the Empire, although we''re still at the fringes. It''s my pleasure that I don''t feel the weather, for while we''re no longer in that desolate region at which I died, the area is still very cold.


    The original expedition sent us north, and more than one word of complaint about the cold was uttered when I made my way there when I was alive.


    Now that I''m undead there is merely a pressure felt whenever the wind blows, enough to tell me that it''s there. It ever so slightly dampens my mood when I realize I won''t ever feel a refreshing breeze again, as I enjoyed them in the mild and comfortable temperatures of my home.


    This thought ceases however, as the necromancer orders us to prepare for battle. I assume that the enemy has been scouted, or the lich just told him. The truly powerful are cheats like that, being able to know where you are without even using their five senses.Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions.


    I grip my axe as I run through what''s about to happen. Even with the lich on our side, this will be an immense battle as the cannon fodder that are soldiers and zombies battle it out and the artillery piece mages fire off their magics.


    If it weren''t for the necromancer''s orders I would very much prefer to hang in the back doing nothing, but alas that can''t be. It''d also ruin my being bad ass. It''s odd that I wanna be bad ass, even before I regained my little bit of emotion.


    I suppose childhood dreams transcend death.


    Chuckling to myself, a rather odd sight and sound considering I''m a zombie and haven''t spoken in over a week and a half, so it sounds more guttural than I expected.


    Beyond that silly reason of wanting to be cool, it would be a lie to say I wasn''t eager for the bloodshed and carnage. Another thing that comes with being undead, one I attribute to the emotional suppression. Your lust for violence goes unchecked, and while you would imagine it''d also be suppressed it''s more like it''s left unrestrained on purpose, to allow for more cruel and vicious subordinates.


    Without the other emotions to get in the way, the desire to kill and maim is all consuming. Almost. I''ve been able to keep it in check, like I''ve said, in the same manner of the hunger. By instinct, knowing that my approach is more appropriate and efficient, the crazed losing out to the calculating in battle.


    My mind continues to think these things, about my current mental state, our situation as an army, what plans these powerful individuals who lead us have in mind, amongst other more mundane things like my life as a member of the living and some regrets of things I did not get to do whilst I was one.


    With that, an order sent to us by the necromancer, I march forward into the impending battle.


    _______


    There were over 3000 of them on the opposing side. That puts this battle at 4000 versus 3000, not counting our respective auxilaries.


    This will be the first battle I''ve been in in which we hadn''t had a overwhelming numerical advantage, not counting my one and only battle as a living being of course.


    From on top of a hill looking at an opposing one, for which holds ontop of it our foe, with an obvious no man''s land between us, I could just barely make out the locations of the opposing mages.


    This was because there locations had a slightly higher troop concentration, ready to defend their charges to the death because of the important role they play.


    We stay like this for awhile, each side on their respective hills, the tension palpable, yet neither making a move.


    It would not be true to say neither side is doing anything, however, as while I can not say what things the enemy mages are doing but as for our lich, he appears to have been channeling something for awhile now. With my sensitivity towards death energy due to my being an undead, as well as my forays into manipulating it, I can tell whatever it is he''s doing, it''s going to be big.


    As I finished that last thought, the lich appears to have finished, his firey eyes burn brighter as he motions forward with his hands, and for a moment all is silent.


    That is when I feel it.


    A wave of pure death energy, so much so that it can be felt against the skin, is hurled forward like an approaching tsunami towards the Empire''s forces.


    While it can not be seen by them, the Empire soldiers noticeably react as their bodies natural instinct screams at them on the approaching death, and before they can even take a step back in retreat, the wave hits them.


    The effect is immediate, the wave charging forward until it hits a wall I can only assume was created by their mages, as every living creature that was enveloped falls dead without a sound beyond the thud of their corpses hitting the ground.


    With a single spell, the lich has killed over 500 soldiers.


    With that, once their mages detected that the death energy dilluted enough to be safely traversed, they attacked, fearing another such attack should they lose more men, the mages taxed from having to defend the remaining 2500 soldiers.


    I count 4 mages, more than I expected, but I guess it was intended by the Empire to thoroughly crush the threat we posed.


    Yet it was still inadequate for us, with the might of a lich on our side.


    While it was noticeably drained somewhat by that last attack, I knew it would not be long before it was back to full power due to its own regenerative capabilities and the deaths that it inflicted, as well as the the toll that the coming melee will produce.


    With that, the real battle began.

 Chapter 8 - Battle For The North 2/2

    First came the arrows, dozens upon dozens of them falling from the sky like rain.


    We ourselves hadn''t any archers, since the use of a bow is hard to replicate for an uncoordinated zombie, requiring additional support from a necromancer. However, maintaining control over an entire army as it is, I doubt that our black robed overlord could handle the additional demand for finesse.


    Then again with the absurd strength whatever organization he''s a part of I wouldn''t be surprised if he actually could, and simply didn''t feel like the hassle.


    The lich as well has no subordinates with him, I can only assume he found himself to be all is required in aid.


    Eyeing the mass of shafts (heh) and considering my own lack of shield, I remember that''s a lie. There''s all around me.


    So grabbing the nearest one, which struggled only a little by the sudden pull, I angled myself behind it so that I was protected.


    The arrows began to hit us, my protected spot allowing me to eye the damage we receive from the volley. Due to us forcing their hand, we are able to retain a high ground advantage, so we''re better protected against arrows to our skulls. Not to say we''re completely safe, a poor sap next to me getting a 10/10 shot straight through into his mouth and into his brain.


    Now a zombie can survive without its brain, honestly a zombie can survive anything. But it''s a efficiency thing when it comes to receiving damage, the more damage a zombie accumulates, the more death energy is required for them to function.


    The amount is generally neglible, otherwise we''d have a lot of zombies disqualified because of a missing limb or two. Except, when it comes to the head. Losing or receiving damage to the head shoots up the cost of maintaining the zombie immensely, as the death energy has to compensate for the loss of senses. Instead of fronting that cost for a defective product, necromancers usually cease supply to these zombies, and due to the cost of staying alive, they quickly meet death once again.


    So, the tried and true method of aiming for the head stays a constant in killing the undead.


    I also see Abs doing his usual thing of being hit in the gut without any sign of damage. I have a few theories as to why, mainly due to him missing his back and having an exposed spine, but I don''t know enough about death energy and how it''s spread throughout the body and compensates for injuries while they heal.


    Three more volleys are weathered before the Empire''s soldiers are within striking distance, and after a moment of hesitation and planning on my part I join in after the lines clash.


    I say lines, but as a zombie horde it''s more of a wave crashing against grim faced and perspiring rocks. Quicker than in the literal water and erosion, the enemy are slowly pushed back. I myself join in, and find myself against a rather stout man armed with the general sword and shield set up. His exposed flesh is covered in scars indicating he isn''t a greenhorn.


    If I had a working heart I know it''d be pumping hard right now, as my first true life and death battle (my life ending one doesn''t count) begins.


    But due to the influence of emotional suppression and necromancer''s command, and my own suppression over my urge to frenzy, I am able to maintain a cool head as we eye eachother.


    I have him beaten in terms of reach due to the size of my axe, but he exudes a confidence that tells me he knows how to get around that.


    He rushes forward while I''m still thinking of a plan, and I hastily swing my axe in a downward diagonal slash, which is met with his shield. Whereas my force would be more than enough to knock him aside even just a bit, due to my lack of momentum from having to throw the attack out quickly, he takes it in stride while moving into my personal space, slicing out for my hands holding onto my axe intending to lop them off, exposed because of the rebound from hitting his shield.


    A tinge of panic is felt in me, as I desperately use my strength to pull my axe and hands away from the oncoming strike.


    My speed, however, was lacking and he managed to get my left hand. It sails away, riding the force of the sword to send it out into the battlefield.


    Desperately swinging out, the man retreats back.


    "Bloody fucking hells, a self preserving zombie...." With wide eyes my opponent remarks to himself.


    I on the other hand give a grimace due to the loss of my hand, the only silver lining being that it was my non-dominant. Although since becoming a zombie I am perfectly able to use either hand, something I attribute to having death energy the main source of control for my body and thus removing that awkward feeling when you use your other hand, I still favor it due to an entire lifetime using it.You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.


    Now without two hands, I can''t swing my axe with as much force as before.


    Thankfully before another attempt is made by him, one of my innumerable comrades shows up to attack him, allowing me a moment to slip around him as he decapitates the helpful bloke, his eyes returning back to where I was, before he frantically tries to find where I went.


    He does find me, but by then it''s too late, as my axe swings down with more force than I mustered in our first exchange, meeting his face in an intimate first date that will not lead to a second.


    His body crumples down and I revel in the release of death energy. Actually, I''ve been reveling in it since the battle began, the energy released by the lich permeating the air allowing me a constant stream to enter me.


    The shear amount covering the area leads me to be more bold than I usually am, siphoning off enough to turn my knuckle sized concetration to around the size of a small rock, still not enough to encase my soul.


    Lamenting over the loss of my hand and the shield I was wanting to loot, and vowing to ensure not to let such a situation occur again, I re-enter back into the battle, looking for more opportune times to fight.


    Thus, my first taste of a battlefield touched my tongue.


    ____________


    Several hours later, we emerged victorious.


    The battle became a grinder for both sides, with the opposing mages focusing entirely on defense lest the lich release another devastating attack.


    I''m certain the lich could''ve bulldozed through their shields, but he seemed content enough with his initial display of power, not attacking again for the rest of the battle.


    That isn''t to say we didn''t have any magic from our own side however, as with the breathing room given to him by the lich''s presence allowed our necromancer to raise the recently slain from the enemy army, further bolstering our numbers and giving us an advantage in this battle of attrition.


    This progressed for hours, till the Empire''s soldiers could handle it no longer, the endless fighting that only ended with them pushed further and further back, along with having to face against people they had been talking and joking with only a day before. Their morale collapsed and from then on it was back to the usual business of wholesale slaughter.


    Any hope of recovering my dismembered hand a pipe dream, lost amidst all the bodies and blood.


    Not all is bad though, as throughout the exchange I acquired enough death energy to do what I''ve wanted to do for awhile now, with a little extra. I honestly could''ve acquired far more, but I''m hesitant to go beyond what I already am for fear of being found out. Even now I am, but it pays to be a nameless face amidst thousands of others.


    Also, with the regeneration of an undead I can regrow my hand, though based on the fact my shoulder has made only around 10% progress from a week and a half of time to heal that may take a few years. That 10% may sound like a lot, but it''s mostly due to the constant death we''re submerged in that I can heal at such a speed. Any lulls in the carnage will surely slow it to a crawl. Also the fact that my shoulder wound can''t compare to an entire missing hand, so for now and awhile I''m stuck with a stub.


    As for trying to use another hand as a replacement, despite my being an undead such a thought repulses me, as well as a feeling that unless I am more capable in my manipulation of death energy, my attempts will be a failure.


    Death magic would probably solve such an issue, but I had no aptitude for magic while I was alive, and I have no one to teach me now that I can manipulate death energy. Even then, I can tell that the way I''m manipulating it is very crude.


    Ah well, nothing to be done about it now. I can finally attempt what I''ve been wanting to do ever since I started adding to my accumulated death energy.


    To encase my soul in condensed death energy.


    While that sounds like it would be pointless, as encasing it won''t actually actually do anything, that is true. But with it encased I plan to squeeze my soul with the death energy.


    It''s incredibly risky, but with learning that the soul is real (should''ve been obvious because liches exist) I assume that the part of it being immortal in of itself is also true. The crack in the space that my soul is contained also lends credit to this conclusion, as when I was dying my soul was being pulled through towards it.


    There''s probably more to it than I think, as I hardly count myself an expert on souls just from having my awareness of it brought out through my brush with death, and subsequent undeath.


    But, now that I have it accumulated, and am at the precipice, I see only to go forward, and try to infuse death energy into my soul. Because that would be bad ass, and that is what I strive to be.


    Settling into the iconic stillness of an undead, I focus on the task at hand.


    I concentrate the death energy within me, condensing it till it''s size is equivalent of a fist, enough to cover my soul which size shows it to be small enough to be enclosed in my hand.


    I then begin encasing my soul, carefully ensuring that all around it the death energy is evenly distributed.


    With that done, the final task can be done.


    I''d be a liar if I were to say I''m not scared. It''s not an easy task to risk your soul, even when you were to sell it you at least know it''s going somewhere and not being utterly destroyed.


    But I''m too eager, too desiring for whatever good may come out of it to let that fear hold me back.


    And so, I squeezed.


    And I was met with black.


    __________


    A black robed creature, emanating darkness and death as its face is masked in shadows, jerks in a way that completely goes against its usual behavior.


    "What''s wrong?" A dessicated body wearing similar robes as the creature''s, asks with mild curiousity but no real concern.


    "I felt a surge of death from one of my minions but I can''t pinpoint where. Whatever caused it also stopped as quickly as it happened."


    "How peculiar, but it could be anything. No matter, we must proceed forward with our plans, lest we lose this momentum and meet the full power of the Empire''s forces."


    "Yes yes, it will be so. We''ve waited a long time for an opportunity like this, it would be a shame to have it ruined by any random occurence."


    Sharing a dark chuckle, the two each enter their own thoughts on the future, their visions the same yet their reason''s vastly different.

 Chapter 9 - Meeting Death

    I.....I did horrible things....


    I can feel it all, the disgust, a revolting hatred for myself....


    My emotions are flooding back into me, threatening to drown me...


    I killed...I killed innocent people...I killedchildren!


    My mind is a swirling mass of self hatred and regret.


    No heart beats in me yet I can feel a pain that transcends the physical...


    No tears drip from my eyes yet my vision blurs...


    I retreat into my thoughts, a torment I dare not refuse for the things I have done..


    ____


    I can not tell how much time passes in this place..


    All around me is darkness similar to that of when I was where my soul resides, yet it is different..more natural unlike the endless black I was met with back then.


    I only notice this, the tormenting and unrelenting thoughts pushed back, because I hear sounds...things that sound like laughter and crying, screams of rage and pain...


    Picking myself up, minutely noticing my body feels lighter than it should be, until I realize that it''shealthy.


    Still dead, but not grotesque as I had been getting while ki...ling..


    The torturous thoughts surge once more but I force myself towards the sounds before they swallow me once more.


    With each step I can tell though, my body is back to the moment I initially died, excluding my shoulder wound, although I could feel a dullness from it.


    As I walk I take note of my surroundings, my vision still hazy yet I can make out enough to tell where I am.


    It looks like a hallway, every inch made of a stone I have never seen before, but I can''t confirm this due to my vision impairment.


    My steps are barefooted and I can feel the stone beneath them, surprisingly soft but yet still firm.


    Looking in both directions of the hallway I can see no indication of where they''ll end. This is contributed to by the darkness that surrounds me, even with my vision being better than a living person''s in the dark. Another once suppressed feeling erupts forth, with just as much force as the ones that came before.


    Fear.


    Panicked questions fill my mind. Where am I?! Did I die?! Is there an end to this place?!


    But as before, curiousity for answers, to find what''s making those noises and to answer those questions driving me forward. One would say to not go towards these noises, eliciting most likely a positive response from a sane man.


    Yet I am not in a right state of mind, thoroughly racked with guilt and regret, an emotional wreck, I go towards the only source of stimuli to ward off against the thoughts.


    So I begin to walk towards the sounds. And walk. And walk.


    I feel no sense of progress is made, the sounds never increasing nor decreasing in volume. Remaining the same, able to make them out but unable to completely identify what''s making them or who, whether it be a monster or a person, the sounds warped enough for it to be either way. As for why I could tell what they were in the first place a mere gut feeling.


    After what felt like hours of walking, through which I never felt any discomfort or impediment despite near constant walking on stone with no shoes and only raggity clothing on, I finally notice a change.


    The darkness has eased, ever so slightly. By this point my eyes had regained their focus, though they were only ever a moment away from blurring back again to enshroud my sight to send me back to the thoughts.


    Once more, I walk for what feels like hours, and notice once more a change. The walls begin to be decorated, all manner of tapestries and paintings, and the floor now sporting carpets in the same manner. The styles are haphazard, no sense of congruity in style or culture to bring them into a sense of cohesion.


    Soon after I begin to see torches, mounted on sconces that followed the same pattern as the decorations before. The fires that burned upon the wood a color I have never seen fire burn before, a blackish-grey similar to the color of death energy. How it produced light despite such color I could hardly fathom.


    Before long I began to come across doors, once more each different from the other. Each one I attempt to open is locked.


    I proceed on, checking every door I come across, each one locked like the one before.


    The next change is the hallway itself, ever so slightly yet noticeably widening, soon to the point I knew I would not be able to make out the walls if it were not for the torches upon the mismatched sconces.


    While watching the steady expansion of the hall as I walk forward, it then I noticed that I have come upon a door that blocks the way. Unlike the previous doors and decorations, this one gives off a feeling of belonging, as though it were yet another block of stone placed in the walls, only simply made of wood. With expectation on the door being unlocked, I am surprised to find it does not have a handle, nor any visible way of opening it.


    Standing there, thoughts blank, I feel once more an instinct on how to proceed, as though the answer was always with me yet lied dormant.


    I knocked, a quick series of four knocks, and then stood waiting, unsure on what''ll happen next.


    Once more time passes, still unable to tell how much so, the fear rising up each moment as a lack of action gives it purchase.


    Before I utterly consumed by hopelessness, the door opens, invitingly so yet from another perspective a foreboding summons.


    I do not hesitate however to pass through, merely glad to finally feel an end to this hallway ahead of me.


    The room I enter is a massive affair, the granduer of which is not lost on me, though once more it is decorated in amanner that makes no attempt in cohesion.


    Before my path though is a carpet that gives off a similar feeling as to the door, leading towards a throne of which is the same, made out of a similar yet far more refined material than the grey stone that make up my surroundings. Upon the throne sits a woman, whose beauty is of a category of its own, her hair a shade of dark that in itself you find yourself lost in, her eyes the same color as the energy of death, and surrounding her is an aura of death. Even so, my heart which beats not feels as though it has resuscitated and locked away thoughts of fleshy desires.If you come across this story on Amazon, it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.


    She eyes me, a smile upon her face that would send a man into shock just to know it was directed at him. Thankfully being already dead, it does not do so to me, almost in an sardonic twist feeling like it''ll bring me back to life.


    "I see before me a tortured soul, one who as well tried to merge himself with my own being by force. How bold, trying to make a commitment to me without even asking first." Her voice is soothing, and after her words she laughs coquettishly.


    "I suppose it''s better than trying to run from me, as so many wish to do. Though, I don''t believe you wanted to achieve what you have." Every uttered word I hang on, realizing that it goes beyond simply her beauty, as though my soul itself is in her grasp.


    "W-who are you?" I can barely mutter that out, my very being trying to stop me from interrupting her.


    "Ah!" She cutely exclaims, surprise upon her face. Once more she eyes me, her eyes shining more vibrant than before.


    "Since you asked, I will tell." She states. "I am Death. And since I know you wish to know, you are in my queendom. Kingdom. Really I haven''t an actual gender, but it seems appearing as a beautiful maiden makes people more willing to come with me."


    "Welcome to the Underworld."


    My mouth hangs agape at that, before I can once more squeak out my words.


    "S-so I died?!"


    "Yes and no. Upon that day when you received an axe in your shoulder, you were dead, albeit a process of giving your corpse unlife happened in the process of you dying. As for your current condition, you are not in a state that would bring you to my land. As for why your here, then, since I just know you''redying to find out, it''s because of you forcing the energy of death into your soul."


    "Truly it is so ungentlemanly of you to do such a thing, how rude, ask before you try to join with me."


    Confusion abounds in my mind, as I remember her statement earlier about merging and forming a commitment. The look on my face does not go unnoticed.


    "I see you''re confused, so I shall enlighten. Death energy, once released, is my domain. It is merely used temporarily by necromancers and undead, but ultimately it is mine and will return to me. And if you''re wondering aboutimmortals-" she says with obvious disdain "-they do not sustain their life with it but instead hide their souls from me so that I can not claim them. Though it is annoying, it is not that big of a deal to me, since not many mortals can cope with such life spans and will eventually come willingly."


    "That brings us to the matter of you, and your attempt to infuse your soul with death energy, in a sense my own essence. The result is your soul was gripped by it and the death energy took it''s natural path to me, effectivelykillingyou in a sense. Although returning to your body is yet possible, if I allow it."


    I mull over her words, and once more a question forms within me.


    "But what do you mean by a commitment?" I say with more certainty than my previous tries at talking to her.


    "Haven''t you been listening? You tried to merge with Death! With me! Attempting to do such a thing leads to us sharing your soul, while amusing it is invariably stupid to attempt. The fact you merely ended up here and not having a shattered soul is surprising in of itself."


    "B-but you can send me back? You said so yourself!" At the realization I could''ve shattered my soul, once more I become meek with my speech, quickly speeding through the last sentence.


    "But why would I? You already were destined to be here, merely, as I said, temporarily over staying your welcome. Whatever reason have I to send you back?"


    I blanked, realizing the truth of her words. I have noreal reason to want to return, no one waiting for me, notrue dream beyond the craving of power brought by a situation in which that was all I saw. With the return of my emotions it is no longer something that is as all consuming.


    Furthermore, the feelings and thoughts that flood me more than enough give reason to not be worthy of it. That it is and should be my fate to be where I belong, with the dead and damned....


    And yet.....and yet I don''t want to truly die. I still want to live, as all mortals who accomplished nothing want to do.


    I don''t want to simply have my legacy being a slightly impressive zombie, my legacy being a killer of the defenseless...


    "I...I want to live, if only to do something worthwile with that life. That...that is all I give for a reason..."


    "Ha...haha...hahahahahaha!" Laughter erupts from her as though it had been corked in since the moment she asked her question. The laughter continues on to the point I feel embarassed at my answer.


    Wiping a tear from her eye as her laughter dies down, she assesses me once more, her previous observations amounting to glances compared to the scrutiny she shows now.


    "Hmph, a weak reason yet it rings true for you, not a speck of deceit to try and worm out of me a reason to grant your request beyond simple heartfelt desire." She answers cooly.


    "I will grant it to you." A declaration that shocks me to my very core.


    Why would she give in to my request with such a lacking reason as what I presented her? For what reason is there to do such a thing?


    Seeing my face confused once again in this exchange, she gives a smile that reminds me that she is Death.


    "There will be a catch, however. When is there ever not one, hehehe." Each laugh sends a shiver down my spine.


    What would Death need me to do?


    "Aha, you''re curious as to what I wish for you to do? It will not require much briefing, as you yourself have experience with what it is that concerns me enough to send you back. The Undead Kings. Though I doubt you know their name, having been a mere zombie under a necromancer''s control, they are an ancient group of age-old conquerors who each acquired immortality through the use of phylactery to become the first liches to walk the world."


    No recollection comes to mind at the mention of their names, and so I wait patiently for her to continue her explanation.


    "They''ve been a thorn in my side for a very long time, each one doing the whole ''take over the world'' thing on their own. Thankfully each time they were stopped by brave heroes. The threat now, however, pales in comparison to those times. They''ve banded together to form their group of Undead Kings, to try once more at conquering the world. The fact that the world is large more than enough reason for them to do so despite being on average greedy and uncooperative, as they can divvy up the spoils without much hassle with so much to choose from."


    With every new additional piece of information I''m further able to understand the situation and the absurd strength of those I served. But one thing still bugs me..


    "Why are they focused on the Empire so fervently instead of taking over the lesser countries?"


    As soon as I finish voicing my question she smirks, a sight that once more reminds me she is a beauty beyond mortal limit.


    "This is something I find hilarious, albeit I feel those Undead Kings have more hatred for. The Empire''s Emperor is, like the Undead Kings, a being who is ancient beyond compare on the mortal plane, though he achieved his state through other means that even I do not know. As it is, even for the Undead Kings I can feel their souls manipulating their bodies despite not being able to trace it to wherever they have them hidden, but for the Emperor there is no such feeling. It is as though his body is without any input from a soul."


    "But what makes him so fervently hated by those Undead Kings is that he has always been the one who set into motion their downfalls for when they tried to play out their plans for world domination. That, as well as the threat posed by the Empire in general as the largest war machine in the land. So it is only natural that they strive to destroy such a vile rival."


    "And why is it that I need to stop them? Won''t there be heroes to stop them?"


    "Possibly, there usually are. But they never finish the job, always returning home once the threat has been eliminated but never cutting it off at the source. Furthermore, it''s not just the Undead Kings being stopped that I want you to do, but to also investigate the Emperor and his peculiar circumstances. Now, it is about time for you to return, though there is one more thing that must be done before that..."


    She stands from her throne, her luscious body providing a feast for the eyes, and I lose myself in staring before I notice her approaching me. Despite welling up apprehension from having such a beauty so close, I can not move, my feet rooted to the ground as though they were a part of the stone flooring.


    Each step she takes my heart, which somehow beats in my ears with an ever increasing crescendo, sends my mind fluttering.


    "There''s-"step "-just-"step"-one-"step"-more-"step"-thing."


    Her arms reach around my neck, resting there as her face leans close to my own. Every cell in my dead body bursting with a liveliness I''ve never felt before even while alive.


    With that, her lips meet mine.


    "A kiss from Death."


    I''m once more, met with darkness.

 Sorta End to the First Arc

    I want to ask that you guys leave a REVIEW, xD, because I haven''t a clue what I can do to improve unless I get feedback.If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement.


    I enjoy writing this story, and I would be very pleased if you guys help me improve my writings so that I enjoy the finished product that much more.

 Chapter 10 - Hello There

    My senses return to me before long.


    I''m lying face first in the dirt, and with a thought of thanks that I don''t need to breathe, I push myself into a sitting position to take stock of my surroundings.


    Death and corpses. Almost like I left it, except the walking corpses we all know and love are gone.


    Oh, I didn''t even noticed when I was pushing myself up but my left hand is back...


    I suppose it''s something to do with my soul merging with the death energy, as I as well feel stronger. Or it''s Death''s doing. Either way, result is I''m back at full and even beyond.


    Standing up to get a better view, I scan my surroundings once again from on high, taking note of the fact that thereare corpses. While there aren''t as many as I remember, it seems that the necromancer and lich prioritized speed over raising every one of the dead.


    Grabbing my axe, and checking for intact shield lying around, I spot movement out of the corner of my eye.


    Hastily preparing myself for whatever it is that''s poking around fresh corpses, I go prone hoping it didn''t see me and that I''ll remain hidden amongst the bodies.


    With the need to hide myself out of the way, I take a proper look at what caught my attention. From this distance I can''t make out the finer details but they seem like a humanoid creature, half the height of a grown man. It takes me some time, and them moving closer to my position, for me to realize it''s a child of about 9 or 10 years of age.


    Breathing a sigh of relief, oh wait I can''t, I check around to see if she''s alone. With all the serious stuff that consumed my mind when I got my emotions back, being a jokester may seem inappropriate. And you''re right. But it''s a real improvement on your mood when you''re brought back from the dead and even given a purpose after so much depression. And it''d be a lie to say there wasn''t any depression still in me, only putting on a chipper facade to myself lest it crumbles alongside myself.


    Seeing no one else, I emerge from the dead orgy to find out what they''re doing here. Probably not wise, stranger who''s poking around a battlefield that may yield more dangerous things than simply dead corpses and pointy bits everywhere, probably shouldn''t approach them. But my curiousity as to why a child is here makes me want to know, as well as a sense of responsibility. Mainly though a sense of guilt...sigh...if it weren''t for the situation at hand the facade would turn to dust and I''d be wallowing in that guilt.


    Yet once more I find myself with a lack of fear, fueled not by my being undead but a high I''m riding that I met Death itself. Herself? She said she hadn''t an actual gender but I agree with her statement on preferring to be taken by a beautiful maiden. A skeletal face wearing billowing black robes with a scythe in hand, fuck no am I trusting that thing. A 11/10 beauty on the other hand, and even if there''s a door way covered in blood I''d come willingly. Besides though, you''re going along with Death in either scenario, might as well enjoy some aspect of it.


    Turning back to the situation, the child, a girl from the features I can now make out from being closer, finally notices me, and I can see the surprise as she jumps in fright. This is followed by her running.


    "Hey! Wait!" I yell hoping to she listens to those words, doubting that though since there''s not actual reason to.


    But it pays off, somehow, as her gait slows as she turns her head back to my standing figure, until she stops staring at me.


    It''s a little off putting, but now that I think about it, finding a person in what was a field of death is rather peculiar. Scratch that, it''s just not right.


    "I mean you no harm, may we talk!" I yell again, hoping she agrees. She did the first thing I asked, so lets try for a second time. I begin to walk towards her, noticing the apprehension in her body language but seeing from her face a look of determination.


    Soon, I''m close enough to her that yelling need not be done to be heard. Plus she moves away every time I try to get closer, but it''s fine.


    Before I can ask my own questions she spouts out her own with obvious effort.


    "A-a-aren''t you an u-undead?" As she voices her question she seems to double in tension.


    "Er, would you believe me if I said I wasn''t a bad undead?" I ask hoping for her to believe me, if only based on the naivete of children.


    "N-no, I wouldn''t mister undead." She shows more common sense than I would expect, especially by her being in the middle of a recent battlefield. As I said earlier, worse things can lurk than just bodies and weapons. Take for example my own being, the zombie. There can be naturally risen zombies, creatures who are created just by death energy on its own, seeping into the dead instead of dissipating away, bringing up instinct driven monsters whose lifespan is only as long as there''s enough death energy to seep in. This is especially a dangerous possibility when so much death lies in the air from the lich''s magic. But it seems I was away from my body for some time, as while death still permeates the air, it is not nearly as so thick as when the battle ended. Still though, a battlefield produces a decent enough amount on its own, due to the events that took place and the corpses that lie around. That alone can attract unwanted attention.Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    "Would you at least believe me if I said I meant you no harm?" I ask.


    "N-no, I w-wouldn''t mister undead." Her body shivers. Her response nags at me, but I don''t enough about her to make any assumptions as to why she expects me to have bad intentions. Then again Iam a zombie. Or am I? Beyond my regrown hand I don''t feel stiffness I did as a zombie. Actually, looking at myself, the decay that had been occuring and the shoulder wound I died to have also vanished. I could honestly pass as a super pale person, though on closer inspection my skin tone seems to be grey, similar to the color of the stones that made up Death''s home in the Underworld. As to why this didn''t trick the girl, it probably has to do with the venue and my showing no signs of breathing. Oh wait, she asked me if I was an undead, I could''ve said no. Fuck me.


    Thinking to myself, she asks me another question with a tad bit more confidence than previous, though her body yet still betrays her fear.


    "Why can you talk mister undead? A-aren''t you supposed to be trying to eat me?" Her voice is high pitched, but feels on the low side for a girl, and it''s hard to really give it a description when it''s tinged with fear.


    "I can talk because I''m not a bad undead. And technically speaking Iam supposed to try to eat you, if I were a bad undead. But I''m not, by the irrefutable proof of me not eating you." I match the girl''s confidence as well as beating her in hiding my shivering, this talk of eating her bringing up bad memories once again.


    It seems my declaration did and didn''t work, her head nodding yet her body not calming down. I suppose she appreciates my bluntness but at the same time it does little to assuage her fears. She''s showing a lot of wisdom for one so young.


    "If I may ask a question little girl, why are you here?" I ask. As my words touched ''little girl'' something flashed across her face I was surprised to see, considering her reaction to the situation previous. Annoyance.


    Her fists clench as her body shivers slightly less, seems as though she''s making herself calm down. After a moment more of her doing that, she answers my question with the most confidence so far in the conversation.


    "I''m looking for knives for Mama and Papa...theirs aren''t any good and so I wanted to get them some. Er..-" she pauses and bites her lip before finally asking me another question "-mister undead, how come you aren''t dead. You''re the only one walking.." She gestures slightly at the carnage around us.


    I smile, giving out what has become my default answer. "Because I''m not a bad undead, so I can keep going when the bad ones can''t." Every time I say ''I''m not a bad undead'' is a pain in my non-beating heart, though the alternative is the truth and that I do not wish to share.


    She nods once more at my answer, and I can see herself relax even more, still not completely unguarded, not even close, but calm enough to stop herself from shaking constantly.


    Seeing this, I try for a question I''ve wanted to ask since I started talking to the girl.


    "Can I meet your Mama and Papa?"


    My reason for asking this is because, believe it or not, I have no clue where the hell I am. Going from following the army to dropped into nowhere is jarring to say the least, and people like this girl''s parents are the perfect ones to ask, as her clothing speaks of outdoor living, made up of various animal hides that aim for warmth and utility over aesthetics. I can only hope that the answer is yes, as otherwise I''m left with mindless wandering till I find some way to find out where I am and where to go from here.


    Her face shows surprise at my question, and to my own surprise, she answers, though not in a way I expected but it wasn''t a no. "You can....but Mama and Papa aren''t around right now and so you''ll have to wait..."


    "Why did your parents leave you all alone?" This new information gives me a bad view of her parents, but I like to know all the details before making an opinion. It''s just easier that way.


    "They went hunting..." She doesn''t say anymore and neither does it look like she will. Breathing in an imaginary breath to settle my thoughts about the situation, I ask the girl one more question.


    "What''s your name, girl?" I didn''t say ''little'' this time since it obviously wasn''t liked by her earlier.


    "It''s Cera...what''s mister undead''s name?"


    Her question catches me off guard, as I realize I''d have to tell her my embarrassing name I made up for myself. I never actually thought I''d need to tell some one it, envisioning my future to be a detatched killing machine in the employ of the necromancer till I gained enough strength to overthrow his shackling power. Basically never having to interact with people. Thinking frantically, I decide to take the easy way out to avoid as much embarrassment as possible in the eyes of this little girl.


    "I-I don''t have a name." I idly scratch my awkward smile plastered face as is so often portrayed by those trying to hide embarrassment. It marginally makes me feel better about my answer as I feel a sense of connection to those who have shared my woe at this time.


    "Uh....then I''ll call you Grey then mister undead, since your skin is grey..." Her eyes stare at my skin, something I feel to be because of it being unusual. Even zombies pale till their bodies decay, the magic that sustains them not used to prevent this onslaught of time. As for grey skin? That seems to be a unique feature for my undead self. I don''t know whether or not it''s because of whatever it is Death did or if it''s a result of my boost in power. The power I at least know the reason for, if not the how and why as to how it became like that.


    My soul has merged seamlessly with the death energy that I so crudely forced into it. My best guess is that Death is the reason for this, but I''m unsure as to it being caused by her kiss or by something else she did. She didn''t really explain much on what she was going to do to me. Actually, she explained nothing except sending me back to my body. It might be because I simply didn''t ask, but the aura of power she exuded made asking the few questions that I did an incredible struggle.


    I nod at Cera''s naming sense, leagues above mine. I should thank her in the future, though I haven''t a clue as to what I could give or do for her. I''m rather limited in the skills I possess, and even more so in the items I have, all of my wordly possessions now amounting to an axe, my soldier''s armor, and whatever shield I scrounge up before we leave.


    "Then my name is Grey. Nice to meet you Cera."

 Chapter 11 - Accommodations And Suspicions

    While the encounter was strange, it''s a good thing I met Cera, as I haven''t a clue where I am. As expected of an undead army, we didn''t take the roads and struck through the wilderness, so I don''t even know where civilization is. I could try to find a road, but that''d just lead me to the next town, and by the time I make it I''ll find a warm bed, warmed by the flames of it being razed by the undead that is. With Cera''s parents, if they''re willing hopefully, I can maybe skirt around and get ahead of the army.


    While the undead are tireless and do not require rest, they''re still mostly zombies and thus they''re slow as hell when it comes to walking. I think it''s on purpose by the necromancer, since whenever we were just marching the energy link between us felt to lessen, compared to during battle, it was about a 75% difference. Probably to conserve energy a zombie is supplied with the bare minimum to keep it moving.


    Still, while they aren''t moving fast they are moving at a constant pace. Honestly I don''t even think Ican skirt around them, or even catch up to them. But it''s a better plan in every situation to get your bearings before you make your next move.


    We arrive at Cera''s cabin after some time and quite a bit of hiking. Anyone who says ''no pain, no gain'', obviously has never been an undead who can''t feel pain but can still accomplish above and beyond achievements. And~ the whole tireless thing. We''re unfair like that.


    When I move towards the cabin, Cera stops me.


    "You can''t go in, er....Mama and Papa won''t like it if they find out.."


    I was going to ask where I''d stay then but she beat my mouth before the words could make it out, and brought me to a shed that housed various tooks for living on your own. I felt some death emanating from the cabin but it''s probably just a result from hunted animals.


    The shed itself is built like the cabin, made up of both tree and rock, since the tree''s here are only slightly better than the ones around the town we razed.


    Again, whenever I think about my past actions feelings of guilt and regret wash over. I look to Cera, and manage to hold it down.


    The insides of the shed are austere, obviously not meant for habitation. Fortunately as an undead I don''t require sleep, food, warmth, etcetera. Well, warmth of friends maybe? I am a bit lonely, between turning undead and the subsequent series of events, I could very well use some company to ease my mind. The issue of fulfilling the tasks that Death gave me also weighs on my mind immensely, but I wasn''t given a time limit that''s counting down to the end times, so I can push it back a bit.


    Thanking Cera for the room, for the first time in a long time I part with my axe, nestling it in a corner as I stretch. I don''t feel the pain of soreness, but I''m still told about the state of my body in a manner similar by the energy keeping me an undead. Once more the phrase ''no pain, no gain'' is trumped by the bullshit that is an undead body, able to tell you something''s wrong without the pain.


    Glancing around the room, all I see are various tools, nothing really interesting, the only noticeable piece in the room is a wooden table in the middle. I promptly move towards it and settle down in a cross legged sit. It''s getting dark out and there''s been something I''ve wanted to do since the merge with death energy and that''s explore the changes to my soul and what it means for me.


    I was only able to take a good look when I first returned to my body, and that only left more questions than answered. While I was hiking with Cera I couldn''t give my soul more than a glance, due to the attention needed for the hike. Her home on the lower slope of a mountain, the path up is still rather steep due to an unusual amount of trees akin to a forest on the mountain, as though mocking the hardships of the other trees who cling to survival on the flat ground below.Stolen content warning: this tale belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences elsewhere.


    As for the crossed legs position, felt like it might help. Monks do it, I don''t know about mages, and I haven''t an idea if it helps either one. I don''t even think looking at your own soul is something they can do. But it doesn''t hinder me any so I might as well do it.


    When I first looked at my own soul, it was a pure light, in the midst of unbreachable darkness. Now it''s similar to the color the torches burned in the Underworld, and the darkness is covered in a haze of death. Aside from those changes, there''s only one other thing that I notice that chokes me despite me being undead. Death is mysterious like that, even making the dead completely under her sway, acting in ways thought left behind with the living.


    That other thing is that I''m producing my own death energy. It''s minor, increasing by a barely noticed margin. But I noticed it, and hence my choked condition.


    Despite it''s lackluster accumulation, the energy produced is constant and unrelenting, and I can only assume it''ll gain power in the future.


    I lose myself in watching the death energy produced from my soul, wondering how lich''s accomplish this since it''s definitely not through the method I have, having entered a contract of sorts with Death herself.


    Hours pass by without me even realizing it, mesmerized by my soul. Before I know it, it''s the next day and I go out to find Cera. I don''t wanna just lounge around and leave a little girl to do all the work required to live on her own. There are also suspicions I have, especially concerning the death I feel coming from her home. While I originally set it aside as simply animal remains as the cause, I can''t help but having a nagging feeling that something else is in there. But suspicions is all I have and I don''t want to agitate Cera by bullying my way in there. I''m not a monster...


    "But you are a monster...you killed those children...those defenseless men and women....you, are, a monster~"


    These thoughts and more fill my head. They always come unbidden whenever I''m reminded of their subject matter.


    I see Cera in the distance, and put them to the back of my mind, with some effort.


    She''s equipped with a short bow that''s perfect for her size, and a pack on her back. I''m sure she''s about to go hunting, and I jog over to her to see if she''d mind my help. It''s been awhile since I went hunting, but I have done it before. Albeit the noble way, where it''s more of a game, but I''m a decent enough shot with a bow. The recent changes to my body too allow me to wield one with the same skill. Combine that with my undead strength, and the undead''s knack for being completely still, and I''m certain I can kill something even with my weak woodsmanship.


    "Going hunting Cera?"


    "Mm." She says with a short nod, her nervousness from yesterday shining through ever slightly though her face shows her determination to remain calm. It does not go unnoticed by me that she doesn''t look like someone who got a good night''s rest, her eyes sunken and dark.


    I noticed this aswell when I first met her but I didn''t think any of it, having no knowledge on who she was. Now seeing her at what should be her home, dead tired, my suspicions grow once again. If it continues at this rate I may just force my way to the bottom of this mystery, my curiousity and concern overriding my want to be civil.


    "May I join you? I''m not half bad with a bow, surely your Papa has a spare I can borrow."


    At first she looks hesitant, and seemed about to refuse, until I saw her face grimace and she nodded. I believe I heard the faintly the sound of a stomach rumble, as though it lacked the energy for it''s trademark loudness.


    She went inside the cabin and after a wait, she came out holding a bow larger than her own clearly fit for an adult. A quiver of arrows in her other hand, as she had her own bow and arrows strung over her shoulder and back.


    Setting the new bow and arrows down, she quickly scoots away leaving me to pick them up. A mental sigh floats through my mind at her timidness, but beyond that I pay it no mind. I am an undead she met on a battlefield, and I can only assume she let me come here from her own loneliness. The more I learn about her, the more I feel like her parents haven''t been back for awhile now.


    Shoving these thoughts aside as I focus on the now, and hyping myself to hunt something good for Cera, and maybe something for myself. I don''t need to eat being an undead, but I have a feeling that I have my sense of taste back after my return.


    Relishing the thought of finally tasting food, Cera and I set out into the woods looking for game.

 Chapter 12 - Homestead

    While hunting proved more difficult than I initially thought, we were still able to bag a few rabbits. I wanted something bigger like a deer, but there isn''t much sustenance here for them. The only creature that matches is a thing called a grift, which isn''t any good for eating due to their unique bodies.


    They''re actually rather interesting, as they aren''t a single creature, but a symbiotic one made up of dozens under its skin that live off of a host body that looks like a deer/mountain goat hybrid that never skipped leg day. They''re relationship is so set that they''re even born together. As for the the benefit of their union? The tiny creatures offer supreme protection against the elements and apparently even magic, according to Cera. She seems to like them a lot, which I can understand.


    The host body in turn supplies them with nutrients and other stuff, as well as itself boasting very good defense against physical attacks. They''re pretty much walking tanks that are a little smaller than a war horse.


    Sadly they don''t make good eating, since due to their body it''s an incredible pain to properly butcher the creature, and even then they don''t offer much in terms of nutrition as they make use of everything they consume, not needing fat since the symbiotes in their skin take care of protecting against the elements, as well as not needing to store energy since the symbiotes do it instead. The symbiotes can even pump the host body full of stimulants akin to adrenaline in a person. Pretty damn cool creatures.


    Not to say these rabbits aren''t cool, being all soft and soon to be delicious.


    I tried out to see if I could taste while I was out with Cera and found that I could. A scraggly berry bush we came across not far from home base.


    Another thing I found out was when I separated from Cera to hunt on my own, since she had to also collect some plants that''d help with some things. What things, I don''t know, I''m not a wilderness survivalist. I''m not even alive.


    The fact that I''m undead, and can remain completely still while nothing about me says I''m alive, not even a heartbeat, creatures completely ignore me much as they would a rock.


    Unfortunately for them I''m a rock with a bow and half decent aim.


    We make it back to camp, and Cera sets to setting aside her plant finds and then begins butchering the rabbits. Knowing I can taste food again, while my mouth doesn''t produce any saliva I canfeel my mouth water.


    After looking at Cera though I berate myself, since the food should all go to her since I don''t need it and for a child like her most definitely. Besides that, I want to return to meditating on my soul as I feel my understanding of the changes and what I can do with them improving. Plus since I can''t sleep, losing myself in this action is as close as I can get, giving myself a mental refresher. I''m sure I''ll get used to it as time goes, but since I turned undead the fact that my brain never need to shut off was mentally exhausting, even if my ability to think remained the same.Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site.


    Deciding to just ask for a single bite sized piece, I return to my shed while the sun approaches the horizon, only a few more hours till night sets in. I glance at my axe and seeing the rust on it as well as the dried blood, I set to maintaining it before I settle in to meditating. After cleaning it I take a whetstone I found in the shed, and begin trying to sharper the axe blade. I say trying, because the material that makes the axe blade is stronger than steel. Seriously, where the hell did they find those initial corpses?


    Thankfully, after enough time for the sun to finally reach the horizon, my axe was sharpened. Holding it up to the rapidly depleting light, pride filled me that such a wonderful weapon was mine. Truly it''s splendor from whenever it was forged hasn''t devalued at all. Again, where the hell did they find such treasures?!


    Opening my mouth in a mock sigh, I put down my axe in its corner and hop onto the table to begin to meditate the night away.


    Several days pass like this, helping Cera and meditating. All the more I grow suspicious about what''s going on, and as much as I wish to continue on my journey, I can''t bring myself to abandon her. This is strongly in part to the chaining emotions of what I''d done in my past. The idea of harming a child, even indirectly, has altered my soul more than the death energy that pulsates within it.


    Besides that, I still have no clue where I am. I really haven''t a clue which way towards the nearest road, except to return back to the torched town, but that''d lose me much more time than what I''m doing now. I could follow the tracks of the marching army of the dead, but I haven''t any confidence in not attracting attention from the lich and necromancer, and whoever else they''ve added to the gang.


    It''s decided then. I''ll confront Cera about it tomorrow, about her missing parents and what I''ll do next.


    Honestly, I like the girl. She''s still timid but has gotten a lot more comfortable around me, the distance between us now around two armlengths, a significant improvement to the yelling distance of our first meeting.


    She''s naive, cute at times in manner, and clumsy, everything you''d expect from a girl her age, but at the same time she''s determined, brave, and cautious. Her demeanor as well is mature, to the point that it gives me room to worry that such a young girl acts in such a way befitting a woman who''s seen the worst of the world. I have my suspicions on her situation, but none of them are towards her out of malice. Truly she''s a good person at heart, even giving myself, someone who admitted to being undead, shelter. Good people are generally naive, and a child more so. Thankfully I''m not someone to take advantage of it, and I hope to be someone who teaches her to have more caution against dangers such as strangers. I hope, but probably don''t, since her personality looks to have it already ingrained, and I''m left to wonder why she is okay with someone like me.


    Aside from her, there''s one more thing that''s on my mind. Mynew body. Being the helpful hand that I am, I had went out to acquire fire wood for Cera, my trusty axe in hand.


    Coming across a rather hefty tree for a tree of its kind, I was prepared to swing plenty of times to chop it down.


    It took justthree.


    Each swing held power I never had before, even when I had turned into a zombie. The speed as well was incredible, being far faster than previous. As I was now, I don''t believe even a veteran soldier could bridge the gap in strength with technique, unless they were some sort of monster themself.


    My only reasoning for such a thing is probably that my soul is ingrained with death energy, which is as well my power source as an undead.


    This brought up many ideas on how to grow in power, as well as many thanks to Death for allowing me this power. Say what you will about the immense task she gave me, she gave me plenty of room to grow to meet the requirements to fulfill it.


    Settling down to meditate, thinking about how to broach the topic of her situation with Cera, my surprise when tomorrow brought all the answers.

 Chapter 13 - Answers

    I was awoken from my meditation by screams. Cera''s screams. Bolting from the table I grabbed my axe and rushed out.


    The sun was barely cresting the horizon, signalling the early hours of the day. I rushed towards the where her screams were coming from.


    I found her outside the cabin, but she wasn''t alone. Two men were there as well, one holding her down while the other was in the process of unbuckling his trousers, his intent clear to any who saw. The two men conversed while they were carrying out their evil act.


    "Well Cera, did you miss us? We missed you, ain''t that right Jorgie? Boss said to wait till you were older to do this, but we''ve been without a woman for so long, what with those undead fucks running everyone off except those of us who got no wheres to go."


    "Right Mark, we''s itching for a woman, even if they aren''t a woman yet." The one holding her down chuckled, the sound like a washboard being rubbed with a wire brush.


    By this point my vision had turned red, a familar feeling rushing over me. The urge to kill, urge to feast on flesh and satisfy a primal desire. I bursted towards the man trying to remove his pants. My speed unmatched by what it was previous, I reached them before either could react to my arrival. My axe swung with far more force than when I chopped at the tree, whistling through the air to slice the man in half at the waist. A look of shock plastered on his dirty face.


    His friend, Mark, shared the same look, and even loosened his grip on Cera to the point she could kick him in the face and scramble away.


    After her kick was registered by the man, I had already begun to swing, and separated his head from his shoulders, sending it in a smooth arc away.


    Instinct took over, and I began to devour him, while his head landed perfectly to see it happen while it still held some life in it, a look of fear forever etched in his face when his brain finally died.


    By the time I came to, I had already desecrated both corpses by taking them as my meals. Cera was off to the side, staring. On her face was not disgust however, he eyes staring at the corpses with what looked to be pleasure trying to be hidden under a mask of indifference.


    Wiping my face from the blood and gore, I retrieved my axe and went off towards the cabin. Judging by the fact these men knew Cera''s name, I felt like I knew what I''d find inside.


    Cera who saw this, made a move to stop me but after once more glancing at the corpses of her assailants, merely followed behind.


    I reached the door, the feeling of death that I had felt since I arrived here stronger than ever. Upon opening the door, I saw the cause.


    Two corpses laid inside, decayed to the point that flesh and bone were in equal view. Upon their bodies were similar clothes as the ones worn by Cera, although one of them was missing their pants.


    There was no doubt. These were Cera''s parents. The girl herself walked in as well, silently standing beside me as her face now hid in it undeniable sorrow.


    Without any prompting on my side, she began explaining.


    "They came weeks ago. A week before I met you....they killed Papa and...and raped Mama..." Cera''s eyes began to wetten, tears sliding down her face, but she continued on.


    "They let me live, with a promise...that I''d be their whore when I was older. The only reason they left me here was because they didn''t need another mouth to feed. But before they left they had...their fun with me." She grabbed her arms, but it turned out she was actually pulling down her clothes to show them off. On them were scabbed cuts, innumerable. "The ones who enjoyed it the most were those two...they were also the ones who...raped Mama...and they took just as much pleasure in my screams." Her eyes swiveled to stare at me, the pain still clear in her eyes but now they were joined by another....gratitude.This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.


    "Thank you...Grey. Thank you for killing them...." She wipes her eyes, ineffective at stopping the persistent tide.


    "I wasn''t just their looking for a knife...when I found you. I was looking to die...I didn''t want to have what happened to Mama done to me....but I was too much a coward to kill myself. I thought that if I let a monster do it for me though...that I could let it happen. But when I was confronted by you, I knew that I was fooling myself. I knew...I knew I wanted to live."


    Finally I spoke up, to ask a question that I''ve been wondering since I first arrived.


    "Why did you let me come here?"


    I could not fathom why she would agree to shelter me here. I had chalked it up to her being kind hearted, but I could feel there was more to it...and considering her story so far, it further confirmed for me that this was the case.


    "Losing my parents..being all alone..when I met you I was scared. I was as scared as when the bandits were here. But then you spoke to me, and you tried to coax me to relax. I knew it wasn''t smart to trust a stranger, after all that happened, and all the things Mama and Papa told me about monsters. But I was so tensed...that I found it absurd. That, of all things, a monster was what was trying to befriend me, even if it had hidden intentions." A sad smile appeared on her damp face. "Along with the loneliness, and the fear, meeting you was the breaking point. And I just stopped caring, preferring to listen to you instead of rejecting any change you''d bring my fate."


    Her smile strenghtened, as she stared once again intently at me.


    "Thank you Grey. Thank you for being here, for a worthless kid like me..."


    To comfort her, to tell her she wasn''t worthless, I wanted to do that. I wanted to ease her burden. But standing before her, before her dead parents, I could not muster the courage to say such words, knowing they''d only sound hollow, a pure recitation without feeling.


    There was one thing I could do, though. Something I was good at, so far. Something I knew would ease her burden much more than mere words.


    "Where''s their camp?"


    My question was met with a look of surprise by Cera, her face drier now that she''d managed to contain her emotion behind her usual mask. "You can''t, Grey! There''s too many of them!" The look of fear once more clouded her face, to my surprise, it was fear for the safety of another.


    I gave her a confident smile, as I faced my own inner emotional turmoil, the promise of violence surging my thoughts against these people that''d do this to a little girl and her family. It was all I could do to just remain still after her story, and once I got their location it would take all my will to not just rush in. I might actually do just that, to revel in the slaughter, and once more feel the power I showed earlier in slicing through men like they were mere grains of wheat.


    "Don''t worry Cera. You saw me a moment ago right? I''m strong." I puffed out my chest and relaxed my axe across my shoulder, trying to show off.


    "Besides, I won''t die, I''m already dead." I chuckle but it''s clear that it isn''t funny to Cera. My face turns serious as I give my final piece.


    "I can''t allow them to live, Cera, and there''s more to it than just that as well. They have something I need-" the energy of death they hold, as well as what''s accumulated on their persons from their sinister acts, but I don''t tell Cera this "-that I must get for what I have to do. So please, tell me where they are."


    At my words her mask breaks into a turmoil of emotions, as she digests my words. After a time, she finally relents, and tells me their location.


    They''re located a ways away, around a day for a regular person. For someone who doesn''t tire and need breaks, I should reach it in half that time.


    I wash clean my axe from the recent blood, grab the bow of Cera''s father, and stock up on arrows. An afterthought, I ask Cera if her father had any spare clothes, to which brought me a set of leathers similar to her own but lacking the furs. Wondering this, she answers that it''s because of how expensive the furs are, since the lack of animals with good furs in the area makes them need to buy from the town. This doesn''t hinder me, though, since I don''t feel the cold anyway.


    Equipped with leathers, my axe, bow and arrows, I''m fully set to slaughter the bandits and grow stronger, and to avenge Cera''s parents and the things they did to Cera herself. Blood will spill and flesh shall be eaten, for this the undead crave.

 Chapter 14 - Bloodshed 1/2

    The travel being a mere half day proved to be false, although I did make it in less than a day. This was because of my lack of ability when it came to traversing the land, as it was rockier than what was around the cabin and the subsequent forest. Thus, I didn''t make as good a time as I imagined.


    Still, there is a silver lining as I only planned to attack whence it was night. The downside was mainly losing extra time to scout out the situation, not from a lack of vision since I can see aptly enough in the dark, but because the people I''m scouting don''t. Thus they''ll be less active and I''ll have a harder time judging their strength and number.


    I planned on killing them, and to the last man it would be. Perhaps. There''s something I''ve been wanting to do, something from my own page of existence that if proves true than I''ll have an advantage in what I want need to accomplish.


    Their encampment consisted of rudimentary wooden buildings, sparsely placed around a entrance to a cave. I''m guessing the cave is their main hideout, since there what I see isn''t enough to house the rough estimate that Cera gave me before I left, at around a 100 men. The buildings number less than half a dozen, and even if each is a barracks they''d each only house around 8 men each given the sizes. This train of thought is further confirmed by the patrols that exchange from the cave, the entrance itself hoisting around it a simple gate, obviously meant more to keep out stray vermin than a determined attacking force.


    Considering their size and the lack of any competition that I''m aware of, they''re a pretty lax bunch. Sensing this weakness I can feel the killing urge well up, bit by bit, and I knew that I had to hurry to consolodate a plan before I engage in a frenzy.


    After some time half spent meditating to cool myself, and the other to grasp their patterns, as well as the sun having set, I set upon the encampment from the spot I found a ways away, amidst a few bushes that banded together to survive the landscape. The fact I was able to scout their place, with a severe lack of skill at what a scout needs, further proves the sheer confidence this band has that they''re safe.


    Once more this sign of weakness is met by a need to strike, and shed enough blood to paint the brown, wooden walls red, and to drown the bandits in shelter down in the depths of the cave. With my own confidence in utterly annihilating this group, I set out, in the dark of night as I weave through the darkness with ease only possessed by those who can see in it. Due to the torches lit by the few sentries set about the camp, their own line of sight is hindered as they only pay attention to what has light cast upon it.


    This makes my infiltration easy, and I quickly enter one of the buildings, after confirming those inside are asleep. I may be wrong, since I only judged this on the fact I didn''t hear any movement or talking.


    Luckily I was right, and inside I found five sleeping bodies, and suppressing my glee at such easy kills and to not simply berserk, I sauntered up to the each one of them, and choked the life from them one by one. And so each died without making a sound, as one hand gripped their throats and the other smothered their mouths.


    Smiling to myself at the pleasure that comes from ending a life, a pleasure that I''m unsure if came with being an undead, and quickly exited the building after ensuring the bodies looked as natural as possible, so that anyone who came in merely saw men sleeping as expected.


    As I had entered the camp, I also made note of the sentry positions, counting five, four scattered around the edges whilst one patrolled the inner area. Each group was around two to three men, whom, if things continue as they are, will be the last on my list to kill before I descend below. The cave entrance itself having its own guard but a passing glance when I was close enough to see in detail showed me that it was only two men, slacking off from their duty.


    Things proceeded smoothly for two more buildings. Once I reached the third, however, from inside came conversation that caught my interest.


    "So you says that undead army that swept through left a guy to talk business with the boss?"


    "Are ya daft? How many times I gottsa say it, they did! If you weren''t always gettin'' so fuckin'' drunk all the time durin'' important mattah''s, you''d fucking know!"


    "The reason I get drunks is because we haven''t had a score in ages because of those walking dead bastards, they scared off all our pickings. I don''t even fucking know why we''re still here. What kind of bandits are we if we don''t got anyone to steal from."


    "That''s what I was gonna get to before you kept fuckin'' interruptin''. The deadman they left, one of them black robed, creepy bastards, apparently struck a deal with the boss. We''re gonna collect corpses for''em so the armies they got coming behind''em have good material protected from the weatha''."


    "I don''t like it, helping corpse raisers. It just ain''t right what they do."


    "And that''s why you''re a fuckin'' dumbass. The only fucking difference between us n'' them is we only made the corpses, they makes''em and use''em too. Ain''t no sense in wasting a perfectly fine body than to let it rot, besides that they''ll be paying us more than we was makin'' robbing people."


    "What the hell are we gonna spend that coin on if everyone who wants it is dead?"


    "That''s the thing, these undead only care about taking down the Empire, the boss wants to milk this opportunity for awhile till we ditch quick for another place. I welcome that there, get to enjoy bringin'' my bounty up from scratch all over again."


    "Ain''t gonna be as fast as mine, you only ever kill''em and steal."Love this novel? Read it on Royal Road to ensure the author gets credit.


    "Despite my occupation, I prefer my women without the kicking and screaming, you damn rapist. You might be a daft but you''re a fucking stud of a horse when it comes to fucking." The two men laugh and after a little more conversation, the little light they had lit was soon blown out. I waited a little more to give them time to fall asleep, and entered in to repeat what I had before, though for the man I could sense was the brutal rapist, I indulged in dragging out his death, my fingers digging into his throat slowly as I smothered his mouth to prevent noise, the fear in his eyes inverse to the pleasure in my own. His accounts of past deeds served to dig up a picture of a mother''s pantless corpse and the words of Cera. The pleasure was tinged with mourning for someone I never met, for someone I viewed as my first friend since becoming an undead.


    Sighing without breath, I finish up the rest of the buildings with ease, to then turn my attention to the sentries positioned around the camp. I planned to use the element of surprise and my superior speed to quickly kill one and to incapacitate the other for my experiment. Crouching behind a wall, I spy on my first group of victims.


    Despite the few buildings, their placements are sparse, thus the distance between sentries was enough for them to not notice the scuffle that ensued.


    Dashing from my cover, the ground between us and my target was shorted quicker than they could turn around once they sensed me, my axe falling down into the side of the head of my target, before I back handed the other one with free hand to knock him unconscious. The force behind the slap may have been a bit too much, as the thump on impact and thethud on landing made me worry that I had killed him, but his chest still rose with breath, though obviously haggard and painful.


    During this I had gripped the torch of the man I slayed with my axe hand after releasing my hold on it, to ensure no suspicion arose from the other sentries at the sudden change in the flames position. Among the things that were improved upon my metamorphisis, my dexterity and hand-eye coordination were one of them, allowing me this feat that a juggler would find impressive.


    Now onto my experiment, something I''ve taken from my own circumstance. Raising a body of a still living person, close to death. While I don''t know through what means the necromancers do it, I feel that the method I have in mind is far different anyway. To force my own death energy to take control over their soul, not trying to merge with it like I had done before, but to suppress it so that the person is utterly obedient to me. There are many flaws with this plan, such as my own lack of skill in manipulating death beyond drawing it in. However, during my meditations I''ve worked to improve my control, and I can only hope this extends to outside my body.


    Gathering the death energy, I manipulate it out of my body, holding tightly with my will so that it does not dissipate, and push it towards the now writhing body beneath me. The energy moved as I willed, a pleasing sight to my eyes, and it began to enter the squirming man. I began to sense that he was less than a minute from death, the energy I implanted within him giving me this information that could only be labelled as a sixth sense. Guiding through him, I found what it was I was looking for. A space that did not feel physical and yet it was as solid as the ground beneath me when my energy touched upon it. Rather than being settled in at a particular part of his body, it seemed to be spread throughout it, and only appeared once the countdown to his death was less than half a minute away.


    Sensing the solidity of the space, I had nearly abandoned the experiment feeling I had literally encountered a wall, but the solid nature of the space began to warp more and more to a fragile state. Remembering the crack in the space my soul resides, I try to force the energy to break through the now thin layer. This was met with success, although the opening was not as clean as the one I have.


    Quickly acting before the man dies, I rushed the death energy in, and quickly gripped his soul with it, to prevent it from leaving his body. This slowed its departure, but it did not stop it, and I grew concerned until I remembered how I stopped mine in the past. A sadistic smile floated across my face.


    Using my death energy to wrench control over the soul from its owner, I commanded it to stop. The effect was immediate, as the man went from his unmoving state as he approached death back to the writhing from earlier, this time far more violently. Gazing upon this scene, aside from the pleasure I got from his sufferring and the fact I got to share something I dealt with before, I noticed that it looked to be longer than what I had experienced. I can not think of a proper reason for this, as it could be caused by the size of the opening to his soul, or because someone other than the soul''s owner ordered it. My sadistic thoughts also brought up a solution I had concerning discliplining this servant and any more I have in the future. While I''m certain they will not be able to disobey my orders, I worried that like my own case had been, they possessed a level of autonomy that could prove helpful and dangerous in one. And since they can''t feel physical pain, knowing that I can provide them with a pain that transcends the body to strike the soul, I had no doubts in their loyalty.


    Soon the writhing stopped, and I could feel the body beneath me settle, until it once more stirred in a more natural manner than what was on display before.


    I could feel a connection between us, as without any conscious thought a feed of death energy from myself was provided to him. I noticed that the energy I passively created had ceased to rise for myself, so I can only assume it''s being used to ensure he remains ''alive'' as undead go.


    It is not long before he rises, slowly but rise he does, and once he stands he eyes me with fear and confusion. To this I merely smile, not caring about his inner turmoil. I merely command him to hold this torch and to stand here, like an unmoving statue. The emotion on his face is increased a notch as his body does as ordered, as I reliquish the torch to his hands and he stands firm, his face now stuck on a hideous visage of fear, a fear only felt by those who are utterly helpless.


    Smiling to myself as I move to kill the rest of the sentries, slightly sad that I could not produce more autonomous undead servants, but more than happy at the one I gained. Whatever he was before, I would ensure he payed the price of his actions through his servitude to me.


    Before this however, calmed from the concentration I needed to raise my servant, I mull over the information I acquired earlier about the necromancer residing here. This is an unexpected event, as well as the fact that yet more armies beyond the one I was apart of will be coming, but not an entirely hopeless one. A necromancer''s magic will, for the most part, prove ineffective against an undead like myself. As for the magic that will, as a necromancer would need something to reign in the more powerful of the undead, I had no doubt it too would be ineffective. I had that much confidence in the being I became from merging with Death''s own essence. What use is the magic of death againstthe being itself?


    Those thoughts put away for later, as I once more concentrate on the task at hand, a smile again appears on my lips at the impediding slaughter. The cloak and dagger will soon be over as I indulge upon the slaughter of those sheltered in the caves.


    Tonight, I will bring to Death meet these people, hoping they realize their blessing as she givesthem an open armed embrace to all who travel to her kingdom.

 Chapter 15 - Bloodshed 2/2

    With a camp of corpses behind me, and the servant I previously raised on standby to hinder anyone''s attempts at fleeing. His face was as would be expected of a bandit, dishelved and dirty, with what I assume is naturally black hair. Add on to the fact he''ll be slowly decaying as time goes, his appearance is gonna get worse. Despite an undead''s ability to repair itself with death energy, it can''t stop the constant damage inflicted by the forces of decomposition. Atleast, that is the case for a zombie.


    Since I evolved to whatever I am now, I haven''t had any issue with decomposing. I know it has something to do with the evolution, but I don''t know what part. For all I know, it''s not directly related to it, and is a by product by something it improved. Something like the death in me driving out anything that''d actually decompose my body? I haven''t felt any flies or anything trying to do their life cycles off of me.


    Without any information, I dismiss these thoughts. Turning back to my subordinate, as expected, from his revival as an undead with his soul intact, he can speak.


    His voice is gravelly and deep, to the point I wonder how much testosterone you''d need to get that low, and how much it''ll change if at all with being undead.


    After a quick interrogation of him, to which he had no choice but to answer truthfully to, I learned some things.


    First, that there aren''t as many bandits as Cera had mentioned, due to losses to desertion. It seems that not everyone wanted to stick around with the incoming undead horde. This merely makes my job easier though, and I can only hope that those deserter bandits fail to outrun their dooms. Need none of their ilk in an already hard time for those refuges.


    Secondly, the necromancer has taken an entire portion of the cave system in which they use as their base for himself. The cave system in question apparently used to be their leader''s. I wonder how much these bandits are to receive by whatever deal they struck with the undead for their leader to give his own home to a mere representative. I doubt their boss''s pride otherwise would allow such a thing.


    Third and foremost, is that of the size of the caves themselves. According to Ray, my undead, they extend quite a ways into the mountain. Thankfully they are quite straightforward, the result of human hands rather than natural creation. Apparently was an old mine that was abandoned due to a string of failures to unearth anything and it''s remoteness. This made it a perfect base for these bandits, a ready built home removed from civilization, despite the huge demerit it also comes with.


    Only one exit.


    They had tried to dig out a second one else where but it was a failure for them, who possessed no one with mining experience. That''s not to say there isn''t one in secret, but I can safely assume if there is one, the majority of the bandits won''t know about it and be an easy slaughter. In case of their being an escape route, I''ll leave Ray on the surface to keep watch. He took to his duty with a fervor you''d not believe to come from a bandit, but it''s probably due to my drop in our conversation that I can repeat that pain he felt upon his resuscitation.


    With as much preparation as I can do at the moment, I glance from Ray to look into the cave, the sentries that had been posted here lying in a pool of their own blood after being killed in a ploy that included Ray. Simple plan of just walking up to them, using their familiarity with Ray to lull their sense of danger, until it was too late when they saw my axe dripping blood. With that, everyone outside of the caves is dead.


    Nothing more to do on the surface, I descend into the cave, cautiously so as to not be surprised on running face first into someone, but calmly so as to not sound out of place and raise anyone''s suspicion before I can kill them.


    This works surprisingly well, my visage hidden in the flickering darkness as anyone walking doesn''t see me as a threat until it''s too late and my axe has decapitated them. No need to aim for a lung to keep them from screaming if you need only a single quick strike to seperate their head from their body.


    I luckily never ran into one person at a time either, the time to change sentries a long while away due to waiting for this descent until they sent the usual two up. We had used our previous ploy, though in reverse this time. Instead of approaching we were approached, standing to the sides of the entrance, torches in hand, to lull their sense of danger into a state of ignorance. To them we were nothing more than the sentries at the door, brothers in arms. The blood that had pooled on the ground from the original sentries scuffed over with dirt, the owners of said blood moved to the sides, waiting to be joined by these two newcomers.


    As by me being here in the caves as I am, the plan worked as well as the first time. Thanks to the only group of two being the sentries sent up, as the rest were insomniacs and those needing to relieve themselves, I had little difficulty in cutting a blood path. My only trouble came to when I came upon a wall at the end of the straight path, with two shafts to my left and right. According to Ray, the left is the barracks in which the rest of the bandits are, and the right leads to the necromancer and various supply rooms.


    I ultimately decide to go left, despite reservations with leaving the necromancer alone, I could not afford to allow the bandits to learn of my presence. I have to risk the necromancer detecting the death that''s beginning to congregate in the air.


    Like that, I repeat what I had done outside, finding sleeping figures lying in poorly dug alcolves in the walls. Axe sheathed, my hands once more felt the futile struggles before their lives winked out of existence. To say I did not find the feeling intoxicating would be a lie, as for it being because they were deserving of death or the fact I''m Undead, I could not say.


    After a while of this, with bodies behind me now in for the long sleep, I come across a room. What I find in there reaffirms my conviction to slaughter each and everyone of these bandits, including Ray if it weren''t for his usefullness. Inside lay the corpses of several women, each naked, covered in wounds, and lying in dried blood. If I were to guess, using what Cera told me of these worthless fucks, is that they enjoy torturing the helpless. To the point they would die from their wounds. It is my guess that they''d still be alive if it weren''t for the fact that the closest town was ransacked by undead, cutting off any supply of medicine to keep their sick hobbies going. Surrounding this pile of victims, are yet more corpses, albeit more decayed than the women. From their appearance, they appear to be the dead from the city and the battle with the subjugation force. I notice an absence of the mage corpses, so I can only assume they became a part of the horde.Stolen content alert: this content belongs on Royal Road. Report any occurrences.


    With a lingering gaze set upon the scene, primarily the centerpiece, I bring my axe out, determined to give the rest of these bastards a far more violent end than what I had been doing. There should still be around 20 bandits, but numbers be damned, the necromancer be damned, I will kill them all. I am only saddened that I can not make them suffer beyond leaving them to die from the wounds I shall inflict, as I must still hurry back to kill the necromancer before he can escape. I can only trust my speed to let me catch him.


    And so, upon the first sleeping figure I come upon, my axe whistles down to enter his stomach and display his entrails. It is without question that he woke up from this. If this still wasn''t obvious, his screams of pain were.


    Coupled with the natural echoing effects of the mine, the noise was overkill to wake up his companions. Due to my sight having a red film over it, the act of violence and the tragedy I saw before worked to send me into a frenzy, I didn''t noticed the fluttering pieces of dust descending from the ceiling.


    I continued along, quickly, sending my axe into each person I came upon, their state gradually becoming that of standing up. The first person who could claim to have been able to put up a fight was the 8th guy I came across. Wielding a short sword, fear evident in his eyes, and it stayed even after my axe had removed the arm he had held his sword in, joined by shock.


    By the time I reached the 11th guy, I stopped finding more people. I assume they''ve retreated further into the mine, to group up and defend against my onslaught. I wonder, do they know that I am only one man? Scratch that, onemonster.


    I smile with glee, my teeth sharp and deadly. Something I noticed when I ate rabbit with Cera, my teeth. It seems my evident transformation wasn''t entirely to what I originally was, my teeth now more carnivorous than the omnivorous set a human has. Nails as well were slightly more elongated and sharp, but I never took notice of them since I can''t don''t feel discomfort.


    In less than 30 seconds I reach the end of the tunnel, and enter into a room covered in rugs and wealth, a far cry from the simple blankets used by the bandits I had come across so far. Inside amognst the array of valuable items, were the remaining 9 bandits, one of which obviously was the leader of the bandits. I could tell, beyond him being the biggest and ugliest, by a sense of danger he oozed, even to someone like me who can cleave a man in half. Yet I felt no fear, even with my emotions returned, I could not at all feel any danger to my life from this man. This was both my own confidence, and the lack from the man in front of me. His eyes showed their cowardice, shifting between me and his own men, calculating what I can only assume to be a plan that would save his own hide.


    This show of weakness only drives me further into a frenzy, and I descend on them with a fury hardly seen outside of a angered bear. The first man I came upon, shocked at my speed, could not bring his sword up in time to defend, and died from a blow that held enough force in it to splatter blood on a man over a meter away.


    Continuing on to the next, this time they were able to move their blade in a block, but it was entirely for naught, my blow continued into him as though it weren''t even there, forcing his own blade into him as my axe split him down the middle from his shoulder to his waist, his sword jammed in there alongside.


    Wrenching my axe free, I was able to kill the other 7 with as much ease, yet with an eye always on the bandit chief, never letting him have an opening to attack or escape. By the time my axe ended the last man, the fear had spread from his eyes and onto his face, sweat covering him clear as day due to the lights lit across the room.


    For what was a pillar of authority to these now dead bandits, he was now little more than a desperate and afraid child in the face of his impeding doom. My face an inversed mirror of his own, filled with jubilation at the coming triumph and subsequent slaying.


    Yet that aura of danger was not a lie earlier, and despite his mental state he was able to put up a fight.


    With every fiber of his being he could block my strikes, with every fiber of his experience, he could match my speed, and so we fought.


    Axe struck sword, metal met flesh, and it was not before long we each were each covered in wounds. But it was not long more until he fell over, exhausted and weak. I myself felt nothing but the pleasure of battle and inflicting pain. The latter of which I stepped forward to the now prone man to inflict more of.


    My axe came down to chop off a foot, my power unhindered by my wounds as I can not feel them, nor are they life threatening as I won''t die beyond being depleted of death energy. It could be assumed I am immortal than, since my soul constantly produces death, but I don''t believe that for a second. My body may now be immortal but my soul was not, and I am under no illusions that there can''t be any magic regarding the soul.


    With the first strike, screams came from the large man befitting one of his stature, and they only continued to rise in volume as I gave in to my baser impulses, to the point I began to feast upon his still living person. By that point I had already removed each of his appendages, now eating my way down one of his arms. To his credit once again, he was still alive, whilst the pain prevented him from going unconscious. Soon, with his last breath and scream, he died. From the pain, blood loss, or simply fear, I do not know.


    I sit back, hands holding me up as I take a mental breather to calm myself from my berserk state, as I must still fight the necromancer which will be a far more trickier fight than this one. Even if he shouldn''t be able to harm me, it''s never good to underestimate a mage.


    Before I can stand up, however, I can feel the ground rumble, and I finally remember I''m in a mine. A mine that had several men screaming at the top of their lungs. Before I can even berate myself for forgetting this, a rock falls at the end of the room near the exit, to which I respond by running as fast as I can towards.


    Strongly gripping my axe, I bolt through the shaft, past the numerous corpses as the ground rumbles once more, throwing me off balance. I fall next to the room full of corpses, my face turning grim as I see rocks start to fall and pile over the bodies. I pick myself up again and sprint, inwardly glad they will recieve a burial, even if it''s unintentional.


    My speed is beyond natural, but even with that I can feel the threat of death looming over me. Even if I were to be immortal, I know that my soul would be destroyed by the subsequent incarceration underneat the earth. I somehow managed to run faster at that thought.


    Something I noticed too is that my soul''s production of death had resumed to it''s original amount. Whether this is from the amount of people I''ve killed tonight, or if the necromancer has made it to the outside and killed Ray, I''m not sure. Most likely the latter.


    Before long I see the exit, the cave in only a inch behind me as I''m using everything I have to reach it. Just as I''m to reach it, however, I trip over a body. Glancing back in the mere moment I have to look to see who it is, Ray''s lifeless face looks back at me. He is then promptly swallowed by the earth, followed by my foot, a rock instantly crushing it into a splattered mess. Luckily that was all that I lost, as I had made it to the outside of the mine just barely.


    Picking myself up, unable to stand properly because of my missing appendage, I use my axe as a cane to lean on. I see no signs of the necromancer, though it takes me some time to calm down after this ordeal.


    When I do, however, I realize what should be a quiet night having killed all the bandits is filled with familiar moans. Shapes in the darkness move about, and due to my undead nature their figures become clear long before a living being could achieve. The necromancer has risen the bandits I had slain, and it seems they''re heading towards me.


    What sent my mind into a panic wasn''t this, though. It was a feeling of apphrension, that something was wrong. Reaching out with my sixth sense for death, I felt it. A path, akin to a scent except far more distinguishable, was shown before me moving away from the camp.


    It''s direction was towards Cera''s cabin.

 Chapter 16 - Haste

    Surrounded by swiftly walking zombies, outnumbered, I was not afraid of them. No, I was afraid for Cera.


    Why is he headed in that direction? What is it that''s drawing the necromancer towards Cera''s cabin?


    Unable to find an answer, I try to calm my turmultous thoughts to focus on the task at hand of catching up to him. As for the zombies? Despite their number the necromancer controlling them has left the area, and unless he''s emplaced something to keep them powered while he''s gone, they shouldn''t be a threat, working off of back up stores of death energy.


    What is to be an issue is that they''re a literal meat shield, and despite my ability to slice through a man with ease I can''t do that on one foot. Doing that attack also uses up death energy, but this isn''t ever an issue since I''ve only used it on the living, meaning I more than make up for cost by the returns. Against zombies, or any undead for that matter, is less cost efficient.


    This is because of the fact that an undead creature''s energy is more chaotic, having been retained by force instead of dispersing. Furthermore they''re using up the energy themself to just stay moving. Fighting them will only slow me down and weaken me before fighting the necromancer.


    If I can even catch up to him on one foot...damn, I don''t have many options...


    Oh! That''s right, they''re zombies. Memories of my time as an undead underling surface, particularly my command over them.


    I don''t know if it was because I was able to think, was a fellow zombie, or if it was something else entirely, I wonder if it''ll work on these zombies?


    It''s possible, and I might even be able to hi-jack them to my own service through a manner similar to when I raised Ray, except without the retention of his soul since they''re all already husks.


    Supplying a few of them with power to carry me after the necromancer would be a better use of my power than just killing zombies, and I''ve plenty enough stored from having just killed so many bandits.


    By this time in my planning, the zombies have neared with around a meter between us, and I hastily begin trying to order them.


    "Stop." I say with as much force as I can muster, trying to stay calm knowing that failure at this will lead to Cera being....I don''t want to imagine it.


    The results were awkward. The zombies responded to my command with their lifeless gazes swiveling to look me in the face, eyes vacant of life but yet clearly showing a symptoms of servitude to my command. Before long, however, it vanishes as they''re once more retaken by their orders to kill whoever comes out of the cave, whether they''re the invader or bandit.


    I try once more, with more force this time.


    "Stop!"


    They again appear to look at me with subservience, much more clear this time, but like before they revert to moving towards me, although the time to return to this state was longer than before.


    I despair, not knowing what to do, before I get an idea. Along the same lines of my confidence in facing the necromancer, the energy of death that I am powered by has the blessing of Death imbued within. To that end, would not combining it with my command wrestle them from the necromancer''s order?


    As for simply imbueing my energy directly into them to take over, it''s necessary to turn the zombies inert, otherwise their programming prevents the attempted hijacking as their energy is working to accomplish these goals. A more experienced manipulator of death could probably do it, but I''ve only begun on the road to learning the intricacies of death.


    Steeling my resolve, for the third time I command them.


    "Stop!"


    This time, however, I had tried releasing a wave of my death energy along with it. Considering that I lack in manipulating death, I lost quite a bit of energy due to waste, but I was still within the green compared to trying to force my way through.If you find this story on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the infringement.


    The result was immediately noticeable.


    The previously vacant eyes gained more than a look of subservience, they acquired another light within their dead eyes, an incredible thing to behold. A look of reverence.


    They remained still, and not one wavered in following my command.


    I can only thank Death for this, her dominion over all death clearly showing through in the looks these zombies are giving me.


    Calming myself, having been prepared for battle with one foot and the will to use all I have in my stores to race after that necromancer.


    Now, as far as I''m aware, I have a loyal gathering of subjects. The first order of business is to find a group to carry me after the necromancer. These I will need to link with to feed power. The rest I will leave inside the caves.


    They''ll be able to subsist on the lingering death that''ll accumulate from the corpses of the bandits I killed inside.


    "The four fastest of you come here." I use my best authoritative voice, not up to drill master standards, but thankfully the zombies don''t need to be cowed into following my orders.


    After a moment of shuffling, four lithe former bandits step up to me. Their thin frames however will serve in carrying me, since they''re zombies and possess more strength than the a regular person.


    After some more orders, the rest of the zombies filing into the mine cave, we set off towards the necromancer. The pace we set is far faster than what I could do on one foot, but I''m still anxious. I don''t know how long the necromancer has been on the move, and he''s as capable as an undead in traversing without rest, since he can use death energy as a substitute to a break.


    I can only hope he does take breaks, conserving his power, but that doesn''t seem to be the case. The trail I''m following is growing thinner throughout the chase as well, increasing my already tense emotions to the breaking point. The trail should remain, or even grow in strength, since we''re going full speed after him. A mage shouldn''t be able to match our speed...


    The journey itself went by smooth save for a few accidents costing us time, due to the terrain and our own speed causing less than sure footing on already poorly coordinated creatures.


    Reaching the cabin, my chest about to burst despite my unbeating heart, I''m greeted by the zombified corpse of one of the bastards I killed earlier today, his half a body crawling towards me. No sign of Cera.


    By this point my thoughts are a mass of frenzied worries and fears, and I swiftly end the miserable creature. With as much will as I can muster, I calm myself to think about my next action. It is then I remember the zombies I used to get here in the first place. I''ll use them.


    "Search the area for a little girl, her safety is a priority."


    I haven''t any fear of the necromancer taking over these zombies, having already connected to them to increase their speed.


    Another worry surfaces in my mind.''I had these guys super charged all the way over here, and he still left us in the dust...''


    Whatever is going on with this necromancer, it''s not good.


    I feel a tug from one of the zombies via our connection, signalling me he found something. Without any care for dignity I scramble over as fast as I can with a severed foot.


    I arrive to find him standing in front of something, something I feel like I know already.


    I slow my pace, steeling myself at what I''m going to find. I order the zombie aside.


    What''s revealed....is Cera. Lying dead on the group, with what looks to be a chunk of her missing from her side.


    I....I just wanted to keep you safe, to atone for what I did. Why did you have to die? I only left for a day, you didn''t deserve this...


    Dropping to my knees beside her, thoughts like these consume my mind.


    But then I noticed. It was almost imperceivable but I noticed. I can only attribute finding it to that small corner of my mind holding out hope, despite the overwhelming evidence to crush it. However, it''s because of this baseless hope I sensed it.


    Cera wasn''t yet dead. She lay unmoving, her chest no longer breathing, but I could feel it in her body that her heart still beat. Her tenacity to live left me in awe, before I quickly got to work. Keeping her alive was an impossibility at this point, the bite too large to staunch, the bloodloss too great. But there is something I can still do. I can bring her back soul intact.


    I sit still, a sense of calm coming over my mind. This is somethign I can do, that I must do. With this I accept what I must do. I open up a connection between us, and feel out for her soul.


    Finding it, I''m surprised at it''s appearance. Her soul is much brighter than mine, or what Ray''s was. Marvelling at it, when it flickers it''s only then I notice how close it is at leaving its vessel, and I quickly set to work at tying it down with my energy.


    With that done....I have to order her soul to remain. Something I don''t want to do, just because of how painful the process is. But keeping Cera alive is priority. With that, steeling my resolve, I order her soul with as much softness as I can bring forth, as if trying to make up for the incoming pain.


    "Stay..."


    My voice trails off as I see Cera''s face scrunch up, followed by a look of contentment underneath her raven hair. Seeing this eases the weight on my own soul, though I don''t know why she has that look of contentment after literal soul wrenching pain..


    But her soul has stayed. This alone lets me release all the tension that had been built up on my mad rush over here from the bandit camp. As an undead I shouldn''t be able to feel fatigue, but right now I feel like sleeping.


    Settling down beside Cera, sitting in a meditative pose, to my surprise I find myself losing consciousness...


    It seems I really am tired.


    But, why?

 Chapter 17 - Revisiting Death

    I awoke to the familar darkness of the hallway. The walls and floor the same grey stones, and the background wails and jubilations. The noise of the souls residing in the Underworld.


    ''I should ask Death about this place..''


    Absentmindedly thinking such things, amongst other issues regarding my quest, I walk the hallway with far more speed than last time. Not checking each and every door, not looking at every random piece of furniture and art piece, but moving briskly forward at a speedy pace. With this, I arrived at the throne room door in record speed, with the only other record I know of being my last one.


    The door, however, gives me the chills this time. Leave it to the Underworld to give you back the ability to feel dread with your body.


    The door itself is the same, a feeling of permanency like the hallway. The difference, what gave me the chills, was the foreboding aura permeating through the thick door. It''s an odd, ironic feeling. The fear that Death is coming is what scares most men. But in my position, it''s the fear of Death waiting on me to come that''s making me shiver.


    With a gulp, I knock on the door, confidently without the will to back it up.


    Awaiting for her to allow me to enter, I stood. Andstood.


    It was obvious she wasn''t in a good mood, as the time I''ve spent waiting, compared to my first visit, is like a day to a month. Which it very well may be, since I haven''t an idea on how time works in the Underworld, or if there even is a concept of time here.


    I figure there is, considering Death''s involvement with myself.


    These mundane thoughts helped to relax myself from the overbearing aura coming through the door.


    When the door finally opened, all that effort was for naught.


    Death, for all intents and purposes, is neutral. Unbiased. Fair, as she does not hold anyone above another.


    This permanent fixture of life, this being of unfathomable power, without any room for doubt, was mad at me.


    As soon as I thought of fleeing, it was as though a beast lurked within my mind, and thoroughly mauled such a thought. It was as though it preyed on the thoughts prey would have.


    Left with no other options, and literally no thoughts of fleeing, I entered the throne room. It''s not allbad, hopefully it can be talked over, right? Right?


    As soon as the avatar of Death, the beautiful and inviting woman, came into view I knew I fucked up. What I fucked up, I don''t know. But I fucked it up.Real bad.


    "M-my lady." I bowed towards her, doing whatever I could to appease her.


    Death''s face did not even budge from it''s look of displeasure, her eyes piercing through me. Considering I was technically a soul, or something along those lines, she was literally staring into my soul. My thoughts to flee wriggled wildly in the beasts stomach.


    After time passed at a speed akin to grass growing. In the desert. Death finally sighed, her look of displeasure, her aura of dread, all the things that kept my throat constricted and my thoughts in disarray, left with the air fueling her sigh.


    Holding her head in her hands, the eyes that stared at me were of stark contrast to the ones before. Eyes filled with pity, and the resignation of a parent when they see their child doing something stupid.


    "Do you know how a soul comes to the Underworld?" She questions suddenly, and I struggle to answer her after reeling from the mood shift.If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.


    "B-b-by dying, my lady." I still had not stopped bowing, not daring to make Death go further in either direction of emotion.


    With a small smile while her eyes retained their pitiful gaze, she opened her mouth.


    "That is one way. But didyou come here by that method?"


    "N-no my lady.."


    With a soft, sad chuckle, she began to speak.


    "That is one way, and the usual way. But you yourself came through another method, by trying to directly infuse your soul with the energy of death. I should have you know, before you think yourself having been a genius then, that this method wasmoronic,asinine, and plainly,stupid."


    She emphasized each word, each utterance causing myself to struggle to breathe.


    "The reason why? Simple. You can irrevocably damage your soul. The only reason your soul successfully melded is because of my influence, and that wasafter our discussion."


    This revelation wasn''t a shock, since I knew it as a possibility in the beginning. Still. It beingjust a possibility? As opposed toknowing it''ll happen? Two different things.


    "Still." Her demeanor slackens ever so slightly. "This allowed me to bring you to me. It''s like this youidiot."


    Her words feel mean enough to break my bones easier than a strongman could


    "The way you stumbled upon to enter the Underworld? That is through the same thing we just discussed. Damaging your soul. Think of it like an emergency plan. Your soul, in an act of self-preservation, will abandon its vessel. This is only when the damage is severe, which in your case, it was."


    I listen to her words as I learn about souls that other people will never know.


    "Due to the effect of the death energy you tried to infuse, I was able to bring you to me, instead of you going through the motions."


    She stops speaking, and a silence lingers until I could bear it no longer, curiousity driving me to ask, "What does this have to do with anything?"


    Shaking her head in disappointment, she lifts a finger pointing at me. "Put two and two together, and figure it out."


    After a momentof contemplation, and an eureka moment, I finally understand.


    "I damaged my soul again, didn''t I?"


    With one, short, clap, Death finally shows signs of her spirit perking up as a genuine smile erupts on her face.


    "More akin to draining it nearly to death, but the same effect was achieved. It''s because of that girl you resurrected. Your soul can''t handle the cost of supply to keep her and you alive at the same time."


    "But what about the other guy I raised? I had no issue keeping him and myself alive."


    Her smile dampens, but still remains as she answers me.


    "It''s a matter of age. The older you are, the closer you are to me, and as a result, death energy. The cost of supplying an adolescent is more than that of a grown man. With the amount of death your soul produces, you can''t handle that cost on top of your own. The reason why you haven''t winked out of existence yet, and neither has she, is because of whereyou are right now." She added the last bit after seeing the questioning look forming on my face.


    "The only option for you to do, is to cease supplying that girl with energy."


    This ultimatum shocked me into a stupor. The decreed plan of action is akin to murdering Cera myself.


    "Is there no other way? Surely Death knows?"


    "Don''t be anidiot, idiot. I know natural Death-related things, not how to make zombies more efficient. Just the fact you can raise the undead in the method that you did is a shock to me."


    "So there''s no chance of keeping Cera alive?" Tears of desperation began to form in my eyes. Seeing this, Death responded after a moment of time. Looks of deep thinking was obvious on her face.


    "I retract what I said. It might not be theonly option. As I stated, I don''t know anything on raising the dead. Your method itself could be commonplace and I not know." A look of struggle crossed her face for a brief moment, before being replaced by a more determined one.


    "You might be able to figure a way out yourself." Seeing the growing smile on my face, she quickly doused the rising hope.


    "I saidmight, and even then we don''t have all the time in the world. You have a time limit of 3 days. If you can''t come up with anything by then, youmust cease supplying the girl."


    Nodding my head in approval, I swiftly settle down to meditate on the issue.


    _________________


    Death watched Grey settle down into a meditative pose.


    The reason for her earlier apprehension on telling Grey about the possibility of success? She didn''t want to have him crushed by his own failure should it happen.


    Death, however, is not one to be swayed by emotions. An ever present fixture of life, she upholds her status as unbiased and fair. To allow Grey hope, was so that he would not be ruined before the quest truly begins, the sense of guilt crushing him far more lethal than any blade. With giving him thegoal of solving this situation, she hopes for him to achieve it.


    ''I even lied about their being a time limit so he''d work harder.''


    And so the man thought for a solution, and Death was close by.

 Chapter 18 - River

    ''How do I keep Cera alive?''


    This is the question I''m currently meditating over as Death sits nearby on her throne.


    Coping out is not an option. I don''t want Cera to die. Whether it be guilt from what I''ve done, whether it be my fault that she died in the first place, Ican''t just let her die. That is not going to be allowed.


    ''Cool dude, nice resolve. Now how the FUCK are you gonna do it?''


    Even Death doesn''t know how to help my situation....what can I do? Is there anything I can do? No, no, that''s not the way to think. I gotta stay positive, and consider the possibilities. Before that, I should probably go about what I know..


    Cera is draining my death energy. I can''t sustain it and will eventually ''die''. Death doesn''t have any advice. That''s the situation.


    My knowledge over death energy is limited as well, but I might as well do a check on what I know about it. Especially since it''s the only thing that could change the situation.


    My control over the energy is leaps and bounds what it was when I first died, but only compared to then. The ease of use shown by the necromancer, lich, and Death herself who puts those two to shame, shows me how lacking I am.


    It''ll be best to ignore Death, however, since her control over death energy is entirely natural. For myself it''s a learning experience.


    What I''ve learned is that death in a sense has a will of it''s own. ''In a sense'' because it''s very limited, trying to do only one thing, and that''s to leave the body and dissipate back into the world. This isn''t always the case, my own existence an example. That ties into something else I learned about death energy though.


    Secondary to disippation is possession. As in to possess a vessel. Also known as, the zombie.


    The reasons for these two things, far as I can surmise, is because of what death energy is, which is the accumulation of ''life''. Confusing but it''s like this.


    The older you are, the more likely you are to die. Thus, you possess more death energy. The reasoning forthat, I could not tell you. But for whatever reason the built up energy leaves the body upon death and dissipates. Most of the time. It''s my theory that the energy sometimes tries to re-enter the body or one nearby, the death not fully taken effect on the energy. This would explain why it''s more likely to find zombies where fresh death has been found over ancient graves.


    There''s definitely more to it, and I''m probably wrong on a lot of it, but it boils down to these two things. Death leaves the body, or death inhabits the body.


    For myself who produces death energy and does not lose it, I would say my situation is the latter. Most definitely because of Death''s influence.


    Could I reproduce whatever she did to me? Maybe? Probably not?


    I haven''t a clue how much effort it took her to do it, but anchoring the energy to my soul and to even set up a connection from her to my own soul, doesn''t sound simple to do, for myself at least.


    Asking her how is not possible either, since her use of death is entirely intuitive, since it''s basically a part of her.


    Wait, why does my soul only produce a little amount of death?


    What actually dictates the amount my soul produces?


    With these questions, I look to Death.


    "Why does my soul produce such a low amount of death?"


    A smirk takes up half of her lips, before she responds.


    "The amount depends on how immersed your soul is in death."


    "Isn''t my soul already immersed in death?"


    Death laughs with such sultry vigor that I''m inclined to give up on it all. But that''d be counter-intuitive since she''s asked me to do things for her...This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.


    "Your soul has barely been sprinkled. Oh? You continue to look confused? Ah, I see, you think that just because your soul issurrounded by death that it is immersed. That''s not what I mean. I mean you must becovered, on a battlefield surrounded by death, amongst the sick and dying, as fires burn and water drown, you must be immersed in these situations of death. For you who''s only been apart of a few village slaughters and one sided battles? You''re not even damp."


    And here I thought I had taken part in some true combat...or maybe Death likes the idea of a lot of people dying? Who knows?


    "This is the Underworld isn''t it? There has to be way for me to bathe my soul in death here."


    To my statement Death grimaced, and a silence hung between us. Minutes seemed to pass.


    "There is..."


    The two words were nigh inaudible but I heard them.


    "Then, to be able to ensure Cera lives, I must immerse my soul in death."


    "Gawh! You fool, you would expect a person to realize the heavyness behind something when someone is quiet after a bout of silence. Thereis a way, but it''s dangerous, and could very well cost you your own soul."


    "What are these dangers then? I don''t fear to face them."


    "I don''t know."


    "What, then how do you know I could lose my soul?"


    "Because I do. I''m Death. I know things."


    The pout she performed was beyond magnificient but it didn''t stop my confusion at her unfair answer.


    "If you can''t answer then tell me how, then!"


    Raising my voice instantly proved to be the wrong move, as Death''s face turned ugly. Still beautiful, despite the anger that spilled forth. Everything that could freeze about me, my movements, thoughts, even my soul, found itself unable to move.


    "You''re forgetting that you are undermy command. AndI say something, you are to listen and obey. And I say it''s too dangerous. If you must know why, it''s because I don''t know. And that''swhy. It''s not something ever attempted before since you''re myfirst champion. The unknown dangers are too numerous for me to risk you..."


    Her face lightens as a sigh escapes her lips. Control over myself gradually returns as her anger wanes.


    "May I atleast know what it is that I could do?" I whisper this out resignedly.


    A grimacing smile floats onto Death''s face.


    "It is to soak your soul into the river of the dead, likeliteral bathing minus the water being death. The dangers of doing this, I do not know. But Ido know that there are dangers. How could there not be? You''re putting your soul into the currents of a river that''s brimming with death and emotion."


    "Emotion?" I ask confused. I did not know death energy had emotion.


    "Death energy contains within it emotion, mainly about how the person who died felt about their death. The ever present wails and laughs you hear are these emotions, people happy to die and those who regret their deaths, their reasons innumerable. Though there are some popular choices..."


    Reminded about the background noises, having always thought them to be just ambience. Sure, it''s the Underworld, but all I''ve seen is the hallway and the throne room. I don''t actually know much else.


    "What can emotion do to bring me harm?"


    "Possibly latch on to you, drag you along until you lose your sense of self and become just another drop in the never-ending river."


    "I-I thought you said you didn''t know the dangers..."


    Laughter erupted from Death as her arms held her sides. After a moment more she wiped tears from her eyes as she answered.


    "I saidpossibly. Besides that, I''ve always wondered what''d happen to a soul if they were dipped in there ever since I made you my champion. My thoughts haven''t been very welcoming of the idea as time went along."


    A light-hearted mood came across the room, as the beautiful Death regained herself to be cheerful.


    "That said..."


    I do not know if it was the glint of defiance that remained in my eye. In my posture. Or if she could see it in my very soul. But her next words let me know that she saw something that gave her a sense of confidence.


    "...with my help, it might not be as dangerous as I thought."


    __________


    A river? The sight before me is more like a lake, the other end barely visible on the horizon. If not for the flowing grey, bespeckled with human like faces, amongst other races, I would call it a lake.


    "So you said with your help, it won''t be as dangerous? How is this gonna work?"


    With confidence visible in every step she''s taken since we began to walk here, Death has been very exuberant. I''m positive she could''ve just teleported us here, but she looked positively glowing whenever she showed off an interesting sight. I think I''m the first person she''s ever shown off the Underworld to, at least not someone who''s just moved in. The things she showed me ranged from majestic bone mountains to intriguing creatures who didn''t produce any undulations of death, as though they weren''t even alive.


    "It''s simple, really. By using my connection to you, I''ll anchor you as you soak in the river."


    It really was simple. Simple is good, so there''s no reason to complain.


    Gazing at the river, it didn''t feel as simple as it sounded though. But this would let me keep Cera alive, and make me stronger at the same time. Risks are always present, and it''s not often you have Death herself helping you.


    ''Still, it''s ariverof death! If I wasn''t such a courageous fellow, risking life, limb, andsoul! I would not do this.''


    But I am a courageous fellow. A hero, a shining beacon of light amidst death and carnage!


    Okay those aren''t actually true. I still prefer the idea of a cushy lifestyle, but things happen and you''re on a quest given by Death herself, you find yourself given a chance at redemption for actions left unsaid, and the solution is to jump into a river of death. Life, it''s a bitch.


    Well, no use waiting. With a thumbs up from Death, I prepare to take the plunge.