《My Body and Me [LitRPG]》


 1.1 - One Big Mistake

    "Potions, rope, rations, flint¡­."


    Our leader rattled on, double--no, triple-checking our equipment. The muscular man was extremely thorough and took his leadership role seriously. I couldn¡¯t fault him; the life of an adventurer is extremely dangerous. Even a slight mistake can lead to an early grave... but I was BORED. Without thinking, I fiddled with my daggers. With ease, I tossed them into the air and caught them by the handle, soon juggling both. Deftly tossing the sharp weapons back and forth.


    "RY," he called out, and I nearly cut myself as my trance was shattered.


    Looking around, I saw my entire team staring. I briefly made eye contact with each, feeling a sense of disappointment in the air.


    "What? He has this," I mumbled... no response.


    "FINE." I sheathed the daggers and took a seat. Our lead quickly started back up once more.


    As I listened to the deep, droning voice, my mind started to wander. Why did we have to prepare this much? I get we only formed up a few months ago, but we were still taking D-rank bounties. In fact, if the local guard weren¡¯t so lazy, they could have easily done it themselves. It was just spooked farmers seeing some undead in the nearby forest. I mean, the past winter was exceptionally harsh, and much of the local fauna perished. With so many creatures expiring, the lingering death energies tended to concentrate in regions of darkness. Without a cleric or the sun to purge the negative force, it leads to reanimation. In short: Zombie Deer.


    I¡¯m not even joking, zombie deer. To be honest¡­I am sure there were more than that. When I first started these clean-up bounties, I had to fight reanimated squirrels. Those things were vicious little bastards that swarmed any living creature. If left unchecked, they could strip livestock to the bone. Thankfully, they were easy to handle. A quick stab, hard stomp, or a bit of fire took care of them real quick.


    "Okay, we are clear; let''s head out," the barbarian announced.


    "Thank the gods it¡¯s over," I muttered.


    Finally, that windbag was done with his lecture. Grabbing my backpack, I joined the group, and we set out into the forest. Our cleric traced the source of decay and led us towards our target. Thankfully, the journey was uneventful. It only took about 2 hours of walking before we saw the cavern in the distance.


    As we approached, the group split up to scout the region. The negative zone had siphoned away any and all life. The grass had blackened, and puffs of negative aether seeped from the soil. As long as we didn¡¯t touch the plane, we shouldn¡¯t have to worry about any ambushes. After marking the boundaries, the sun began to set. Retreating further back, we set up a temporary camp. It was stupid to fight the undead at night; the darkness empowered creatures of shadow. Tearing into some of the rations, our cleric collected the weapons. After a series of prayers and chants, he uncorked a gilded bottle and poured out the sanctified oil. It was a thick, goopy liquid that slithered down the cold steel. With care, he slowly coated the blades in the substance. I leaned over to get a closer look, and a harsh scent flooded my nose. The burning sensation made my eyes water and sent me into a coughing fit.


    ¡°And I thought my poisons were bad,¡± I joked, giving our cleric a soft punch.


    ¡°Ryland, you really need to focus up. One of these days, you are going to get seriously hurt,¡± Selman responded with a sigh.


    The cleric was... frail. Selman followed Onir, the God of Temperance and Moderation. He was one of the more popular deities and easily gave up power to his followers. However, while simple to access, it did have a significant downside ¨C Vows. Through his levels and studies, Selman had undergone many different promises. The stronger the sacrifice, the more effective his skills became. Additionally, Onir wasn¡¯t one for violence or destruction. Instead, his power leaned towards purification, warding, and to a lesser extent, healing. Still, the path of a cleric was rough. If they broke from the faith, they would lose access to many of their abilities. This was on top of all the rituals and constant veneration of their god. Even though Selman had taken the ¡°Easy¡± path, it still required a ton of fortitude to maintain. While it was a pain to wait for these silly rituals, his protective barriers had saved us many times.


    On the opposite end was our team lead: The barbarian Lux. He was an absolute unit who spent nearly every waking hour working out. Yet, for all his muscles, he had a good brain and a keen eye. He always was pushing us to better ourselves. Whether it was assisting the cleric and rebuilding his muscle, balancing our budget, keeping our rations topped off, or resolving issues; he was the perfect lead. One nice thing was the directness. In fact, I still have a scar from when I tried to snag a few extra coins off our second mission. After flying across a tavern, he calmly apologized to the bartender and dragged me out back for a ¡°one-on-one¡± chat. A few punches later, he calmly explained that this was for my own good. I couldn¡¯t fault him; he was right. Since joining the team, I have rapidly improved. I gained nearly two levels with his aggressive nature and couldn¡¯t wait to see where he led our team.


    Our final member was a bit more reserved. Mors was a jack of all trades. He was the only one to actively multi-class on our team. Sure, many had a few levels outside their focus, but it was a risk to level multiple fields at once. The act could significantly slow the overall process. However, some combinations were well worth it. Not to mention, if you were lucky, they could merge together, removing the downsides. I had some inklings that he had already merged once. There were just too many skills for the level. He could cast basic light spells, brew healing salves, spot/disarm traps, and could handle a sword. I didn¡¯t pressure the man too much as he was an invaluable member that glued our rag-tag group together.


    Once the weapons were sanctified, and we ate our fill, it was time to rest. Tomorrow is the big day, and I didn¡¯t want to fight exhausted.


    ¡°LET''S HEAD OUT!¡± Lux screamed.


    Birds launched from the trees, and I fell out of my chair in shock. I gave him an evil eye, and he just smiled back. He always had to be dramatic. Grabbing my supplies, we made our way to the line of death.


    Support the creativity of authors by visiting Royal Road for this novel and more.


    ¡°You know the drill, be ready,¡± Lux demanded.


    After a final check, Lux and Mors crossed the line of decay. The sudden influx of life awakened the various creatures, and dozens of eyes appeared at the entrance. As the seconds passed, more and more surfaced alongside a cacophony of squeaks ¨C Then the first beast emerged.


    ¡°RABBITS!¡±


    At least it wasn¡¯t squirrels or, well, actual zombies. As the wave of undead mammals rushed from the cave, it gave me a sense of unease. While they might have been cute in life, they were disgusting in death. The fur was stained with filth and grime, bits of rotten flesh dangled off the sides, and their teeth were warped from exposure. Not to mention the nauseating stench of raw decay. Grabbing a peppermint-laden cloth, I used the fabric to filter the toxic odor ¨C Another one of Lux¡¯s ideas.


    Lux moved quickly and swiped his battle-ax in a low sweep. It was a massacre. As the sharp blade made impact, it launched the frail creatures into the sky. Their bloated bodies exploded in a shower of congealed blood and viscera. Even those not destroyed began to sizzle and burn as the sanctified oil took hold. The undead vermin thrashing about as the body disintegrated from the divine power.


    Lux was laughing as he swung his ax without regard for safety. Once the thrill of battle took hold, it was best to give him space. Meanwhile, Mors took his time. Every motion was controlled, clean, and precise. His blade flickering in the air with deadly precision and decapitating the attackers on each movement. The fighter was always mesmerizing to watch, a dance of death intertwined with the flourishing of a blade. However, they couldn¡¯t have all the fun¡­


    Thunk


    Mors glanced back with a look of hatred. He didn¡¯t notice the rabbit flanking his right, and I easily impaled the creature with my dagger. The rabbit squeaked and flailed as it was slowly purified. Sure, I could have gotten it earlier, but showing off was half the fun.


    [One hit - Reload]


    I held out my hand, and the dagger appeared in my palm. It was a perfect skill for my style. A level 10 high risk, high reward ability. As long as I hit, I could recall any object. However, if I missed, then it would deactivate for 24 hours. But hey, I always carried extra just in case.


    ¡°Ry, stop messing around,¡± Lux screamed out.


    Not wanting to be on the receiving end of his wrath, I quickly entered the fray. Dagger after dagger left my hand, each toss eliminating a target. As the fight continued, a rhythmic cadence appeared. My mind went blank as I focused on the task at hand. Faster and faster I went, recalling my dagger the moment it made contact. I was going to get the most; these two muscle heads wouldn¡¯t beat good ole Ryland.


    Crack


    I felt a globby substance splatter against my cheek, the distraction messing up my last throw. It took a second to realize what happened. A translucent wall appeared near me, and a sizzling rabbit sat at my feet. I turned and looked back at the cleric, the grinning priest giving me a thumbs up. Sighing, I reached into my knife pouch and began to fling them out in the traditional manner. After nearly 20 minutes of fighting, the final foe was dispatched, and the smell of disintegrating flesh filled the air.


    ¡°Damn, one of those things got me,¡± Lux grunted as he noticed a cut on his thigh.


    Mors quickly applied a salve to staunch the wound and wrapped it in bandages. It wasn¡¯t too bad, but undead were nasty creatures that lead to infection. Thankfully, Mor was good at keeping it clean. This little wound wasn¡¯t going to stop us. After disposing of the bodies, we approached the entrance. Selman lit up a torch, and we entered the cave. Thankfully, it seemed like the rabbits were the bulk of undead.


    ¡°AHH!¡± I screamed out as something pounced onto my neck.


    I quickly grabbed the crawling menace and tossed it to the ground. Mors had already shifted and stomped the creature before it could bite his ankle. I finally saw what it was and raged.


    ¡°FUCKING SQUIRRELS,¡± then I felt a hand on my shoulder.


    ¡°Quiet,¡± Selman said and pointed.


    The half-elf extinguished the torch, and a faint glow flickered at the edge of our vision. That was strange; this cave was supposed to be uninhabited. Lux glanced at me and signaled. Nodding back, I took a breath and whispered.


    [Lightfoot]


    Almost all¡­ unsavory classes acquired this. It was a basic ability that muffled footsteps. Stilling the breath, I approached the sickly glow. Leaning around the corner, I peeked into the room and nearly gagged on the spot.


    The chamber was filled with towering mounds of squirming corpses. Fingers grasped the air and limbs moved without focus. Disemboweled torsos hung from racks, and glistening bone lined the floor. Even the blood seemed to bubble from the locus of death. As my brain attempted to process the brutal display, I noticed a hunched figure working over a crude table. A twitching body flailed, and sickening gurgles echoed in the chamber. As the partially reanimated bodies felt my presence, their eyes turned my way, and the thrashing intensified. Finally; that nagging thought came forth, all the pieces fit together, and a single word left my lips¡­ [[Necromancer]].


    The hooded figure quickly turned, and in a fluid motion, something shot out of his hand.


    THUNK


    My head slammed back, and my vision blurred. I was hit? I reached out to try and steady myself, but my body wasn¡¯t reacting.


    ¡°RYLAND,¡± I heard Lux scream.


    I could feel the primal rage emanating from our leader, the world felt like molasse as I stumbled towards him. I barely made it a step before I collapsed to the ground. As my consciousness faded, the face of Selman appeared. His lips were moving, but I couldn¡¯t make out any of the words. I wanted to panic; I knew something had gone horribly wrong, yet I felt a strange peace. A loving warmth spread through my limbs, and vision returned. I could see a blood-covered Lux standing over me. He was hysterical. I wanted to make a quip about his tearful face, but I couldn¡¯t move my lips.


    That was when I realized Mor had opened my jaw and tried to force-feed a potion. Even with the combination of holy magic and healing tincture, a coldness arose. I was so stupid! One wrong move and it was done. One of the cardinal rules in the adventurer''s handbook ¨C Never let your guard down. In the end, I didn¡¯t realize how much they cared about me. We had only been together for a few months, but it was so fun. I could see the hope shatter in their eyes, streaks of tears running down their faces. Lux broke down and started to shake my dying body. His lips mouthing a single phrase.


    ¡°Just stay awake. Ry, stay awake.¡±


    But I was tired, and the darkness overtook me¡­


    ¡­


    ¡­


    ¡­


    ¡­


    ¡­


    ¡­


    ¡°Guys?¡±


    It was cold. Everything was very cold. What had happened, why did my teammates not respond?


    ¡°Hey HEY!¡± I screamed out, but still nothing.


    Muttering profanities, I walked over to the group to see what the big fuss was. Trying to push Lux out of the way, I saw my hand drift through him.


    ¡°What the¡­.¡± I glanced over his shoulder and gasped.


    In the city of my team was a reanimated corpse. But this wasn¡¯t just any body¡­ it was my own.


    Classes lost


    [[Rogue]] level 13


    [[Gambler]] level 2


    [[Prankster]] level 4


    Class Gained.


    [[My Body and Me]] Level 1

 1.2 Dealing with Death

    The world went still and a sense of unease filled the space. My teammates were still processing what happened in those few moments. All four stared down at the groaning corpse. My body thrashing wildly against the restraints. The thick fibers cutting into the skin revealed discolored muscle. Globs of congealing blood oozed down the face and pooled along the floor. My clothes were torn and stained with grime. Even my skin was pale and sickly, nearly three shades paler than normal. It was then I saw the murder weapon. A sharpened bone spike skewered the brain. The calcified weapon had been removed and left a 1 inch hole right above my temple. But even with the horror of my corpse before me; there was this faint connection. A longing to re-enter and act as if nothing happened. However the fundamental laws of death prevented it.


    ¡°I¡¯m so sorry, I¡­I tried Ryland. I did¡± Selman was ghostly white.


    His body was inflicted with tremors as he overused the divine power. The half-elf couldn¡¯t even move without the assistance of Mors. While Mors had seen many companions perish, it never got any easier. He helped the cleric get to his feet and tried to get him walking.


    ¡°You did your best, none of us were prepared for this¡± He softly spoke.


    In his mind he tried to replay the scene. Each time coming up with a different scenario that could have saved their friend. So many things he could have done, but he didn¡¯t. Just another death to haunt him while he slept. As the two stumbled towards the entrance, they passed the bloodied ax of their leader. Lux didn¡¯t even flinch as spikes of bone impaled his muscles. He forced back the pain and swiftly decapitated the spellcaster. It had taken Mors a few hours to remove, clean, and heal the wounds. Yet, even the injuries didn¡¯t stop his rage.


    RAAAAAAAAAAAAAUUUUGGGGGGGGGH


    Lux had been screaming nearly all night. We all handled grief differently but his was the most dramatic.


    ¡°Lux calm down you will reopen the wounds¡± Mors tried to reason with the man but it was pointless.


    Instead, Lux continued to punch a nearby tree. Limbs had fallen all around him and flying bark cut his face. His knuckles were dripping with blood as the skin tore. Between the raging shouts, he began sobbing. Tears streamed down his cheeks as he blamed his failures for Ry¡¯s death. It was the first time he gathered a team and he wanted them to grow together. Yet only a few months into adventuring and one was gone.


    Mors felt the pain of failure, he could only hope that Lux would come out better. The fighter turned back and helped Selman sit along the wall. After feeding the cleric some water, the holy man spoke.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know what I did. Nobody has performed a successful resurrection before. I gave up so much to help but it did nothing. . Why didn¡¯t Onir stop me? Does he enjoy watching us struggle? I¡­I should have listened. I shouldn¡¯t have dabbled in death. I just wanted to save one man but I only made a monster.¡± His eyes were deadened.


    Mors just sat and listened, what could you say to a man who questioned his faith? Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out some dullvine and packed it into a pipe. It was a curious plant that deadens the nerves. Calmly taking a few puffs, he let the drug addle the mind. It was a crutch to help through the tough times, but if he wasn¡¯t the strong one who would be?


    As I watched my teammates grieve, I tried everything to communicate. I was screaming, jumping, punching, and more. Yet nothing worked, my ethereal body was invisible to their eyes. I wanted to spar with Lux, I wanted to debate with Selman, I wanted to learn about nature with Mor. I just wanted to let them know it was ok and we could fix this. This wasn¡¯t fair, this wasn¡¯t right. I couldn¡¯t even cry, my ghostly form devoid of the most sensations.


    ¡°DAMMIT¡± I was pacing, I just needed to get their attention.


    ¡°He wouldn¡¯t want this¡± My head snapped as Mors spoke.


    The inebriated fighter grabbed his sword and walked back to the cave. No this wasn¡¯t good, if he killed off my body I don¡¯t think I¡¯d be able to fix this. I ran forward and tried to grab him, but he just walked right through me. His sword dragged along the rock, tracing his path in the stone. I needed to reason with him, but he couldn¡¯t hear. As he approached my body, I watched as the corpse tried to lash out. The restraints snapping taught and holding it down. Mors slowly raised his sword for the finishing blow. The metal arcing down in one smooth motion towards the zombie¡¯s neck. But the kill never came. Instead, it bounced off a flickering wall of light. Mors turned back and saw the cleric panting.


    ¡°No, let somebody else handle it. I can¡¯t see a friend die twice¡± Selman turned and stumbled back.


    Mors ran after him, ducking his shoulder under the arm and helping the cleric walk. While it didn¡¯t feel right, it was only a single zombie. Without the necromancer around, it couldn¡¯t do much harm. Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on the original website.


    I watched in sorrow as the three said their final goodbyes. Each placing a trinket on the ground, a little memorial for their adventuring companion. With a sendoff prayer, they turned and hiked back to the village. They would get in contact with my family and inform them of my passing. Just another casualty in this risky world. Never knowing that I was still here and longing to go with them. I sat in silence as the sun set and the torch slowly faded. With my friends gone..it was just my body and me.


    As the torch flickered out, the cave took on a faint glow. While not as bright as before, it wasn¡¯t pure darkness either. I guess better night vision was a benefit of being dead. It was a strange vision; a magical, blue glow that permeated the space. I slowly scouted the cave, venturing into the various nooks and crannies. My mind wandered as I traveled in silence. However; the further I got, the harder it was to move. A tug at my very essence that soon halted my journey. Pausing, I scanned the region for the source.


    ¡°There¡± I muttered


    A faint, flickering golden thread. The gossamer string tracing my journey through the darkness. I knew what it was the instant I saw it, but I still had to confirm. Following the lifestring back, it brought me directly to my corpse. As I stared at my restrained body, I was filled with anger. The memories flooding back at once. A rageful scream left my throat as I vented the pent up feelings. I had trained for years, gotten into worse fights than this. All of it taken away from a single D tier spell. A lucky shot intermixed with my carelessness. I went to punch the wall only for my hand to glide through.


    ¡°WHY¡± I couldn¡¯t even break anything.


    We were on our way up. We were gaining levels, we were constantly hired for new jobs, even becoming local heroes to some townsfolk. Yet it was all gone because of a single mistake. One stupid mistake and I threw it all away. As I worked through the range of emotions, my head started to clear and I noticed something off.


    My body was watching me. Those red eyes staring directly into mine. It had to be a coincidence right? Zombies were driven by a basic instinct to feed, they had no complex thoughts. I decided to pace around the room and the eyes still followed. It wasn¡¯t clean movements; the head jerked and twitched as it tried to track, but it could see me. A smile crossed my face, maybe I could use this to my advantage.


    I sat down and pondered how I could free my body. It must have been a few hours of brainstorming before a strange sensation appeared. An unnerving hunger pushing out all other forms of thoughts and feelings. I tried to fight it¡­I was dead. Dead guys don¡¯t need to eat right? Then it hit me, the zombie. Zombies needed fresh flesh to stay animated. If they didn¡¯t replace the rotting sections, they would fall apart. This was bad. This was very bad. If that lifestring was what I thought, it means if one of us dies the other goes too. I had to figure out how to feed the corpse or I was going to perish alongside him.


    The intense urge for flesh had the zombie flailing. He could see a pile of meat nearby and desperately fought to get it. It was a vile mound of bloody viscera, a congealed mess of organs, hair, and bone. But to a zombie that was a delightful treat. Pushing down my disgust, I went to grab some of the slop. My hands phased right through it. This was such bullshit! Why couldn¡¯t I have come back as a lich or something physical? What did the stories say about ghosts though? I don¡¯t think anyone has actually encountered a ghost¡­ever. While the ¡°hard¡± undead were rampant in death zones¡­ghosts were just stories. As I paced around, I realized the zombie had stopped and was just looking at me with contempt.


    ¡°Don¡¯t look at me like that! I¡¯m trying¡± I yelled out at the judgmental zombie.


    Did I really give that kind of attitude when I was alive? Did he just roll those eyes at me? No, I must be seeing things. Getting back down, I tried to use my entire body and push the flesh towards my corpse¡­but nothing worked. However, I noticed a reanimated rat rush out from within. How long was that guy in there?


    ¡°Shoo SHOO!¡± I tried to kick it but the creature dodged.


    Wait, that meant the rat could see me. Could all undead see me? I went to kick again and once again, it avoided my foot. As the beast and I fought, I glanced over and saw the zombie staring. Even though it was another reanimated creature, the rat was looking like a fine meal. An idea came to head and I began to stomp and drag my foot. The rat scooted back trying to avoid it. Not giving it time to recover, I continued to harass the creature forcing it back further until


    CRUNCH


    My body bit down. The squeaks intensified as the beast thrashed in the zombie¡¯s jaw. Yet, it took a long time to die. Each bite sent another chunk down to the awaiting gut. The flesh torn and the bones pulverized by the strong jaw. Each sickening gulp seemed to lessen that overall hunger until the rat was fully devoured. As the crunching sounds faded, My body had a creepy grin on its face, the rat¡¯s tail hanging from the busted lips. It slowly slurped up the last bit like a piece of spaghetti and the hunger subsided. At least that was one problem solved.


    -Skills Gained-


    [Passive - Sense Undead - Tiny]


    [Active - Undead Suggestion -Tiny]


    That skill echoed in my head, skull, ghost guts? Not really sure what to call it now. I focused on the passive and turned it on. A strong tingling crept through my nerves and I turned. All throughout the cave I could feel the various critters. A dozen or so rats skittering through the walls in search of food. It was time to work, focusing on the closet. I tested out my second skill.


    [Undead Suggestion - Tiny]


    ¡°Bring the meat to my body!¡± I demanded.


    The rat perked up, then ignored it and went back to feasting on the corpse pile. Of course it couldn¡¯t be this easy.

 1.3 Exploring a prison

    I muttered curses as the rat indulged on the bloody remains. I tried to pick it up, move it, or scare it but the creature learned quickly. Soon the vermin ignored me and let my ghostly hand float through. I really needed to figure out how to make this new skill work. It wasn¡¯t a leader or command type, maybe I had to work with the undead creature. Glancing down at the rat once more, I tried it again.


    [Undead Suggestion - Tiny]


    I let it linger for a bit as I contemplated what to say. These were small-brained terrors¡­I should try something simple. Leaning over I whispered


    ¡°Stop¡±


    The little creature paused and glanced up. I could feel the skill wavering but so far it worked.


    ¡°Grab¡± I pointed at a bit flesh on the floor


    Once more it listened, telling it to do something it wanted didn¡¯t put any pressure on the command. I didn¡¯t even feel it falter. It gleefully got a mouthful of the flesh and began to swallow it down.


    ¡°Go there¡± I pointed


    This time I felt like the ability would break. The suggestion went against what the rat wanted to do but it wasn¡¯t a big ask. After all, I was pointing at the guts of another deadman. After a bit of a staredown, the suggestion went through and the rat began running to the other meat pile. However, the creature didn¡¯t notice my body was directly in the path until.


    CRUNCH ¨CIt too was consumed.


    ¡°Well this skill sucks¡± I mumbled


    I couldn¡¯t even directly command these rodents. I had to make suggestions and work with them, the skill only nudging them into what I wanted. Also tiny undead¡­What good was that? How many times did you come across reanimated rats, squirrels, and other rodents?


    ¡°Deep breaths Ry, at least it is a start¡± I mumbled.


    I know skills can evolve and grow overtime. If I can master these lower tiers, I might be able to expand them later. For now it was time to test the limits. I spent the next few hours giving out suggestions of various levels and to multiple targets. After much trial and error, I found that I could hold the attention of two rats at any time and the skill only lasted at 5 minutes max. As I contemplated my predicament, an Idea crept into my head on how to free my body.


    ¡°Come¡± Two of the rats skittered out of the wall and sat at my feet.


    One had a gaping wound on the side of its back and the other a partially exposed skull. After working with them for this long they were kind of cute. I decided to name them slasher and brainy. After ¡°petting¡± their heads, I pointed at the restraints.


    ¡°Chew¡±


    The rodents saw where my finger was pointing and began to attack the rope. The two rats devoured the twine until it snapped¨Cfreeing the leg.


    ¡°YES YES YES YES¡± I was ready for this.


    The two rats quickly freed the second leg and then the arm. As the last bit of thread broke, the arm snatched the rat.


    ¡°BRAINY NO¡± I screamed as the zombie shoved the squealing rat into its maw.


    The second death of his companion shattered the suggestion, sending Slasher sprinting towards safety.


    ¡°DAMMIT I AM TRYING TO FREE YOU¡± I was pissed. Why was this so hard!


    My body just stared back and stopped chewing. Like a scorned pet, the zombie just stared back in confusion. The reddish eyes met my own and I felt the monotone voice in my head.


    -Skill Gained- If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.


    [[Active - Undead Suggestion - Body]]


    ¡°YESSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS¡± I was making progress now.


    With the new ability, I tried to keep my body still as I summoned more rats. It was a tug of war as my body just wanted to consume them. The short-sighted zombie refused to work with me and ended up devouring four more of the little critters.


    ¡°You are acting like a spoiled child¡± I was getting annoyed, at this rate I would run out of rodents.


    I wasn¡¯t sure how many hours had passed before the final binding was broken. But somehow I did it, the last arm was free and my body began to get up. As the groaning zombie shambled towards the corpse pile, I collapsed. Using those skills over and over had exhausted my natural reserves. Leaning against the wall, I closed my eyes to rest. Did ghost¡¯s sleep? I guess it was a kind of sleep, a weird lucid dream. As my consciousness stilled, I heard that beautiful sound.


    [[My Body and Me - Level 2]]


    I wasn¡¯t sure how long I was out but I woke up in pure darkness. Freaking out I started to thrash until I realized I had partially phased into the wall.


    ¡°AHH WHAT THE¡­¡± I screamed out


    My body was right there. The zombie was staring at the wall just waiting for me to appear, the undead face barely an inch from my own. Its distended jaw shifted as it munched some sinew. Bits of congealed blood plopping onto the ground and staining my once expensive clothing.


    ¡°What do you want?¡± I yelled


    It didn¡¯t respond, just continued to stare and chew. I walked away rubbing my temple and taking a few deep breaths. I needed to control my emotions. It has only been a few days since I died and I was going crazy.


    ¡°Think Ry¡± I tried to boost my own confidence.


    Thinking back, it wasn¡¯t as bad as I thought. Already I had leveled once, learned a lot of new skills, and got my body free. Not to mention the lingering death kept the corpses relatively fresh so I had a stockpile of food. But what was the next thing?


    ¡°WAIT¡± I screamed out


    Even my body flinched. The zombie gave me a dirty look as if I should calm down. I just stuck my tongue out and the creature just stumbled away.


    ¡°Follow!¡± I said and activated my skill


    It took a moment as if my body was considering the suggestion but eventually it turned around and slowly shambled behind me. I needed it to stay close or that tether wouldn¡¯t allow me to travel far. As we walked towards the entrance, my mind started racing. With him freed, I could venture out to get some help. As the light of day appeared, my metaphysical heart was racing. I could finally get out of this musky cave and fix this whole scenario. .


    The sunlight was muted as I stood in the blackened grass. On the edges I could see some of the zone faltering. Without the necromancer desecrating the region, this area would eventually heal. I savored the sounds of the rustling trees and cacophony of nature. Walking to the edge of the zone, I glanced back at my body¡­but it refused to leave the cave.


    ¡°Well come on! We need to go¡± I said.


    My body just stared and refused to budge.


    ¡°COME¡± I activated my skill


    Yet, we were at a standstill. Instead the thing stamped its foot¨Cand I kid you not¨Ccrossed its arm.


    ¡°Oh you are in so much trouble when I fix this¡± I huffed.


    Was this how I was in real life? I kind of feel sorry for my teammates now. My body was a bit of a dick. If I ever see them I¡¯ll have to apologize. Honestly, thinking about it, I can¡¯t believe they actually put up with me. Whatever, I still had some distance even with the tether. I might as well scout a bit of the region. Making my way to the threshold, I took a breath and stepped into the green foliage.


    ¡°OOOOOOOWOWWWWWOWWOWOWOWOW¡±


    My entire essence was set aflame. The purifying light disintegrating my very essence. Bright flames crawled up my limbs and began igniting my torso. Instinctively, I rolled back into the dead zone. The burning sensation quickly quenched by the negative energy. I glanced down and saw my ghostly form more faded than before. It was as if the life and light had burned away my soul. A snapping and cracking noise broke me out of my daze. Snapping my head, I saw my body attempting to laugh. If I was alive, the sight would have been horrifying. Seeing the jaw awkwardly shift up and down, the creaking of bone, and the guttural, wet groans leaving the throat.


    ¡°WHAT IS SO FUNNY¡± I yelled as I reached out and chucked a pebble at my body''s head.


    The stone bounced off the skull and the zombie stopped laughing. It was then we both looked at each other and I realized what I had done.


    -Skill Gained-


    [[Passive - Matter Manipulation - Tiny]]


    ¡°YESSSSSSSS I CAN DO STUFF¡± I was dancing with joy and rushed over to hug the only one that could share this moment.


    My body just let it happen, even though I couldn¡¯t actually touch the zombie it felt right. I mean, it was kind of weird hugging a zombie but I needed to share this joy with something. After a few moments, the zombie shambled back into the cave for an afternoon snack. I guess this world wasn¡¯t as cruel as I thought. Normally you only get 1-2 skills per level but since these ones were so weak, I must be getting them in bulk. Now all I had to do was figure out how to survive in the real world.

 1.4 A surprise visit

    The metaphorical sweat ran down my ethereal brow as I tested out my new abilities¡­And What a skill set it was. From politely asking undead vermin to complete a simple task; to throwing tiny pebbles. Unfortunately, the matter manipulated was¡­inconsequential. I could only pick up enough material to form a small marble and after a few seconds it would start to phase through. When I tried to throw the rock¡­it was pitiful. The stone barely traveled a few feet before skidding across the floor. No wonder the undead were easy bounties, they got terrible skills.


    CRACK


    My head jerked at the sound.


    ¡°Now what has he gotten into¡­¡± I sighed and went back to the main chamber.


    There was my body, covered in rotten viscera and sucking the marrow out of a bone. Bits of congealed blood dripped down the chest while the grubby fingers tore at the juicy parts. At first I was grossed out, but now it was just a minor annoyance.


    ¡°Can you at least keep it down?¡± I muttered.


    My body stopped and stared for a brief moment. Then turned and went back to feasting. I shook my head and toured the cave for the thousandth time¡­Arguing with a corpse was futile. I could sense the various undead vermin in the walls. I had lost many of them trying to free my corpse, but as more rats were found¡ªI was able to reanimate more. This led to my only form of entertainment; pretending to be the rat general. Using my skills I outflanked the still living vermin and converted them to my side. It was a bloody and gorey event, I nearly lost my own forces on the initial skirmish. However, every kill was another for my side. The lingering death magics easily resurrected the tiny bodies.


    Honestly, if I wasn¡¯t stuck to this cave that might be a good gig.


    ¡°Excuse me Madam, I heard you have a rat problem¡± I¡¯d introduce myself with a deep bow


    ¡°AHHADHFAHSDFHAESDHFHA¡± She would scream.


    ¡°HEY DON¡¯T RUN! I¡¯M A NICE GHOST!¡±


    ¡­


    I¡¯m going fucking insane. Is this how life is going to be? Roleplaying possible scenarios in my head. Even if my friends find a way to bring me back, will I be of sound mind? Honestly, I wish I just stayed dead. What kind of life is this¡­wait. If this is how I am, does that mean all other undead we killed were¡­No, don''t think about that. They were insane, they were evil. I¡¯m sure whatever foul magic that reanimated them didn¡¯t have a soul. I have to be the exception to the rule, isn¡¯t that right peepers.


    The rat tried to squeak but it just made a grotesque popping sound. Its throat was torn open by another¡¯s jaws and thick blood spurted onto its chest. I tried to press its eye back into the socket but it just kept falling out. A thin nerve held it in place as it bounced from the head movements. I just gave up and decided to pat it¡¯s head. The little guy rushed back into the walls in search of another meal.


    Speaking of meals, I learned the hardest part of being a commander¨CLogistics. With a limited supply of bodies, I needed to make sure the bulk was for my body. But if I didn¡¯t keep the rats fed, they would rebel. It took a lot of trial and error. At first, I didn¡¯t use my abilities at all. After conquering the rat kingdom, I allowed my subjects unlimited freedom. They were ravenous feeders and tore through the corpses with glee. But when the food ran out¡­they turned on each other. By the time I realized what happened, I was down to a third of the original force. From that point I had to make tough decisions. Every few days, I would have to choose one of my subjects to sacrifice. I almost felt bad for the little guy but without his sacrifice, they would perish. With a flick of my hand, The other rats would swarm and tear the noble creature apart. I dare not use the pile of corpses from the necromancer, if my stash ran out I am not sure what my body would do. Thankfully, my shambling body was a titanic guard keeping the peasants away from the goods.


    I started using pebbles to count the days. Each one carefully aligned to perfection. With all the time in the world, I couldn¡¯t let it look messy. Another sunset, another rock. My little rat friends are the only thing keeping me company. Even my body didn¡¯t do much. If it wasn¡¯t feeding it was just¡­staring. Every time I glanced back the milky eyes were looking at me.


    ¡°WHAT?¡± no response, it just swayed a bit then went back into the cavern.


    ¡°That¡¯s what I thought¡± I mumbled


    Another day passed and another rock was added. I hadn¡¯t leveled nor gained any new skills. It was a terrible limbo, a dullness of extreme proportions. Not even the wildlife would venture near the cave, the lingering death magics deterring any and all. I couldn¡¯t even draw on the walls. The rocks pressed through my hand anytime I hit it against the stone.


    ¡°HELLLLO¡± My head turned¡­was that a person?


    The call reverberated through the cave before slowly mellowing out. This was it, this was my opportunity to escape. I rushed back to the entrance to greet the scout.


    ¡°JUST CHECKING THE BOUNTY. ANYONE HERE?¡± The scout stood just out of the death zone.


    With no response, he took one step into the tainted earth.


    ¡°Fuck¡± I muttered


    An overwhelming surge of bloodlust filled my brain. The single step into the dead zone activates a deep urge within. A basic instinct that rapidly overtook the brain. I needed his essence; it was a visceral pull on my very soul. No, I''m not some mindless beast. Taking a few deep breaths, I pushed aside the cravings and started to think of ways to communicate. This could be my key to freedom. However; for my rat subjects, the living flesh was too much. I felt them skitter towards the entrance of the cave. Realizing what was happening, I tried to stop them with my skill but it did nothing. My rat kingdom flooded out of the cave and towards their new target. This tale has been unlawfully lifted without the author''s consent. Report any appearances on Amazon.


    ¡°No no no no no¡± I tried to block the rats with my body, but they just jumped through me.


    ¡°Damn these adventures, they couldn¡¯t take out the vermin¡± The half-elf pulled out a sword and began dispatching the swarm.


    ¡°Ratty, Rastutin, Mouser!¡± I screamed out each name as the weapon bisected them on the spot.


    I collapsed to my knees as the half-elf passed. All my friends are gone just like that. He didn¡¯t spare a single one of my followers. I did everything for them and now¡­now they are beyond dead. As he lit a torch I recoiled, the flames a natural enemy of my kind. It took a few seconds to regain my bearings but I needed to think fast. How long would he be here? There had to be a way to communicate with him. Unfortunately, that flame didn¡¯t let me approach.


    ¡°I got it¡± I picked up a pebble and tossed it.


    Nothing. The half-elf didn¡¯t even react. Damn these skills¡­WAIT. I got onto my hands and knees and gathered as many stones as I could. As best as I could, I spelled out


    D E D H E L P


    On the cavern floor. Now I just had to get his attention¡­wait where did he go? Focusing up, I found the font of life and chased after it. It wasn¡¯t long until I caught up with the scout. After encountering the vermin, he was moving with extreme care. The half-elf crept through the cavern tapping his sword against the floor to bait any possible traps. As he got closer to the necromancer¡¯s quarters, he wrapped a peppermint-lined cloth around his face.


    ¡°Fucking undead, why couldn¡¯t they send somebody else for this¡± He mumbled.


    I hurled rocks against the walls to try and grab the scout''s attention, but he just ignored the light taps. I had to admire his resolve, the guy took this mission much more seriously than my own group. I mean, when flying solo, the slightest mistake could lead to death. Dammit, why couldn¡¯t I have just acted more mature. I would be back at the tavern having a nice ale and celebrating the windfall. Now I¡¯m just a ghost in a fungus ridden cave. I watched as he entered the necromancer''s chamber, and saw him pause. .


    "By the gods, no wonder they lost a teammate," he muttered


    Putting his sword away, he pulled out a flask of oil. A chill ran through my spine when I saw him circling the area. He was planning to burn it all. No, no, no, if he burned my body, I wouldn''t be able to... Wait, where is my body?


    I surveyed the room. That was strange; he should have swarmed alongside the rats. It was just some mindless zombie. There was no way it could resist that call of life. Glancing down, I traced the lifethread to one of the piles. The sliver of ethereal force revealed its location and then, we made eye contact.


    "Don''t mess this up," was the vibe I got as my body stared at me.


    Quite expressive for a zombie, but what was he planning? There was no way he could take on this scout. He was just a lowly zombie, not some high-tier lich or ghoul.


    As the scout doused the first clump of corpses, he pulled out a second canister and moved to the next pile. I realized the trap was set. This was bad, really bad. I tried to warn him, throwing whatever I could and yelling at the top of my lungs. I even attempted to rush the torchlight and touch him, however the natural warmth disintegrated my ethereal limbs. I looked back and saw the hatred flowing from my body''s face. My actions would get us both killed.


    The scout uncapped the bottle and poured it onto the pile. The dark liquid soaked into the torn clothing, seeping between the cracks and crevices. It felt like an eternity as I waited for my body to strike, but it never came. As the last drop fell, the scout tossed the container aside. With the second pile doused, he turned towards the last... then hell broke loose.


    My body lunged at the scout''s back.


    "What..." he yelled, reaching for his sword, but it was too late. My body had a good bite onto the man¡¯s shoulder. The scout cried out in pain, dropping the torch to the ground. The flames dimmed as it landed in a pool of stale blood and cast a dark shadow across the chamber.


    "GET OFF!" The man screamed, tossing my body across the floor.


    I could hear the flesh tearing off the shoulder as it refused to let go. He crashed into one of the piles, sending corpses tumbling across the room. I expected him to get up, but instead, he just laid there perfectly still.


    "Fucking zombies," the scout muttered, tearing off a piece fabric and stuffing it into the wound..


    While the wound wasn¡¯t that deep, it was dangerous to use a healing potion on a zombie bite. Whatever sickness they carried could be amplified by the magical liquid. Only in the worst cases would somebody even attempt it. With the blood slowed, the scout grabbed his sword and carefully patrolled the room.


    "Where are you?" he screamed out.


    I watched in horror as he split open each skull. One good stab to the brain would finish off even the hardiest undead. I could even feel a sense of unease from my own body. That innate longing for survival connected the two of us briefly. Looking over, I could read his face once more.


    "Do something, you idiot!" I flinched as another skull cracked open, but I couldn''t attack this person.


    He was still alive; there had to be a way to resolve this without any more death. Time was ticking as he approached, raising his sword once more. I saw my body shift and bite the ankle.


    "AHGHAH!" He screamed and smashed in the face. A sickening


    CRACK


    Reverberated throughout the chamber as the bone caved in. That was it, my beautiful face was destroyed in only a moment. My nose had sunk inwards and the jaw shattered from the boot.


    "Scum." The half-elf raised his sword for the final blow...


    "Ow-What the..."


    He turned to my direction and I stood dumbfounded. My arm still held out in front of me shaking. What had I done? While earlier I begged for death, when faced with it a second time¡­ I couldn¡¯t do it. If my body died, then I would be gone too. A handful of pebbles was all it took, some small stones to distract. One brief moment was all and my body grabbed the injured ankle and pulled.


    SLAM


    The half-elf fell and smashed his skull into the stone. My body didn¡¯t give him any chance to recover; the zombie scrambled on top and dug those fingers into the soft belly. I couldn¡¯t watch; a sense of sickness roiled within me as the death screams echoed in the dark cave. My body didn¡¯t care; even before the elf was dead, he was feasting. I could sense a feeling of satisfaction as he ravenously devoured the fresh meat. As the light faded from the man¡¯s eyes, I could have sworn he finally saw me. That brief moment caught between life and death¡­ he saw the true killer.


    And that was how I got my first true meal.

 1.5 A shot at freedom

    My Body and Me ¨C Level 4


    Skills Gained:


    [[Passive - Intuitive Understanding]]


    [[Cannibalistic Regeneration]]


    [[Command Body - Stay/Follow]]


    [[Toggle - From Death to Undeath]]


    I don¡¯t know how long I stood there. No matter how much time passed, I couldn¡¯t process the idea that I murdered a man. I had never killed before¡­well unless you count the various bounties. But those were just bad guys, right? Yet here I was, staring down at a mangled corpse while my body feasted. Those lifeless eyes still locked with mine, a look of shock and betrayal even in death. A whirlwind of conflicting emotions raged within me, I just wanted to punch something. How could he have been so stupid? Why did my party have to lie to the adventurer''s guild?


    The guild! Oh no, the guild. If this scout didn¡¯t return, a search party would be sent. That would be very bad. One measly scout was troubling, but having to take on a whole party as a lowly zombie¡­that was impossible. There had to be a way out of this predicament. I had to find a way out of the cave even if it meant possible death.


    ¡°One step at a time,¡± I whispered to myself.


    Taking a deep breath, I calmed the storm of thoughts and followed the adventurer''s handbook. Since leveling up, the most important step was accessing the new skills.


    [[Passive - Intuitive Understanding]]


    I focused on the connection between my body and me. Slowly, a warm sense of satisfaction helped calm my nerves. I guess a full zombie was a happy zombie. Testing the limits, I walked towards the cave''s entrance. While the sensation diminished, I still felt a tinge of delight. Focusing on my own emotions, I pushed the feelings through the connection and watched my body react. For a brief moment he paused and glanced up. We connected and a mutual understanding was shared. I wasn¡¯t sure how effective it would be, but it was a start to some teamwork.


    As I processed my thoughts, I quickly discovered what [[Cannibalistic Regeneration]] did. Well, based on the name alone, it was pretty obvious. While my body consumed the corpse, the various wounds healed. Bones re-knitted, skin regained its lively color, and muscles regenerated to full strength. It was a grotesque transformation, and I''m glad I couldn¡¯t feel it. Seeing bones, muscles, and more undulate and throb was a bit off-putting, yet after a few minutes, it was like I was just killed!


    ¡°Okay, next thing.¡±


    [[Command - Follow]]


    My body glanced up. A string of red sinew snapped back and smashed into its face. The limbs wobbled as it tried to resist, and I felt a strong sense of agitation through our bond. But a skill was a skill. Even with the deep hatred from the meal interruption it slowly stood up.


    ¡°Just work with me for a second,¡± I muttered and pushed on our bond


    The anger subsided slightly, but it still wasn¡¯t happy with the outcome. As it followed, I could feel it combating the skill. The taste of fresh meat was too much of a distraction. As the seconds passed, a sense of raw hunger slowly seeped through the bond. The pull of lifeblood eroding my control. At one point I had to stop moving and focus entirely on controlling my body, then the command shattered. A sense of pride and relief flooded my mind as the zombie turned and stumbled back to the chamber.


    [[Command - Follow]]


    Nothing happened¡­


    ¡°Ok. So, commands have some unknown recovery period.¡± I spoke aloud to lock it into memory.


    I would need to do more testing later. If I broke it early or if the zombie agreed with my command would the cooldown shorten? Still, it was a good skill as it gave me some control in this relationship. But what was this last skill? How did it work? I sat down trying to recall other toggle skills I had heard about.


    Things like [[Barkskin]], [[Mana Zone]], [[My Faith Shields Me]], and others landed in this category. They were a bit rarer than the normal and have a wide variety of effects. Not to mention they tended to grow alongside levels. Either their energy pool deepend or the effects intensified. Yet, even searching my deepest thoughts, nothing seemed to match this name. .


    ¡°Well might as well give it a shot¡± This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.


    [[Toggle on - From Death to Undeath]]


    A surge of power flooded my very essence. My ethereal limbs solidify into a more physical form. So this was a buff type skill, that was good. I¡¯ve seen toggles as zones, curses, or more avantgarde abilities. Wanting to test the effects, I bent down and grabbed a pebble. Unlike before, the rock didn¡¯t slowly drift through my palm. Turning to the side, I threw it across the cave and heard a slight ping as it bounced against the wall. That was surprising, previously I might be lucky to get 2-3 feet, but this time it went a solid 8! It still wasn¡¯t that impressive, but it was progress. As my excitement faded, I tapped into the well of power and noticed it drained slightly.


    So any action will use up the energy. For the next test I just kept it on. I wasn¡¯t sure how many hours had passed, but upon checking I noticed some loss of power. Thankfully, it wasn¡¯t too much and I could probably keep this on for a few days as long as I didn¡¯t exert myself. Heading back towards the piles of bodies, I bent down and tried to lift a corpse. Unlike the pebble, my hands went straight through the flesh.


    ¡°Damn¡±


    I guess it wouldn¡¯t be that easy. Well these do grow with levels¡­it would be a bit overpowered if I instantly had super ghost strength. Actually, how was I lifting the pebble anyway? It wasn¡¯t like I had any muscles or physical shape to hold it¡­was I missing something. Naw that is stupid, it¡¯s just basic physics. Well maybe not living physics but spooky ghost physics. Actually, was I the first ghost? I have heard about skeletons, zombies, ghouls, liches¡­but no ghosts. It was generally known that necromancy and deathmagic didn¡¯t return the soul. Only those of supreme power could even reanimate as a lich. Sure there were stories of spirits and psychopomps but they were pure fiction right? Just some spooky stories to scare the kids at night.


    Wait, maybe those stories had some truth in it. I mean, I¡¯m a ghost now. Ok so maybe there were a few ghosts in existence. It just had to be super rare. If I ever figure out how to fix this I¡¯ll write a book or something. Maybe retire off the funds and live a normal life.


    A sense of agitation interrupted my ramblings. I guess I was leaking a bit too much into the bond. Shaking my head, I focused on the task at hand¡ªGetting out of the cave.


    ¡°Hmmm, it couldn¡¯t hurt.¡± I slowly walked to the mouth of the cavern.


    I stood at the exit and waited until the sun set. If I was going to test out the limitations of this new ability, I didn¡¯t want to burn out if I was wrong. Slowly the woods quieted and the stars above flickered to life. It was time.


    I carefully made my way to the edge of the death zone. That blackened ring slowly shrinking as the magics dissipated. My heart was racing as I stood on the edge, my toes just touching the last bits of grass. What if this didn¡¯t work? Would I be trapped here forever. I mean there had to be a way to get out before the rescue party came. There was no doubt they would burn all the bodies after seeing the half eaten corpse of the scout.


    ¡°Focus, Focus¡± I pushed away the doubts and [[Toggle on - From Death to Undeath]]. A euphoric feeling overcame me once more. Taking a deep breath, I steadied the nerves.


    ¡°Here we go¡­¡±


    One step over and¡­nothing. There was no pain, no loss of limbs, no feeling of doom, just¡­nothing. Well not entirely nothing, I could feel a very minor draining effect from the skill but overall I was fine. No burns, no intense pain, no fear of a second death. Wait¨Cit worked. IT ACTUALLY WORKED! I was free, I could get out. This was huge, I didn¡¯t have to live in that dinky cave anymore.


    ¡°FUCK YES!¡± I leaped in excitement and ran forward. I was free.


    SNAP


    I fell onto my ass, that tether of undeath preventing me from moving any further.


    ¡°DAMMIT,¡± I screamed out and pounded the forest floor.


    Slowly getting up, I went back towards the cave. As I passed the entrance I glanced back. I could make this back, I was free. It didn¡¯t take long to reach the center, I had navigated the cavern so much I could just walk through the various walls. Passing through the final barrier, I surveyed the corpse covered floor. The snapping of sinew, the cracking of bone, and the tearing of flesh echoed in the chamber. Walking past the half-rotten flesh, I approached my body and inspected the half-elf. Entrails were strong out along the ground and the bulk of the abdomen was gone. I didn¡¯t even think the zombie-me could fit that much inside it.


    ¡°Wait¡± I toggled off the skill.


    Instantly, a feeling of fullness pressed on our bond.


    ¡°Oh that¡¯s how this works¡± I mumbled


    The pool of energy was refilled from the life essence of another. A skill that transformed death into undeath. One source of energy into another. I know I should have figured it out by the name but I was a thief not a fucking wizard in a staircase. But knowing how it worked, I would need to test this a bit more before truly leaving.


    [[Command - Follow]]


    The command went much smoother the second time around. Now that my body had a full body of fresh flesh, it didn¡¯t resist much. Crossing through the dank cavern, we returned to the entrance.


    [[Command - Stay]]


    The zombie just rocked back and forth but didn¡¯t move. Once more I walked to the edge. Toggling on the skill, I stepped past the barrier. This time I decided to count in my head. Keeping a steady pace, I estimated about 10minutes. Heading back into the circle of safety, I turned off the skill and calculated the spent energy¡­it barely moved. Well that was good. As long as I didn¡¯t interact with the physical space, I seemed to have a near limitless pool. Beckoning my corpse, the zombie easily crossed the threshold and stood beside me. A sense of pride was shared between the two of us. I didn¡¯t realize until now that my body also had an urge to leave. Our reasons might be different; he wanted to murder and consume the blood of innocents while I just wanted to get help. We were both united in this singular goal.


    After securing the perimeter, the first rays of morning light penetrated the canopy. The two of us quickly retreated back into the safety of the cave. A feeling of excitement tore at my brain. Tomorrow was the day, tomorrow all things would change, tomorrow I could finally find some help.

 A1 - A small Faes colossal dream.

    Deep in the woods, nestled next to a grand heart-tree was a magically fortified city. The ancient oak had been home to the elusive Fae for many generations. While they had lost their immortality, they kept their innate skills in magic. The vast city had everything within its walls. Various [[Druid]]¡¯s kept the farms and livestock healthy, [[Woodsinger]]¡¯s watched over their respective tree, and [[Magitek Architect]]¡¯s had changed the landscape into a near utopia. However; for all their achievements, they had one glaring drawback¨C-They were Tiny.


    It wasn¡¯t like the city was reclusive, far from it. They were the producers of the purest form of magical goods. Their connection to the leylines combined with miniscule size allowed for unparalleled runework. Other districts could refine and purify alchemical compounds for export. Yet, it was for their own safety that they stayed in these communes. All it took was a stray cat or hungry rat to snuff out their lives. Not to mention the crushing step of an unaware big is always a looming threat. In here, it was Fae paradise. However, for a few it was never enough.


    Atyn was one such Fae. His lineage had hints of a beastman, resulting in raccoon ears and tail. The starry-eyed [[Healer]] crawled out of bed and opened his magical journal. The artifact took nearly 8 months of savings but he cherished it. As the pages shifted, pictures and words coalesced . The relic was linked to the International Adventure¡¯s Bulletin and updated every morning. The latest achievements, bounties, news, and more appeared. Atyn¡¯s mind roamed as he read through the daily update. The little Fae longs to join an Adventuring team, to explore the world, to become famous, and see his name in the top 100. While his ambitions were lofty, he knew it was nigh impossible. At his size, he was a nuisance, a liability. One measly kick and he could die. He couldn¡¯t even beat a low level slime, let alone a bandit. Without a coordinate group of highly trained [[Fae-Guard]]s ¨Che was nothing but a snack.


    Atyn sighed and shook off the negative thoughts. Getting dressed, he left his apartment to start the next dull day. Atyn decided to train in healing and enhancement, even for Fae non-clerical healing was tough. Very few had the fortitude to take on the [[Healer]] class. Some nights he could barely move after grinding up and infusing balms with magic. His brain fried as he learned the counter-magics to the common diseases. The stress of studying anatomy to properly set bone and suture a wound. But while rigorous, he truly loved it. During his off hours, he apprenticed under a [[Aegiscaster]]. To him, the best healing was never getting hurt in the first place. He focused on learning enhancements; various barriers, buffing spells, and even a few tricks disrupt attackers. Each day he pushed himself to the very limits. Returning home, bruised and exhausted.


    However, today was different. Senac approached Atyn during his training. The massive [[Fae-Guard Lieutenant]] was raw muscle. His uniform perfectly fit to accent his superior physique. A custom runeblade hung at his side, the toothpick size weapon enchanted to cut as far as a dagger. It was a rare weapon that came from the vaults, gifted as a reward for his heroic achievements. Senac grabbed Atyn in a tight bear hug and lifted him into the air.


    ¡°Mate, I have news!¡± he said, holding the kicking apprentice.


    ¡°You go on your first patrol tomorrow morning!¡± Senac tossed his friend across the room. He always loved roughing up the recruits.


    ¡°Wait really! I get to go outside the barrier?¡± Atyn couldn¡¯t hold back his excitement as he dusted off his clothes.


    ¡°You got it! I pulled a few strings to get you out early. Hopefully this will let you level faster. I remember when I was ready to see the world. Enjoy it as much as I did" Senac stretched out a bit, muscles still sore from morning training.


    Senac watched his friend¡¯s reaction and smiled. He lived for these moments, the joy in those he protected. It made all his struggles worth it. He hoped Atyn would learn the same.


    ¡°Now remember, if you see any danger you hide, then flee. The guardsmen should be able to handle anything but I can¡¯t promise. Life is hard for our kind, never forget that¡± Senac shut the door as he left the mediation alcove.


    Atyn was about to jump out of his skin. This was the first time he could ever leave the barrier. What was it like in the real world? This was everything he had dreamed of, all of it coming together. Rushing back home, he quickly packed his bag. The container was overstuffed with various objects; Channeling wand, journal, poultices and balms, potions, whatever he thought could be of use. He didn¡¯t want to disappoint the team on his first outside excursion.


    Atyn was the 9th member on the scout team. This was going to be a weekend trip to test a new region for magicite. Their cartographer had mapped out the route and pulled his aether sensors. Atyn was shaking in excitement when another patted his back.


    ¡°I remember my first time. Take a deep breath, it¡¯ll get boring after a while¡± He flashed a grin.


    Atyn didn¡¯t care, he would never get bored. His mind was racing as the gates opened and he took the first steps out of paradise. Then the heat hit. Immediately he realized he overpacked. Being in the jungle, the region was hot, humid, and muggy. He began to sweat and his nose flared as an unpleasant stench hit the nose. The others laughed and teased, but Atyn didn¡¯t care. He knew it was going to be rough and pushed through the discomfort. After a few more moments, their leader signaled to move and Atyn followed.


    The ground was lumpy and difficult to navigate. Their leader carefully routing around massive mud-pits, setting up repels to cross over fallen logs, and hiding under foliage as birds flew overhead. Yet even with all the hardship. Atyn was the happiest he had been. This was the first step into his adventuring lifestyle and he was going to record every moment. The fae was so enthralled by nature he didn¡¯t even realize they had reached their destination.


    The group slowly set up camp around an unassuming rockpile. Even Atyn could feel his skin tingle being this close to magicite. The material was extremely rare and was the backbone of many grand projects. The stone gathered ambient aether and could be quickly recharged at will. The top craftsmen incorporated it into their projects and could turn an unassuming object into a magical powerhouse. Atyn sat and slowly wrote down all he had seen on his journey. Doodling and drawing the various plant life, fungi, critters, and more. His hand cramping from all the scribbles. A blaring horn disrupted his thoughts and his head shot up.


    ¡°WILDLIFE INCOMING¡±


    Panic filled him as he saw a frog burst through the brush. The beast was almost twice the size of their largest member. Atyn quickly fled towards the backline and froze.


    ¡°ATYN STRENGTHEN¡± He heard their leader call out.


    He took a few breaths, focus. But he couldn¡¯t get his body to react.


    ¡°ATYN¡±


    He felt the commander¡¯s skill take hold and the tremors slow. With the fear quenched, he began chanting. A glow formed around two of the guardsmen. The incarnation finishing right as a sticky tongue lashed out and swallowed the first guard.


    ¡°By the gods¡± He nearly fainted from the sight. One of his fellow scouts held him by the collar.


    It was at that moment that Atyn realized this wasn¡¯t just a game. But instead of fleeing, his resolve strengthened. He needed to do more. With renewed vigor, Atyn began another spell. He flicked his hand and a cloud of dust rose up¨Cblinding the beast for a moment. That small distraction gave an opening for the second guard to rush the frog. Raising his sword, the guardsman stabbed into the belly, green viscera poured out from the wound causing him to slip. Injured, the frog became more aggressive. Jumping high, the beast flew overhead and fell towards Atyn. With nowhere to dodge he spoke.


    [[Quick-Cast]]


    [[Stone Body]]


    And he froze. The skill hardened the skin, but made him immobile. As the hefty creature slammed down, he felt the spell nearly shattered. He couldn¡¯t see what was happening, just heard the shouts of the others as they attacked. The minutes passed and soon he was rescued. He let the spell terminate and nearly collapsed in exhaustion. His clothes stained from the blood.


    ¡°Fuck frogs¡± The devoured man had minor burns from the gastric juices but was relatively fine.


    ¡°You did good, now close your eyes¡± Another said to Atyn.


    The mage conjured a jet of water to help wash off the slimy liquid as they rest returned to camp. Atyn sat on a twig and downed two mana potions. He had overexerted himself and would feel the effects of mana-burn later. Between buffing his team and maintaining [[Stone body]], he had drained his reserves.


    The others patted him on the back and congratulated him on his very first encounter. Atyn weakly smiled, even exhausted he felt¡­weirdly invigorated. Was this how adventures felt when they took down a boss? Atyn stayed a bit behind to make note of the twitching beast. It took a long time for the frog to perish but Atyn was oddly curious. He took some samples of the saliva, blood, and skin. Once home, he would see if there was anything he could concoct. Climbing up the frog¡¯s back, he went to extract some cerebral fluid.


    ¡°OOF¡± He felt the wind rush out of his lungs as something slammed into his back.


    His vision turned hazy as vertigo made him lightheaded. Looking around, he realized he was no longer in the forest. It didn¡¯t take long to understand what happened. A large bird had seen the frog and snatched the easy meal. Atyn started to panic as he saw the ground drift further away. Grabbing his rope and dagger, he quickly secured himself to the frog¡¯s back.


    ¡°No no no no no¡± Atyn panicked


    This was the end. Even if he were to escape, how would he survive in the wilderness? It took a whole squadron to take down a frog. He thought about attacking the bird from below. Then looked back at the ground¡­that might not be the best idea. He was kicking himself for never learning the message spell. It was such a simple cantrip but he was too focused on other things.


    SCHUNK


    He glanced up at the sound and screamed.


    An arrow had pierced the creature''s breast, instantly killing it. Atyn held onto the rope as the ground rushed to greet him. He prayed to every god as his life flashed before his eyes. This was a stupid idea. This should have never been done. He could be in paradise learning art. Instead he was going to die on the first day out of the city. Closing his eyes and waiting for the end he felt a hard¡­


    THUD


    The wind was knocked out of him as the frog liquified on impact. Everything hurt and he was sure something was broken, yet he wasn¡¯t dead. The bulk of the forces were absorbed by aquatic creature cushioning the fall. He didn¡¯t move, he just laid there. The weight of the slain bird pressing him against frog flesh. His heart felt like it was going to explode. Suddenly, it all caught up and he screamed. Just raw emotion leaving his body as he realized he was alive. That utter fear turned into exhilaration. As long as he was breathing, he could make it back. However, the feeling quickly left as he heard the rustling in the distance. He froze up and didn¡¯t move a muscle. It was then the weight lifted and sunlight flooded in. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust but Atyn saw the face of a massive ork.Enjoying the story? Show your support by reading it on the official site.


    Atyn was terrified of the tusked-mouth titan. The Fae and Ork were once mortal enemies and sometimes that resentment carried to today. Without any witnesses around, Atym wasn¡¯t sure what was going to happen. He flinched as the calloused hand reached out and gently untangled his body from the critters. The hard skin like fine sandpaper and scratching his own delicate flesh. An intense scent of musk filled his nose as the grimy appendage wrapped around him. He was trembling, the slightest squeeze and it was over. However instead, he was brought up to the face of the titan.


    The ork carefully investigated the tiny man. A curious look on his brow as he opened his palm and stared. Suddenly, a grin stretched across his face revealing a toothy smile.


    ¡°THE NAMES URIM¡± he said, a bit of spittle shooting from between his lips.


    Atyn held his ears in pain. The loud, bassy voice echoing in his head. The ork noticed and quickly frowned.


    ¡°Sorry, names Urim¡± he whispered.


    ¡°Pardon my manners, I have never seen a tiny folk before. I didn¡¯t realize you were that fragile. What are you doing all the way out here?¡± He reached into his bag and pulled out some rations. He dropped a bit of a nut into his palm as a peace offering.


    Realizing he wasn¡¯t in danger. Atyn broke down. All those near death experiences hitting at once. He tearfully told his story as the massive ork listened closely. Once finished, he placed Atyn onto a nearby stone and grabbed the dead bird. Strapping it to his belt, Urim offered his palm once more. Atyn stepped in and the two made their way through the woods.


    ¡°Sorry about all that little buddy, but Urim will keep you safe now. Ya lucky my team is patrolling these woods. There has been an influx of bandits raiding these regions and we were hired to clean them out.¡± He rattled on about the various encampments and battles he fought.


    Atyn was enthralled by the Ork. He couldn¡¯t believe all these stories. Screw the magical journal, he was getting all the details from the source. Saving villages from undead, clearing out bandits, even playing bodyguard for royalty. It was everything he had read about and more. As if fate brought the two together. As they entered a clearing, his eyes lit up.


    ¡°Atyn, let me introduce my team!¡±


    It was a mix of various species. Lucian rogue werewolf, Sylva a half-elf mage, Justin a human defender, Farshot a goblin archer, and of course Urim the ork barbarian. Atyn couldn¡¯t believe it, each one were mortal enemies and yet this group stayed united. Urim spoke about how he wanted to break down the old walls and move beyond their histories. His team a prime example of it. After a few minutes of chatting, Sylva the mage approached.


    ¡°I got in contact with your city. They are sending out a rescue squad as we speak. They asked us to meet about 2 miles to the south.¡± she said. The elvish features gave her a soft look.


    Atyn¡¯s heart dropped at those words. Urim noticed the shift in mood and looked down at the tiny man.


    ¡°What is wrong? Don¡¯t you want to get back to safety?¡± He asked while polishing his battleax.


    ¡°I¡­just. Can I join your team? I want to see the world and experience things no Fae has done before¡± Atyn replied.


    ¡°HAH! That is a funny little one. I like your spunk but what would ya do! If I could punt ya into a bloody mist, how do you think you¡¯d fare against a direbear or a giant mantis? Let alone something smart.¡± Urim wasn¡¯t trying to be mean, but Orks were also not subtle.


    ¡°But I..Please I promise I will be useful. I can¡­uhh


    AMBUSH


    The goblin shouted as his [[dangersense]] triggered. Immediately a rain of arrows flooded their encampment. Their werewolf tried to dodge but was shot in the leg. He broke off the shaft and tossed an envenomed dagger into the woods. Sylva¡¯s eyes glowed as a wall of fire materialized, the defensive magics burning any arrows that crossed. She did her best to halt the barrage, but in her focus didn¡¯t notice the assassin materializing behind. One quick jab and the fast acting toxin had her incapacitated. With only Farshot, Urim, and Justin still standing; they rushed in for a counter attack.


    Urim screamed, unleashing his [[Barbarian¡¯s Rage]]. Instantly the muscle thickened and eyes went bloodshot. Steam wafted from his body as he charged forth. He casually swiped his ax and beheaded the assassin on the spot. The Ork snorted and the madness-induced monster charged the next target. Arrows pelted his frame, but the hardened skin stopped any lethal blows. Justin Stood by Farshot intercepting those that tried to harm the archer. The human kept three bandits at bay while the goblin returned fire. As the three slowly engaged in battle, Atyn was left with the injured. His instincts kicked in and he ran towards Sylva.


    ¡°FLIP HER¡± he screamed to Lucian.


    The shifter didn¡¯t ask questions and rolled the mage onto her stomach. Atyn quickly scaled the cloth and ran towards the bloodied fabric. He pulled out his knife and began cutting away. Suddenly two massive hands appeared and tore the robe in half. Atyn glanced up and the wolfman nodded, with the wound exposed¨CAtyn got to work. He pulled out some vials and collected the blood. Separating it into vials, he quickly tested for the most common toxins. He knew it was an anticoagulant as the cut would not stop bleeding. His mind raced as the body started to tremble, he wasn¡¯t sure how much more blood she could lose¨Cthen the vial turned a sickle green.


    ¡°Death¡¯s Breath and Crimson Rivers¡± he muttered and pulled out his notes.


    They were commonly used by low-to-mid assassins and thankfully the materials to create an antivenom. Holding up the powders. He commanded the rogue to mix it with water. Grabbing the vial, he activated another skill.


    [[Bulk Infusion]]


    IT was an ability that allowed his ingredients to fully incorporate into the water. He could only use it once a month, but figured this was worth it. With the concoction finished, the Rogue applied the drug to the wound. To assist in the healing, Atyn used a second skill.


    [[Extract Toxin]]


    and pulled out the poison that affected deeper tissue. A malignant, goopy liquid flowed down the skin as the toxin was siphoned out. Slowly, color re-entered her skin and she opened her eyes. The werewolf grabbed Atyn as Sylva stood. She held a palm on the incision and cauterized the wound shut. Glancing up, she nodded in thanks then stumbled towards the fight. Atyn only hoped the patch-job would hold.


    His eyes were bloodshot and his body was fighting him. The magical backlash was starting to hurt but he couldn¡¯t stop. Even if it cost him his life, these people rescued him. It was the only way he could give back. He nearly vomited as he chugged another mana potion. His blood burning forced him to a knee. These potions were only to be used sparingly and Atyn had already passed the safe limits.


    ¡°I¡¯ve seen this in Sylva little man, you need to rest¡± But the fae wasn¡¯t listening


    ¡°You need to pull this out¡± He pointed at the arrow,


    ¡°I can¡¯t or I¡¯ll bleed. Damage is too deep for potion to heal right¡± a coarse voice left his throat.


    ¡°TRUST ME¡± Atyn countered.


    They stared at each other briefly but the werewolf gave in. He let out a howl of pain as he pushed the wooden stake through his leg. He wasn¡¯t sure why, but he trusted the little guy. Bringing the Fae down to the bleeding wound. Atyn quickly got to work.


    [[Minor Light]]


    Even a basic light spell was hard to cast. His body was covered in warm blood as he reached in and felt for any damaged arteries. Thankfully, the arrow missed and this just looked worse than it was.


    [[Mend Wound]] he muttered


    It wouldn¡¯t fix the injury but he carefully channeled his magic and repaired larger blood vessels. All those anatomy classes finally paid off as he magically fused the broken veins and damaged muscle. As the time passed, the bleeding slowed to a trickle.


    ¡°POTION¡± he screamed and Lucian swallowed it down.


    With the framework repaired, the potion did the rest. A red scar formed on the calf, and the rogue put a bit of weight on it. Satisfied, he glanced down and saw the Fae man unconscious in the grass. Carefully, he put the [[Healer]] in a pouch and ran off.


    Atyn screamed as he was shaken awake. The bloodied face of Lucian filled the sky. Tears were flowing down the hairy face as he cried out.


    ¡°URIM NEEDS YOU¡± he quickly ran back to the battlefield


    Bloody corpses of the bandits littered the region and at the center of the massacre was an unconscious ork. Dozens of deep slashes covered his body and pieces of wood stuck out of the flesh. His breathing was slowed and the blood loss muddied the ground beneath him. This was bad. The ork was only a few moments from death. Atyn started to panic, but the eyes of the rest of the squad were on him. Swallowing away his fears. He started giving orders.


    The group didn¡¯t question the [[Healer]] and did their best to assist. The first step was to stop the blood loss. He could worry about poison later. Unlike Lucian, these were much deeper cuts.


    [[Extend Air]]


    Sylva casted as she watched Atyn crawl into the bloody wound. He couldn¡¯t see anything within the bloody interior and had to work with touch. Finding the first broken artery, he grabbed both ends and held it together.


    [[Mend Wounds]]


    Crawling out he took a deep breath and signed to the next injury. Justin couldn¡¯t watch as the Fae burrowed out of the open cut and vomited to the side. This was horrifying.


    ¡°POTION¡± Atyn called out


    Farshot poured a potion on another gash held together by Lucian. One by one, he worked his way across the ork. His legs began to seize up and Lucian had to carry him to the next wound. He was beyond the limits, his body breaking down to fuel the spells. The mana potions did nothing at this point and he was teetering on death. But he wouldn¡¯t give up. Soon he felt his arm go limp.


    ¡°ATYN STOP¡± Sylva cried out, realizing what the little guy was doing.


    This man saved him from certain death. Atyn could feel blood leaking from his nose, the droplets falling onto the green skin beneath him. As he crawled over to the final wound on the ork¡¯s chest. He collapsed. At least he went out doing one good deed.


    Atyn wasn¡¯t sure how long he was out. Just as he stirred he could feel the ground beneath him. A deep rumble and a chuckle flooded his senses.


    ¡°Well looks like somebody is done with their afternoon nap! Best pillows in town I¡¯d say¡± Urim said as he flexed his pecs.


    Atyn was launched between the two muscles letting out a cry of pain.


    ¡°Oops, Sylva did say not to touch you. Apparently Mana burn is a dangerous thing. She wasn¡¯t sure if you were going to make it¡± Urim said.


    Atyn just laid there on the chest of his savior. The warmth of the body flooding into his own. He wanted to say something, but was too damaged to speak. The massive ork just reached out with a bandaged hand and rested it on top of him.


    ¡°Sleep, you did good¡± Urim said and sleep he did.


    Atyn awoke once more as Lucian entered the tent. The rugged man scoffed at him and pulled out a tiny thimble. In his hand a bottle appeared and he poured a few drops into it. Placing it next to Atyn he mumbled¡­


    ¡°Thanks¡± and left.


    Atyn took a sip gagged as the cheap liquor burned his throat . He finally felt better and glanced back at the drooling ork. It took some effort but he was able to get to his feet. He needed to move and get blood back to the legs. As he stumbled across the furry chest, thousands of needles pricked the skin. The magical backlash was in full force and wasn¡¯t sure how long it would take to recover. Atyn watched the lungs expand and contract. A soothing rocking that helped him rest. Yet his movements must have awakened the big guy and soon he was lifted into the sky. Dangling by his leg, Urim spoke.


    ¡°AHH YOU''RE FINALLY AWAKE!¡±


    Atyn grimaced at the sound.


    ¡°Oh sorry, my team and I were talking while you were asleep. You wanna join!¡± That goofy grin appeared once more and Atyn¡¯s heart fluttered. He quickly nodded his head yes and Urim tossed him into the air.


    Snatching him in his fist, he opened the tent.


    ¡°OW OW OW OW¡± Atyn screamed, the ork really didn¡¯t get his size


    ¡°Ooops sorry, keep forgot¡¯n yall are fragile. OOOOOH right mana burn my bad¡­Don¡¯t tell Sylva please she already knocked me once¡± He chuckled and left the tent, Atyn in hand.


    ¡°Sylva! call off the rescue squad, we got a new member!¡± The team cheered


    ¡°And I have the perfect spot for you!¡± Urim said as he lifted a loop from his waist. With care, he dropped Atyn into the container and left the top loose.


    ¡°Hold on tight¡± he said with a grin. Atyn couldn¡¯t be happier.


    Classes Lost


    [Healer]] Level 14


    [[Apprentice Aegiscaster]] Level 4


    [[Alchemist]] Level 9


    ¨CNew Class Obtained¨C


    [[Pocket Healer]] Level 14

 1.6 - The First Steps in a New World

    It felt like an eternity as I slowly watched the sun set in the distance. The ball of light took its sweet time disappearing from the sky. I didn¡¯t want to move from this spot as my ghostly heart raced in excitement. I knew I was on a countdown; already, it had been two days since the scout was killed, and I knew more would follow. As the last bits of light were extinguished, I walked to the edge of the zone. This was really it; I was finally free. Glancing back, my body followed behind.


    ¡°Ready, buddy!¡± and it just stared...


    Whatever.


    I tapped into my wellspring of energy and made sure it was completely full. My body easily consumed the rest of the scout and converted all that flesh into fuel. Even though freedom was so close, I had to be extra careful. If I didn¡¯t find a dark spot by sunrise, if my body refused to listen, if I ran out of meat, so many ifs could easily lead to my demise. Still, it was a necessary risk as staying in this cave would surely be the end. After doing one final mental check, I stepped past the dead zone.


    Once more the area lightened; even in the dead of night, everything was alive. I started my journey, and my body followed close behind. Where should I travel first? Heading directly back to the city was a bad idea. The guards would eliminate the zombie without hesitation. I didn¡¯t know where my original team was either, so I couldn¡¯t track them down. I could maybe stay on the outskirts of a village, try and communicate to get assistance. Various scenarios played through my brain, but nothing seemed to really jump out. After nearly an hour of brainstorming, I settled on finding a wandering merchant or priest. If I could keep my body away from others, I might be able to communicate.


    Speaking of the body. It was a bit of a struggle to keep it on track. Thankfully, the life string prevents it from wandering too far. Anytime it sensed food, it would veer off until the leash went taut.


    ¡°See, not that fun, is it?¡± I taunted.


    Occasionally, we would have a standoff, and I could feel the agitation growing. But if I didn¡¯t move, neither could it. To my own annoyance, the zombie soon learned it went both ways; after about three hours, it refused to budge unless I let it feed. It was a bit of a delay, but we managed to hunt down a wandering deer. And by ¡°we,¡± I meant It. The zombie had become adept at its new ambush tactic. It would find a relatively covered space and lie ¡°dead.¡± I¡¯d just wait until something went to graze or pass. Once the critter was a few feet away, the corpse lunged and bit into the neck. Birds took off from the commotion, and the squeaks of pain quickly subsided as flesh was torn off. With each subsequent bite, I could feel a bit of power return. It wasn¡¯t nearly as much as something sentient, but it was fuel for the road. My body decided to feast two more times in our travel, leaving torn-up carcasses in our wake. I¡¯m sure the scavengers were happy about the kills.


    As the night continued, I watched the moon cross the sky. Seeing it reach the horizon, I knew we had to find shelter fast. Making my way back towards the hill, there was bound to be another cavern or cave. As the time passed, more creatures woke from their slumber. Birds singing sweet tunes and squirrels skittering above. While many would enjoy the morning sounds, it signaled a deadly countdown for me.


    [[Command Follow]]


    I couldn¡¯t delay anymore; ordering my body to follow, I picked up the pace. The zombie must have sensed the urgency and didn¡¯t even attempt to break the command. The black sky took on an orange hue as the ball of death arose once more.


    ¡°Shit,¡± a ray of sunlight pierced the canopy and burned my shoulder.


    I paused for a second to map out a path in the shade. More beams of light shot through the trees, forcing me to adjust with each step. I had to side-step, turn, and roll to avoid burning. My head focused on the rock face, trying to find cover. My mind was racing in fear; I was going to die a painful second death. This wasn¡¯t fair; I just escaped and now I fail?


    ¡°THERE,¡± I screamed as a crack appeared in the stone.


    I ran towards the opening and collapsed on the floor. This whole being dead thing was awful. Resting against the wall, I felt the rush of adrenaline dwindle, and a sense of calm returned. Glancing back, I watched my body stumble into the darkness. Being more corporeal, it didn¡¯t have to worry about the sunlight. Sure, it was weaker in the light, but at least it wasn¡¯t purified. The corpse shuffled over to me and sat down. We were safe, for now.


    To be honest, I never realized how long a day was until I was forced into darkness. It was just so boring; this wasn¡¯t so much a cave but a nook. There were some things left on the ground, withered rope, ashes from a fire, mouse droppings, but nothing really stood out. All I could do was stare out into the forest. At least I got some entertainment from the hunting zombie. It was wrong, but I cheered for the animals to not get caught. Some were quick and avoided the lunging corpse, but it did catch one rabbit for dinner. Watching it was a bit weird. I¡¯d never heard of a zombie with intelligence; most just ran at any living creature when hungry. To ¡°play dead¡± was new. I guess since we were connected, when I leveled, it did too. With its belly full, my body walked back into the cave and went still. The two of us waited.Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings.


    ¡°FINALLY,¡± I mumbled as the sky turned orange.


    But something was strange. In the distance, I saw a person walking towards the cave. As the man approached, I noticed some oddities about him. He wore deep, dark robes with a flickering lantern hanging on the belt. He was hunched over due to an overstuffed traveler''s pack ¨C the legs buckled and stumbling from all the excessive weight. This was peculiar; this forest was all but abandoned. He hadn¡¯t even seen a hunter roaming this deep into the canopy. What was a person doing out here?


    My body must have sensed my unease and hid further in the shadows. No doubt trying to decide to attack or not. The two of us watched on as the man approached. As he passed the threshold, I could hear his trinkets clanking with every step. It was then I realized his lantern wasn¡¯t a normal flame. Instead, it was more ethereal, draining nearby colors to produce the magical light. As he took shelter, he dropped his bag against the wall and collapsed in exhaustion.


    ¡°Dammit Faust. Why did you have to settle this far?¡± He tore off the hood and was covered in sweat.


    The man was¡­young. His face was gaunt and pale. A bit of scruff outlined his jaw, and the jet-black hair parted to the side. I watched as he pulled out a map and held the lantern over the parchment. The hand-drawn landscape displayed various caverns throughout the region alongside the small townships. At one of the entrances marked a red X. Slowly, he traced his fingers from it to another cave.


    ¡°Hmm, another 6-hour walk,¡± he muttered.


    I walked over to get a closer look, and his face snapped towards mine. I nearly jumped back in shock.


    ¡°Must have been a rat,¡± and he pulled out some rations.


    Sitting back, he undid the bag and ate his meal. This wasn¡¯t adding up. What did he mean by settle? Why did these caves matter? I felt like I should understand, but it wasn¡¯t connecting. I crouched next to the man to investigate the bag. My fingers slowly worked at the straps when¡­


    ¡°AWWH,¡± My head jerked at the scream.


    My body decided to make an appearance. Immediately, the man dove out of the way and reached into the bag. Well, no point in trying to command it now. If anything, it was another meal for the long journey. Clearly, this merchant was unprepared, and I just let my body do its thing. Already having killed one, this didn¡¯t faze me as much. If I wanted to survive and return to normal, sacrifices would need to be made. As my body lunged at the man, he dodged to the side and shoved the bag towards it. The heavy back sent the zombie tumbling backward, halting the charge. It only bought a few moments of respite as the corpse easily pushed it off.


    The merchant patted his pockets as my body stumbled towards him. What was he looking for? His head turned and glanced back at the satchel. Pulling off the robe, he tossed the fabric on top of my corpse and dove past. I could feel the agitation through our bond as my body tore apart the constraints; it really wanted this fresh meal. The merchant quickly fiddled at the straps trying to access one of the locked pockets. Realizing he had a plan, I couldn¡¯t let him get it.


    Kneeling down, my hand reached through his and began to fidget with the same lock. I smiled as he began cursing at the knot. If he pulled on one end, I pulled on the other ¨C stalling whatever progress was made. Glancing back, he noticed my body was free and he snatched up the pack and ran. What he didn¡¯t account for was me loosening his laces. One foot slipped out of a boot, and the loss of balance had him tumbling. He barely rolled out of the way as the zombie pounced.


    ¡°Dammit,¡± he was hobbling along on one leg as he put distance between the corpse and him.


    I tried to go for the other shoe, anything to give an advantage to the zombie but felt a weakness take hold. Between the sunlight from earlier and me interacting with the material plane, I had drained a significant chunk of energy. This wasn¡¯t good; at this point, only my body could finish the fight. The merchant changed tactics; he baited the zombie to charge and quickly sidestepped out of the way. With an elbow, he knocked the corpse to the ground and rushed towards the backpack once more. This time he ignored the strap and reached into a side pocket pulling out a strange case. Fumbling with the sides, the box opened revealing a variety of scalpels. Why would a merchant carry scalpels? I thought he was going to try and fight back with the tiny blades, but instead, he began to tear into the bag.


    The sack let off glowing sparks as various runes were shattered. No wonder he didn¡¯t do this earlier; it must have cost a fortune to enchant. With one last cut, the components spilled out¡­


    Flesh.


    And it wasn¡¯t just any flesh, but distinctively humanoid. Everything started to connect as I saw the perfectly preserved meat. I tried to warn my body to run, but it was too late. The necromancer pulled out a bone-carved wand and shouted.


    [[Calm Undead]]


    My body went still as the magic overwhelmed him. The magician trembled as he held the instrument in the air. Slowly, my body walked past him and began consuming the free meal. I tried to push onto our bond, trying to explain the danger of the necromancer. But the combination of fresh meat and calming magics easily rebuffed my pleas. With my body satiated, the ex-merchant slid against the wall.


    ¡°Now how did you get here?¡± he muttered and went to inspect the animated corpse before him.

 1.7 - A Change of Perspectives

    ¡°Now which way was it¡­¡± I muttered staring at the map.


    This forest seemed to go on for ages, just trees and foliage for miles on end. Glancing around, I noticed one of the earlier marks. Double checking, I cursed when I realized I had backtracked. The constant heat and repetitive environment playing tricks on the brain. Of course Faust had to make a base in the most secluded area he could find. why couldn¡¯t we be on the outskirts of a major city. I doubt the guards would care if a body or two went missing.


    Taking a second, I redrew a path and mentally mapped out the directions. Changing tactics, I decided to follow the cliff-face. It would add some extra distance but at least I wouldn¡¯t be walking in circles. Taking a swig of water, I continued onwards. I really needed to find shelter soon. Each step was more grueling than the last. My muscles were burning and I knew that I¡¯d be sore in the morning. Why couldn¡¯t I have just been a [[Priest]]? Then I could live off donations and the blessings of others. No no no, I had to be different.


    SQUELCH


    My boot sunk into a pit of mud. Between my weight and the heavy backpack, it went up to my shins. Leaning to the side, I tried to pull out my leg. While my foot was freed, the boot was stuck. Why couldn¡¯t this trip be easy? Sighing, I unstrapped my bags and leaned over the pit. My arm bulged and a veins popped on my forehead as I pulled.


    POP


    The boot was freed and smacked me in the face.


    ¡°DAMMIT¡± I screamed out with such force it caused birds to flee the trees.


    Muttering curses, I poured out as much mud as I could and slipped my foot back in. It felt¡­vile as the remaining grime oozed between my toes. Restrapping my equipment, I continued on my way. Each footfall causes the insole to squish and absorb into my socks. Faust may have been my master, but after this, he¡¯d owe me a whole new outfit.


    It took an hour to reach the cliff. A miserable 60 minutes of travel. My clothes stunk with sweat and grime, My skin clammy and sticking in places, my nethers chafing, and my back killing me. Even with the enchanted pack, it weighed a ton. I really needed some rest. In the distance, I saw a bit of a outcrop of rock. It was the perfect place to rest and recover. Entering the shade, I set up camp for the evening.


    I kept the fires low as I didn¡¯t want any [[hunter]]s or [[Scout]]s discovering my position. It wasn¡¯t normal to be this deep in the forest. Curious eyes and innocent questions always led to trouble. Sure, I could probably handle one or two, but the repercussions would be a disaster. Laying against the rock, I pulled out some rations. The dried meat and hardtack was painful on the jaws. It required so much chewing to be palatable. Thankfully, I had enough water on hand to soften the biscuits but still it took some effort. I hoped we¡¯d be done soon as I would kill for a warm, home cooked meal.


    With a full stomach, I stretched out my legs and massaged the muscles. It wasn¡¯t the best, but boy did it help. Hopefully the bit of self-care would prevent some of the pain in the morning. Checking my supplies, I pulled out a bedroll and set out some basic wards. They were not the best, but it was better than nothing. I did a final round making sure the specimen bag was secure and passed out.


    I woke up in a panic, something had tripped the wards. Grabbing my wand, I took a defensive stance. Thankfully, the first rays of sunshine illuminated the forest¡­but it was nothing. What could have caused it? Glancing down, I found the perp¡ªA squirrel. The vile creature had gorged himself on my rations and his cheek pouches were filled to the brim. It was always the squirrels!


    I rushed after the foul beast. The critter rapidly retreated towards the closest tree. I couldn¡¯t let it escape. Aiming my wand, I muttered.


    [[Dark Blast]]


    A glob of negative energy shot forth¡­but the squirrel was too quick. The spell smashed into the tree-trunk and left a dark stain on the wood. I could hear the chitting above as the squirrel. It was diabolical, that stupid beast was taunting me.


    ¡°I¡¯ll show you!¡±


    [[Dark Blast]]


    [[Dark Blast]]


    [[Dark Blast]]


    The leaves turned grey as the life was sapped from them. Only when I heard a


    THUD


    Did I feel a sense of joy. Right at my feet was the thief. It wasn¡¯t a direct hit and the thief hobbled back towards the tree. I wasn¡¯t letting it get away again.


    ¡°Not this time!¡± I went for the kill.


    [[Dark Blast]]...


    ¡°Ow¡± something hit my forehead disrupting my aim.


    The rodent had friends. Each one pelting me with sticks, acorns, or small rocks. This was unfair, it was a whole squadron versus me. Covering my head, I retreated back towards the camp. As I approached, a secondary group jolted in all directions. I quickly realized that it was a faint, the first was a distraction for the main raid. In those brief moments of rage, the swarm of squirrels decimated my supplies. My bags chewed open and rations scattered across the floor. This wasn''t good. I quickly set up a new ward and felt my mana pool rapidly drain. After casting all those spells, it was going to be a while before I could recover.


    Sweat was dripping down my face as I held my wand forward. A few critters tried to pass the [[Anti-Life Shell]] only to bounce off the barrier. Each time, I felt a bit more energy drain but this was much more efficient then casting a [[Dark Blast]]. The minutes passed slowly as the group tried to break in once more. Yet for all their effort, it held. I collapsed as the vile creatures retreated to the canopy. I gathered up what was left and began to take supply.


    Nearly half of what I brought was gone. This would mean I would need to make another trip in the coming week. Thankfully, the specimen bag was still intact. I guess they could feel the negative energies from within and instinctively avoided it. At least it was a small win in this hellish journey. Leaning against the wall, I consumed another round of food. I needed to replenish my mana fast. These woods were dangerous and it was a death sentence to not be prepared.


    It was pointless to travel after the epic battle. Instead, I took the time to scavenge and supplement my food stocks. Thankfully, Faust had shown me what was edible and what wasn¡¯t. Picking out a few berries, I stuffed my pockets and snacked on the trip back. They tasted delicious. The juicy, sweet fruit popped on the tongue and flooded the tastebuds. It had been months since I had something sweet. Faust was always running me across the countryside and I never had time to rest at the taverns. Oh I begged and pleaded for him to just give me a day off. I¡¯d be so much more efficient after a delicious, calorie packed meal. Yet Faust didn¡¯t care he was always focused on creating his newest masterpiece. However, this was a nice respite and I was thankful for the sweet treats. With a full belly, I rested by the fire and drifted to sleep.


    Pain, so much pain. Grabbing my stomach, I rolled to my side. Oh god¡­this was bad. My guts were groaning and my body was feverishly hot. No no no no no. This couldn¡¯t be happening. I know I picked the right berries. Faust had shown me when we first came out to this forest. Wait, maybe they had to¡­


    ¡°OH NO¡± My stomach lurched and I nearly exploded on the spot.


    Rushing away from the encampment, I dropped my trousers and squatted down. A filthy deluge rushed from my body, splatting the floor below. It was awful, it was vile, and I felt like I was going to die. Each time I thought it would end, another burst shot out.


    ¡°Please whatever god is watching¡­help¡± I was crying as I tore up my innards.


    Even the nearby animals were fleeing the scene. This was beyond humiliating. I tried recalling what Faust said. It was only then I realized I had been fooled. The [[Necromancer]] never actually ate the berries. In my mind''s eye I could recall a small smirk on his face as he continued onwards. Realizing it was just another one of his ¡°Pranks¡± I screamed out.


    ¡°FAUUUUUST!¡±


    I don¡¯t know how long I was¡­reliving myself. But I was so weak. My legs quaked with each step and my body was aching from the purge. I needed water and I needed food. I also REALLY needed a bath. Why couldn¡¯t I have become a [[Hydromancer]]? Here I am using leaves like a [[Barbarian]] and I know it didn¡¯t get it all. I did my best to ignore the unpleasantness but it was impossible. You know what? Screw Faust, he can wait a bit more. I¡¯m not traveling like this. Pulling out the map, I saw a stream was nearby and took the day to clean up. The author''s content has been appropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.


    The next morning, I was feeling somewhat refreshed. The last bits of the poisoning were gone, I had a full stomach, and my mana had recharged. Strapping on my bag, I cleaned the campsite to eliminate any traces, and began the journey once more. At least the nature walks were somewhat peaceful. My mind wandered as I reviewed various lessons. Carefully speaking the dozens of incantations and rituals. Trying to picture the anatomy of different mammals. The best way to graft limbs onto a dead corpse. Various types of preservation skills and techniques. As well as ways to cheat the life-cycle. They were all basic things for a [[Fledgling Necromancer]] but the fundamentals were key to growth.


    Approaching our hideaway, I noticed a bit of disturbance in the foliage. Was somebody¨Cor something in the nook. I sighed, I was exhausted and it was probably my imagination but this class always filled my paranoia.


    [[Detect Life]]


    Just to be safe. Feeling the vibes of the region, I couldn¡¯t identify anything within. I know the skill wouldn¡¯t penetrate far into the rock, but it did reach a few feet. It must have just been my mind playing tricks on me. Honestly, I was just glad to be on the right path. I knew that Faust was going to put me on dissection duty for being this late. Whatever¡­it wouldn¡¯t be the first time I got bloodied.


    Walking past the threshold, the cool air was refreshing. I really needed to get some shuteye. Even without any incidents, I was exhausted. Thankfully, this was the last true stop before returning to Faust¡¯s cave. Unpacking my things, I pulled out the map and plotted the next route.


    ¡°Hmm, another 6-hour walk¡± was my general estimate. Still thought at least it was towards the end.


    Suddenly, a strange chill sent goosebumps up my neck and I quickly jerked my head back. It was nearly impossible to see in the dark cave. After letting my eyes adjust, nothing came into focus. It must have just been a mixture of paranoia and exhaustion.


    ¡°Must have been a rat¡±


    Settling down, I grabbed some rations and slowly ate dinner. I took my time with each bite, savoring the flavor before swallowing. It was one of the few pleasures since I took on this class and I was going to enjoy every moment. As I took my third bite, something shuffled into my peripheral.


    ¡°ARRGH¡± I screamed out as a zombie lunged towards me.


    What the hell was this? Did something get loose? How did it get here? In an adrenaline-filled rush, I replayed my travels. I didn¡¯t pass any negative zones or mass graves. So what could have caused this? Tumbling to the side, I reached into the pouch searching for my wand. I was still only a [[Fledgling Necromancer]] and couldn¡¯t cast spells without it. But the creature was quickly on me. Grabbing the specimen bag, I shoved it forward¨Cknocking the zombie down. It would be some cruel joke if I was killed by a lowly zombie.


    ¡°Where is it!¡± I started to panic as I patted my pockets trying to find the wand.


    This was such a rookie mistake, I never kept it in the same spot twice and it was a thing Faust told me every day.


    ¡°Always keep your instruments within reach¡­¡± I could hear his condescending voice in my brain.


    Glancing around, there was only one spot to check. Unfortunately, the shuffling undead was blocking the path. I had to think on my feet, at least I was scrappy as a child. Ripping off my robe, I tossed it onto the beast and rushed past. It had to be in here. Dammit why wasn¡¯t it opening! I kept trying to undo the knots but my efforts only seemed to make it worse.


    ¡°Calm down, calm down¡± I muttered, I had to move quickly. As I could hear the zombie tearing through the fabric.


    I was out of time. Turning back, I tried to dodge the charging creature when my foot slipped out of the boot and I fell. Dammit it must have been the mud-pit from earlier. Panting, I rolled to the side as the zombie pounced. This wasn¡¯t good, I couldn¡¯t keep fighting like this. I only had one last desperate gambit. Honestly, death might be better when Faust found out¡­but that was for tomorrow to deal with.


    Smacking the zombie, I pulled out my dissection kit from the side pocket. Using the sharp blade, I slashed into the backpack, easily tearing open the fabric. Magical sparks illuminated my face as the preservation runes shattered. But I didn¡¯t stop, I could feel the zombie closing in and with one final tear¨Cthe limbs fell out. It was as fresh as fresh could be. The parts not even a day old, dug up from the town grave. Already, I could see the zombie eying the meat. The creature went still as it stared at the food. That was all the distraction I needed; quickly securing my wand I pointed.


    [[Calm Undead]]


    I didn¡¯t have any direct destructive spells as Faust didn¡¯t want me to damage his¡­pets. But this should work for now. Resting against the wall, I watched as the creature moved towards the meat. Thank the gods they were simple creatures or this could have been much worse. Yet something was¡­off. I couldn¡¯t pin it, but most zombies just¡­attack. This one had some sense of tactics. Was it a new breed?


    It took me a few minutes to calm myself. My heart pounding in my chest as I brushed with death. Wait, maybe a better way would be I saw my own demise. I tangle with death daily. Smacking my face, I calmed my brain. This wasn''t the time for terrible jokes. I nearly died! My arms still shook as I wiped the sweat from my brow. Slowly, the adrenaline faded and a rage built up within.


    ¡°Dammit Faust! You can¡¯t let zombies wander¡± I smacked the wall so hard it tore open my knuckles.


    ¡°Ow¡± Shaking my hand, I glanced at the zombie.


    I wasn¡¯t sure how the creature made it this far. Without something feeding it energy, it should have kept near desecrated land. The deathly energies needed to constantly be replenished or it would just collapse into a rotting corpse. Were their bandits nearby? That might explain how it got this far. Just a wandering zombie feasting off some hits. No, that wasn¡¯t right. This far away from society would make a terrible bandit camp. Carefully moving to my supplies, I pulled out my spectacles and took an aura reading.


    ¡°Hmmm¡± There was nothing nearby. No usable source of death energies nor fresh corpses to feast on.


    That was very weird. Maybe Faust did create the first autonomous zombie¡­but if he did then why did it get loose?


    ¡°Maybe¡­¡± I pulled out my Lantern of Night


    Slowly approaching the feasting undead, I held it out. Almost immediately the ethereal flames flared out with a intense flash. I nearly pissed myself as I jerked back.


    ¡°WHAT THE HELL WAS THAT!¡± Even the strongest undead didn¡¯t have that reaction.


    That was a lot of negative energy. If I could harness that, I could create a small army. This thing was a walking graveyard! No wonder it didn¡¯t have issues traveling. What the hell had Faust made? My inner curiosity took over¡­without him around I might be able to siphon some knowledge. Pulling out my scalpel, I carefully approached to cut off a sample. Clearly the flesh had to be altered to store all that undeath. Leaning over, my knife nicked the arm when suddenly the zombie smacked my hand back.


    I jumped back and took a defensive pose. Zombies shouldn¡¯t have a reflex. I could still feel my [[Calm Undead]] and the creature was happily feasting. It shouldn¡¯t care if something attacked or injured it. Basic zombies only cared about food even over self-preservation. This¡­thing was much more than it appeared. I needed to be careful in my approach. Walking to the other side, I leaned against the wall and stared. I couldn¡¯t let my guard down, but I wanted to review all I had learned.


    No matter how much thought I put into it, nothing was making sense. This¡­thing was clearly some anomaly. Even the way it ate was¡­human-like. Meticulously tearing the flesh and chowing down. Most would have been ripping it to ribbons and ravenously feasting. What had Faust created? Dammit! If I could have just taken a peak at his notes. All these years of servitude and I was still just Steve the [[Fledgling Necromancer]]. Of course he would create something new when I was digging up graves. The bastard refused to give up any knowledge. It was always Steve sew up the corpses, Steve I need fresh blood, Steve feed the zombies, Steve, Steve, Steve. Only with the scraps was I allowed to practice. The most I¡¯ve been able to animate was a single hand. Yet even that was destroyed by a wayward squirrel. God I really hated squirrels.


    Think Steve think, what kind of undead could this be? It wasn¡¯t magical nor was it overly bulky. That eliminated the majority of the damned.


    ¡°Hmm not a shadow¡­¡± I mumbled as I observed the unmoving, dark silhouette.


    Rummaging through my back, I pulled out my notebook and flipped through the pages. Could it be a variant of a puppet? No¡­there was no other necromancer nearby to take direct control. Draugr, Tower of the Damned, Unshackled, Leper, Bloated Bile Spitter, Wheelbones, Pestilent Blight, nothing I had matched. I glanced up and¡­


    ¡°OH FU¡­¡± I leaped back as the zombie was staring directly at me.


    Reaching for my wand, I pointed it at the creature and it went back to eating. Whatever it was, I couldn¡¯t let my guard down. I should just leave, Faust made this mess and is responsible for cleaning it up. But¡­the strange zombie was so intriguing¨CI had to figure it out. I pulled out my blood quill and pricked my finger. With care, I began drawing an incantation circle. Wherever the quill touched, a thin line of red followed. A cold sweat formed on my brow and my arm began to go numb from the bloodloss. Once the circle was complete, I sat back and rested. I could have used my own stash, but the fresher the material the stronger the spell.


    Pulling out a bit of meat, I placed it in the center and waited for the zombie to enter.


    ¡°Come on buddy, I know you want it¡±


    The creature must''ve smelled the flesh and turned towards me. I placed my hand on the circle and waited for it to cross the threshold. As it reached the edge, it paused. The head turned and it stared off into space briefly before heading back to the chewed up leg¡­Now THAT was weird. No zombie would avoid fresh meat.


    ¡°What are you¡­¡±


    Yet that would have to wait. I was exhausted from the fight, the travel, and the bloodloss. Pulling out my blood quill, I drew a protective ward and passed out.


    I awoke to the zombie staring once more. Glancing over, I saw the dissection array was damaged and the treat gone. Stretching out, I grabbed some rations from my bag and refilled my stomach. I pulled out some more meat from my pouch and tossed it at the zombie. As long as it was fed, it shouldn¡¯t attack. Standing up, I dusted off my pants and froze.


    HELP


    A group of stones were strategically placed. Who did this? Nobody should be this far in the forest, let alone not disturb the zombie. A chill ran down my spine as various scenarios raced through my mind.

 1.8 - A call for help

    HELP


    The message was fully legible on the dirty floor. Each pebble is arranged in perfect formation. Whoever¡­whatever did this was extremely meticulous in setting it up. A creeping chill ran down my spine. I couldn¡¯t move, this had to be some sort of trap. Carefully, gazing throughout the space I didn¡¯t notice any other disturbances. Holding out my lantern, I got to my knees and checked the floor.


    ¡°What the¡­¡± There was nothing


    Not even the cave dust had lingering footprints. That was beyond a basic skill. Even mid-level [[Rogue]] with [[Lightfoot]] would leave a slight trail. Was this some [[Assassin]], a hired hand to dig up our [[Necromancer]] commune. Where did we go wrong? Hell we are in the middle of a god-forsaken forest!


    SNAP


    ¡°SHUT UP¡± I screamed at the zombie.


    The creature had broken the finger bones and was digging into the marrow. Its half-rotten fingers scooping out the gelatinous material and slurping it down. Taking a few breaths, I had to calm down. This was just paranoia, maybe I slept-spelled. This had to be some crazy coincidence or an elaborate prank by Faust. That was it! Besides, if an [[Assassin]] came then they would have dispatched the zombie¡­or maybe the hitman was toying with me.


    Closing my eyes, I focused on the wards. Nothing¡­There was zero disruption in the magical barrier. That couldn¡¯t be right, if any living then passed over then some of the negative energies would have been drained away. Everything I tested and came up with the same conclusion¡­nothing. Besides, Faust and I were not big named villains! We mostly stuck to ourselves and used bodies from graveyards. Not a single murder has taken¡­ok maybe a few murders but that was after being discovered. We would always leave town immediately and restart across the lands. There was zero chance somebody would be tracking us down.


    HELP


    But there it sat, right in front of the fire. Just four letters that gnawed at my sanity. Between the strange zombie and this¡­I didn¡¯t know what to think. Grabbing my wand, I took a defensive pose against the wall and yelled.


    ¡°WHAT DO YOU WANT!¡± But there was silence.


    ¡°WHAT DO YOU MEAN HELP!¡± Still nothing.


    I was going crazy, it must have been those berries. Some poisonous aftereffect finally taking hold. A strange hallucinogen disrupting reality. Scanning the room once more I heard a


    Tink


    My eyes glanced down and a pebble had moved. Adrenaline filled my body as my brain raced with thoughts. I wanted to run, I needed to run, but something had me entranced. One by one the pebbles floated a few inches above the ground before¡­


    Tink


    Each time my body flinched. I was waiting for a shiv in the dark, some spell to wipe me from existence, some mastermind to make a big reveal. Yet only the stones moved. The minutes passed and a new world formed.


    DEAD


    ¡°Dead? You want me dead!¡± I went to run but a pebble hit me in the eye as a rebuttal.


    Hmm, if this thing wanted me dead I would already be a corpse. Come on Steve, don''t rush to conclusions. Maybe Faust discovered a new form of Puppet and was trying to contact me. Whatever it was, it was SLOW. Once I realized I wasn¡¯t in danger, watching each rock move was agonizing.


    ¡°You know your skill sucks¡± I muttered while chewing on some hardtack.


    One of the pebbles paused and was launched into my arm. Tapping my foot, I pulled out my notes as it continued spelling out a new word.


    Me Dead


    ¡°What are you a mage hand or something? Did Faust send you to find me?¡± Then I waited once more.


    Even the zombie seemed to be annoyed. The creature bumping against my ward while staring at the food. With the preservation runes gone, it wouldn¡¯t last much longer anyway. Tosing a leg over, it shuffled away once more.


    Ghost


    ¡°What? There are no such things as ghosts. Stop playing and reveal yourself!¡± I was getting tired of this charade. The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.


    Already it felt like an hour had passed and we only had a few words. I guess my annoyance was heard as the stones moved slightly faster. It wasn¡¯t much, like going from snail pace to sloth, but at least it was something. For all the fear I had earlier, this was just boring. Why did we have to communicate like this? Couldn¡¯t he have used a message spell or something?


    Real Ghost Dead Rogue


    Ok it wasn¡¯t backing down from the ghost thing.


    ¡°Ok Fine, You are a ghost. What do you want me to do about it? You only appear in stories so not exactly sure the procedure here¡±


    It was true, I still doubt this thing was a ghost. It had to be an elaborate prank by my master. One of his stupid games to waste my time. I had to play along, I already destroyed his preservation bag and didn¡¯t want to get on his bad side.


    Help Fx U Nec U no ded


    ¡°Look buddy, I know CORPSES not folklore. Find somebody else.¡±


    I started to pack up my bags and went to leave¡­only for the zombie to block my path. I really didn¡¯t want to fight again and my mana reserves were a bit low. There had to be a faster way of doing this. Wait I got it!


    ¡°Ok GHOST if you can move a pebble you can move dust right? Just write on the ground.¡±


    It was at that moment that Ryland realized how dumb he was.


    I hate you


    Was all that appeared on the dusty floor. Steve just couldn¡¯t stop laughing.


    ¡°What are you doing? Aren¡¯t spirits supposed to have ancestral knowledge or something? You didn¡¯t even realize you could write a message! Hell even if you are a ghost, it might be for the best. Clearly you were too stupid to stay alive¡± Steve didn¡¯t hold back.


    Look I¡¯m new to this thing OK


    ¡°Fine fine Spirit what is your name?¡±


    Ryland


    ¡°Nice to meet you Ryland, I¡¯m Steve. With that out of the way, let me ask a few questions. What is up with the zombie?¡±


    That is my body


    ¡°Ok, let¡¯s not lie. We all know that zombies don¡¯t have spirits or ghosts. It has been proven time and time again that on death, the soul is unshackled from the flesh. Sent to whatever realm they go to after¡± Steve quoted the basics that every [[Cleric]], [[Necromancer]], and [[Doctor]] knew.


    It was forbidden to try and tether a spirit. Only high level [[Necromancer]] would even attempt it and that was on a still living body. It was more of a¡­immortal ascension than directly hijacking death. Many early attempts resulted in vile abominations. The Lost with cancerous growths constantly wailing in pain. Meatsacks of bubbling flesh that crept along the corridors. Nothing had come close to a true revival.


    I know but it''s true. That zombie is my body and I am me


    ¡°Whatever, look Ryland it is late and I need to sleep once more. Keep your body away from mine and maybe I can help you.¡± It was true, all that blood loss and lack of mana had him exhausted. The sun hadn¡¯t even set and he was about to pass out.


    Can¡¯t control but will try


    ¡°God you are useless¡± Steve muttered as he reset his wards. Tossing an arm to the zombie he fell asleep once more.


    ¡ªClass Lost¡ª


    [[[Fledgling Necromancer¨C Level 7]]


    ¡ªClass Gained¡ª


    [[Friend of the Dead ¨C Level 4]]


    ¡ªSkills Gained¡ª


    [[Passive - I See Dead People]]


    [[Active - I Walk Amongst the Damned]]


    That sweet sound of a new class rang in my dream. I hadn¡¯t heard of this one before. As the sun rose and pulled me from my slumber. I nearly pissed myself.


    ¡°Ahhhhwas¡± I jolted back as somebody was standing over me.


    The man jumped back as well, clearly shocked I saw him.


    ¡°I knew it, you were a Assassin or Hitman! Come to finish me off eh. Well¡­¡±


    [[Dark Blast]]


    But the spell went right through them


    ¡°Calm down Steve¡± the man said.


    [[Dark Blast]]


    [[Dark Blast]]


    Dark¡­


    But it wasn¡¯t working.


    ¡°You done?¡± He just stared at my trembling wand.


    After a few seconds he spoke.


    ¡°I¡¯m Ryland, Nice to meet you. And that¡­that is my Body¡±


    I just stood there for a moment. A faint glow outlined the man. Looking closer, I could see THROUGH him. This couldn¡¯t be happening, the foundations of the world were crumbling around me. I could only croak out.


    ¡°Ghosts are¡­real?¡± and passed out


    ¡°Well at least it is a start¡± Ryland said and sat against the wall. Finally somebody could see and communicate and what better to help a ghost than a [[Necromancer]].

 1.9 - Into the Woods

    It took three more incidents before Steve was able to stay conscious. A cycle of him waking, screaming, and passing out. By the 4th, Ryland decided to take it slow and it seemed to work. Now the former-necromancer was slowly coming to terms with the situation. As the minutes passed, he realized it wasn¡¯t as crazy as it sounded. In a world of gods, magic, and monsters¡­what was a ghost or two?


    Once Steve regained his composure, Ryland explained what had happened¨C-with a bit of added flare.


    ¡°And as I slammed my dagger into the devilish sorcerer¡¯s neck, he was able to launch one final spell. With my team behind me, I decided to sacrifice myself to save the others¡­.¡±


    However, Steve was hooked for a different reason. He didn¡¯t care about what Ryland did¡­but how he came to be. This was an untouched field and his inner scholar was salivating at the opportunity. Besides what else could [[Friend of the Dead]] do? He knew of other ¡°friend¡± things and many were granted to heroic deeds! Yet¡­he himself didn¡¯t feel that powerful. Unfortunately, Ryland couldn¡¯t answer any of his questions. He knew nothing of the afterlife or the skills used to return to the land of the living. Once the ghost had finished the recap, Steve just pondered.


    ¡°So Faust is dead¡­¡±


    He wanted to feel bad. He should have felt bad, but he felt a strange peace. He knew that Faust was a terrible teacher and was quite abusive. However, Steve had to do SOMETHING for the deceased man. Sighing, he got up and walked to the edge of the cave. Pulling out his apprentice seal, he quietly buried it into the earth. After a few quick words, he returned to the ethereal man.


    ¡°Sorry about killing em. I swear it was him or me¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s fine, he was kind of an ass anyway¡± Steve retorted and began to pack up his bags.


    Well with Faust gone, he was free to explore. But where was he going to go? Strapping on the remains of his backpack, he slid his wand into the belt and went towards the exit. As he stood in the light he turned.


    ¡°Well¡­You coming?¡±


    ¡°Yeahhhhhhh¡­bout that¡±


    ¡°What?


    ¡°The light¡­it uhh kinda burns, plus the body doesn¡¯t exactly listen¡±


    Steve rubbed his temples, he wanted to leave this stupid ghost. But at the same time it could lead to a whole new field of necromancy. Why did it have to be some cocky [[Rogue]]? Hell, he would¡¯ve even settled for some form a [[Druid]]. At least they had some basic understanding of the ethereal flow. Retreating back into the cave, he laid down.


    ¡°Come on man! Don¡¯t you wanna chat. It¡¯s been so long since I¡¯ve had a conversation¡± Ryland crouched down Steve''s face.


    ¡°Nope¡± and the [[Friend of the Dead]] turned to sleep.


    ¡°Steve¡±


    ¡°Steve¡±


    ¡°STEVE¡±


    ¡°STEEEEEEEVE¡±


    ¡°STEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEVE¡±


    ¡°WHAT!¡± Steve tried to ignore the Rogue but it was too much.


    ¡°It¡¯s nighttime buddy? Ya ready to head out!¡± Ryland was filled with energy, hopping between his feet.


    Steve groaned as he slowly stood to his feet. Rubbing his eyes, he felt a strange wetness on his arm.


    ¡°What th¡­¡±


    ¡°GET OFF¡± He lept back and wiped off the¡­gunk.


    ¡°Oh don¡¯t mind him. He seems to like you, he just kind of watched you sleep¡±


    That didn¡¯t make it any better. While Steve had become accustomed to the dead, it was still unsettling when they starred. Let alone one casually touching you, that rotting flesh sloughing off and the slimy sensation creeping up the skin. Taking a breath, he calmed himself and walked past the swaying creature and met Ryland at the exit.


    ¡°Come on!¡± The ghost waved and the zombie shuffled forward.


    ¡°You got any extra treats? It¡¯ll make the journey much easier¡± Ryland asked


    Thankfully, the [[Friend of the Dead]] was always prepared.


    ¡°How did you manage with that¡± Steve asked.


    Already they had to stop multiple times. The stupid zombie getting distracted nearly every other second and trying to wander off. Even with all the finger treats, the zombie was stubborn. While Steve was fuming, Ryland just laughed. You might be reading a pirated copy. Look for the official release to support the author.


    ¡°Yeah he is my body alright¡­Ya know Selman was always on me to stay focused. You kind of remind me of the [[Cleric]]¡±


    Steve paused.


    ¡°Ryland, I am going to say this once and one once. Don¡¯t EVER compare me to a dirty [[Cleric]]. Those bastards have killed so many of my class all in the name of their stupid god!¡±


    ¡°Yeah but what about followers of Deax? Don¡¯t you both dabble in the dead?¡±


    ¡°Ryland, are you serious? You mean those of the god of death himself? What do you think [[Necromancers]] do? We cheat death, we steal from death, our whole basis is giving Deax the middle finger!¡±


    ¡°Oh¡­Well sorry! I am just trying to have a conversation. Don¡¯t have to act like a ass¡±


    Steve paused. He didn¡¯t know. He is just a dumb [[Rogue]] caught up in some weird spell. Just keep calm.


    ¡°So where are we going¡ªmap guy?¡± Ryland changed the subject.


    ¡°I figured we could go to the nearby town and restock. From there we can head into the main city. I have a few contacts that may be of assistance¡±


    ¡°Cool¡± Ryland said


    Finally, some silence. As they walked under the night sky, Steve began to process his new class. [I walk amongst the damned]. What were the limits to the skill? He knew there was a passive aspect to it. The zombie treated him like another undead. It was strange; normally [[Necromancers]] kept up barriers or protection spells, Things like [Calm undead] or [Circle of Protection - Undead]. Yet here he was not expending any energy, just passively interacting with a flesh-hungry creature.


    ¡°Maybe¡± Suddenly his thoughts were interrupted once more


    ¡°Hey Steve! What made you want to be a [Necromancer]?¡± Ryland asked, clearly bored just walking.


    ¡°You know Ryland, you don¡¯t always have to talk¡±


    ¡°Aww come on Steve. It is a innocent question¡±


    ¡°Well it doesn¡¯t have an innocent answer. Just focus keeping your body with us¡±


    ¡°Psshh¡­fine¡±


    Steve pulled out a piece of old jerky and savored the salted meat. It was one of the few rations that still had some form of flavor. Pulling out the map, he plotted the next few miles of walking. They were close to the town and he really needed a home cooked meal. Nothing would be better than a fresh tasting treat. A coolness hit the neck and Steve jerked back.


    ¡°Stop that!¡± he yelled at the rogue. The ghost was nearly touching his own cheek.


    ¡°What? I was just trying to see where we are. Hope you have a plan before sunrise¡±


    ¡°If you can control the zombie. We should be in town with the first rays of sunlight¡± Steve said


    ¡°Awesome¡±


    Ryland wasn¡¯t trying to be annoying but he was so bored. Normally he¡¯d juggle his daggers, fiddle with some rope, or just mindlessly toss rocks at various targets. However, with a lack of physical body he was stuck just¡­walking. Why couldn''t this man be more talkative? I guess the cold-hearted [[Necromancer]] held true. Every time he tried to strike up a conversation, it was quickly slapped down. Everything was building up inside his brain. It had been so long since human contact and it still felt like he was alone.


    ¡°Just stay positive Ry¡± he whispered


    Soon they would be near society and he might be able to get some help. He still didn¡¯t fully trust Steve. IT was his master that had killed him. Maybe the [[Necromancer]] was wrong about Deax. If there was somebody who could fix this whole situation it had to be a follower of death. Still, it wasn¡¯t right to scorn the help¡­yet. So far Steve seemed like a decent guy. Might as well give him a shot. Worst case he could leave and hope to find somebody else.


    As the time passed, the gates of the village came into view. A burden was lifted from his chest as he saw the flickering gas-lights. He was finally back in civilization. With the help of Steve, he would finally get his body back.


    ¡°Shit my body¡­Uhh Steve. Ya got any ideas what to do with the body?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know. I figured you¡¯d find a spot outside and wait for me¡±


    ¡°What?!? The sun is about to appear. Where the hell would I go?¡±


    ¡°You didn¡¯t think about that. By the devils of hell you really are useless. No wonder you got killed.¡± Steve was done being nice.


    ¡°OH I¡¯m SORRY I am SUCH a BURDEN to the ALMIGHTY STEVE¡±


    Steve wanted to respond¡­it took everything to calm himself. But this ghost was the most obnoxious thing he had encountered in a long while. Just think. He just needed to keep the body somewhat close. They could just bury it and come back later¡­no that wouldn¡¯t work. The stupid thing was too stubborn and would dig out with ease. Wait¡­this wasn¡¯t a normal zombie. Maybe¡­


    ¡°Ryland, this might sound stupid but let me try something¡±


    ¡­


    ¡­


    ¡­


    ¡°This isn¡¯t going to work¡­¡± Ryland stared at his dressed up body.


    ¡°Look we just need to get it to the room. Once inside, I can lock the door and we will be fine¡±


    ¡°Yeah but¡­who would think THAT is a person¡±


    ¡°Ryland you are being dramatic. We just say he got sick during travel and needs a good night¡¯s rest¡±


    ¡°Whatever. If I get killed. I swear I¡¯m going to haunt you forever¡± The rogue responded


    ¡°I¡­ok fine. When we get close just do what you can to distract the guard¡±


    With that, Steve grabbed the zombie¡¯s arm and wrapped it around his shoulder. Thankfully, it didn¡¯t look too dead. With the feast of flesh, most of the color had returned but that headwound was still quite visible. Steve took his time packing it with clay and attempting to color match¡­but it looked off. Hopefully, the darkness mixed with Ryland¡¯s distractions would be enough to make the zombie blend. Taking a breath, Steve stared at the entrance. He could do this. He had carried many bodies in and out of cities. What was a zombie?


    ¡°Ok here we go.¡±


    [[Calm undead]]


    [[Command Follow]]


    And the unlikely duo went to greet the village guard.

 1.10 - A night at the Inn

    ¡°There is no way this is going to work¡± Ryland whispered


    ¡°Ryland, I swear¡­¡±


    ¡°What? I¡¯m just saying it!¡±


    ¡°Well do you have any other ideas¡­No? Ok, just do your job¡± Steve huffed


    The [[Friend of the Dead]] broke into a cold sweat as he approached the gate. His heart rate increasing and his mind trailing into ¡®what ifs¡±. So many things could go wrong. Did he have a way out? Could he drop the zombie and flee? Would he have to attack the guard? Various scenarios played in his brain, yet it didn¡¯t stop him from trying. Taking a breath, Steve refocused and laid out the plan once more.


    ¡°In and out. One night, fresh meal, some horses and a cart, then off to the city. Got it?¡±


    ¡°Sure man¡± Ryland muttered.


    Ryland was¡­Ryland. The ghost wasn¡¯t as nervous as he was oblivious to the situation. His entire focus was spent trying to wrangle his body. The brightness of life was calling to the undead creature. A primal hunger swelling up inside as the sweet smell of lifeblood overwhelmed the senses. The ghost was doing his best to appease his body but was caught within a battle of wits.


    ¡°Work with me buddy¡± He whispered, pushing a sense of cooperation between them.


    As the guard¡¯s features came into view, the zombie began to stir. An unnatural strength pulled against Steve as it yearned to taste fresh flesh. A deep groan stirred the forest around them and the guardsmen¡¯s head turned their way. A slight tremor rose up in the former [[Necromancer]] as the Sentry waved them on. There was no turning back now, they either had to convince the guard all was fine or be prepared to flee.


    Steven winced as he cut his finger and squeezed out some droplets of blood. He quickly jammed it into the maw of the beast, shivering as fetid flesh touched his own. The creature sucked and nibbled on the cut, the taste of blood partially quenching the hunger. Trailing the blood along the neck, Steve a chill ran down his body as he activated his skill.


    [[Blood Sacrifice - Calm undead]]


    It wasn¡¯t the most elegant spell, but using his own lifeforce was an old [[necromancer]]¡¯s trick. His knees buckled and his brain fogged slightly as his vitality was transferred into the spell. Yet even with the blood sacrifice, the zombie still stirred.


    ¡°Ryland do something¡± Steve was panting


    ¡°I¡¯m trying. What do you think I¡¯ve been doing this whole time¡±


    ¡°I swear if your body gets me¡­¡±


    ¡°Hello Travelers! State your name and business¡± The guard hailed


    ¡°Steve! On a mission to collect herbs for my master back in the capital¡±


    ¡°Ahh and your uhh¡­friend?¡± The sentry carefully scanned the limp man, clearly something was off about the couple.


    ¡°Ryland! He¡­He mistook a mushroom and requires rest.¡±


    The guard¡¯s face shifted and he rushed to assist. It wasn¡¯t uncommon to consume the wrong foliage while scavenging and the results could be fatal. Damn this backwoods hospitality. Thinking quickly, Steve shuffled forward and blocked the guard¡¯s movement.


    ¡°Um please, he is in another state. I fear he may lash out if you touch him¡± He was fumbling through his thoughts. Hopefully the man accepted the lie.


    The guard stepped back to review the situation. After a long pause he nodded.


    ¡°Does he need a healer? This wouldn¡¯t be our first poisoning in these woods.¡±


    ¡°Uruggghghhhh¡± The zombie gargled. His limbs thrashing out towards the beefy man.


    Time slowed as the guard reached out for his bludgeon. He took on a defensive stance and went to parry the reaching limbs. Simultaneously, Steve reached out to knock the creeping arms back and moved to restrain the flailing zombie. Meanwhile Ryland moved and began to work on the guard trying to think of a plan to distract the brute. With all three on edge, Steve realized he had to make the first move.


    ¡°I am sorry he ate some¡­some¡­ Devil¡¯s Ear. Ya heard of that one? Makes ya see the demons¡­just in his own world.¡±


    Clearly the guard wasn¡¯t buying it. Thinking quickly, He fumbled in his pocket and held out some silver coins.


    ¡°For your troubles. I¡¯m sure you can overlook my friend here.¡±


    The guard stared at the glistening metal and grinned. His hand reached out and took the bribe before shaking hands. Slowly he restrapped his cudgel and shifted into a relaxed pose.


    ¡°Are you sure you don¡¯t need me to help? Honestly you two have been the only excitement tonight.¡±


    Suddenly, his coin purse split open. A rain of copper and bits of silver scattered along the ground. Instinctually his fingers went to plug the hole and he bent down to pick up the coins¨Ccursing as he felt around in darkness. After a moment, he remembered the two travelers and glanced up.


    ¡°Just head on in. Main tavern is on the third street to the left. Keep your friend under control or I¡¯m doubling the fines¡± He turned back to the ground and continued searching for his money.


    As they stumbled past the gate, Steve collapsed against the wall, slowly sliding down into a sitting position. His heart was pounding against his chest and his body clammy from the nervous sweat. Their cover was almost blown and their quest would have been over before it even began. Closing his eyes, he took a few deep breaths to calm the nerves.


    ¡°Hey, we make a damn good team!¡± Ryland whispered.


    ¡°DAMMIT RY,¡± Steve screamed. He wasn¡¯t expecting that and some of the local townsfolk stared at him in confusion. This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.


    He glanced around and smiled, it was just a minor outburst. Getting up, he strapped the zombie¡¯s arm around his shoulder once more and went towards the local inn. Thankfully, the village seemed to be relatively calm. There were not many patrons in the tavern and Steve easily reached the innkeeper. After a few words and exchange of coin, he had booked a room for the night. It was a bit of a struggle getting the zombie up the steps, but after a few minutes they were within the safety of their room, Steve grabbed some bits of flesh and fed them to the beast. As the creature feasted, Steve pulled out some rope and carefully tied the zombie to the bedpost. Hopefully between the food, the rope, and the locked door; it would be enough.


    ¡°Don¡¯t cause a scene, I¡¯m going downstairs for a hot meal¡± And with that Steve locked the door¨C leaving the ghost and the zombie to themselves.


    Ryland sat on the bed tapping his foot and fiddling with his fingers. His eyes darted across the room as he scanned for something to mess with. While waiting, he noticed his body just staring into the air. Could the undead be drugged? Tapping into his bond, he could barely feel a reaction. Between the full stomach, various commands, and magics; it must have been on another plane. Ryland just wished he could smoke something, anything to pass the time. He had already scouted the room thoroughly as well as watching those in the streets below. Seriously, how long did it take to eat a meal? Steve was the only one he could interact with and this wait was killing him.


    As the time continued, Ryland couldn¡¯t take it anymore. It wasn¡¯t like his body could get out. The thing was tied to a bedpost, high on bloodmeal, AND a sturdy door blocked the exit. Besides, he would only be gone for a few minutes top. Just to check out some of the area. Glancing back at his body one last time, the ghost phased through the door. As he walked down the hall, so many questions ran through his head. Why didn¡¯t he just phase through the floor? If he was incorporeal then he should be able to right? Pausing, he got down to his knees and pressed his palm to the ground. Slowly, he added more pressure and his hand began to sink past the wood¡­this was cool. Focusing up, he imagined his whole being flowing through and he noticed his knees start to sink. After a few moments, gravity took hold and he began to fall.


    ¡°AHH¡± he screamed out as he rapidly fell through the floor.


    Thankfully, being a ghost had some advantages. He didn¡¯t crash into the main room, instead he kind of floated down. Looking around, he noticed he was in the back storage area. Various kegs and other food items stored throughout the space. Well, that was some trick he could use in the future. Standing back up, he crossed to the exit and poked his head through to scout the area. He did three checks and couldn¡¯t see his friend.


    ¡°That lying bastard¡± he muttered and phased through the rest of the way.


    Now this was what he needed. While it wasn¡¯t the most crowded of spaces, there was still a bit of liviness to it. A low level [[Bard]] was playing for coins in the corner, The olden [[Bartender]] was serving up pints for a group of [[Farmer]]s, and some other townsfolk were playing cards at a table. Ryland sauntered over to the table and decided to mess with the group. Clearly they were some low-level [[Rogue]]s or [[Cheat]]s as each he noticed hidden cards on their persons. Reaching out, he pulled an Ace from the pocket of a burly man. It was a bit difficult with his hands, but after a few seconds of tugging it fell to the floor. Ryland chuckled as he watched the man reach back, searching for his Ace, and becoming befuddled.


    ¡°Losing your touch old man¡± One of the guys snorted as he took the scraps of copper


    The gentlemen grunted and signaled for the next round. This time Ryland was a bit more bold. As the [[Rogue]] tried to slip a card from his sleeve, Ryland tugged causing the flimsy object to fall onto the table. Immediately the others went silent as the ruse was revealed.


    ¡°I always knew you was a cheat Sylas!¡± The older man slammed his hand onto the table.


    ¡°What of it Theo! I know you¡¯se been sitting on cards the whole night¡± The younger one retorted


    ¡°Guys calm down. It¡¯s just a few copper¡± The scrawny [[gambler]] spoke up


    ¡°STAY OUTTA IT¡± They said together.


    Immediately, the older man lunged across the table knocking the cards along the ground. Various coins and other trinkets skidded across the floor while the half-drank pints tumbled and spilled. His rugged fist quickly made contact with the jaw, sending the Sylas flying across the room. The [[Rogue]] was quick and turned the momentum into a tumble barely missing two patrons sitting in the back. He rubbed his aching jaw and held up his hands.


    ¡°Come on Theo! We are friends, let''s not scuffle over this¡± He was trying to diffuse the situation, but the drunken [[Brawler]] was beyond reason.


    Sylas tried to back away as Theo slowly put on his iron knuckles.


    ¡°Sylas, I warned ya¡¯s a few times now not to cheat me. Bossman might be mad but I¡¯m tired of it¡± He went in for another punch.


    Sylas dodged at the last moment, letting the hardened fist slam into the wall behind him. Bits of wood splintered from the impact and the entire building shook from the hit. The man must have used a skill in that punch. As the [[Rogue]] danced away, he quickly grabbed a cloak and tossed it over Theo¡¯s face. He just needed to get some distance from the rampaging brute, go hide for a bit, and let the drunken rage calm. But Ryland had other plans.


    Sylas took two steps and stumbled. His belt had loosened and his pants nearly fell from the waist. Grabbing the fabric he tried running once more, ducking as a mug nearly slammed into his head.


    ¡°Theo man, Calm down!¡± He cried as he tried to redo his belt.


    As the two continued to fight, Ryland was laughing like mad. These types were always easy to push. Sylas tripped on the loose clothing and tumbled along the floor. His body crashing into a nearby table and snapping the flimsy wood. A cloud of dust plumed around him as the top crashed down knocking the wind from the lungs. He tried to crawl out, but Theo was already on him. The [[Brawler]] grabbed Sylas by the shift and lifted him off the ground. Rearing back his arm, he went in for the kill.


    One good punch was all it took. Ryland watched in amusement as the skin peeled back and the jaw lurched on impact. His entire face distorted as the shockwave rippled through the flesh. One tooth was dislodged and launched from his maw alongside some bloody spittle. His eyes rolled back as the brain slammed against the skull. His entire head whiplashing as the fist skidded off the cheek and the arm passed by. One punch and it was lights out for the fledgling [[Rogue]].


    Satisfied they were even, Theo dropped the limp man to the ground. Already he could hear the whistles of the watch, no doubt the innkeeper ran at the first sign of trouble. No need to injure himself in a brawl. As Theo wiped the blood from his knuckles, he waited for the guards to arrive. The armed men burst through the door and the [[Brawler]] held up his hands. The boss could smooth over a lot of things with coin, but attacking one was too far.


    The guards went over to the Sylas and splashed some water on em. As the [[Rogue]] came too, he felt horrible. His left eye was swollen shut and one tooth was knocked across the floor. He nearly fell as he bent down to pick it up. The world still spinning slightly from the head trauma¡­Yet if he could find a healer they might be able to fix it. Once upright, the two guards locked arms and dragged the injured man from the tavern. As he passed by Theo, he felt a glob of spit hit his forehead.


    ¡°Enough of that¡± A guardsmen commanded, hitting the [[Brawler]] with the handle of his weapon. Shrugging, Theo ended up following behind.


    As the two were led away, their third companion left without notice. No doubt to report the events to their leader. Meanwhile, the [[Bartender]] and the [[Innkeeper]] began to clean up the destroyed furniture. It wasn¡¯t going to be a loss of income, the local gang would pay for the damages. It was better to keep the entire town happy so they weren¡¯t ratted out to the crown. Yet, it was a pain to clean up.


    As Ryland glanced around to cause more trouble, he made eye contact with Steve. His friend was glaring with absolute hate and Ryland realized he¡¯d messed up. The ghost rushed up the steps and shoved his hand into the locking mechanism. A moment later, he felt the key enter and tried to unlock the door. He tried to hold the pistons down, but the force was too great. With one click, the door swung open and he was face-to-face with a very angry [[Friend of the Dead]].

 N.1 - The Wands Reign Inn

    ¡°Can you check in the back for me?¡±


    ¡°Mam, there isn¡¯t anything back there. I promise you, we do not have this in your kid¡¯s size¡± Aaron spoke.


    ¡°Well, how do you know if you don¡¯t check? What are they paying you for anyway?¡± The woman was insistent. Her shrill voice grated on the ears.


    He had spent over an hour with this lady. Every moment painful as she tore through row after row of sneakers. Making her kid run up and down the isles¨Cdisrupting the other customers. Not to mention she didn¡¯t even try to pick up the mess of tissue paper and boxes.


    ¡°Are you LISTENING?¡± She screamed.


    Aaron sighed.


    ¡°Sure mam, give me a moment¡±


    The burnt-out worker trudged to the back of the store. He could hear the lady telling her child that this was why you went to college. How only losers were forced to work retail. It was moments like this that made him want to quit on the spot, but he couldn¡¯t. This was the only place hiring and he needed to pay off student loans. This world was so fucked, he was nearly 23, living with two roommates, and barely scraping by. Every day he awoke wishing it was over. Placing his hand onto the handle he stepped through¡­and fell.


    Groaning, Aaron rubbed his head. How long was he out? Feeling his skull, a sharp twinge of pain shot through the spine. He was hurt, but thankfully wasn¡¯t bleeding. Fearing the worst, he slowly wiggled his toes, legs, and arms. Everything seemed to be working, but there was so much pain. Sitting up, an intense sense of jet-lag and vertigo took hold. He steadied his breathing until the nausea passed. Rubbing his eyes, he tried to stand. His arm pulled on a nearby shelf to stabilize the weakened muscles. As his vision adjusted to the darkness, he realized this wasn¡¯t the backroom. No, the entire area was different.


    A shattered window let in a few rays of light. Dusty cobwebs catching sun and scattering it across the ceiling. Row after row of moldy shelves packed the space. Jars, cans, and other expired foods dotting the racks. The air is stale and muggy. He instinctively used his shirt to try and filter the acrid scents. He tried to navigate through the crowded room, his chest bumping into one of the shelves. A bag of old rice fell and scattered along the floor. The thousands of grains echoing in the enclosed space making him pause.


    ¡°Dammit!¡± He cursed.


    There had to be a lightswitch or something. Feeling his pockets, he pulled out his lucky lighter and illuminated the room. With care, he navigated to the walls trying to fight some other source of light. Yet, there was nothing. Seeing a door, he crept over and poked his head through.


    ¡°Hello?¡± He called out, but there was no response.


    Stepping through, a feeling of shock overtook him. He was no longer at the shoe store, instead he was standing in some old, rundown tavern. A strange curiosity began to fill his brain. Was he dead? Is this some crazy dream? Walking through the anachronistic room, he drug a finger across the bartop. With the amount of dust collected, this establishment was clearly condemned. Thankfully, he saw a few half-melted candles and went to light them.


    With the extra luminescence, he could see the room in its former glory. Old chairs were overturned and strung about the floor. A frayed carpet covered the bulk of the wooden floor. Various tables dotted the space, some half broken with age. The windows were boarded up blocking out most of the light. Even one of the overhead candelabras had broken from its mount and crashed in the corner. Yet for all the damage, he felt a strange calling. If only he had some money, it would be a cool little spot to refurbish.


    Before long, he began to reset the chairs, placing them at the various tables. He lit a few more candles to help him see. Once satisfied, he took a seat and dissociated. Would he wake up soon? If his boss found him sleeping on the job, he was sure to be fired. Honestly, fuck retail. He hoped he would be fired, no position should cost him his dignity. It might be rough, but he¡¯d figure something out. Maybe suck up his ego and move back in with his parents. Suddenly a banging noise shattered the trance.


    He ducked under the table as the front door swung open. His hand instinctively blocking the influx of light. As the eyes adjusted, the former-employee was too stunned to speak. Standing before him were two men adorned in armor. Yet, they were not human. The first was a hunched figure with two massive tusks stretching from the lips. The second a humanoid-esque rabbit, the fluffy eyes piercing through the helmet and twitching to the various sounds. Aaron¡¯s heart faltered when he realized they were both staring right at him.


    ¡°Out!¡± they commanded


    Aaron didn¡¯t want to make any trouble and carefully crawled out from his cover. The dust made him cough a bit as he raised his hands. His body was shivering as adrenaline coursed through his veins. Well at least if a rabbit killed him, he¡¯d rejoin the waking world right?


    ¡°Care to explain your business? Not trying to steal anything are ya? This place has been boarded up for nearly a year now.¡± The Orc grunted out in a deep, bassy voice.


    ¡°I was just¡­¡± And then Aaron heard a strange sound enter his skull.


    [[Fledgling Innkeeper - Level 1]]


    It had been nearly three years since that fateful day and Aaron realized that it was beyond real. He couldn¡¯t figure out how it happened nor why it happened but was quite thankful for the accident. Now he was one the greatest innkeepers in the city. With the knowledge from earth, he brought entirely new dishes and experiences to the beastman¡¯s town. Every day was filled with new and exciting adventures.


    ¡°Good to see you, Volbek!¡± He placed down a shot for the troll and moved to the next table.


    ¡°Any new loot from the dungeons Thyme?¡± The half-elf was part way through pulling out some gem-crusted ax but Aaron was already on the next guest.


    The Wand¡¯s Reign Inn was a bustling place filled with eccentric guests. It became a bit of a local legend as the citizens never knew what shenanigans he would pull. The world saw him as a generous and supportive innkeeper. Always looking out for his guests and keeping to his morals. He never discriminated against his guests and always kept one room open for the downtrodden. Not to mention, he had recently earned the [[Automated Quests]] Skill. With it, the quest board was able to manage itself! Anyone could have a chat and he¡¯d post them on the wall to see. Once complete, the rewards would automatically be teleported to the team. Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.


    While none knew what his true class was, many guessed it was related to that job-board. Always on the forefront of new dungeons and knowledge, he gave proper advice to those before heading out. He was a hype man, giving out drinks, potions, and bright smiles before waving them off. A signature of his was pinning a little trinket to their vests.


    ¡°For good luck, when you are rich and famous don¡¯t forget about me!¡± He¡¯d joke.


    As he directed his workers, one of his skills tingled. A new set of mead was scheduled to be delivered and Aaron opened the door before the man could knock. The two casually chatted as the barrel was hooked up to his taps. Taking a quick sample, he savored the sweet taste. Mead was always his favorite drink and those orcs made a mad brew. Pulling out his pouch of gold, he paid and tipped the delivery man before heading back to the main room.


    As he worked the bartop, the doors swung open and a rowdy band of adventurers came through.


    ¡°AARON!!!¡± The half-elf screamed


    ¡°YOUR TIP LET US STRIKE GOLD ONCE MORE!¡± she was already drunk from the gleeful celebrations.


    Aaron just smiled, he had watched them grow from a no-name team to nearly S-rank status. They were one of the firsts to take his quests and somehow completed each and every one. The [[Pyromancer]] illuminated the room with dancing flames. Casually creating a reenactment of their latest quest. Other guests quickly gather around to hear the wild tales.


    ¡°For your signature meal!¡± The haughty [[Golem Crafter]] tossed some gold onto the table.


    ¡°Come now Percy. Don¡¯t forget where you came from.¡± The man always tried to annoy him.


    A flick of the finger and a tiny puppet started collecting the coins to properly hand off. It was no secret, Percy was once a destitute [[Puppet Apprentice]]. Originally making shoddy toys to sell off to the children. As he got more efficient, he began trying to pickpocket and steal with his puppets. Aaron had caught him one night rifling through his trash. After a thorough beating, Percy ended up working off the stolen gold.


    With the money counted, Aaron left to cook their meals. He really needed to hire a true [[Chef]]. His inn just kept growing every day and even with some hired help, he felt a bit overwhelmed. Sweat dripped from his brow as he labored over the stove, making sure to taste at every step. Once satisfied, he brought out their dinner. The group recounted their tales for a third time. One of the local bards making notes to inevitably turn it into a new jig. His entire establishment was filled with celebratory vibes. Another successful dungeon run meant a lot of money for the local merchants. The vultures are already trying to move in close to ¡°encourage¡± visits. Aaron just laughed, gold kept the world moving.


    Slowly, the celebrations began to slow and the various drunkards stumbled from his tavern. He opened the closet and let the enchanted brooms, cloth, and mops get to work. IT had cost nearly 8 months of profit, but was well worth the investment. Sure he had to keep recharging them with mana, but that was nothing compared to the time saved. Doing one final check with his overnight guests, he went to his room to change.


    His gleeful face dropped as he grabbed his cloak. He cursed as he weighed his gold pouch and carefully left the inn. Keeping his face concealed, Aaron took the back alleys to the designated spot. It was a rundown shack on the edge of town. Various enchantments had been laid to keep wandering civilians away, Guards were bribed to turn a blind eye, and the local gangs rotated members for defense. Using his secret knock, a slit appeared. The deep yellow eyes staring back and asking for tonight''s password.


    ¡°Gnomes suck¡±


    The orc nodded and opened the door. Aaron stepped in and walked lightly. This was a place of sin and debauchery. Within his first year of arrival, Aaron found his way into the underground. The city was one of the closest to the capital and many seedy dealers used it as a meeting spot. Already he could feel the auras of some high level members pressing against each other. While there was strictly no physical fighting, they still challenged each other in other ways. Squeezing his way to the back, Aaron sat down at the gamblers table and tossed his coins out.


    ¡°Fucking Bronze Hammer made it once again!¡± Aaron was pissed.


    Aaron tried everything this time. He talked them into a quest that was well above their skill level, he sent them to the worst apothecary in the outer towns, hell he even booked the rooms at another inn forcing them to camp outside. All that work and they still completed the quest. Nearly 200 gold was lost on this bet.


    The others laughed at his frustrations. See Aaron didn¡¯t just make his money from running the inn. In fact, the [[Innkeeper of Fatal Tales]] ended up making one of the greatest gambling rings in the land. Every few days they would come and place bets on the success and failure of teams. He had a [[Seedy Enchanter]] place hidden enchantments of his pins. With them, they could track the deaths and injuries of those he¡¯d sent out.


    It was such a lucrative endeavor. Various dukes, crime lords, or just well off merchants would participate in the shady games. There was such a rush when it came to life and death. Yet Aaron loved it, he always tried to get them killed. So many teams he had sent out knowing damn well they were underprepared. Oh sure he¡¯d put on a sad face, light a candle, and give out a round in memory. But it was all a farce, something to keep the heat off his back. Not to mention, it was these meetings that allowed him to get tips for new quests and dungeons.


    Yet this stupid team refused to die. So many times he sent them out and somehow they fought their way back. A stupid half-elf [[Pyromancer]], an annoying [[Golem Crafter]], a disgusting slugman [[Ruffian]], and a [[Gold-Legged Duelist]]. Of course that wasn¡¯t their original classes, Aaron met them when they were low-rank nobodies. But through all these challenges he laid out, they were now near the time. He lost so much money betting against them AND made them rich in the process. It was just unfair.


    As he watched his hard-earned gold taken away, he slunk into the luxurious cushions. The others knew to give him a bit of time before opening the next set of bets. His inn was integral for new talent and information. No need to piss off the booker when he was already down. Shaking off the loss, Aaron leaned forward.


    ¡°Alright, two new groups this week. Guardians of the Gale and Mercenary rejects. I¡¯d put them at the D-tier. Standard spread. What rank quest will they take, casualties, deaths, and time?¡±


    The broker nodded and started to formulate the odds. Various records were being played on the scrying orbs. What they did in the down, things they bought in preparation, and even how they acted with each other. Others were scrounging for any knowledge on their class and levels. While most information was public, others kept their secrets to gain an edge. It wasn¡¯t uncommon for them to arrange for ¡°accidents¡± or ¡°lucky events¡± to sway the outcome. Everything was fair game short of hiring a direct hit or being overly generous.


    With the odds arranged, the tally began. True to his style, Aaron bet on every negative outcome. Them taking higher tier quests, full party wipes, injuries, and going over the estimated times. The man absolutely hated adventures. Sure they made up the bulk of his guests, but they were so annoying to deal with. Constantly fighting, egos, and just showing off. He quickly learned that most weren¡¯t even that skillful. Instead it was just raw luck on whether they had a good patron or found a crazy relic. Sure there were a few that he genuinely enjoyed but those like the Bronze Hammer only pissed him off. Sometimes he wondered if it was them or just that they somehow beat every bet. Every time, Aaron would bet against them and every time they succeeded by some bullshit plot armor. Some god or deity must have favored him. Well, either that or they hated Aaron.


    Once finished, He signed the magical contracts. Their residential [[Blood-Bound Lawyer]] rapidly worked through the participants. Even without them, Aaron was sure they would pay. With the amount of power in this room, pissing them off would be far worse than becoming destitute. Grabbing his cloak once more, Aaron made the journey back to his inn. Already he was formulating ways to ensure this next outing would end in disaster.

 1.11 - A Chance Meeting

    ¡°Ryland. What the FUCK did you do?¡± Steve was beyond furious.


    ¡°What? I was bored not like it matters¡± Ryland replied


    ¡°You were¡­On the corpses of the gods Ryland. We have the fucking guard out front! What if they decided to search the place? How are we to take care of THAT!¡± He pointed at the restrained zombie. The thing glancing up like a scolded dog, spitting out a chewed up finger.


    ¡°Look Steve I''m sorry but what else am I going to do, twiddle my thumbs? Play poker with Lil Ry? I might be dead, but I still need to relax.¡±


    ¡°Lil Ry? LIL RY! YOU NAMED IT¡± He shouted in frustration.


    ¡°RYLAND YOU BETT¡­¡±


    THUD THUD THUD


    Somebody banged on the wall¡­


    Steve paused. He was going to cause a scene if he continued to argue. Besides, it wouldn¡¯t look good if others thought he was a bit crazy. Rubbing his temples, he walked out and slammed the door shut behind. Even with the barrier separating them, he could still hear that annoying voice calling his name. Ignoring the whiny ghost, He slid down the wood into a squat. Why did it have to be this man-child? The first ghost in history and it had to be Ryland. This had to be a twisted joke from Deas. A horrid prank to push him to his limits.


    ¡°Oh Steve, Great job betraying everything I¡¯ve taught and becoming a dirty necromancer. How about you deal with this to atone for your sins¡±


    If only, if ONLY he could absolve this whole thing with a simple prayer. But alas, he made his choice and there was no coming back. Standing up, he took a few deep breaths to calm the raging thoughts and stepped back inside.


    ¡°Look who decided to return. Glad you can go out when you want and I¡¯m stuck here!¡± Ryland continued.


    Steve waited


    ¡°Now the silent treatment. I thought we were pals, buddies, friends, and now you treat me like scum¡± He tossed himself onto the bed in a melodramatic fashion. His feet flailing in the air and his arm hanging off the side.


    Steven continued to wait


    ¡°Angry Steve, doing his own thing and condemning me to boredom and babysitting. You know you could have watched the zombie too! You¡¯ve been gone for how long and didn¡¯t give me an estimate?


    And waited


    ¡°WOW Still NOTHING! You really are an asshole, you know that! Just one big asshole¡± Ryland sat up pointing.


    And he continued to wait. After three more outbursts, Ryland stopped. Steve continued to stare in silence until it was beyond uncomfortable.


    ¡°SAY SOMETHING!¡± Ryland called out.


    ¡°You done?¡± Steve replied, crossing his arms.


    ¡°...yes¡± Ryland muttered.


    Moving on, Steve discussed his plan.


    ¡°Ok Ry, I''ve sent a message to some contacts. There is a gathering scheduled in one month, I want to introduce you to some others. I didn¡¯t say exactly what you are, only that it is a new discovery. Hopefully, somebody might have some knowledge on what we can do. All we need to do is lay low until¡­


    Ryland collapsed.


    ¡°Ryland, can you stop with this! I get you can¡¯t stay focused but this is important¡± He was getting annoyed¡ªthe ghost didn¡¯t respond.


    ¡°Ryland, get up. We need to talk about this¡­.Ry?¡± But still nothing


    Steve hesitated, something was wrong. He noticed that Ryland had gone somewhat translucent, the wooden floor showing through his form. Turning his head, he looked at the zombie. The living corpse barely animate. It just sat there staring at the wall. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a bit of steak and held it out. But the zombie ignored the flesh, the skin starting to pull back.


    ¡°Eat¡­you have to eat!¡± Steve shoved the steak into the creature¡¯s mouth.


    But still it didn¡¯t respond. A cold sweat swept across his skin as a foreboding horror set in. What was causing this? What could he do to stop it? Not wanting to lose his research subject, Steve quickly cut his finger and shoved it into the zombie¡¯s throat. He could feel the slimy, putrescent flesh against the skin and hoped it wouldn¡¯t get infected. Whispering a spell, he offered up some of his life force alongside the blood sacrifice.


    ¡°What the¡­¡± he stumbled across the floor.


    His knees were weak and his body lethargic as the zombie took far more than anticipated. Stars filled his vision and a deathly chill froze the muscles. He lashed and arm out to grab the bedpost. The limb twitched as he tried to steady himself. Shuffling to his bag, he pulled out a waterskin and biscuit. Steve ravenously ate the rations as he struggled to rebuild his stamina. With the brain fog slowly clearing, he noticed the ghost starting to stir.


    ¡°What¡­Happened?¡± Ryland tried to stand but collapsed once more.


    ¡°We¡­Need¡­To¡­Leave¡± Steve grunted out. Bits of crumbs splattering the floorboards.


    Steve tried to formulate a plan, his brain rapidly shifting through various scenarios. He¡¯d gotten Faust out of worse¡­right? This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.


    ¡°Come on, think¡± He muttered


    Step one: find a way to block the light. It was morning and the sun was blaring down. Step two: find a disguise, the streets were packed. He¡¯d need to find some way to hide the zombie and get it out. Step three: find another nearby camp or trading post. They still hadn¡¯t stocked up on supplies and he only had two days worth of ration still. Putting the plan into steps helped him plan. Just clear one problem at a time and it would all work out.


    ¡°Steve, I¡­I don''t know. I feel¡­¡±


    ¡°THAT¡¯S IT¡± He figured the perfect solution.


    All he needed to do was rent a caravan cart, shove the zombie in a sack, and ride out with some traders. It was so simple, expensive, but simple. Rummaging through his pockets, he quickly counted what gold remained. It was going to sting, but it should be enough. Looking back, he saw Ryland fading a bit more, he had to move fast. Grabbing his cloak, pouch, and trusty knife; he went to leave.


    ¡°Ry, lay down and rest. Try to get your body to eat something. I¡¯ll be back quickly¡±


    All he got was a thumbs up. Stepping through the door, he locked it behind him and shuffled down the stairs. Stopping by the front, he asked one of the barmaids where the trader¡¯s guild was. With directions in hand, he stepped out into the busy street.


    While traversing the quaint little village, Steve knew something was off. The hairs on his arm were sticking up and he felt as though something was pressuring his soul. Not wanting to be seen, he took to the alleyways and other crannies. Keeping his head down and cloak tight was the only way he felt safe. It was a battle of speed and conformity. He couldn¡¯t run or that would bring attention, yet he couldn¡¯t just walk or the situation might worsen. He could only hope somebody was nearly packed and ready to leave.


    Turning out of the last alley, he entered the main thoroughfare. Already merchants were setting up their stalls, guards were taking positions, and the various guilds were cleaning their fronts. Crowds were forming in front of the various vendors as morning shoppers looked to get the prime produce. Weaving through the crowd, he searched for the trader¡¯s guild. As he passed the main square, the pressure intensified. He could feel the air become thick, a powerful force stilling the life around it. It was a familiar feeling, something that nagged at his brain. Pausing, Steve looked around to find the source.


    ¡°Shit¡±


    Standing at the village center was the antithesis to his class. A looming, imposing figure which oversaw the crowds. Many avoided his immediate vicinity, his overwhelming aura striking fear into the average peasant. It was one who walked with death itself, a [[Cleric of Deas]].


    He was an embodiment of the one he worshiped. Deathly pale skin without a single blemish. He wore nothing but a simple loincloth. Instead, his armor was the markings of his god. Dark tattoos cover the majority of the exposed skin. The lines accentuate his muscles and statue-esq body. Flashes of light flickered between the tattoos, the holy energy barely contained by the divine markings. His censor hung at the waist, a thick cloud of smoke billowing out from the instrument. The heavy fog wrapping around his feet and clinging to the ground. Bits of scripture were nailed to the worn leather. The parchment defies gravity itself, wrapping itself around his body like a coiling snake. His very presence would calm even the most aggressive of undead. A purifying force keeping the abominations out.


    It took all his willpower to move, that man could kill with a single word. Word must have gotten out about Faust. Where [[Necromancer]]¡¯s were found, these clerics would quickly follow. There was little they could do but flee, their very creations rapidly putrefying. Even their most advanced masterpieces, their greatest works of art, were quickly demolished by a single swing. Many a [[Necromancer]] had met their end by the hand of a cleric. There was no trial, only a summary execution on the spot. Their souls were stolen right from the body and served as a gift to Deas. None knew the punishment for defying the god, but all theories were equally horrifying.


    Steve did everything to stay out of view. He kept to the shadows of others while he tried to pass. But the cleric¡¯s presence was too intoxicating, the two made eye contact and Steve was violated. The crowd blurred and the bustling sounds muted. He was a rabbit staring down a towering predator. The milky-white eyes staring beyond Steve and into the depths of his soul. His sins probed, his faults fully displayed, and his fear of death brought to the forefront. He tried to pull his head away, but the weight of mortality was unbearable. He needed to keep moving before his class could be appraised. Shifting his finger, he felt cold steel pierce the skin.


    The pain broke the skill, life returned to his limbs and he began walking from the cleric. Steve forced himself to breathe, his heart racing from the touch of death. He needed to get out now, there was no way he could help Ryland. That ghost was dead on sight. Maybe he could send out a signal or messenger to slip something under the door. He knew there was no chance for the zombie to escape, but at least he tried. He just needed to find a caravan and escape.


    Glancing down, he noticed the smoke clinging to his boots. Swirls of foggy incense that wrapped around his legs, draining the warmth. Keep moving Steve, KEEP MOVING! His brain screamed. Yet he was too weak, the muscles began to atrophy and Steve fell to a knee. He was found, it was over. All his ambitions to be annihilated, his essence fed to Deas as a tantalizing feast. He could only watch as the executioner walked his way.


    Each step was slow and calculated, the tall Cleric stone cold and focused. His perfectly chiseled face and divine-blessed body caught many stares. The censor swaying with each footfall, the scriptures unwrapping and floating by his side. Instinctively the crowd parted, a clearing forming around Steve. His brain slowly addled by the ever increasing incense. His thoughts slowed and his body weakened from the overwhelming onslaught. He was an isolated [[Necromancer]] facing down their most hated foe. Within moments the shadow of death engulfed him, the towering figure placing a cold hand on his chin. He couldn¡¯t resist as his face was lifted upwards. The two silently starred as the whirling chill engulfed them. Cut off from the outside world, Steve could only hope it was quick.


    ¡°You are scared.¡± A simple statement.


    ¡°Fear not death, for it is through death we may cherish life¡±


    ¡°Now¡­what are YOU!¡± He commanded an answer.


    Steve couldn¡¯t think, it was if he was being interrogated by the god¡¯s themselves. Yet a strange bit of hope formed. Could this cleric not appraise his class? Normally, they could identify a [[Necromancer]] on the spot. But this man was asking¡­


    ¡°I¡¯m just a measly [[Apprentice Apothecary]]¡± Steve choked out.


    ¡°HAH do you take me for a fool? I can smell the decay on you, the lingering taste of death. Tell me why does such a lowly apprentice rob graves?¡± Steve had to think fast.


    ¡°I was sent to acquire some pale spot mushrooms. I still have some in my pocket¡±


    It was true, Pale spot mushrooms were a key ingredient in many brews¡­as well as deathly rights.


    ¡°Hmm¡­¡±


    He paused. Clearly he didn¡¯t buy the excuse but he didn¡¯t press any further.


    ¡°I will only warn you once¡­apprentice.¡± He said with a bit of hate


    ¡°If I ever catch you desecrating another corpse, I will personally deliver you to Deas himself.¡±


    ¡°Yes Sir, I¡¯ll inform my teacher at once¡­¡±


    ¡°But for this you must atone.¡± The cleric pressed a finger against his shoulder and muttered a simple chant.


    His arm died. The wreath of Deas engulfing the limb and deadening the muscles. The appendage hanging limply at his side as all sensations disappeared


    ¡°One day, One day and the curse shall be lifted¡± The cleric slowly walked away.


    Steve had never felt more alone then in that moment.

 1.12 Step One

    Steve was frozen in shock. He just sat on the ground trying to process what happened. Cold sweat dripped from his brow and splashed into the dirt below, his breathing deep and heavy. His heart pounding, his brain throbbing, and his muscles sore from the interrogation. At first, he didn¡¯t even really feel the limb hanging limply on the side. Just watching the cleric slowly disappeared from view, a fear that the man would turn and end him with a single word¨Cyet it never came. Even after the man¡¯s departure, the crowds continued to avoid him. They could see the sickly smoke wrapping around his arm, black veins trailing down the skin, and the seal of Deas on his palm. He tried to force it to bend, but it refused to respond. Slowly the adrenaline started to fade and his sense of self returned. He wasn¡¯t sure how much time had passed, but he needed to get out.


    Hiding the cursed arm under his cloak, he marched forward with new determination. A strange sense of pride overtaking his ego. He must have been the first necromancer to survive such an encounter. What a story to tell back at the commune. How he stared down a priest of Deas and was able to outwit the man. Of course he would cut at the parts where he nearly pissed himself and the whole dead arm thing. But it was still a grand story to tell and he was sure he¡¯d level soon. His mind began plotting the tale while he searched for the trader¡¯s guild. Was it really his new class that protected him? Maybe it wasn¡¯t something that was as profane as a [[Necromancer]]. [[Friend of the Dead]] sounded nice. Who knows if he died he might be able to feast with the god instead of becoming the food.


    After a few minutes of searching, he saw the worn signpost. It wasn¡¯t as busy as expected. Well he wasn¡¯t honestly sure how busy backwoods trade-post was, but he expected at least somebody else. Kicking the dust off his boots, he stepped inside and crossed over to the post-board. Just have to focus on step one¨CFind a way out without being noticed¡­Well that second part failed, but he could still accomplish the first. The clerk gazed up as Steve perused the various calendars, specials, and most importantly rates. After a few moments the clerk stepped out from the back.


    ¡°Do you have anyone leaving for today? The destination doesn¡¯t matter but closer to Avestin if possible¡±


    The clerk gave him a strange look.


    ¡°Hmm, and what might you be transporting?¡± The man asked


    Steve wasn¡¯t sure if it was an innocuous comment or something more sinister. After the encounter with the cleric he couldn¡¯t let his guard down. Dammit, why didn¡¯t he think about this before. Of course just asking for random travel would be a flag.


    ¡°Oh, I¡¯m a [[Apprentice Apothecary]] I¡¯m on a training mission to find new ingredients. I just have supplies for preserving materials.¡± If the lie worked once, it should a second time.


    The clerk stared for a few seconds before pulling out his notebook. His fingers rapidly flipping through the various pages until settling on one route. Holding the book towards Steve he spoke.


    ¡°6pm departure, destination: Stillwood. Three days of travel from here with another day and half of travel to Avestin. Known for lingering magics after an accident occurred at a nearby mage tower. It isn¡¯t too dangerous, but if you looking for material this might be a good starting spot¡±


    Steve was impressed, he must have used some skill to gain basic information. The man had to be at least late 10¡¯s or early 20s to have such a useful ability. Honestly, What a waste of talent for such a place. Fumbling into his pouch, he pulled out a few coins to tip. The clerk nodded before helping him claim a spot. Half of the payment would be collected now and the other half at the destination. He¡¯d have to bring his own food and supplies.


    ¡°We don¡¯t have a contractor but I can personally say this driver is one of the best. Just sign here¡±


    Steve figured one of those magical lawyers wouldn¡¯t ride all the way out here. That was good at least, they were brutally efficient at their jobs. Writing out his fake name, he thanked the clerk once more and left to grab supplies. Step one down, now to find something to hide the zombie.


    There should be some carpenters or tailors around here. He needed something that could pass for his job. The burlap sack was out, the movement would be too obvious. A barrel should work, something he could shove the body into and cap. As he walked the streets trying to find the perfect container, he could feel the watchful eyes of the Cleric. Every time he turned, the man was there. While the priest wasn¡¯t directly starring, Steve could feel that aura probing. The faint wisps of incense clinging to the ground.


    Only when he entered a shop did it disappear. Leaning against the wall Steve took a few moments to gather himself.


    ¡°Can I help you?¡± The owner called out.


    ¡°Looking for a herb barrel, something that can preserve some more¡­exotic ingredients¡±


    ¡°Ahh, yes yes. I got just the thing!¡± The short shopkeeper led Steve towards the back.


    ¡°Enchanted with preservation and weight runes. You can carry up to 50kg of materials and it¡¯ll feel like 5!¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t think I can afford something enchanted¡­do you have something more basic?¡± Steve asked.


    The shopkeeper frowned for a brief moment, but a sale was a sale. Continuing through the claustrophobic store, he pointed out a few wooden containers. They were clearly of low quality, the iron partially rusted and the wood cracked. But for what Steve wanted, it was perfect. Unauthorized usage: this narrative is on Amazon without the author''s consent. Report any sightings.


    ¡°You want this delivered or are you carrying it?¡± He asked.


    ¡°I can carry, do you have any straps?¡±


    ¡°Straps extra!¡± The man exclaimed.


    ¡°uhh¡­Fine¡± and Steve¡¯s purse lightened


    Steve was struggling, it wasn¡¯t so much the weight of the container but the loss of his arm. The strap is constantly digging into his shoulder¨Ccutting off circulation. He could only take a few seconds before having to stop and adjust. Thankfully, carrying two to three corpses at a time gave him a good chunk of muscle. While he might be studying the arcane, he didn¡¯t look like one of those bookish wizards in class.


    ¡°Apprentice¡± Steve froze, why couldn¡¯t that man leave him alone.


    He could feel the weight lift from his back, turning around he saw the nearly nude man casually holding the barrel in one hand. Why did all priests have to be so¡­weird? Some ate nothing but gruel, others never spoke, and now this man was a nudist.


    ¡°Thank you¡­Sir. I was just grabbing supplies for my next expedition¡± He was blabbering, he could tell that the incense was messing with his head.


    ¡°Call me Khul, Let¡¯s talk.¡±


    ¡°Uhh, I¡¯m really busy right now and my teacher only gave me two weeks too¡­¡±


    A hand grabbed his shoulder and the oppressive power flowed over him.


    ¡°We chat¡± He smiled


    Steve couldn¡¯t resist. He was trapped once more and had to play along.


    ¡°I¡¯m staying at the local inn, we could walk?¡±


    ¡°PERFECT¡± His voice is loud and boisterous. The man was¡­different than before. What has changed?


    The crowds parted as the two walked through the streets. Steve led the way while Khul trailed partially behind.


    ¡°So who is this teacher of yours? I¡¯ve never known apothecaries to be so¡­hands on. Are you sure he isn¡¯t a hidden [[Alchemist]]?¡± Khul asked in a casual tone.


    Dammit, the lie was already unfolding. It was true, most apothecaries were local. Their class is the base for many others. They were unspecialized experimenters that could brew healing potions, medicine, poisons, and even beer. As they progressed, many ended up transforming into more focused classes and moving to larger cities. Sure there were a few that kept their original, but their products could never outcompete a specialist at a similar level. Only those with a passion for helping took it to the high levels, traveling between small villages and helping where they could. They tended to not experiment but follow recipes from others, only adjusting as needed.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know about that! The old man can¡¯t remember his own name sometimes¡± Steve chuckled trying to blow it off


    ¡°Besides, I¡¯m sure he was offered some other classes. He just doesn¡¯t want to commit, or so I¡¯m told¡±


    ¡°You still haven¡¯t told me his name¡­¡± Khul cut straight to the point.


    ¡°Edwin, Edwin Faust¡± The man was dead but the best lies always had some inkling of truth.


    ¡°Ahh¡­I¡¯ll have to pay him a visit. Maybe next time he will properly educate you on what to collect¡­¡±


    Breathe Steve, act normal. It is just a conversation. The man is just curious, there is no need to sweat. Stop glancing back, just talk and walk. It¡¯ll all be over soon.


    ¡°Do you know there is a [[Necromancer]] in these parts?¡± Steve paused briefly. In that moment of weakness he felt the pressure of Khul flare. He could feel the hesitation.


    ¡°Oh that is horrid. How was he found?¡± Steve asked, he just had to play along.


    ¡°Pile of corpses, a negative zone, and the death of a few adventures. Just another blotch in Deas¡¯ grand scheme. You know what he does to those that befoul his realm right?¡± Khul leaned in.


    ¡°I¡­uhh only heard stories in my childhood, I¡¯m sure he is merciful though¡±


    ¡°HA Mercy! No he is anything but. To those that embrace the end, he is a kind guide. To others a ravenous beast¨Ctearing apart the wicked. I¡¯ve seen him in various guises, a loved one, a cherished pet, a roaring tiger, or even a rival come for revenge. Tell me¡­apprentice, What form do you think he¡¯d take for you?¡±


    Steve hadn¡¯t thought about it before. He¡¯d never interacted with the clerics since his teenage years. But deep within his soul, he knew it wouldn''t be good. His path was chosen and if he couldn¡¯t ascend to immortality, it would be a brutal end. Packing away the question, he¡¯d have to ask Ryland what he saw at the end¨CThat¡¯s if they made it out.


    ¡°I am not sure, but I hope I can greet him with a smile¡± Steve replied with a bit of a grin. Might as well take a jab at the holy man when he could.


    Khul paused and savored the answer. A genuine smile crossed his face. It looked as if he wanted to say something but ended up holding back. Turning the corner, the inn came into view.


    ¡°Here is my stop. Thank you again Khul. I hope you can get that filthy [[Necromancer]] before he causes more harm¡±


    Khul set the barrel down near the entrance. Even carrying it all this way and he didn¡¯t break a sweat. What was up with this sect? Was it mandatory to workout out daily? Well it did make some sense since the man was on a crusade to rid the world of the darkest of arts. He¡¯d need to be fit and ready for battle at a moment''s notice.


    ¡°No need to worry¡­apprentice. Nothing can escape the wrath of Deas.¡±


    Steve offered up some water as thanks but the priest politely declined. Instead, Khul gave a slight squeeze on the shoulder then turned. He took a few steps into the street before going still, his head swiftly turning and staring at their room above. His eyes sharp as the scriptures began to unfurl once more. It only lasted a few seconds before he stopped. His head shifted towards Steve and the two made eye contact once more. The air thickened with tension as the intense stare overwhelmed the smaller man. All was silent except for Khul¡¯s booming voice.


    ¡°Nothing escapes, remember that Steve and may our paths never cross again¡± Khul turned and left, leaving Steve alone once more.


    He knew

 1.13 Back to the wilds.

    Steve rushed up the steps, the time for subtlety had passed. The only thing he had to do was get Ryland and himself out. His heart was pounding and the world blurred as he rushed for their room. Heavy footsteps echoed in the wooden structure much to the chagrin of the innkeeper.


    ¡°You¡¯ll pay for any damages!¡± He cried out.


    But Steve ignored him, turning the corner he noticed the mythical incense leaking from the door. He tried to grab his keys, only to remember his deadend arm. Using his other hand, he awkwardly fiddled in his pocket to pull out the keyring. It took a few attempts for the key to fit into the slot. A quick turn and he flung the door open. A wave of billowing smoke poured from the room and sunk to the floor. The creeping tendrils sticky and heavy. Using his shirt, Steve covered his face and charged in.


    ¡°Ry! RY!¡± He called out.


    The ghost was nearly nonexistent. Just some stray bits of light floating on the bed. Whatever Khul had done nearly killed him. There was no waking the man, he had to move fast. Reaching for the zombie, he felt the skin crumble from his touch. The creature was in the late stages of decomposition and turning to dust. If it weren''t for the subtle eye twitches, Steve would have thought it was over. Grabbing the pillows, He began to fan the smoke out of the room. Hopefully with the smog cleared, they could start to recover.


    ¡°What the hell is this!¡± The innkeeper called out.


    The angered footsteps rushed up the steps adding more problems for Steve. Thinking fast, He grabbed the bedsheet and tossed it over the corpse. They were about to get kicked out and adding a corpse would only land him in jail. With the zombie covered, he began packing his bags, prepping for the inevitable. The owner turned the corner, coughing from the pungent cloud of vapors.


    ¡°Do I have to call the guard! GET OUT!¡± He screamed.


    Steve didn¡¯t need to be told twice.


    ¡°I¡¯m leaving, I¡¯m leaving. Sorry for your troubles, Just a brew gone wrong. No need to get authorities involved. Let me pack and I¡¯ll pay an extra night¡±


    Seeing there was no fire, the innkeeper calmed¡ªslightly. Gold was always the answer. While he wasn¡¯t happy with the situation, his greed won.


    ¡°10 minutes, I don¡¯t want to ever see your face again¡± He held out his hand and Steve quickly paid the bribe.


    10 minutes. Heading down the stairs, he grabbed the barrel from the front and hoisted it onto his shoulder. With care, he placed the corpse into the container and capped the top. Walking to the bed, he knelt by the fading man.


    ¡°Ryland, I know you¡¯ve dealt with worse than this. I just need you to wake up buddy. We need to get you out of here¡±


    Ryland felt horrible. That strange smoke was draining, nearly his entire pool was siphoned in seconds. Through his bond, he could feel the same happening with his body. A shared sense of panic resonating between the two. He tried to phase through the door, but was too weak to do so. The zombie tried to crawl to a higher spot, anything to avoid the choking haze but the desiccated limb snapped under the weight. Only a few seconds had passed before the world went dark.


    But nothing annoyed Ryland more then nagging and Steve was a master at it. With his name called over and over, Ryland began to stir. He could hear the muffled voice of Steve, the man begging for him to get up. But he didn¡¯t want to, all thoughts were on sleep. To rest and recover. Yet, he knew he couldn¡¯t. Forcing the thoughts away, Ryland began to sit up. His vision was hazy, his body weak. Ryland didn¡¯t know what Steve wanted or was doing, but he had to trust the man.


    His vision zeroed in on Steve. His friend constantly glancing back to make sure he was following. Normally that would annoy him, but in this moment he was grateful for the man. Just one step at a time, each one more laborious than the last. He was so weak, he was so tired. Everything was pulling at him to stop, that if he used up his energy he¡¯d collapse. But Ryland powered through, he had come all this way and refused to give up. Glancing up, he felt the lingering stirs of his body. The creature is doing its best to motivate Ry through their bond. But he couldn¡¯t do it, Ryland collapsed once more. He was too weak and the darkness came once more. With the last moments of consciousness, that wonderful voice spoke.


    [[My Body and Me ¨C Level 5]]


    ¨CSkill Gained¨C


    [[From Death to Undeath]] - Removed


    [[Shared Strength]] ¨C Gained


    Only a second had passed when Ryland awoke. He felt a surge of energy press into his very soul. His weakness faded and some color returned to his ethereal form. With renewed vigor, he continued forward, he was so close to the exit. As they pushed onward, he felt the bond weaken. It was then he realized what the skill did. His body was nearly gone as it sacrificed its own strength to help him. The pool of energy was near empty and Ryland wasn¡¯t sure what would happen when it emptied. But for now, he had to do it for both of them.


    Stumbling past the door, Ryland kept to the shadows. Thankfully the sun had begun to set and the purifying force was significantly weakened. He could hear Steve trying to say something, but in his state, it was only muffles. Instead, he just slid against the wall and sat. He needed to focus up and conserve their energy. Unless they fed soon, he wasn¡¯t sure they¡¯d make it through the night.


    With the two of them out, Steve sent for a delivery man. A sense of paranoia filling his brain as he scanned the various streets. . Khul had surprised him twice and he couldn¡¯t afford a third. Especially now that he was traveling with a zombie in a can. Through the window, he saw the innkeeper angrily staring. He did feel bad for the guy, hopefully that incense wouldn¡¯t cause much damage.


    ¡°Come on already¡± he mumbled as he felt his dead arm.


    Finally, the cart arrived. It was a hand-pulled wagon with a bit of a cover. Loading up the barrel, he saw Ryland crawl onto the back and sprawl out. At least he was safe in the shade. Tightening his cloak, Steve joined the cart-walker as they headed towards the loading zone. For all the rush of the day, the sunset was much more peaceful. People were stepping out to light the lanterns and the faint glow illuminated the streets. He breathed deep, they were almost clear. Just get through the gates and all would be well.


    As they arrived, the owner quickly flagged him down.


    ¡°Ey load up on the back. I still got some room for ya. Just the two of us tonight. Road should be safe this close to the capital¡±


    Steve nodded and began to put the barrel onto the back.


    ¡°Let me help ya with dat¡± he said. Steve didn¡¯t decline. One arm was terrible to work with.


    Once the package was clearly secured, the two hung their lanterns. Steve hopped into the passenger¡¯s seat and they took a slow ride to the front gates..


    ¡°What bring¡¯s ye to our little town¡± He asked.Help support creative writers by finding and reading their stories on the original site.


    ¡°Oh my teacher sent me out to collect some herbs. Part of my training for potion making.¡±


    ¡°I see, I see, always good to have a good brew! I¡¯d lost my leg if it wasn¡¯t for that healing potion!¡± He lifted his leg to show off the gnarly scar.


    ¡°Got it when the horses were spooked. Damn things ran me over! Can¡¯t blame em though. Wasn¡¯t the safest place and glad we made it through. Ain''t that right boys¡± He leaned forward and gave their back a rub.


    The two continued to casually chat as they approached the gate. They were one of the last ones to leave the village. Once their names were signed and marked, they hit the main road. It was a cool night, the crickets chirping, and the sound of crunching twigs under the hooves. With their worries behind, Steve could finally relax. It wasn¡¯t the most comfortable of seats, but for all the hells he went through, it was the best cushion in the world. Laying back on his arms, he started to drift to sleep. The bumpy road rocking the sorrows away. His thoughts filled with pride, once he arrived at the capital with his prize; he¡¯d get promoted within the cult. Just a few more days and his journey in Necromancy would take a huge leap.


    ¡°Apprentice!¡± that familiar, deep voice called out.


    Steve shot up and panicked. It couldn¡¯t be, it shouldn¡¯t be, but it was. Standing in the middle of the road was Khul. Even in the dark, his glowing eyes pierced the shadows.


    ¡°You know him?¡± the driver asked.


    ¡°Go around and ignore him¡± Steve whispered.


    ¡°Aye, I can¡¯t go round? What if he needs help? Sides, he is in the road. This cart aint good in the mud¡±


    Why couldn¡¯t this man just leave him alone. He¡¯d already escaped death twice and was not prepared for a third. As the driver approached, the wagon slowed to a stop.


    ¡°I see you are a man of worth. What a fine student you must be! We are always looking for our sect. For one so obsessed with¡­death, I¡¯m sure you¡¯d make a marvelous pupil¡± He grinned.


    A wave of goosebumps arose across the skin, the hairs sticking up as adrenaline took hold. It took all his will to not flee on the spot. He was prey once more and this wolf was toying with him. Thankfully; With the driver next to him, he knew Khul had to be careful. Killing an innocent was nearly beyond redemption. Only in the most extreme cases would it be passable. Besides, It wouldn¡¯t be the first time he¡¯d used a living shield. Still, Khul was a towering presence. Even sitting in the cart, the man was a good two inches taller. He wore a friendly expression that betrayed the intense aura emitted.


    While Steve kept his cool, The driver was shaking. The [[Cleric of Deas]] was an emulation of the god of death. A walking vassal for the lord below the ground. While Steve was somewhat used to the darker side of humanity, the driver¡­not so much. Khul must have noticed the hesitation and just reached into the cabin.


    ¡°Calm yourself, I¡¯m just chatting with my good friend¡± He placed a hand onto the man¡¯s chest and whispered a skill. A flash of light emanated from his palm and he was knocked out.


    With the witness gone, Khul turned back. His once friendly demeanor shifted to something far more sinister.


    ¡°Now¡­Steve. I don¡¯t know what you are, but I know what you have done.¡± The billowing cloud began to arise once more.


    ¡°Strangely, I don¡¯t feel the urge to smite you on the spot, but that only makes me so much more curious. Now, be a good little apprentice and show me your secrets¡±


    The fuming incense wrapped around his limbs once more. The cold chill of death immobilizing him with ease. A psychological lock preying on the most instinctual fears of the mortal mind. He could hear the footsteps behind as Khul opened the trunk. He needed to break the spell, there had to be something. Anything to overwhelm the magical bindings. Scouring the seat, he saw the faint reflection of a nail. A nasty, rusty piece of metal partially poking out from the wood. He might get infected, but that would be a problem for later. Gathering his strength, he closed his eyes and started to shift his weight. Back and forth he began to rock, building up what little momentum he could muster. All the while, Khul was tearing apart the wagon¡¯s contents. The various containers torn apart, the cracking of wood as he ripped off the lids. If he found the zombie, this journey would end. Feeling his balance falter, Steve fell to his side. His body crashing into the rusty spike and impaling his arm with a deep wound. It hurt¨Ca lot. But Steve pushed away the pain, he needed to act.


    Khul glanced up and the two made eye contact.


    ¡°Apprentice¡­¡± his tongue dripping with venom.


    But Steve ignored him. Before the smoke reinforced the spell, he grabbed the riding crop and smacked the horse. The creature was not happy and reared up. Steve grabbed hold of the driver and kept him from falling out as the horses flew forward. The sudden movement caused a few of the cargo to fall out behind forcing the priest back.


    But this wasn¡¯t Khul¡¯s first escapee. The Cleric flipped backwards, avoiding the burst containers and began to chant. His legs dug into the ground for support as he raised his arm. Using his other hand, he grabbed the elbow to brace himself. The man had pissed him off and he wasn¡¯t going to hold back. As the chanting intensified, waves of pressure radiated from his body. His censor burned with a cold light as his incense was rapidly sacrificed to his god. His body began to glow as the various tattoos energized from the gathering magics. His scriptures unfurling and floating behind him like writhing tentacles.


    His eyes focused on the fleeing man as his lips spoke out a prayer of death. It was these moment¡¯s that Khul felt close with his divine patron. That thin line between life and death, one wrong word and the magic could backfire. He repeated the prayer over and over. His sect was built on ritual and sacrifice. Each subsequent repetition is harder to perform but amplifies the effects. Halfway through the third prayer; his mouth was dry, his lips chapped, His mind struggling to force out the next word, and his body quaking from the gathering energy. Most could only perform a twice chanted prayer, but Khul refused to be average. He had to shout the last bits, enduring the pain rippling through his arm. With the spell primed, he took one last look at the man.


    ¡°Goodbye Steve, I shall ask for Deas to spare you the worst¡± and he fired.


    Ryland felt something primal bubbling within. An intense sense of doom intertwined with fear. The only other time he¡¯d experienced this was at his death. It was a sense of wrongness, a horrific feeling warping the brain. He knew he had to react, whether he died from the spell or from using up his life essence¨Che was a goner. Stealing the last bits of energy from his body, he forced himself to set up.


    ¡°What the¡­¡± he was awestruck by the raging magic on display.


    A swirling vortex of negative energy warping the air before him. The antithesis of life coalescing into a writhing mass of filth. A goopy, heavy sludge that dripped from the Cleric¡¯s hand, tainting the ground below. Slowly, the tarry substance shifted and hardened. He watched as the man struggled to contain the raging energy. But a second later it was done. A deep void held by his palm, it wasn¡¯t a thing of darkness but the essence of nothing. With a flick, the bolt of negative energy shot forth. A jagged void traced the path leaving behind artificial darkness. A creeping frost stretched across the ground as the spell absorbed the warmth of the realm. He knew who the target was and had to make a decision.


    ¡°Thanks for trying Steve¡­I hope to see you in the next life¡± he muttered


    With the last bits of strength, Ryland lept from the cart and into the spell''s path. The sphere of negative light engulfing his body and cutting him from this world. Yet¡­he didn¡¯t perish. Instead, he felt the essence of death filling his very soul. What took life only served to help his, it was as if he was back in the cave¡­only stronger. His nearly translucent body solidified once more, his pool of energy rapidly filling with the lingering magics. His mind cleared, his lethargy faded, and his skin gained color once more. But it was becoming too much, he could feel his very soul being torn apart by the overflowing might. Quickly using his new skill, he redirected the remnants into his body. The zombie greedly siphoned the dark magic to repair itself. The muscles regrow, the rot fading, and a surge of strength causing it to bust through the container with ease. His body never looked better, Not a single hint of rot touched the flesh. With the last bits absorbed, Ryland turned to look back at the priest. Clearly the man wasn¡¯t prepared for THIS and stood there in complete shock.


    ¡°THAT¡¯S RIGHT CAN¡¯T BEAT US!¡± He flicked off the Cleric, laughing at the failed shot.


    But Ryland forgot about one thing, he and his body were connected. In his moment of triumph he shot backwards. His ghostly form bounced along the ground as the cart made its escape. He tried to call out for Steve to stop, but the [[Friend of the Dead]] cared about his own life more than a bobbing spirit. He was tethered to the zombie whether he wanted it or not.


    Khul just stood in the darkness processing what happened. Even in the darkness, his enhanced vision easily tracked the wagon. But what stopped the spell? It appeared to hit a wall of air¡­but in the last moments he could have sworn there was a vaguely humanoid shape. Whatever that man was hiding he¡¯d never encountered before. As he walked back to town a grin stretched across his face. He¡¯d remember Steve, but for now there was a [[Necromancer]] to attend too. He knew they¡¯d meet again and this time, he would be much more prepared. The strands of fate were strange, but where death walked; He was sure to follow.

 The Rise and Fall and Rise again of the Academy of Magic

    ¡ª----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------


    I decided to Merge this entire mini-story into a single chapter for convenience. If you would prefer to read it with breaks (how it was originally posted) Skip this chapter and move onto the next. If you read this in one go, then you can skip to 1.14 Link in the author notes


    ¡ª----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------


    The grand auditorium was a magnificent display of magical architecture. Hundreds of hand carved seats surrounding the central platform. The walls towering into the sky and supporting a dome of dazzling glass. Along the masonry were huge screens of scrying glass. There were no lights in the room, yet somehow it stayed illuminated at all times. A natural glow permeating the air. Even now, enchanted brooms, cloth, and cleaning golems carefully prepared the room for its first class. Time was short, and the headmasters wanted it to be perfect.


    The central bell rang and the doors opened. The cleaners vanished in a puff of smoke as students flooded the interior. The fledgling spellcasters filled with a sense of awe. Since arriving at the academy, the wonders of magic were on full display. The wealth, the power, and the wonder etching itself into their minds. Many rushed to the front seats, trying to get the best view for the lecture. While excitement was in the air, many knew the price of failure. Families had spent their entire fortune in hopes of having a professionally trained mage. Even getting accepted was an accomplishment, the students undergoing various tests before being shipped out. But that was the easy part, the school was ruthless in its lessons. Many knew the rates of failure, on average only 3% of incoming students would make it. In the first year alone, nearly 80% would be sent home. Already alliances were being made, those of the upper class trying to make pacts with other powerful families. Unfortunately for them, magic didn¡¯t care about upbringing. Only how much you were willing to sacrifice to learn.


    The academy was brutally efficient at identifying those with significant talent. The various instructors went extra hard in the first years. They wanted to break the students, grueling trials, testing friendships, and making it a living hell. A simple three mark system led to expulsion, three mistakes and they were gone. Some would say it was cruel, but it was a necessary evil. The magics taught created powerful casters, those that graduated could shape the paths of nations. Furthermore, magic was inherently vicious. A rebound could cause catastrophic damages to not only the caster, but the world around them.


    Even those of high level were not immune to the backlash. Last year the head of dreamwalking disappeared in the wondrous realms. His students left scrambling through his notes and writings trying to glean any information they could. They¡¯d organize search parties in an attempt to find his wayward soul and return it to the physical realm, but so far not even a scrap remained. It was a chilling reminder to never take casting lightly. The aether praised sacrifice and humility, while punishing those who refused to acknowledge the dangers. Only when a student demonstrated the intelligence, wisdom, and fortitude required would the headmasters allow them to transition to the next level. If they couldn¡¯t accomplish it in one year, they were sent home as failures.


    As the chatter reached its crescendo, the faculty door slammed open. Two massive slabs of ivory with an intricate carved design representing the school¡¯s mascot. A raging beast with five heads, a dragon, lion, human, horse, and snake. Each head fighting with one another. The meaning of the creature was lost from the passage of time, but it was the symbol of this grand academy. A loud boom silenced the students, the echoing sound lingering in the air as the instructor approached the stand.


    Stepping onto the podium activated the room''s magic. All across the walls, the scry-glass sparked to life. Each one displaying a life feed of the podium and the professor at the center. His wrist flicked and a board appeared in the air. Glancing up, he shifted his fingers and adjusted the glass to zoom in on his display. Without even acknowledging the class, he began his first lesson. The worlds ¡°Intro to Magic¡± Appearing on the board.


    ¡°Magic is a fundamental force permeating our world. While none have found the origin, there are many theories on how it arose. For now, we will be focusing on the fundamental ways we can harness these ethereal powers for our own benefit. I am sure each of you has an aptitude for a certain path. The classes you have chosen and the skills developed are powerful, but a crutch to your studies. Here we learn true magic, here we create the skills, here you will become [Archmage]¡¯s and not some [Hedgewitch].¡± He said ¡°witch¡± with a disgusted tone.


    ¡°While the Will may have blessed you with talent, here we mold you for greatness. A [Fire Mage] may only know a few basic spells, but a [Archmage of the Flame] shall create his spells.¡±


    He paused and began writing on the board.


    SYMPATHY


    Sympathetic was one of the most basic forms of mana manipulation. At its foundation, it formed a connection between two objects. Yet, for its simplicity led it to being widely used across classes and allowed for a greater flexibility. Furthermore, due to its ease of use, it was integrated into a lot of modern technologies. Many ended up stumbling upon Sympathy without even realizing it. They¡¯d learn little tricks or techniques to make projects easier. However, those that delved into the path of Sympathy were some of the most creative mages around. Only limited by their mana and creativity.


    ¡°As a demonstration¡± He pointed at an over-eager student sitting in the front row.


    His lips moved, but there was only silence. Pulling out a small rock, he lifted it into the sky. Instantly, the student''s chair was sent flying into the air. His screams of terror echoing in the room as he struggled to hold onto the side.


    ¡°Strike one!¡± The professor flicked his hand, and an X appeared imprinted on the uniform.


    ¡°A true mage is prepared for any surprise! To lose composure is to unleash wild magic, even in the most extreme situations you remain calm. Two more and you are expelled¡±


    He lowered the rock and the chair returned to its place. The terrified man tried to calm himself and focus on the lecture. He knew the teachers were crazy and this was only the start. However, for all the showmanship. A hidden lesson was already taught. It was an insidious method of identifying the most studious of students. A slight grin crossed the instructor¡¯s face as he saw who caught on. He memorized their faces as those would be the ones he¡¯d personally tutor.


    To the bulk of students, they were either awestruck or terrified by the display of power. Completely missing the most important part of the lesson¨Chis lips. He had just given them their first sympathetic incarnation, their first glimpse of skill-less spellcasting. While their words were lost, the smart ones memorized the shapes. Hopefully, they¡¯d be able to decipher the spell back in their dorms.


    ¡°As you can see, Sympathy is far faster than any other form of non-skill based magic. However, overuse can quickly drain your mana pool resulting in exhaustion. Now let¡¯s go over the basics.¡± He put the rock away and returned to the board.


    In theory any two objects could be linked. In practice¡­not so much. Identical objects of weight, size, and material were nearly perfect transfers. Meanwhile living objects were much harder to manipulate. As such, the best use of this magic involved matching materials before creating a link. For example, if one wanted to move a boulder, then link it with a stone. To fell a tree, link it with wood. Due to such requirements, it wasn¡¯t difficult to identify a mage of Sympathy. The users tended to carry a large variety of materials on their person at all times.


    ¡°While fast and flexible, the primary drawback to sympathy is what we call work¡± He turned back to the students


    ¡°Sympathy, in theory, is one of equal exchange. For me to lift the¡­screamer¡¯s chair, I had to expend mana equal to the force to raise it. However, in practice, it required quite a bit more than that due to my choice of material. You!¡± He pointed and another student was called to the podium.


    ¡°I have linked these two objects to the chair. Please move each¡±


    All were watching as the first-year reached for the stone. He gripped the cool material and tried to lift it into the air. Immediately he felt his shallow pool rapidly dwindle. Yet, he could only make the chair wobble in response.


    ¡°Hmm good try, but let''s not pass out on our first day. No marks, but focus on expanding your mana reserve¡± He critiqued and gestured to the piece of wood.


    The student nodded and tried a second time. This time he was able to make the chair levitate slightly, before halting.


    ¡°Well, you tried¡­¡± The professor sighed it seemed like they were getting worse each year.


    ¡°Still not a total failure, as you can tell the wood to wood connection was far stronger than wood to stone. Now to truly maximize efficiency, it is best to have a piece of the connected object.¡± He pulled out a small splinter and placed it onto the sample.


    ¡°One more time please¡± and the student did so.


    Even with skill exhaustion, he was able to lift the chair nearly a foot off the ground. He held the spell for nearly 5 seconds before his arm gave out. The professor shooed him away and continued.


    Sympathy wasn¡¯t limited to movement, all forms of connections could be made. By heating one object, you could ignite another. Furthermore, you could make sympathetic chains to external sources. This was how [Magical Engineers] and their variants created mechanical monstrosities. By linking their materials to mana batteries, waterwheels, or any other device that could ¡°work¡± they could transfer it into their creations. If efficiency wasn¡¯t an issue, they could transform types of work into others. Heat could be turned to movement, movement into light, light into cold, and more. Once again, the only true limit was the creativity of the spellcaster.


    He watched in amusement as they frantically took notes on this lecture, but there was still a lot to cover. He waited for one student to stop writing before continuing onto the next top. Wiping the board of his notes, a grin crossed his face as heard their cries.


    Rituals


    ¡°Rituals are an ancient form of magic closely related to the divine. While a god¡¯s power is a separate entity from the aether, we mages can still make use of the style. At first we thought magic was untamable. Something that had to be forced with our own mana and bound with our will. However, we were only partially correct. Magic IS wild, but it can pick up¡­how do I put this¡­impressions. It might be easier just to show.¡±


    Reaching into his bag, he placed a series of candles along the desk. Each one carefully aligned in a spiral pattern. He took his time measuring the distance between each one, adjusting them in minute ways. Satisfied, he took a series of herbs and formed connecting lines between the objects. Finally, he lit the wicks and began his incarnation.


    ¡°I¡¯ll give you thirty seconds to memorize this setup.¡± He waited briefly as the students frantically noted down the ritual.


    Once time was up, he carefully extinguished the flames one at a time. Pausing to say the next part of the ritual before pinching his fingers together. Sweat formed on his brow as he carefully concentrated on the display. With the last step down, he snuffed out the final light and the entire room was plunged into darkness. This wasn¡¯t just a normal nightfall, it was the absence of all. Both light and sound were gone. Nobody could tell how long it lasted before the candle relit and the world returned to normal.


    ¡°The benefit of ritualistic magic requires nearly zero mana to perform. By tapping into the woven tapestry, the effect spontaneously occurs. Additionally, The ritual of darkness has been performed for thousands of years. This constant imprinting allows us to cast the spell with relative ease. Additionally, because rituals only require a particular set of steps; you can create effects far above your standard level. Of course, that is easier said than done. Those that lean into the [[Ritualist]] classes have a much easier time of it. Whether it be substituting materials for mana, the effect naturally stronger due to their bonds with the tapestry, or even gaining skills that allow them to cast a spell but save it¡¯s effects for later. Lastly, the underlying current seems to be appeased by showmanship. Using higher quality materials and adding a bit of flair will enhance its effect.¡±


    He knocked over the candles and pointed to another student.


    ¡°You, please perform the ritual as demonstrated¡±


    The whole auditorium turned to the student. This was clearly a setup and they wanted to see his reaction. Grabbing his notes, he shuffled down the steps to the podium.


    ¡°Do not worry about the incantation, I¡¯ll chant it for you. Just set up and perform the actions please¡±


    He did his best to replicate the professor''s ritual, carefully setting up the candle arrangement, laying out the herbs, and snuffing out the light. Holding his finger at the final flame, he felt the magic begin to take hold. IT was an exhilarating feeling and one he savored briefly.


    ¡°Go on¡± And he felt a hand on his shoulder. Taking a deep breath, he extinguished the light.


    The world fell into darkness once more and he cheered out.


    ¡°HAH I DID IT!¡± ¡ª only to be met with some stifled laughter.


    ¡°Do not laugh at a fellow student or I¡¯ll have you volunteer for the next!¡± He shouted, it was disgraceful. The best lessons usually came from failure.


    ¡°Now, while rituals are powerful. To disgrace the aetheric webway leads to more intense backlash than the other paths of magic. Thankfully, the rebound of darkness is self-blindness.¡± He felt the student begin to panic.


    ¡°Calm down or do you want a mark? Backlash is common in our line and you must be willing to deal with the consequences. Hopefully you made a friend to take notes for you¡± He turned back to the board and continued to write.


    Rituals are inherently linked to complexity. The more flair and steps, the more powerful the effect. While clerics and those of various cults only need to please their fickle gods, ritualists are attempting to imprint order into the aether. Some are so intense, it requires hundreds to meet at precise times. Hired dancers, alchemists, masons, and more all working together to generate a single effect. Each consistent repetition is easier than the last. In fact, the first casting of darkness required 7 towns instead of 7 candles. The path dedicated to finding ways to reinforce their magic in the world. Out of all the paths it encouraged the most collaborations and could produce the strongest effects of any. However, it required tons of preparation and commitment to make any progress at all.


    ¡°Moving on, I think curing your blindness is a perfect use of our next section."


    Shifting back to the board, the instructor moved onto the next topic.


    Alchemy


    ¡°While many argue Alchemy isn¡¯t within the primary paths of magic, I personally reject that motion. Yes, classes within this profession rarely graduate from these halls. However, this is primary due to the nature and¡­cost of the class. The low-rank potions such as healing, endurance, mana, etc are fairly simple to make. Any mid-level [Apothecary] can produce it without issue. But what of a greater potion of restoration? What of a potion of giant¡¯s strength? These tinctures are rare based on the difficulty of generating suitable ingredients. Even I have yet to brew a greater restoration potion, but let¡¯s walk through something a bit more simple.¡± He returned to the board.


    A lesser potion of restoration. The fastest method involved combining fifty high quality healing potions into a cauldron. On a low heat, the [Alchemist] carefully pours each one in, one at a time. While merging the liquids, the temperature could slowly add distilled basilisk blood. Of course, that is a three day purification process requiring a beast slaughtered within 48 hours. Titrate in the blood until the mixture transforms from a deep crimson to a light purple. If too much is added, and the color changes to maroon, it is a failure. Upon success, the mixture must be rapidly cooled within one degree of freezing. Pour the liquid into a glass vial, while keeping it chilled. Exposure the proto-potion to the sun for 12 hours, constantly rotating the liquid within. Sieve out any clumps of material and slowly mix with freshly ground toothward. Stir until a slight glow appears and then the potion is complete.


    While the steps seem simple, the cost is exorbitant. Yes, a lesser portion of restoration can easily set a broken limb.--but a healer could do the same for a fraction of the cost. Furthermore, at each stage there is a high rate of failure. Even following the recipe exactly could end in failure. Minute conditions such as the laboratory¡¯s temperature, humidity, latent magical energy, stray dust, and a variety of other factors can influence the final product. As such, most of the headmasters agreed that only those of significant talent would be allowed to walk this path. The cost of training would fund a small kingdom!


    ¡°Before next class, I want each of you to sit and calculate how much gold you¡¯d need to create a potion of stoneskin without any levels. Good luck!¡± He began to wipe away the board and remembered the blind student.


    ¡°Oh, here¡± He popped open a minor restoration potion and poured it into their eyes. Within moments the blackness began to fade.


    He wished he could speak more on the subject, but he himself didn¡¯t have the passion for this area of study and quickly moved onto the next.


    Enchanting


    ¡°I am sure you are well aware of the ban on enchanters in most kingdoms. However, here you are free to practice the art for¡­educational purposes. The path of an enchanting is a battle of wills. Nearly all spells in this school are ones of trickery, deceit, and illusion. I do hope after graduation, each of you will recognize the signs and learn to protect yourselves properly. This path is hard struck on the rule of three. Can anyone tell me what that is?¡±


    One student raised their hand to answer.


    ¡°Spells and incantations can be repeated up to three times to amplify their effects¡± The pupil replied.


    ¡°Correct! In fact, nearly all forms of magic can be boosted by repeating the initial phrase. I¡¯m sure some of you have tried to apply this phenomenon to your own spells and failed miserably. As I said before, it is deeply rooted within the enchanters realm. Each subsequent repetition drastically increases the difficulty of the casting. Even skill-based spells tend to falter under these conditions. However, for every spell on this path, you may only cast with a set of three. Now, I¡¯ll be using a simple illusion spell. Please relax and don¡¯t resist I promise no harm¡±


    The instructor began the first round of incantations. Unlike before, the words could be heard by the entire class. It didn¡¯t matter to him, the spell was far above the average mage¡¯s ability. It was a long poem describing the beauty of nature. Each word delicately left his lips as a slight breeze overtook the room. Upon the first repetition, the smell of morning dew filled the space, the walls shifted in color, and a sense of relaxation crept into their minds. In the second round, his voice lowered. Each phrase taking much longer to speak, a bit of spittle flying past his lips as he forced the incantation out. His fingers gripped the desk to stabilize his weakening limbs. As he approached the last stanza, veins popped on his forehead while blood crept out of his nose. Upon completion; long vines began to snake across the walls, the sounds of birds echoed in the air, and rays of sunlight penetrated the sky.


    He took a moment before starting the third repetition. Grabbing a bit of water, he wet his parched throat and wiped off the blood. Performing such a mass spell was a feat of strength. Even with something this simple spell, enchanting hundreds of minds tested his limits. Yet, he wanted to show off the power of a true archmage. Taking a deep breath, he began to utter the poem for the last time. Within the first few words, his muscles began to seize. An intense tremor overtook his body, but he powered through. Reaching the second part, it felt like he¡¯d taken a bat to the head. A painful throbbing headache that made his vision blur. His eyes began to bleed and darkness started to take hold. This wasn¡¯t good, gripping his arm, he dug the nails deep into the flesh. The rush of adrenaline allowed him to refocus as he forced out each and every syllable. His lips cracked open and bled, voice hoarse and sickly, and his mind addled from the casting. With one gargled cry, he finished the spell and collapsed into his chair.


    In a dazzling display, thousands of glistening butterflies appeared. The swarm of insects obscured the view as the world transformed around them. A scintillating display of otherworldly colors flooding the vision and exotic smells tickling the nose. Thousands of fluttering wings creating a high-pitched hum while their light touch caressed the skin. Within moments, the cascade of insects began to explode into dust. Each tiny pop revealed a cloud of color that melded into the scenery. At first the scene looked like a piece of watercolor, but as more joined it became more real. A living piece of art which enveloped the gawking students.


    For all the magic displayed, this was the most impressive of all. The chamber transformed into an idyllic outdoor paradise. A faint sun casting colored rays of light over a bright green meadow. A winding river cut through the landscape displaying a variety of exotic fish. Even the smell was comforting, a rich scent that calmed the mind. Within the spell''s effects, it was a perfect paradise. But for those watching from outside, the students looked like drooling addicts. The sight always made the instructor chuckle. So many rich brats now in a magical stupor. Thankfully, the spell would last about ten minutes giving him a much needed rest. Wiping the sweat from his face, he popped open a mana potion, and closed his eyes. He was their master enchanter, but he hated how these spells exhausted him. Maybe he could find a prodigy within this group, but most couldn¡¯t handle the¡­drawbacks.


    ¡°I hope you enjoyed the trip¡± He watched as the students were horrified by the drool and other¡­expulsions. He could see a few had pissed themselves, well they should have read the pamphlet about not drinking before class¡­


    ¡°As you experienced first hand, most enchantments have some tell at the start. If you are weak willed and allow the spell to cast, the duel is over. Entire armies can be removed by one well placed spell. Fortunately, recognizing what is happening instantly makes it harder for the caster. Something as simple as calling out the spell can cause it to fail. If something feels off, assume the worst. However; if against a high level enchanter, then you must physically stop them. Track the flow of aether or search for the one who is struggling. Thankfully, the more debilitating the effects, the harder it is to cast. Once identified, stopping them once is usually enough.¡±


    Taking another sip of water he continued.


    ¡°However, for simple enchants you may not have that luxury. While they are not nearly as dangerous, they can be used to obfuscate. Your best option is to study basic anti-enchantment techniques including various eye buffs or counter magic. Those who graduate shouldn¡¯t have any issue acquiring these skills without the Will¡¯s assistance. Moving on to the most dangerous type of all¡±


    Summoning


    ¡°Some may argue that summons are a combination of other paths. However that is not the case. Each summon is unique in both casting and effects. There are a wide variety of creatures you may call to assist you. Demons, Avatars, Servants of the Greater Powers, and more. Before even attempting to cast a summon, it is imperative to do thorough research. Calling a demon and not knowing its proper name is a surefire way to become possessed. Likewise, calling in a servant without proper precautions can lead to a very angry god. However, while we encourage the development of all aspects of magic, summoning is one that requires oversight in every casting. For this reason, if you decide to take this path I recommend you supplement with a secondary type. Now let''s go over the basics shall we?


    Demons tended to be the most dangerous of all and each fell into a predefined category. Demons of Law were silver-tongue and promised great power for ¡°little¡± costs. Usually something simple that could be construed into something far greater. They used magical contracts, negotiations, and red tape to trap the summoner in a never-ending contract of servitude. On the opposite end are demons of chaos. These are wildly unpredictable and are natural oathbreakers. Sure a contract my work at first, but due to their nature these binds will slowly fade. However, they are far less intelligent than those of the Law and can be brute-forced to serve. When working with those of chaos, always be ready for a trick. Nothing about them is to be trusted, for example a demon of life may be called to heal a devastating plague. However, if not banished in time, those twisted life energies can lead to bulbous growths and fleshy tumors. In one extreme incident, a small town was completely merged into a living pile of flesh. Their bodies combine into a towering growth, but never experience death. Others you may call upon are those of nature, progress, death, and some of more¡­esoteric aspects. He turned back to the group and made one simple command.


    ¡°If you would like to try a demon summoning, you will need explicit permission from our representative from the city of contracts. Even the headmasters cannot overrule this requirement. Moving on.¡±


    The second set of summons would be that of the divine. Each god had a different set of servants which fulfilled various roles. Calling upon a All-Seeing One from Dalros can help fight illusions or other trickery. Normally, these types of beings are restricted to their various sects or from acts of mercy. However, with sufficient material and power, a mage can forcefully summon one for assistance. When dabbling in the realm of gods, tread carefully. These creatures are extensions of the divine and most deities do not take kindly to these magics. As such, it is best to hide your identity before calling or you WILL make one very powerful enemy. Of course, not all gods are against these. In fact, some may encourage the calling of their servants. As they require a sufficient offering or equal trade. As with demons, it is imperative to property research the being you call. The mortal body is not designed to withstand the divine. You¡¯ll either burn out, become enslaved, or far worse.


    ¡°Now we do have some priests here that may teach you how to summon the lesser spawn. Just avoid their sermons, I don¡¯t want to lose any of you to the priesthood ok? Now for our last section for summoning we will discuss necromancy¡±


    Eldor stared at the board before him. A simple word for all to see¡­


    Necromancy


    It had so much¡­history behind it. Like many other archmagi, Eldor¡¯s primary goal was the pursuit of knowledge¨Cno matter the cost. However; that¡­Cult had such a stranglehold on necromantic magic, it was nearly impossible to study. Their stupid god was stifling any new discoveries and stamping out progress. But fighting death was a futile endeavor. Only through plenty of donations and diplomatic pressure, were they even able to bring up the topic to their students. It was a joint effort between the headmasters and the ¡°divine leaders¡±. The team combed through all texts, changed curriculum, and removed ¡°problematic¡± literature from the academy. Hard lines were drawn on what could be taught to the fledgling magi. Any deviations from the approved studies would bring swift judgment. It was so¡­frustrating. He was already a master-class enchanter, he had yet to abuse his class. Why couldn¡¯t he properly train others to do the same?!


    Even now, the only spells sanctioned by the priests were simple things like [Death Bolt]. All other texts with higher tiered magic had been scrubbed. Furthermore, the basic rituals were forbidden. While they could discuss negative or death zones, they couldn¡¯t talk about how they were created. In fact, they went so far as to censor any positive texts as well. Before the purge, Eldor recalled an old historial text discussing a kingdom heavily influenced by necromancy. Thousands upon thousands of corpses were raised and used as labor. Each one carefully designed for the task at hand, vast zones of negative energy fueling the masses. Meanwhile, their still living citizens enjoyed a life of luxury. Instead of working to survive, they could pursue whatever passion which drove them. Arts flourished, classes expanded, and life was good.


    Sure there were some¡­negative aspects of it. The largest involving the vast amounts of living sacrifices. Every day they had to slaughter a decent amount of people to fuel the death fields. However, that was easily dealt with via prisoners, slaves, and culling the elderly. In fact, the elderly saw it as a way of giving back to the next generation. Their lives fuel the various rituals maintaining the negative regions. They were given a painless death, their lives transformed into energy for the mass of undead. It was a selfless act, it was something that should be thanked not scorned. Of course, they only made up about 10% of the total needed. But Eldor was sure there were more efficient ways of keeping the cycle going.


    And that was the root of the problem! With the spread of Deas, alternatives could never be studied. Worse yet was the incident at the academy. As time passed, the cult became less active. Their priests visited less often as they expanded worship across the lands. With the lack of oversight, new books snuck past the censors. They were minor tomes at first, simple spells to manipulate bone, others teach how to merge flesh for rapid wound healing, and minor animation of vermin. They knew it was trouble, but the temptation was too great. One by one, the students began to practice in secret. Books passed around under protection spells as word spread through the upper classes. Many brushed it off as a rumor, but the ones who knew quickly formed their own sect.


    It was a slow and careful process. If discovered, there was a high chance of execution. Since the cult had free reign over necromancers, there was little chance of mercy. But the taste of forbidden knowledge was far too great. Pacts were made to keep lips tight, code words created so they may discuss in public, even special markings developed indicating a safe place for practice. Yet, these books were only the start. As their resources grew, they began to hire [Smuggler]¡¯s and other shady dealers. Huge bounties were placed on necromantic texts, rumors, and even samples. The upperclassmen ventured forth to fields of battle. While they said they were there to help cull the roaming dead, in reality they were gathering information. As they continued to grow, the cult caught wind of the action. A deadly duel in the underground occurred, information brokers captured and interrogated. Baits laid out and false rumors started to halt the flow of information. Even with their vast resources, they couldn¡¯t identify the leader. So many layers were developed, cells were formed isolating information, minds were enchanted to prevent thought reading, nearly every aspect was blocked in some way. Seeing such an intricate network, the cult realized this was a problem that couldn¡¯t continue.


    With the priests focused on stamping out the flood of information, those inside the towering walls began constructing grand chambers. Sympathy magi worked alongside summoners to evacuate underground caverns. Rotating teams fueled various golems to dig through the tough bedrock. It was a grueling process that required huge pools of mana to accomplish, yet they were persistent. Quickly following the excavators were the Ritualists. The teams worked in sync as they chanted and drew runes all across the walls. At first it was simple things, glowing runes to provide light, filtration spells to keep the air from stagnating, and silencing sigils to block scrying. However, after 3 years, they stumbled upon a massive break-through.


    One adventure stumbled across the ancient dungeon of a former [Lich Lord]. While the Lich was long gone, his texts remained behind. Word spread and the Cult quickly swarmed the site to purify the area, but one book was able to be salvaged. Located within were the basic principles of necromancy. Various spells on how to raise the dead, modify corpses, halt the rot of specimens, and most importantly; turn away the eye of Deas. With such a spell, they were able to turn these caverns into training grounds. No outside source could sense the flow of death below. The chambers quickly turned into macabre laboratories. A place for the fledgling [Necromancer]¡¯s to hone their craft.


    But it wasn¡¯t enough to stop those from outside, but their colleagues as well. The more esoteric enchanters quickly agreed to practice on their fellow pupils. Rarely would they be able to cast these spells without serious consequences. Soon the hallways leading to the chamber were littered with long-lasting enchantments designed to turn away curious onlookers. Some created simple illusions, a wall instead of a door. Others addled the brain, causing anyone nearby to forget what they were doing. However, with so many working in tandem, only the greatest of casters could penetrate their magic.


    With the foundations set, the sect began branching out. No longer were they satisfied reading through old texts. They needed materials and resources to practice. Corpses were ordered under the guise of medical training, Grave dirt was pilfered from nearby regions. Soon a blood tithe was enacted. Those within the cult were required to donate a pint of blood every few weeks in order to access the caverns. While they couldn¡¯t directly create a negative zone, they were able to achieve the same effect by piling corpses into a single chamber. With the concentrated deathly energy, it was able to form a well within the room. Each room was carefully monitored for spontaneous reanimation, those that did were quickly whisked away for study.


    It was a renaissance of magic. So many new classes were developed. People began to specialize into different roles. Some took up [Fleshshaper] and developed self-sustaining flesh golems. Some delving into the paths of animation and achieving the class of [Greater Necromancer], allowing them to summon and control vast amounts of undead. While others preferred a more traditional casting role. Focusing on controlling the flow of negative and deathly energy. These [Dark Mage]s were quite varied in their roles, but tended to drain the life of the living to empower their allies. Even those not directly interested in necromancy picked up a few new skills. Things like [Sense Undead], [Negative Attunement], and more. So much progress had been made in their studies and this was only the start.This narrative has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road. If you see it on Amazon, please report it.


    Eldor couldn¡¯t be prouder of those trailblazing mages. . His alum had risked it all in the pursuit of magic. It was a noble cause. Even after the purge, some of their nearly crafted skills were integrated into society. Basic things like bone manipulation to help with healing or ways to efficiently kill off undead with basic magics. He wished he could convince the cult to allow more studies, he was sure that new skills could be developed to combat the lingering threats of undeath. Yet, they were far to shortsighted to see all the advantages of it. Instead whining about how it desecrated the soul. How it was an affront to their god. How it left contaminated land in the wake, stifling any new life. It was this reason the clergy and the mages didn¡¯t get along.


    Yet, as they grew in size. The ability to hide their actions became exponentially harder. Enchanters were working in shifts to keep the spells charged. Coin was flowing out of the coffers as they paid bribes to various officials. Food was scarce as the anemic students ravenous devoured what they could. Even supplies rapidly dwindled causing the academy to take greater risks in acquiring corpses and other reagents. With so many moving parts, cracks began to form. It only took one stupid mistake for it to all collapse.


    How he wished he could have been there. Of course not now as the bulk were executed, but to taste that euphoric sense of new magic. Spellcaster was inherently personal. While the various paths formed the foundations, each could be tweaked to match the mage¡¯s personality. The flow of the aether empowering the soul, the energy filling the body. It was so¡­intoxicating. A raging inferno that grew within. Yet, he knew that overindulgence could lead to backlash. Flesh could only handle so much. Channeling too much aether had killed far better magi than him.


    But alas, it only took one moment of weakness and the world united against them. One devout follower of Deas had applied to be a mage: Ralnor. He had the mind of a mage and the wisdom of a cleric. Seeing such talent, the academy couldn¡¯t help but let him in. The student yearned to acquire the rare class [Spell Priest]. They were few and far between, but powerhouses within their religions. However, for all his talent and drive, the academy was stupid for letting him in.


    As the new student roamed the halls, he could sense the overwhelming dread. Something was wrong, a tickle in his brain. He tried to ask around but was met with vague answers. Thinking it was another challenge from his teachers, he began to investigate. He wasn¡¯t the best at it, but being so close to Deas gave him a few passive blessings. As he wandered the halls, he caught the smell of rot. It was pungent, filthy, something that needed to be cleansed. A simple prayer to Dead and a minor blessing was bestowed upon him. It took his entire being to not reveal his emotions. Standing at the end of the corridor was a shambling zombie. He couldn¡¯t believe it! Before his prayer, it looked like an upperclassman. With renewed vigor, he quickly returned to his dorm. The depravity only increased as he passed more and more undead. He wanted to vomit, it was vile. It was wrong. He wanted to fight back, but knew that he¡¯d be silenced and forgotten. There was only one way to stop this.


    Sitting in his dorm, he pulled out his sanctified scry-glass. It was a cherished gift so he may still attend the various services and perform his penance. Using the coded language, he requested a direct contact with their leader. Moments later, the man¡¯s face appeared. He was clearly unhappy with the interruption. Yet, he knew that Ralnor would use this in a true emergency. Face to face with his mentor, He carefully explained all he¡¯d witnessed. The [Archbishop of the Afterlife] quietly listened to the facts, occasionally asking some clarifying questions. As they talked, all the pieces fit into place. Cutting the feed, the Archbishop reached out to the other leaders. To act against the academy would create much blowback. It was supposed to be a politically neutral location. A place of learning and study¡­but they could not allow this to continue. Already their god was starting to awaken, his wraith sweeping through their members. Gathering their most talented members, the Church of Deas marched to war.


    News quickly spread of the cult¡¯s movement. Thousands of members joining the call, these groups undertook a long pilgrimage to fields of battle. Supplies were stifled as the cult pressed their influence on nearby caravans. Each passing day more sects arrived forming a grand perimeter around the academy. The headmasters tried to negotiate with the cult, but their messages were quickly rebuffed. Each one directed students to reinforce the walls and to prepare for a siege if their relations soured. After a tense week, the [High Father] stepped into the field. His voice was mighty as he channeled the divine might. His speech was long, accusing the academy of breaking oaths, how they committed sacrilege within its walls, and how justice would be swift. Any who were tainted with deathly magics would be executed. Only by surrendering would they have a chance of surviving. Seeing the lack of response, the [High Father] signaled his army and the assault began.


    A combined prayer rippled through the masses. Each offering up a piece of themselves to invoke Deas¡¯ blessing. Their combined might unleash the winds of death. A freezing cold that tore across the land, the deathly chill siphoning the warmth of life. It was nearly invisible, only the trails of frost indicating where it passed. Yet, for all it¡¯s might, it couldn¡¯t penetrate the school¡¯s wards. Runes appeared on the walls as ancient spells activated. Amongst the gale of death, the magical barrier stood strong. Chromatic colors filled the sky as the bubble of magic enveloped the school, cutting it off from the outside world.


    But this was only the start, Deas was relentless. A second miracle appeared, a thick cloud of dark smoke crept along the ground. Globs of negative energy coalesced within and splattered against the earth. While slower than the winds of death, it was far more potent. The choking miasma turned anything it touched into muck. The air itself darkened as the negative zone siphoned and fought against the sunlight. Slowly, the dark magics engulfed the academy. The barrier intensified as it withstood the deadly smog. Yet, it stood strong. Frustrated, the [High Father] began another round of prayer. They were going to unleash miracle after miracle until those walls fell.


    Since the army arrived, the various leaders argued on the best action. Sides were quickly drawn as each made their case. Unfortunately, for three of them, they had no idea that necromancy had even been studied. Each had been so focused on their own paths, they shut out the world around them. Now they had to face the consequences of their ignorance. Zenos the [Archmage of Sympathy], Illoneus the [Ritualist of Splendor], and Oreas the [High Alchemist of Transmutation] angered at the other two. IF they knew what was going on, they could have stopped it! The oldest, Zenos, had dealt with the cult once before and knew the horrors of battle. IF it wasn¡¯t for the other two, he¡¯d have fought them on the spot for such treachery. They had put all this work in danger, so much would be purged when it was over! Meanwhile Illoneus and Oreas tried to offer up scapegoats. Maybe they could help some of the students escape the cult¡¯s wraith or use various enchantments to cut off their access to death magic. Anything to form some compromise. Yet Zenos knew it was impossible. Deas was not a merciful god. He was fair, but brutal.


    Then there was Arceus the [Enchanter of deathly Illusions] and Cirhan the [Archmage of Grotesque Creations]. They were true magi, both focused on the pursuit of knowledge. With so much powerful magics, they assured the others of victory. With the cult eliminated, they would be free to study without restraint. A subsect of summoning would be available to students, whole new classes developed, and new magics created. They could be the catalyst for change, the first to establish necromancy as a legitimate profession. It would usher in a whole new era of magic!


    But they didn¡¯t buy it. The cult had influence, nearly every city was intertwined with death. Their priests are solemn and fanatical. Now that the academy was targeted, they would never relent. Even if they somehow won, they¡¯d be assaulted until the end of time. And if they lose? All their work would be lost, all their studies gone. Centuries of knowledge would be burned to the ground, nothing would remain as the cult purged all records. The risk was far too great for one aspect of summoning.


    Their tensions finally reached their crescendo on the first miracle. Even though the wards held, seeing the powerful intervention was terrifying. One mistake in their defense and death would come. Without any other options; Zenos, Illoneus, and Oreas united in their demand. Those others had to surrender or flee. They would not shelter any of their kind. . Only then could they try and negotiate with the [High Father] and try to salvage the academy. It would be hard, but if they volunteered to be subjected to The Eye, they may be spared. But the two didn¡¯t relent, aether began to gather in the room as their emotions flared. Suddenly Illoneus turned¡­


    ¡°Arceus¡­¡± Illoneus called out, his tone dripping with spite.


    The enchanter grinned with such smugness. He¡¯d been caught. Using [Double Speak], [False Whispers], and [Alter Self]. He formed a disguise allowing him to chant without notice. The moment the assault started he began his most powerful spell [The World Turns Against You]. Sure there were more flashy options when he leveled, but the man was one subtlety. It was quite insidious, nearly invisible to the untrained mind. At its core, it made simple adjustments. Tones became more aggressive, doubts were amplified in the brain, and the occasional threat was whispered on the wind. All senses were disrupted, objects were slightly off. They¡¯d trip over pebbles they didn¡¯t see, drop objects by misjudging the weight, even smell foul substances at random. A constant stream of minor inconveniences would pile up, the illusion shifting to make life a living hell. But the danger was its simplicity. Everything could be written off as either bad luck, stress, lack of sleep, or just brain fog. Even still, recognizing that they were cursed was only the first step. Shattering the spell required otherworldly skills. Runes couldn¡¯t be drawn properly, wording for incantations forgotten, and reagents would disappear from view. The spell would actively hinder any attempts of removal. Only through outside help did they have a chance of breaking free. Usually by then, they¡¯d have lost their friends from lashing out. Lost their homes due to accidents, or even lost their lives from misjudging a sword swing. But it mattered not, he was already on the final stanza, one more phrase and this fight would be over.


    Realizing the danger they were in, Illoneus immediately activated his own capstone¨C[Rebound:Grand Ritual]. His ring shattered into a cascade of white light. A scintillating flare that engulfed the room in his magic. Arceus cursed, he was too far into his spell to cancel. Thankfully, Cirhan was quick. The Summoner pricked his finger and fed the blood to a gem on his wrist. In a cloud of smoke, his prized golem Zolam appeared. The animated mass of rock was embedded with various runes and magical gemstones. His arms were made of concentric rings that constantly rotated. As they shifted, the runes quickly aligned into one of anti-magic. The air deadened as the golem began to absorb the ritual. His body glowing as the precious gems filled with aether. One by one they were overloaded and exploded with a resounding crack. It didn¡¯t need to stop the spell, only allow Arceus to finish his own.


    Illoneus realized he was moving too slow. He¡¯d need to end this now. Swapping targets, he quickly used [Mass Teleport] to escape alongside the other headmasters. His original plan was to just transport the betrayers directly to the cult, but this was his second option. Unfortunately, by adjusting the ritual mid-cast, he couldn¡¯t designate their destination. Instead he offered up his second ring as a sacrifice. It was something personal and of great worth, thus they were each transported to a place of personal significance¨Ctheir labs.


    There would be no compromise. With the lines drawn, Arcues immediately initiated his contingency. Tapping the scryglass, he triggered his latent spells hidden throughout the academy. A signal to the sect of death that negotiations failed and they would need to fight. In that single moment, the halls turned into a battlefield.


    Halting his spells, the wonders of necromancy were revealed to all. Layers of deceit and illusion were pulled back showing how far the sect had grown. Shrouded students transformed into wraithful creations. With their shackles gone, they immediately turned towards the other. It was a bloodbath, unprepared students were ambushed by the deadly creations. Bloodied claws tearing into flesh and devouring the innards. Vermin and other minor creations tore through the walls as they swarmed the retreating students. Shadows grew and twisted as dark beings appeared. They crept along the floor and ceiling, each jumping between various areas of darkness. Their ethereal hands reaching out and through the flesh. A necrotic touch that rapidly rotted anything in their grasp. Blobs of living flesh slithered through the vents and drains. Tendrils of glistening viscera reaching out to bind those passing. Strong acids digesting the flesh and slurping up the soupy mass.


    But this wasn¡¯t just the creations, the students themselves joined in the fight. Alongside the wave of deathly constructs, terrible spells were unleashed on their fellow man. Razor sharp ice pinning people to the walls. Grand fireballs igniting robes and flesh, Blasts of sand stripping off skin and muscle. Those that tried to fight back were rapidly cursed by the various enchantments, the stumbling students only food for the growing army of undead. Screams of agony echoed through the halls. What was once thought as safe is now a killing ground. . This wasn¡¯t a fight, it was an extermination. Within the first few moments nearly a fourth of the student body had perished.


    Those not killed in the initial assault quickly regrouped around their own headmasters. Pockets of resistance began to appear in the onslaught of death. Ever prepared, Zenos immediately began to counter. Directing his students, they rapidly shifted the room into a kill zone. Walls were shifted and reinforced, traps created with their magics, and all restraints of magic lifted. While some froze in the face of death, many stood firm. Zenos stood proud, as long as their resolve held, they had a chance.


    He watched each with a critical eye. Offering advice on how to use their skills for offensive purposes. They¡¯d only have a few moments before the second wave hit. His prized pupil had shifted and molded metal into makeshift swords. Connecting the metal to a top, he let it spin on the floor. The result was a deadly wave of spinning blades that eviscerated the lesser undead. Others were a bit more blunt in their application of sympathy. Forming links between stones, they would lift debris into the air and let it smash down on the invaders. While effective, it was quite an inefficient use of magic. There were many variants of sympathy, each one as deadly in their own way. Satisfied with their defense, he turned back to his workshop. He had an idea in mind, but would need a lot of time to accomplish it. Restarting his great furnace, he began gathering fuel. This spell would require a ton of energy to work.


    Illoneus wasn¡¯t as lucky as the others. He only had enough levels to store 3 grand spells. With mass teleport used and the second sacrificed, he was left the most dangerous of all. It was a last resort and one he wouldn¡¯t use lightly. Unfortunately, he had studied grand magic. Things that were a spectacle to the eye, massive effects that required much planning to set up. Outside of the basic [Fireball] or [Ice Spike] he was short on true offensive magics. Instead, he relied on his pupils for the defense. Walking around his spire, he activated various wards and barriers. While these were primarily used to stop backlash, they should at least delay the army. He quickly commanded his students to prepare their spells. With a flick, he unlocked his storage allowing them to use any reagent no matter the cost. Bidding them luck, he climbed the stairs to enact his own plan. Contacting the cult, he could only hope they would agree to his terms.


    Meanwhile Oreas was having the time of his life. Alchemists were always a bit crazy, the toxic fumes doing something to their brains. His capstone skill [Linked Storage] while innocuous was quite effective. It was simple, anything in his lab he could ¡°grab¡± from any range. Standing at the forefront of his students, he threw potion after potion. The moment one left his grip, another appeared. A maniacal cackle left his throat as he witnessed their effects. He rarely could trial them on flesh. Yet this was the perfect opportunity for knowledge. As they landed into clumps of undead, various effects were unleashed. Some turned to glass before shattering on the floor, others melted into viscous puddles of slime, another group transformed into stone statues, and even more burst into flames. Pausing to message his arm, he sipped a focusing potion and glanced around. Like him, his students were using this time to the fullest. His prized pupil unbothered by the commotion was rapidly taking notes on what potions did what. Various annotations on ideas to improve their efficacy underlined for future testing. Others were working in groups to perform their own experiments. One team unleashed a corrosive haze that slowly stripped those caught to bone. The flesh melting and dropping to the ground below. While it greatly weakened the attackers, the bones were unaffected. As such, all they accomplished was transforming a group of ghouls into animated skeletons. Thankfully, those were quickly torn apart by some transformed pupils. Various animal extracts distilled into a singular substance, their bodies melding with the beast¡¯s essence forming chimeric monsters. While their intelligence dwindled, their strength drastically increased. Rampaging brutes tore through the undead flinging bodies into the air, their thick hides protecting them from the bites and claws.


    However, while the headmasters were able to protect some students the others only delayed the inevitable. Many barricaded themselves in classes, they did their best to halt the flow of undead. But once a few other mages joined in the assault they were quickly eliminated. Their bodies rapidly reanimated and joined the ranks of undead. Even those of great talent struggled in their defense. While they could win in a mage duel, it was nigh impossible to focus when surrounded by an army of undeath.


    ¡°Is it time?¡± Cirhan turned to Arceus


    The two were swapping between scryglass, assisting their students where they could. While they wished they could do more, it was time to focus on the army outside. With the paladins, warpriests, and other attackers stepping onto the field; it was time to unleash their grand spell. Both paused for a second, staring each other in the eye. After casting this, there would be no going back. They¡¯d be marked for life. With a mutual understanding, Arceus grabbed Cirhan¡¯s hand and offered up his own well of mana.


    Shifting his focus away from the animated undead, Cirhan turned towards the map on the table. It was a perfect replica of the underground caverns. The entire region is carefully carved out into a massive spell circle. At each point they had created a region of death. It was a masterclass in summoning and something he had been yearning to unleash. Cutting his finger, he touched the blood to the dark ink. A guttural chant passed his lips as he spoke the forbidden words. Deep in the underground, the carved runes lit up with the ancient magic. His pupils began to join the spell, each holding hands as they circled the zones of death. Negative energy whipped through the tunnels as aether connected each region. Bits of magic leaking from the spell circle and causing the ground to tremor. Within moments, the isolation runes disintegrated. Their actions now open for all to see. With such a powerful spell, mages from all over the world felt the shift in aether. Various skills activated as the world¡¯s eye turned toward their academy. But it didn¡¯t matter, in fact. Cirhan was happy all could see, they would learn the true power of necromancy!


    But what the two didn¡¯t tell their students was a spell this grand required a certain¡­sacrifice. As the final words left their mouths, they spell activated. Each room of negative energy rapidly expanded until it filled the entire circle. The students caught in the wild magics rapidly drained their life. Muscles atrophied, eyes began to wither, and a terrible weakness took hold. Some tried to flee, but they only stumbled a few steps before collapsing. Moments later they were nothing but desiccated corpses, their lives fuel for the grand spell.


    Up above, a feeling of dread swept through the army. The [High Father] and his inner circle began chanting protective prayers. They were not sure what was happening, but they needed to be prepared. Calling for a retreat, the various groups tried to return to camp only for the ground to open beneath them. Giant chasms tore across the land, swallowing those too slow to flee. Screams of terror echoing through the deep canyons as the men fell to their doom. Huge plumes of decay shot forth draining the region of color. The scent of rot and putrescence lingering on the nose. Spells were cast and weapons were drawn as they stared into the gaping abyss. Terrible screams cried out from below, a chorus of hundreds piercing the air. It was pure blasphemy. A cacophony of anguished cries that grew by the second. Within moments, a pillar of corpses erupted from within. Dozens upon dozens of bodies melded together into a single column. The mass of bodies crashing down as a second appeared. One by one those others arrived, all connected to a singular body. .


    It was a hand, a huge hand of animated flesh. Walking along the tips, it barreled through the army with brutal efficiency. Each digit slamming down with such force it left a small crater behind. Even at its size it was quite quick. It targeted any spellcasters, charging forward and quickly smearing them into a bloody paste. With the horror unleashed, the [High Father] shifted from casting miracles to empowering his army. Warpriests joined the chant as their weapons glowed with divine might. Every swing unleashed a flash of light that seared the flesh. Yet for all their attacks, the creature only regenerated. Each kill adding to his ever growing mass. And it was only the first of three¡­


    The second soon crawled from its prison. A towering creation of flesh and tendrils. It had no defining characteristic, just a glistening blob of viscera. Slimy appendages slammed into the ground as the thing pulled itself forward. All it passed was left in a state of decay. Stringy globs of putrescence left a rancid slime in its wake. The rancid goo desecrated the land with pestilence. Puffs brown gasses wafted from seeping holes. A smell of rot and filth carried on the winds and assaulted the senses. Those nearby were overwhelmed with sickness and malaise. Many succumbed to the foulness, collapsing to their knees as they began to vomit. Eyes bled as they clawed at their throat, the vomit turning red as their innards began to rot. Congealing chunks of blood intermixing with the yellow bile. Some tried to crawl from the creature, but the effects were too great. The slug-like monster crept forward. Tendrils of flesh lashed out and pulled the men towards it. Upon contact, veins penetrated the skin crept beneath the surface. Their flesh yellowed as they melded with the monster, yet they didn¡¯t die. Leaving their voices intact, it wore their screaming flesh as macabre armor.


    Then the third arose from the ground. Unlike the first two, this one floated in the air. Three casters merged into one. Their crying faces were covered by boney hands. Dozens of other limbs haphazardly attached at the torso. The heads were spaced equally from each other allowing full view of the battlefield. Frost fell from the body as a terrible chill filled the air. Those it gazed upon felt their fragile mortality. However this one was far more blunt then the others. Each limb pointed at a target and a blast of decay shot forth. Each twitching finger unleashing a high tier death spell. The thing cried in sorrow as it murdered the cult, It begged for the priest to kill it, and screamed for the weak to flee. Every few moments pausing to unleash a wail of painful agony.


    Cirhan nearly collapsed. Three monsters of legend summoned forth. Already he could hear The Will in his head, such a display of magic pushing him into the next level. But it would have to wait, each point was precious. Only after thorough research would he decide what to do. Gazing upon his creations, he felt powerful. That stupid cult was starting to falter. The bullies now faced something far greater than ever before. A gleeful laughter leaving his throat as the beasts slaughtered his oppressors. He felt an inherent connection with the death zone, every one that fell refilling his own mana. Each kill expands the zone slightly. There would be no mercy, he would hunt each and everyone down. This wasn¡¯t some stupid post-battle horde either. Each was linked to his will. Whenever he noticed some resistance, he would disengage and focus on the unprotected. Their heroes called out as they chased the monsters down. Entire sects slaughtered as the lower-leveled members were targeted. He was going to destroy their foundation and allow the rest to topple from it.


    While Cirhan dealt with the cult. Arceus returned to the academy. Leaving the others unattended was asking for trouble. Like Illoneus, he wasn¡¯t one for direct combat¡­but that didn¡¯t make him defenseless either. Instead he used his mind magic to link all his students into a collective. Their knowledge rapidly shared between groups as they worked as one. Taking a moment, he delved into the aether and felt the stirrings of something powerful. Sending a command to his students, he forced them to leave the others alone. They could cower for a bit longer, and besides after they had won they¡¯d need fresh sacrifices to rebuild. With the plan set, the army of death assaulted the labs with a renewed vigor.


    Zenos could hear his students start to fall. The group retreated back towards his reinforced laboratory as the assault intensified. Many already were suffering from burnout as they pushed their magic to the limits. The shattering of mana potions echoed in the room while cries of pain pierced the cacophony. Yet they still didn¡¯t stop. Some even pushing beyond their limits, burning out in a flare of aether-light. But truthfully, Zenos didn¡¯t care. They were all dead anyway, might as well go out fighting then a coward. Staring back at his flaring furnace, he felt a tinge of sorrow. This spell would destroy everything. He built this from the ground up, traveling the realm for exotic materials that could contain his powerful magics. Yet; magic was all about sacrifice and if he wanted to succeed, it would all have to go.


    ¡°MORE¡± He called out as students threw all they could into the flame.


    The metal glowed red hot, the radiant heat burning his skin as he stared at the deforming furnace.


    ¡°This better work¡± he muttered as he pulled out a vial.


    Oreas had concocted this potion from a lost bet years ago. It nearly killed Zenos when he first used it! He still wasn¡¯t sure how, but that crazy man had distilled the essence of a volcano into this one small vial. One droplet was enough to set his old lab aflame, even still he could hear that man''s cackle from the ¡°Accident¡±. However, now he was glad to have such a powerful source. Slowly, he walked back to the field of battle, carefully stacking his skills to protect him from the grand spell. [Unnatural connection], [I am merely a conduit], [You are all one], [Reinforce Sample], [These Chains Shall Not be Broken]. As he concentrated, he gathered various samples from the ground chunks of rotted flesh, enchanted bone, and globs of shadowy essence. Once selected, he began chaining each to the invading army. An intense chill overwhelming his flesh as his vast pool of mana rapidly drained. His mind fogged as was pulled 1001 ways. Each passing moment, more were added to the spell until he couldn¡¯t contain it.


    ¡°FUCK YOU BOTH¡± he cried out as he tossed the samples and potion into the blaring furnace. Flames erupted with such force he was sent flying across the room before smashing the wall with a sickening¡­


    CRUNCH


    ¡°WHAT DID HE DO¡± Cirhan had to drop his connection with his army. His veins burned as the sympathetic magics tore through his creations.


    Each one burst alight as the raging inferno transferred into the constructs. The heat was indiscriminate, even those not targeted were ignited from proximity. Those that didn¡¯t sever their connections felt their blood boil from within. While members of the cult back off from the flames. Huge chunks of the army transformed into a raging bonfire, fats igniting and adding to the ever growing inferno. Deep, thick smog filled the sky as the corpses collapsed into smoldering fires. While it devastated the army, it did little to halt the rampaging monstrosities. However, the damage was done and the clergy was given an opportunity to regroup.


    Zenos wasn¡¯t as lucky. The archmage had pushed himself beyond mortal limits. His skin burned black, his body failing. However in that singular moment, He showed the world why sympathy was the path to follow. One single spell and he had wiped out half the undead army. His surviving students did their best to alleviate his wounds, but his life was done. He could only hope that one of his pupils would surpass his greatness.


    All could feel his passing, the incredible aura fading from the realm. Oreas and Illoneus filled with a deep rage. While Arceus and Cirhan were satisfied that one of their foes was gone. As the two worked together to regain control of their army. Illoneus stood in his tower surrounded by his injured pupils. Gaping wounds stuffed with gauze, limbs raised up in tourniquets, and a few unconscious from blood loss. He failed them, he was a grand ritualist, he should always be prepared for the worst. But he couldn¡¯t dwell on it now, more would die if he didn¡¯t take down these wards. Focusing above, he began to align the astralarium. Each star carefully shifted to channel the astral energies. Working through each ward, he slowly unwound the spells, neutralizing it layer by layer.


    Oreas reached out and felt nothing in his hand. The alchemist finally understood his mortality. Most of his students had perished in the name of science. His scribes noted their cause of death for the archives. The bulk hadn¡¯t even fallen by their enemies, instead their creations failed at pivotal moments. Transformations turning unstable and becoming a mindless mass of limbs. Experiments backfiring and coating the students in toxic liquid that rapidly aged the flesh. Normally, they had fail-safes to resist such reactions. However, in the field of battle it was do or die. Only when he witnessed the crowd combust did he relax. That old man finally did something. Suddenly his eyes widened as he felt the man¡¯s passing. This wasn¡¯t a game any more, he would end this even if it killed them all. With the attackers turned into a burning mess, he returned to his lab to craft.


    While a major setback, it wasn¡¯t the end. Since they had turned this whole region into a negative zone, it just took time to reanimate another group. Yes it wasn¡¯t as strong, missing many of their more powerful undead, but it was enough. With an army of zombies and skeletons, the two headmasters resumed their assault. The normally jolly Cirhan was frustrated from the whole experience. Why didn¡¯t they give up already? His creations had wiped out so many, but they kept fighting. His summons attack the flesh while Arceus invades the mind. They were both one man armies, tapping into the academy¡¯s leyline, and still the cult didn¡¯t give up!


    ¡°WHAT!¡± He cried out as Arceus tapped his shoulder.


    ¡°Look there¡­they are up to something.¡± Arceus pointed at the [High Father]. No longer were they actively trying to engage the undead.


    Instead, the entire army had gathered into concentric rings. A living ritual of chanting men and women. The [High Father] leading the entire group in unison. Prays, offerings, and vows were committed as they yearned for their god. Their strongest warriors formed a perimeter to halt the advancing undead. Even the towering monstrosities struggled against the divine barriers. Letting go of the army, the undead turned mindless. Instead he focused the negative energy into his three most powerful creations. With the flood of undeath, they began cracking at the defenses while ignoring the heroes assault. near the [High Father] was an entire congregation.=.


    ¡°Working on it, take out the other headmasters! We need to crush them now. ¡± He replied.


    However, at that moment they felt the barrier flicker. The two glanced at each other with mutual understanding: IIloneus. They were split, either stop the chant or keep the wards. However, with their defense down they had little to protect themselves from the army. Once more, Cirhan shifted his resources into the academy.


    The ritualist realized his actions were discovered when the attacks reached a crescendo. New monstrosities appeared before his tower. Undead spellcasters, flesh beasts, and massive marauders. Each creature working in tandem to dismantle their defenses. The reanimated students are gifted with craving for aether. Their very touch rapidly drains the magical barriers, the flesh beasts lashing out and tripping those trying to flee, while the towering warriors execute those with a single swing.


    Illoneus could barely stomach the massacre. Heads smashed into the ground, bits of brain matter splattering the earth, glistening viscera and gore stained the marble, and captured students were eaten alive by the wave of dead. He couldn¡¯t watch any longer. But should he do it? Fiddling with his final ritual ring, he heard a student begging for his family. His arm twisted and bent as a ghoul pulled on the limb. Damn the consequences, he couldn¡¯t delay anymore. the warriors executing those in a single swing. He could barely stomach the sight of heads flying. Glistening viscera stained the cobblestones the students tried to slow the assault. He couldn¡¯t delay anymore, he had to unleash another spell. Twisting his ring, he activated his capstone once more. [Rebound - Grand Ritual] [The World is but a Single Moment].


    A flash of light erupted from the shattered jewelry as a wave of magic swept through the academy. Anything it touched slowed to a stop, the attacking army paused mid swing. Everything went silent as the spell took hold, seeing the effects of it all filled him with a sense of joy. Yet, the sacrifice wasn¡¯t over. Before the second part to hold, he felt the eyes of Zixais gaze upon him. A deep, resentful wave of hate smashing into his mind¡¯s eye. The God of Time and Destiny tore through his soul, stripping it of memories. He would never know what was taken, but it was necessary to save his students. His thoughts must have reached the deity as the hate shifted into pity. At that moment, the ravaging stopped and he was freed from the God¡¯s grip. Uttering the second half, his allies were freed from the effects. Each one immune to the time anomaly created.


    He ordered them to retreat. Zixais was fickle and quite demanding. IIloneus had already spent 10 years of his life performing this ritual. And in return, he was gifted a single minute of pause. Many thought he was stupid dedicating so much to this single minute. But Illoneus knew that a brief moment was all one needed to change history. With his students safe once more, he activated the last bits of personal wards. The others channel their mana into the various barriers as reinforcement. They just needed to stall a bit longer. Using up the last few seconds, he tore through another layer of the academy¡¯s ancient magics. The sound of the world returned and time resumed. This would be their last stand.


    Once more Arceus felt victory snatched from him. He was systematically destroying that proud man, and now they teleported to his most inner sanctum. Still, it was a delay and only that. Tapping into the leyline once more, he personally worked on dismantling that final barrier. His army waited outside, eager to tear into the soft flesh of the remaining students. It was a race to finish, Illoneus working as fast as he could. While Arceus fought against the top pupils. Yet, he was too slow. That stupid man had destroyed their main protection. The grand barrier began to disintegrate, the magics floating away as sparkling dust. Illoneus had done it, he collapsed onto the ground with joy. All they needed to do was hold out for rescue.


    The [High Father] smiled. That mage had done it, unfortunately there would be no rescue. His god demanded retribution, instead he would dedicate a day of mourning for the man¡¯s sacrifice. Deas would reward him greatly in the afterlife.\ Reaching the crescendo of their prayers, the congregation performed one final bloodrite to summon Deas into the realm.


    The sky parted as the world was cast into darkness. Everything stilled as their God began the final miracle. Ghastly light flicked above and coalescence into the image of a massive clock. A reverberating gong shook the land as light burst forth from the construct. Nothing was safe for their God¡¯s ire. All things were touched by the light regardless of the protections held. Each and everyone embraced in the cold arms of Deas. Those touched soon saw their own clocks form. A decrypt device hovering in the air behind. With the curse set, panic set in. Yet, no matter what they tried they couldn¡¯t dispel the effect Moments later, the [High Father] began to float high above. His body channeled the essence of Deas himself. His voice is deep and powerful. Only a single phrase was uttered


    [All Life Ends in Death] and the clock began ticking to midnight.


    ¡°TAKE HIM OUT NOW!¡± Archeus cried out.


    ¡°WE HAD A DEAL¡± Illoneus was distraught, he was to die with the rest.


    In those last twelve minutes, Cirhan and Arceus unleashed every skill they had. Yet it was nothing in the wake of a god. His monstrosities smited down with a flick, the slug exploding into a pile of filth, the hand torn apart corpse by corpse, and the mage crushed into a cube of meat. Swapping to his golems, they arose from the ground and charged forth. Yet the devout congregation didn¡¯t give in. Each pounding fist, a few collapsed. But the others only chanted harder.


    Arceus was erupting with divine energy as he went head on with the [High Father] he tried every enchantment he learned, anything to distract the man and interrupt the miracle. Each assault cost him far more than the damages he did. Yet, he couldn¡¯t even insert doubt into the man, his faith far too strong for the mind mage. It couldn¡¯t end like this. Every passing minute at heavy gong would indicate that death loomed. They had so much to teach, so much to learn, so much to uncover. Tears streamed down his face as they entered the final minute.


    But there was still one final trick to be had. Oreas was giggling with glee as he watched the panic ensue. Such a grand display of might and he got to witness it first hand. His twitching eyes carefully watched the timer above. He hoped he measured the right dosage or his own finale would be the biggest flop of all. Reaching into his bag, he pulled out two potions from the reserve. While he used some in the battle, this was going to be a true test of his talent. As the final ten seconds arrived, he tossed both into the air, and chained together many of his skills. [Mass Replication][Friendly Fire][Special Delivery][Delayed Dosage][Temporary Boost] and finally [Trademarked by Oreas]! That last one wasn¡¯t necessary, but he didn¡¯t want any sleuthing spies to steal his formula.


    The two portions quickly replicated over and over. Their trajectory flew across the academy as they honed in on their targets. Anyone deemed a ¡°friend¡± was in for a wild surprise. The small ampules smashed into the cowering students. Most didn¡¯t even notice as they held their friends. Death was coming and they couldn¡¯t stop it. Yet the effect was nearly instantaneous, the ritualist smiling as he saw what Oreas had done.


    ¡°You dirty bast¡­¡± and the final potion smashed him right in the face.


    The clock hit midnight and a wave of terror erupted from the skies. It was quick, brutal, and efficient. Nothing was safe as it tore through the various buildings. Shadowy hands reached from the heavens and swept through the grounds. Beings of pure necrotic energy reached into the living and tore out their screaming souls. Hundreds of offerings forcefully taken back to the realm of death. Only those carrying the god¡¯s mark were spared. The rest were transformed into withering husks of rot. There were no second chances, everyone only had one life to live. A ghastly chill reaching into the body and tearing out the soul With their mission complete, the sky closed and the [High Father] gave one final thanks.


    Sending in his scouts they found a peculiar sight. All throughout the academy were frozen statues. Rock creations in the exact replica of the students. They approached with caution only to be started by the sound of shattered glass. Quickly retreating they watched as the stone fa?ade melted away into gasping students


    ¡°Survivors¡­?¡± They were astonished and called for backup.


    Thankfully, they surrendered. Each explaining what happened and agreeing to be examined for any taint. Those that resisted the call of necromancy were lauded as heroes, while those that embraced the temptation buried in mass, unmarked graves. Once more, the cult and the academy worked together to rebuild. Only now, they took a far more active role in the teaching of the next generation.


    ¡ª---------------------------------------------------------------


    Eldor did as he was told and only taught the most fundamentals of necromancy. With a priest of Deas watching, he couldn¡¯t deviate from the pre-written script. He encouraged the students to practice with the priests and learn ways to counteract the horrific magics they may encounter. Warning them one final time, that if they ventured onto this dark path. That none would come to protect them from the wrath of the god. However, if one good thing came of it. With Archeus gone, he was quickly elevated to head of enchanting¡­


    ¡°As for our final lessons, I¡¯ll cover a few unclassified or historical systems¡±


    Witchcraft.


    ¡°I¡¯m sure you have heard about these¡­alternative ways of magic. But you must be able to separate a witch from a mage. The class is one of emotion and power. Witches are versatile spellcasters who supplement their mana with¡­craft. What each witch does is dependent on their background and specialties. I cannot go further on this, but just be warned. There are no good witches in this world¡­¡±


    Dreamwalking


    ¡°I wish I could say more, but even I dare not venture into these realms. As you may have heard, the primary expert was lost while on an expedition. However, if you have a heart for adventure, I will not stop you. Dreams are games, dreams are puzzles, dreams are¡­weird. They do not give traditional spells, instead completing a dream bestows a boon. Within our library, we have a variety of mapped realms but take this as a guide not fact. Many times the rules shift and change, adaptability is key to surviving these realms. However, if blessed with a powerful boon, you can perform feats equal to the greatest of spells¡­but are you willing to take the risk?


    Druidic


    ¡°We have not seen a druid since society has rapidly expanded. Many theorize that this is due to our reliance on skills and industry. While many have tried to re-establish their connection to nature, none have yet to succeed. However, for historical purposes we do have some writings on the subject.¡±


    With the last bit finished, he raised a hand.


    ¡°That is it for today, I will see you all back in two days for your first test. Study each of the path¡¯s carefully. Each of you will randomly select one to be quizzed on. Welcome to the academy and good luck on your path towards enlightenment¡±

 Intro to Magic - The academy records part 1

    The grand auditorium was a magnificent display of magical architecture. Hundreds of hand carved seats surrounding the central platform. The walls towering into the sky and supporting a dome of dazzling glass. Along the masonry were huge screens of scrying glass. There were no lights in the room, yet somehow it stayed illuminated at all times. A natural glow permeating the air. Even now, enchanted brooms, cloth, and cleaning golems carefully prepared the room for its first class. Time was short, and the headmasters wanted it to be perfect.


    The central bell rang and the doors opened. The cleaners vanished in a puff of smoke as students flooded the interior. The fledgling spellcasters filled with a sense of awe. Since arriving at the academy, the wonders of magic were on full display. The wealth, the power, and the wonder etching itself into their minds. Many rushed to the front seats, trying to get the best view for the lecture. While excitement was in the air, many knew the price of failure. Families had spent their entire fortune in hopes of having a professionally trained mage. Even getting accepted was an accomplishment, the students undergoing various tests before being shipped out. But that was the easy part, the school was ruthless in its lessons. Many knew the rates of failure, on average only 3% of incoming students would make it. In the first year alone, nearly 80% would be sent home. Already alliances were being made, those of the upper class trying to make pacts with other powerful families. Unfortunately for them, magic didn¡¯t care about upbringing. Only how much you were willing to sacrifice to learn.


    The academy was brutally efficient at identifying those with significant talent. The various instructors went extra hard in the first years. They wanted to break the students, grueling trials, testing friendships, and making it a living hell. A simple three mark system led to expulsion, three mistakes and they were gone. Some would say it was cruel, but it was a necessary evil. The magics taught created powerful casters, those that graduated could shape the paths of nations. Furthermore, magic was inherently vicious. A rebound could cause catastrophic damages to not only the caster, but the world around them.


    Even those of high level were not immune to the backlash. Last year the head of dreamwalking disappeared in the wondrous realms. His students left scrambling through his notes and writings trying to glean any information they could. They¡¯d organize search parties in an attempt to find his wayward soul and return it to the physical realm, but so far not even a scrap remained. It was a chilling reminder to never take casting lightly. The aether praised sacrifice and humility, while punishing those who refused to acknowledge the dangers. Only when a student demonstrated the intelligence, wisdom, and fortitude required would the headmasters allow them to transition to the next level. If they couldn¡¯t accomplish it in one year, they were sent home as failures.


    As the chatter reached its crescendo, the faculty door slammed open. Two massive slabs of ivory with an intricate carved design representing the school¡¯s mascot. A raging beast with five heads, a dragon, lion, human, horse, and snake. Each head fighting with one another. The meaning of the creature was lost from the passage of time, but it was the symbol of this grand academy. A loud boom silenced the students, the echoing sound lingering in the air as the instructor approached the stand.


    Stepping onto the podium activated the room''s magic. All across the walls, the scry-glass sparked to life. Each one displaying a life feed of the podium and the professor at the center. His wrist flicked and a board appeared in the air. Glancing up, he shifted his fingers and adjusted the glass to zoom in on his display. Without even acknowledging the class, he began his first lesson. The worlds ¡°Intro to Magic¡± Appearing on the board.


    ¡°Magic is a fundamental force permeating our world. While none have found the origin, there are many theories on how it arose. For now, we will be focusing on the fundamental ways we can harness these ethereal powers for our own benefit. I am sure each of you has an aptitude for a certain path. The classes you have chosen and the skills developed are powerful, but a crutch to your studies. Here we learn true magic, here we create the skills, here you will become [Archmage]¡¯s and not some [Hedgewitch].¡± He said ¡°witch¡± with a disgusted tone.


    ¡°While the Will may have blessed you with talent, here we mold you for greatness. A [Fire Mage] may only know a few basic spells, but a [Archmage of the Flame] shall create his spells.¡±


    He paused and began writing on the board.


    SYMPATHY


    Sympathetic was one of the most basic forms of mana manipulation. At its foundation, it formed a connection between two objects. Yet, for its simplicity led it to being widely used across classes and allowed for a greater flexibility. Furthermore, due to its ease of use, it was integrated into a lot of modern technologies. Many ended up stumbling upon Sympathy without even realizing it. They¡¯d learn little tricks or techniques to make projects easier. However, those that delved into the path of Sympathy were some of the most creative mages around. Only limited by their mana and creativity.


    ¡°As a demonstration¡± He pointed at an over-eager student sitting in the front row.


    His lips moved, but there was only silence. Pulling out a small rock, he lifted it into the sky. Instantly, the student''s chair was sent flying into the air. His screams of terror echoing in the room as he struggled to hold onto the side.


    ¡°Strike one!¡± The professor flicked his hand, and an X appeared imprinted on the uniform.


    ¡°A true mage is prepared for any surprise! To lose composure is to unleash wild magic, even in the most extreme situations you remain calm. Two more and you are expelled¡±


    He lowered the rock and the chair returned to its place. The terrified man tried to calm himself and focus on the lecture. He knew the teachers were crazy and this was only the start. However, for all the showmanship. A hidden lesson was already taught. It was an insidious method of identifying the most studious of students. A slight grin crossed the instructor¡¯s face as he saw who caught on. He memorized their faces as those would be the ones he¡¯d personally tutor.


    To the bulk of students, they were either awestruck or terrified by the display of power. Completely missing the most important part of the lesson¨Chis lips. He had just given them their first sympathetic incarnation, their first glimpse of skill-less spellcasting. While their words were lost, the smart ones memorized the shapes. Hopefully, they¡¯d be able to decipher the spell back in their dorms.


    ¡°As you can see, Sympathy is far faster than any other form of non-skill based magic. However, overuse can quickly drain your mana pool resulting in exhaustion. Now let¡¯s go over the basics.¡± He put the rock away and returned to the board. The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.


    In theory any two objects could be linked. In practice¡­not so much. Identical objects of weight, size, and material were nearly perfect transfers. Meanwhile living objects were much harder to manipulate. As such, the best use of this magic involved matching materials before creating a link. For example, if one wanted to move a boulder, then link it with a stone. To fell a tree, link it with wood. Due to such requirements, it wasn¡¯t difficult to identify a mage of Sympathy. The users tended to carry a large variety of materials on their person at all times.


    ¡°While fast and flexible, the primary drawback to sympathy is what we call work¡± He turned back to the students


    ¡°Sympathy, in theory, is one of equal exchange. For me to lift the¡­screamer¡¯s chair, I had to expend mana equal to the force to raise it. However, in practice, it required quite a bit more than that due to my choice of material. You!¡± He pointed and another student was called to the podium.


    ¡°I have linked these two objects to the chair. Please move each¡±


    All were watching as the first-year reached for the stone. He gripped the cool material and tried to lift it into the air. Immediately he felt his shallow pool rapidly dwindle. Yet, he could only make the chair wobble in response.


    ¡°Hmm good try, but let''s not pass out on our first day. No marks, but focus on expanding your mana reserve¡± He critiqued and gestured to the piece of wood.


    The student nodded and tried a second time. This time he was able to make the chair levitate slightly, before halting.


    ¡°Well, you tried¡­¡± The professor sighed it seemed like they were getting worse each year.


    ¡°Still not a total failure, as you can tell the wood to wood connection was far stronger than wood to stone. Now to truly maximize efficiency, it is best to have a piece of the connected object.¡± He pulled out a small splinter and placed it onto the sample.


    ¡°One more time please¡± and the student did so.


    Even with skill exhaustion, he was able to lift the chair nearly a foot off the ground. He held the spell for nearly 5 seconds before his arm gave out. The professor shooed him away and continued.


    Sympathy wasn¡¯t limited to movement, all forms of connections could be made. By heating one object, you could ignite another. Furthermore, you could make sympathetic chains to external sources. This was how [Magical Engineers] and their variants created mechanical monstrosities. By linking their materials to mana batteries, waterwheels, or any other device that could ¡°work¡± they could transfer it into their creations. If efficiency wasn¡¯t an issue, they could transform types of work into others. Heat could be turned to movement, movement into light, light into cold, and more. Once again, the only true limit was the creativity of the spellcaster.


    He watched in amusement as they frantically took notes on this lecture, but there was still a lot to cover. He waited for one student to stop writing before continuing onto the next top. Wiping the board of his notes, a grin crossed his face as heard their cries.


    Rituals


    ¡°Rituals are an ancient form of magic closely related to the divine. While a god¡¯s power is a separate entity from the aether, we mages can still make use of the style. At first we thought magic was untamable. Something that had to be forced with our own mana and bound with our will. However, we were only partially correct. Magic IS wild, but it can pick up¡­how do I put this¡­impressions. It might be easier just to show.¡±


    Reaching into his bag, he placed a series of candles along the desk. Each one carefully aligned in a spiral pattern. He took his time measuring the distance between each one, adjusting them in minute ways. Satisfied, he took a series of herbs and formed connecting lines between the objects. Finally, he lit the wicks and began his incarnation.


    ¡°I¡¯ll give you thirty seconds to memorize this setup.¡± He waited briefly as the students frantically noted down the ritual.


    Once time was up, he carefully extinguished the flames one at a time. Pausing to say the next part of the ritual before pinching his fingers together. Sweat formed on his brow as he carefully concentrated on the display. With the last step down, he snuffed out the final light and the entire room was plunged into darkness. This wasn¡¯t just a normal nightfall, it was the absence of all. Both light and sound were gone. Nobody could tell how long it lasted before the candle relit and the world returned to normal.


    ¡°The benefit of ritualistic magic requires nearly zero mana to perform. By tapping into the woven tapestry, the effect spontaneously occurs. Additionally, The ritual of darkness has been performed for thousands of years. This constant imprinting allows us to cast the spell with relative ease. Additionally, because rituals only require a particular set of steps; you can create effects far above your standard level. Of course, that is easier said than done. Those that lean into the [[Ritualist]] classes have a much easier time of it. Whether it be substituting materials for mana, the effect naturally stronger due to their bonds with the tapestry, or even gaining skills that allow them to cast a spell but save it¡¯s effects for later. Lastly, the underlying current seems to be appeased by showmanship. Using higher quality materials and adding a bit of flair will enhance its effect.¡±


    He knocked over the candles and pointed to another student.


    ¡°You, please perform the ritual as demonstrated¡±


    The whole auditorium turned to the student. This was clearly a setup and they wanted to see his reaction. Grabbing his notes, he shuffled down the steps to the podium.


    ¡°Do not worry about the incantation, I¡¯ll chant it for you. Just set up and perform the actions please¡±


    He did his best to replicate the professor''s ritual, carefully setting up the candle arrangement, laying out the herbs, and snuffing out the light. Holding his finger at the final flame, he felt the magic begin to take hold. IT was an exhilarating feeling and one he savored briefly.


    ¡°Go on¡± And he felt a hand on his shoulder. Taking a deep breath, he extinguished the light.


    The world fell into darkness once more and he cheered out.


    ¡°HAH I DID IT!¡± ¡ª only to be met with some stifled laughter.


    ¡°Do not laugh at a fellow student or I¡¯ll have you volunteer for the next!¡± He shouted, it was disgraceful. The best lessons usually came from failure.


    ¡°Now, while rituals are powerful. To disgrace the aetheric webway leads to more intense backlash than the other paths of magic. Thankfully, the rebound of darkness is self-blindness.¡± He felt the student begin to panic.


    ¡°Calm down or do you want a mark? Backlash is common in our line and you must be willing to deal with the consequences. Hopefully you made a friend to take notes for you¡± He turned back to the board and continued to write.


    Rituals are inherently linked to complexity. The more flair and steps, the more powerful the effect. While clerics and those of various cults only need to please their fickle gods, ritualists are attempting to imprint order into the aether. Some are so intense, it requires hundreds to meet at precise times. Hired dancers, alchemists, masons, and more all working together to generate a single effect. Each consistent repetition is easier than the last. In fact, the first casting of darkness required 7 towns instead of 7 candles. The path dedicated to finding ways to reinforce their magic in the world. Out of all the paths it encouraged the most collaborations and could produce the strongest effects of any. However, it required tons of preparation and commitment to make any progress at all.


    ¡°Moving on, I think curing your blindness is a perfect use of our next section."

 Intro to Magic - The academy records part 2

    Shifting back to the board, the instructor moved onto the next topic.


    Alchemy


    ¡°While many argue Alchemy isn¡¯t within the primary paths of magic, I personally reject that motion. Yes, classes within this profession rarely graduate from these halls. However, this is primary due to the nature and¡­cost of the class. The low-rank potions such as healing, endurance, mana, etc are fairly simple to make. Any mid-level [Apothecary] can produce it without issue. But what of a greater potion of restoration? What of a potion of giant¡¯s strength? These tinctures are rare based on the difficulty of generating suitable ingredients. Even I have yet to brew a greater restoration potion, but let¡¯s walk through something a bit more simple.¡± He returned to the board.


    A lesser potion of restoration. The fastest method involved combining fifty high quality healing potions into a cauldron. On a low heat, the [Alchemist] carefully pours each one in, one at a time. While merging the liquids, the temperature could slowly add distilled basilisk blood. Of course, that is a three day purification process requiring a beast slaughtered within 48 hours. Titrate in the blood until the mixture transforms from a deep crimson to a light purple. If too much is added, and the color changes to maroon, it is a failure. Upon success, the mixture must be rapidly cooled within one degree of freezing. Pour the liquid into a glass vial, while keeping it chilled. Exposure the proto-potion to the sun for 12 hours, constantly rotating the liquid within. Sieve out any clumps of material and slowly mix with freshly ground toothward. Stir until a slight glow appears and then the potion is complete.


    While the steps seem simple, the cost is exorbitant. Yes, a lesser portion of restoration can easily set a broken limb.--but a healer could do the same for a fraction of the cost. Furthermore, at each stage there is a high rate of failure. Even following the recipe exactly could end in failure. Minute conditions such as the laboratory¡¯s temperature, humidity, latent magical energy, stray dust, and a variety of other factors can influence the final product. As such, most of the headmasters agreed that only those of significant talent would be allowed to walk this path. The cost of training would fund a small kingdom!


    ¡°Before next class, I want each of you to sit and calculate how much gold you¡¯d need to create a potion of stoneskin without any levels. Good luck!¡± He began to wipe away the board and remembered the blind student.


    ¡°Oh, here¡± He popped open a minor restoration potion and poured it into their eyes. Within moments the blackness began to fade.


    He wished he could speak more on the subject, but he himself didn¡¯t have the passion for this area of study and quickly moved onto the next.


    Enchanting


    ¡°I am sure you are well aware of the ban on enchanters in most kingdoms. However, here you are free to practice the art for¡­educational purposes. The path of an enchanting is a battle of wills. Nearly all spells in this school are ones of trickery, deceit, and illusion. I do hope after graduation, each of you will recognize the signs and learn to protect yourselves properly. This path is hard struck on the rule of three. Can anyone tell me what that is?¡±


    One student raised their hand to answer.


    ¡°Spells and incantations can be repeated up to three times to amplify their effects¡± The pupil replied.


    ¡°Correct! In fact, nearly all forms of magic can be boosted by repeating the initial phrase. I¡¯m sure some of you have tried to apply this phenomenon to your own spells and failed miserably. As I said before, it is deeply rooted within the enchanters realm. Each subsequent repetition drastically increases the difficulty of the casting. Even skill-based spells tend to falter under these conditions. However, for every spell on this path, you may only cast with a set of three. Now, I¡¯ll be using a simple illusion spell. Please relax and don¡¯t resist I promise no harm¡±


    The instructor began the first round of incantations. Unlike before, the words could be heard by the entire class. It didn¡¯t matter to him, the spell was far above the average mage¡¯s ability. It was a long poem describing the beauty of nature. Each word delicately left his lips as a slight breeze overtook the room. Upon the first repetition, the smell of morning dew filled the space, the walls shifted in color, and a sense of relaxation crept into their minds. In the second round, his voice lowered. Each phrase taking much longer to speak, a bit of spittle flying past his lips as he forced the incantation out. His fingers gripped the desk to stabilize his weakening limbs. As he approached the last stanza, veins popped on his forehead while blood crept out of his nose. Upon completion; long vines began to snake across the walls, the sounds of birds echoed in the air, and rays of sunlight penetrated the sky.


    He took a moment before starting the third repetition. Grabbing a bit of water, he wet his parched throat and wiped off the blood. Performing such a mass spell was a feat of strength. Even with something this simple spell, enchanting hundreds of minds tested his limits. Yet, he wanted to show off the power of a true archmage. Taking a deep breath, he began to utter the poem for the last time. Within the first few words, his muscles began to seize. An intense tremor overtook his body, but he powered through. Reaching the second part, it felt like he¡¯d taken a bat to the head. A painful throbbing headache that made his vision blur. His eyes began to bleed and darkness started to take hold. This wasn¡¯t good, gripping his arm, he dug the nails deep into the flesh. The rush of adrenaline allowed him to refocus as he forced out each and every syllable. His lips cracked open and bled, voice hoarse and sickly, and his mind addled from the casting. With one gargled cry, he finished the spell and collapsed into his chair. The author''s narrative has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.


    In a dazzling display, thousands of glistening butterflies appeared. The swarm of insects obscured the view as the world transformed around them. A scintillating display of otherworldly colors flooding the vision and exotic smells tickling the nose. Thousands of fluttering wings creating a high-pitched hum while their light touch caressed the skin. Within moments, the cascade of insects began to explode into dust. Each tiny pop revealed a cloud of color that melded into the scenery. At first the scene looked like a piece of watercolor, but as more joined it became more real. A living piece of art which enveloped the gawking students.


    For all the magic displayed, this was the most impressive of all. The chamber transformed into an idyllic outdoor paradise. A faint sun casting colored rays of light over a bright green meadow. A winding river cut through the landscape displaying a variety of exotic fish. Even the smell was comforting, a rich scent that calmed the mind. Within the spell''s effects, it was a perfect paradise. But for those watching from outside, the students looked like drooling addicts. The sight always made the instructor chuckle. So many rich brats now in a magical stupor. Thankfully, the spell would last about ten minutes giving him a much needed rest. Wiping the sweat from his face, he popped open a mana potion, and closed his eyes. He was their master enchanter, but he hated how these spells exhausted him. Maybe he could find a prodigy within this group, but most couldn¡¯t handle the¡­drawbacks.


    ¡°I hope you enjoyed the trip¡± He watched as the students were horrified by the drool and other¡­expulsions. He could see a few had pissed themselves, well they should have read the pamphlet about not drinking before class¡­


    ¡°As you experienced first hand, most enchantments have some tell at the start. If you are weak willed and allow the spell to cast, the duel is over. Entire armies can be removed by one well placed spell. Fortunately, recognizing what is happening instantly makes it harder for the caster. Something as simple as calling out the spell can cause it to fail. If something feels off, assume the worst. However; if against a high level enchanter, then you must physically stop them. Track the flow of aether or search for the one who is struggling. Thankfully, the more debilitating the effects, the harder it is to cast. Once identified, stopping them once is usually enough.¡±


    Taking another sip of water he continued.


    ¡°However, for simple enchants you may not have that luxury. While they are not nearly as dangerous, they can be used to obfuscate. Your best option is to study basic anti-enchantment techniques including various eye buffs or counter magic. Those who graduate shouldn¡¯t have any issue acquiring these skills without the Will¡¯s assistance. Moving on to the most dangerous type of all¡±


    Summoning


    ¡°Some may argue that summons are a combination of other paths. However that is not the case. Each summon is unique in both casting and effects. There are a wide variety of creatures you may call to assist you. Demons, Avatars, Servants of the Greater Powers, and more. Before even attempting to cast a summon, it is imperative to do thorough research. Calling a demon and not knowing its proper name is a surefire way to become possessed. Likewise, calling in a servant without proper precautions can lead to a very angry god. However, while we encourage the development of all aspects of magic, summoning is one that requires oversight in every casting. For this reason, if you decide to take this path I recommend you supplement with a secondary type. Now let''s go over the basics shall we?


    Demons tended to be the most dangerous of all and each fell into a predefined category. Demons of Law were silver-tongue and promised great power for ¡°little¡± costs. Usually something simple that could be construed into something far greater. They used magical contracts, negotiations, and red tape to trap the summoner in a never-ending contract of servitude. On the opposite end are demons of chaos. These are wildly unpredictable and are natural oathbreakers. Sure a contract my work at first, but due to their nature these binds will slowly fade. However, they are far less intelligent than those of the Law and can be brute-forced to serve. When working with those of chaos, always be ready for a trick. Nothing about them is to be trusted, for example a demon of life may be called to heal a devastating plague. However, if not banished in time, those twisted life energies can lead to bulbous growths and fleshy tumors. In one extreme incident, a small town was completely merged into a living pile of flesh. Their bodies combine into a towering growth, but never experience death. Others you may call upon are those of nature, progress, death, and some of more¡­esoteric aspects. He turned back to the group and made one simple command.


    ¡°If you would like to try a demon summoning, you will need explicit permission from our representative from the city of contracts. Even the headmasters cannot overrule this requirement. Moving on.¡±


    The second set of summons would be that of the divine. Each god had a different set of servants which fulfilled various roles. Calling upon a All-Seeing One from Dalros can help fight illusions or other trickery. Normally, these types of beings are restricted to their various sects or from acts of mercy. However, with sufficient material and power, a mage can forcefully summon one for assistance. When dabbling in the realm of gods, tread carefully. These creatures are extensions of the divine and most deities do not take kindly to these magics. As such, it is best to hide your identity before calling or you WILL make one very powerful enemy. Of course, not all gods are against these. In fact, some may encourage the calling of their servants. As they require a sufficient offering or equal trade. As with demons, it is imperative to property research the being you call. The mortal body is not designed to withstand the divine. You¡¯ll either burn out, become enslaved, or far worse.


    ¡°Now we do have some priests here that may teach you how to summon the lesser spawn. Just avoid their sermons, I don¡¯t want to lose any of you to the priesthood ok? Now for our last section for summoning we will discuss necromancy¡±

 Necromancy - The academy records part 3

    Eldor stared at the board before him. A simple word for all to see¡­


    Necromancy


    It had so much¡­history behind it. Like many other archmagi, Eldor¡¯s primary goal was the pursuit of knowledge¨Cno matter the cost. However; that¡­Cult had such a stranglehold on necromantic magic, it was nearly impossible to study. Their stupid god was stifling any new discoveries and stamping out progress. But fighting death was a futile endeavor. Only through plenty of donations and diplomatic pressure, were they even able to bring up the topic to their students. It was a joint effort between the headmasters and the ¡°divine leaders¡±. The team combed through all texts, changed curriculum, and removed ¡°problematic¡± literature from the academy. Hard lines were drawn on what could be taught to the fledgling magi. Any deviations from the approved studies would bring swift judgment.  It was so¡­frustrating. He was already a master-class enchanter, he had yet to abuse his class. Why couldn¡¯t he properly train others to do the same?!


    Even now, the only spells sanctioned by the priests were simple things like [Death Bolt]. All other texts with higher tiered magic had been scrubbed. Furthermore, the basic rituals were forbidden. While they could discuss negative or death zones, they couldn¡¯t talk about how they were created. In fact, they went so far as to censor any positive texts as well. Before the purge, Eldor recalled an old historial text discussing a kingdom heavily influenced by necromancy. Thousands upon thousands of corpses were raised and used as labor. Each one carefully designed for the task at hand, vast zones of negative energy fueling the masses. Meanwhile, their still living citizens enjoyed a life of luxury. Instead of working to survive, they could pursue whatever passion which drove them. Arts flourished, classes expanded, and life was good.


    Sure there were some¡­negative aspects of it. The largest involving the vast amounts of living sacrifices. Every day they had to slaughter a decent amount of people to fuel the death fields. However, that was easily dealt with via prisoners, slaves, and culling the elderly. In fact, the elderly saw it as a way of giving back to the next generation. Their lives fuel the various rituals maintaining the negative regions. They were given a painless death, their lives transformed into energy for the mass of undead. It was a selfless act, it was something that should be thanked not scorned. Of course, they only made up about 10% of the total needed. But Eldor was sure there were more efficient ways of keeping the cycle going.


    And that was the root of the problem! With the spread of Deas, alternatives could never be studied. Worse yet was the incident at the academy. As time passed, the cult became less active. Their priests visited less often as they expanded worship across the lands. With the lack of oversight, new books snuck past the censors. They were minor tomes at first, simple spells to manipulate bone, others teach how to merge flesh for rapid wound healing, and minor animation of vermin. They knew it was trouble, but the temptation was too great. One by one, the students began to practice in secret. Books passed around under protection spells as word spread through the upper classes. Many brushed it off as a rumor, but the ones who knew quickly formed their own sect.


    It was a slow and careful process. If discovered, there was a high chance of execution. Since the cult had free reign over necromancers, there was little chance of mercy. But the taste of forbidden knowledge was far too great. Pacts were made to keep lips tight, code words created so they may discuss in public, even special markings developed indicating a safe place for practice. Yet, these books were only the start. As their resources grew, they began to hire [Smuggler]¡¯s and other shady dealers. Huge bounties were placed on necromantic texts, rumors, and even samples. The upperclassmen ventured forth to fields of battle. While they said they were there to help cull the roaming dead, in reality they were gathering information. As they continued to grow, the cult caught wind of the action. A deadly duel in the underground occurred, information brokers captured and interrogated. Baits laid out and false rumors started to halt the flow of information. Even with their vast resources, they couldn¡¯t identify the leader. So many layers were developed, cells were formed isolating information, minds were enchanted to prevent thought reading, nearly every aspect was blocked in some way.  Seeing such an intricate network, the cult realized this was a problem that couldn¡¯t continue.


    With the priests focused on stamping out the flood of information, those inside the towering walls began constructing grand chambers. Sympathy magi worked alongside summoners to evacuate underground caverns. Rotating teams fueled various golems to dig through the tough bedrock. It was a grueling process that required huge pools of mana to accomplish, yet they were persistent. Quickly following the excavators were the Ritualists. The teams worked in sync as they chanted and drew runes all across the walls. At first it was simple things, glowing runes to provide light, filtration spells to keep the air from stagnating, and silencing sigils to block scrying. However, after 3 years, they stumbled upon a massive break-through.


    One adventure stumbled across the ancient dungeon of a former [Lich Lord]. While the Lich was long gone, his texts remained behind. Word spread and the Cult quickly swarmed the site to purify the area, but one book was able to be salvaged. Located within were the basic principles of necromancy. Various spells on how to raise the dead, modify corpses, halt the rot of specimens, and most importantly; turn away the eye of Deas. With such a spell, they were able to turn these caverns into training grounds. No outside source could sense the flow of death below. The chambers quickly turned into macabre laboratories. A place for the fledgling [Necromancer]¡¯s to hone their craft. The author''s tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.


    But it wasn¡¯t enough to stop those from outside, but their colleagues as well. The more esoteric enchanters quickly agreed to practice on their fellow pupils. Rarely would they be able to cast these spells without serious consequences. Soon the hallways leading to the chamber were littered with long-lasting enchantments designed to turn away curious onlookers. Some created simple illusions, a wall instead of a door. Others addled the brain, causing anyone nearby to forget what they were doing. However, with so many working in tandem, only the greatest of casters could penetrate their magic.


    With the foundations set, the sect began branching out. No longer were they satisfied reading through old texts. They needed materials and resources to practice. Corpses were ordered under the guise of medical training, Grave dirt was pilfered from nearby regions. Soon a blood tithe was enacted. Those within the cult were required to donate a pint of blood every few weeks in order to access the caverns. While they couldn¡¯t directly create a negative zone, they were able to achieve the same effect by piling corpses into a single chamber. With the concentrated deathly energy, it was able to form a well within the room. Each room was carefully monitored for spontaneous reanimation, those that did were quickly whisked away for study.


    It was a renaissance of magic. So many new classes were developed. People began to specialize into different roles. Some took up [Fleshshaper] and developed self-sustaining flesh golems. Some delving into the paths of animation and achieving the class of  [Greater Necromancer], allowing them to summon and control vast amounts of undead. While others preferred a more traditional casting role. Focusing on controlling the flow of negative and deathly energy. These [Dark Mage]s were quite varied in their roles, but tended to drain the life of the living to empower their allies. Even those not directly interested in necromancy picked up a few new skills. Things like [Sense Undead], [Negative Attunement], and more. So much progress had been made in their studies and this was only the start.


    Eldor couldn¡¯t be prouder of those trailblazing mages. . His alum had risked it all in the pursuit of magic. It was a noble cause. Even after the purge, some of their nearly crafted skills were integrated into society. Basic things like bone manipulation to help with healing or ways to efficiently kill off undead with basic magics. He wished he could convince the cult to allow more studies, he was sure that new skills could be developed to combat the lingering threats of undeath. Yet, they were far to shortsighted to see all the advantages of it. Instead whining about how it desecrated the soul. How it was an affront to their god. How it left contaminated land in the wake, stifling any new life. It was this reason the clergy and the mages didn¡¯t get along.


    Yet, as they grew in size. The ability to hide their actions became exponentially harder. Enchanters were working in shifts to keep the spells charged. Coin was flowing out of the coffers as they paid bribes to various officials. Food was scarce as the anemic students ravenous devoured what they could. Even supplies rapidly dwindled causing the academy to take greater risks in acquiring corpses and other reagents. With so many moving parts, cracks began to form. It only took one stupid mistake for it to all collapse.


    How he wished he could have been there. Of course not now as the bulk were executed, but to taste that euphoric sense of new magic. Spellcaster was inherently personal. While the various paths formed the foundations, each could be tweaked to match the mage¡¯s personality. The flow of the aether empowering the soul, the energy filling the body. It was so¡­intoxicating. A raging inferno that grew within. Yet, he knew that overindulgence could lead to backlash. Flesh could only handle so much. Channeling too much aether had killed far better magi than him.


    But alas, it only took one moment of weakness and the world united against them. One devout follower of Deas had applied to be a mage: Ralnor. He had the mind of a mage and the wisdom of a cleric. Seeing such talent, the academy couldn¡¯t help but let him in. The student yearned to acquire the rare class [Spell Priest]. They were few and far between, but powerhouses within their religions. However, for all his talent and drive, the academy was stupid for letting him in.


    As the new student roamed the halls, he could sense the overwhelming dread. Something was wrong, a tickle in his brain. He tried to ask around but was met with vague answers. Thinking it was another challenge from his teachers, he began to investigate. He wasn¡¯t the best at it, but being so close to Deas gave him a few passive blessings. As he wandered the halls, he caught the smell of rot. It was pungent, filthy, something that needed to be cleansed. A simple prayer to Dead and a minor blessing was bestowed upon him. It took his entire being to not reveal his emotions. Standing at the end of the corridor was a shambling zombie. He couldn¡¯t believe it! Before his prayer, it looked like an upperclassman. With renewed vigor, he quickly returned to his dorm. The depravity only increased as he passed more and more undead. He wanted to vomit, it was vile. It was wrong. He wanted to fight back, but knew that he¡¯d be silenced and forgotten. There was only one way to stop this.


    Sitting in his dorm, he pulled out his sanctified scry-glass. It was a cherished gift so he may still attend the various services and perform his penance. Using the coded language, he requested a direct contact with their leader. Moments later, the man¡¯s face appeared. He was clearly unhappy with the interruption. Yet, he knew that Ralnor would use this in a true emergency. Face to face with his mentor, He carefully explained all he¡¯d witnessed. The [Archbishop of the Afterlife] quietly listened to the facts, occasionally asking some clarifying questions. As they talked, all the pieces fit into place. Cutting the feed, the Archbishop reached out to the other leaders. To act against the academy would create much blowback. It was supposed to be a politically neutral location. A place of learning and study¡­but they could not allow this to continue. Already their god was starting to awaken, his wraith sweeping through their members. Gathering their most talented members, the Church of Deas marched to war.

 One Last Stand - The Academy Records part 4

    News quickly spread of the cult¡¯s movement. Thousands of members joining the call, these groups undertook a long pilgrimage to fields of battle. Supplies were stifled as the cult pressed their influence on nearby caravans. Each passing day more sects arrived forming a grand perimeter around the academy. The headmasters tried to negotiate with the cult, but their messages were quickly rebuffed. Each one directed students to reinforce the walls and to prepare for a siege if their relations soured. After a tense week, the [High Father] stepped into the field. His voice was mighty as he channeled the divine might. His speech was long, accusing the academy of breaking oaths, how they committed sacrilege within its walls, and how justice would be swift. Any who were tainted with deathly magics would be executed. Only by surrendering would they have a chance of surviving. Seeing the lack of response, the [High Father] signaled his army and the assault began.


    A combined prayer rippled through the masses. Each offering up a piece of themselves to invoke Deas¡¯ blessing. Their combined might unleash the winds of death. A freezing cold that tore across the land, the deathly chill siphoning the warmth of life. It was nearly invisible, only the trails of frost indicating where it passed. Yet, for all it¡¯s might, it couldn¡¯t penetrate the school¡¯s wards. Runes appeared on the walls as ancient spells activated. Amongst the gale of death, the magical barrier stood strong. Chromatic colors filled the sky as the bubble of magic enveloped the school, cutting it off from the outside world.


    But this was only the start, Deas was relentless. A second miracle appeared, a thick cloud of dark smoke crept along the ground. Globs of negative energy coalesced within and splattered against the earth. While slower than the winds of death, it was far more potent. The choking miasma turned anything it touched into muck. The air itself darkened as the negative zone siphoned and fought against the sunlight. Slowly, the dark magics engulfed the academy. The barrier intensified as it withstood the deadly smog. Yet, it stood strong. Frustrated, the [High Father] began another round of prayer. They were going to unleash miracle after miracle until those walls fell.


    Since the army arrived, the various leaders argued on the best action. Sides were quickly drawn as each made their case. Unfortunately, for three of them, they had no idea that necromancy had even been studied. Each had been so focused on their own paths, they shut out the world around them. Now they had to face the consequences of their ignorance. Zenos the [Archmage of Sympathy],  Illoneus the [Ritualist of Splendor], and Oreas the [High Alchemist of Transmutation] angered at the other two. IF they knew what was going on, they could have stopped it! The oldest, Zenos, had dealt with the cult once before and knew the horrors of battle. IF it wasn¡¯t for the other two, he¡¯d have fought them on the spot for such treachery. They had put all this work in danger, so much would be purged when it was over! Meanwhile Illoneus and Oreas tried to offer up scapegoats. Maybe they could help some of the students escape the cult¡¯s wraith or use various enchantments to cut off their access to death magic. Anything to form some compromise. Yet Zenos knew it was impossible. Deas was not a merciful god. He was fair, but brutal.


    Then there was Arceus the [Enchanter of deathly Illusions] and Cirhan the [Archmage of Grotesque Creations]. They were true magi, both focused on the pursuit of knowledge. With so much powerful magics, they assured the others of victory. With the cult eliminated, they would be free to study without restraint. A subsect of summoning would be available to students, whole new classes developed, and new magics created. They could be the catalyst for change, the first to establish necromancy as a legitimate profession. It would usher in a whole new era of magic!


    But they didn¡¯t buy it. The cult had influence, nearly every city was intertwined with death. Their priests are solemn and fanatical. Now that the academy was targeted, they would never relent. Even if they somehow won, they¡¯d be assaulted until the end of time. And if they lose? All their work would be lost, all their studies gone. Centuries of knowledge would be burned to the ground, nothing would remain as the cult purged all records. The risk was far too great for one aspect of summoning.


    Their tensions finally reached their crescendo on the first miracle. Even though the wards held, seeing the powerful intervention was terrifying. One mistake in their defense and death would come. Without any other options; Zenos, Illoneus, and Oreas united in their demand. Those others had to surrender or flee. They would not shelter any of their kind. . Only then could they try and negotiate with the [High Father] and try to salvage the academy. It would be hard, but if they volunteered to be subjected to The Eye, they may be spared. But the two didn¡¯t relent, aether began to gather in the room as their emotions flared. Suddenly Illoneus turned¡­


    ¡°Arceus¡­¡± Illoneus called out, his tone dripping with spite.


    The enchanter grinned with such smugness. He¡¯d been caught. Using [Double Speak], [False Whispers], and [Alter Self]. He formed a disguise allowing him to chant without notice. The moment the assault started he began his most powerful spell [The World Turns Against You]. Sure there were more flashy options when he leveled, but the man was one subtlety. It was quite insidious, nearly invisible to the untrained mind. At its core, it made simple adjustments. Tones became more aggressive, doubts were amplified in the brain, and the occasional threat was whispered on the wind. All senses were disrupted, objects were slightly off. They¡¯d trip over pebbles they didn¡¯t see, drop objects by misjudging the weight, even smell foul substances at random. A constant stream of minor inconveniences would pile up, the illusion shifting to make life a living hell. But the danger was its simplicity. Everything could be written off as either bad luck, stress, lack of sleep, or just brain fog. Even still, recognizing that they were cursed was only the first step. Shattering the spell required otherworldly skills. Runes couldn¡¯t be drawn properly, wording for incantations forgotten, and reagents would disappear from view. The spell would actively hinder any attempts of removal. Only through outside help did they have a chance of breaking free. Usually by then, they¡¯d have lost their friends from lashing out. Lost their homes due to accidents, or even lost their lives from misjudging a sword swing. But it mattered not, he was already on the final stanza, one more phrase and this fight would be over.


    Realizing the danger they were in, Illoneus immediately activated his own capstone¨C[Rebound:Grand Ritual]. His ring shattered into a cascade of white light. A scintillating flare that engulfed the room in his magic. Arceus cursed, he was too far into his spell to cancel. Thankfully, Cirhan was quick. The Summoner pricked his finger and fed the blood to a gem on his wrist. In a cloud of smoke, his prized golem Zolam appeared. The animated mass of rock was embedded with various runes and magical gemstones. His arms were made of concentric rings that constantly rotated. As they shifted, the runes quickly aligned into one of anti-magic. The air deadened as the golem began to absorb the ritual. His body glowing as the precious gems filled with aether. One by one they were overloaded and exploded with a resounding crack. It didn¡¯t need to stop the spell, only allow Arceus to finish his own.


    Illoneus realized he was moving too slow. He¡¯d need to end this now. Swapping targets, he quickly used [Mass Teleport] to escape alongside the other headmasters. His original plan was to just transport the betrayers directly to the cult, but this was his second option. Unfortunately, by adjusting the ritual mid-cast, he couldn¡¯t designate their destination. Instead he offered up his second ring as a sacrifice. It was something personal and of great worth, thus they were each transported to a place of personal significance¨Ctheir labs.


    There would be no compromise. With the lines drawn, Arcues immediately initiated his contingency. Tapping the scryglass, he triggered his latent spells hidden throughout the academy. A signal to the sect of death that negotiations failed and they would need to fight. In that single moment, the halls turned into a battlefield.


    Halting his spells, the wonders of necromancy were revealed to all. Layers of deceit and illusion were pulled back showing how far the sect had grown. Shrouded students transformed into wraithful creations. With their shackles gone, they immediately turned towards the other. It was a bloodbath, unprepared students were ambushed by the deadly creations. Bloodied claws tearing into flesh and devouring the innards. Vermin and other minor creations tore through the walls as they swarmed the retreating students. Shadows grew and twisted as dark beings appeared. They crept along the floor and ceiling, each jumping between various areas of darkness. Their ethereal hands reaching out and through the flesh. A necrotic touch that rapidly rotted anything in their grasp. Blobs of living flesh slithered through the vents and drains. Tendrils of glistening viscera reaching out to bind those passing. Strong acids digesting the flesh and slurping up the soupy mass.


    But this wasn¡¯t just the creations, the students themselves joined in the fight. Alongside the wave of deathly constructs, terrible spells were unleashed on their fellow man. Razor sharp ice pinning people to the walls. Grand fireballs igniting robes and flesh, Blasts of sand stripping off skin and muscle. Those that tried to fight back were rapidly cursed by the various enchantments, the stumbling students only food for the growing army of undead. Screams of agony echoed through the halls. What was once thought as safe is now a killing ground. . This wasn¡¯t a fight, it was an extermination. Within the first few moments nearly a fourth of the student body had perished.


    Those not killed in the initial assault quickly regrouped around their own headmasters. Pockets of resistance began to appear in the onslaught of death. Ever prepared, Zenos immediately began to counter. Directing his students, they rapidly shifted the room into a kill zone. Walls were shifted and reinforced, traps created with their magics, and all restraints of magic lifted. While some froze in the face of death, many stood firm. Zenos stood proud, as long as their resolve held, they had a chance.


    He watched each with a critical eye. Offering advice on how to use their skills for offensive purposes. They¡¯d only have a few moments before the second wave hit. His prized pupil had shifted and molded metal into makeshift swords. Connecting the metal to a top, he let it spin on the floor. The result was a deadly wave of spinning blades that eviscerated the lesser undead. Others were a bit more blunt in their application of sympathy. Forming links between stones, they would lift debris into the air and let it smash down on the invaders. While effective, it was quite an inefficient use of magic. There were many variants of sympathy, each one as deadly in their own way. Satisfied with their defense, he turned back to his workshop. He had an idea in mind, but would need a lot of time to accomplish it. Restarting his great furnace, he began gathering fuel. This spell would require a ton of energy to work.


    Illoneus wasn¡¯t as lucky as the others. He only had enough levels to store 3 grand spells. With mass teleport used and the second sacrificed, he was left the most dangerous of all. It was a last resort and one he wouldn¡¯t use lightly. Unfortunately, he had studied grand magic. Things that were a spectacle to the eye, massive effects that required much planning to set up. Outside of the basic [Fireball] or [Ice Spike] he was short on true offensive magics. Instead, he relied on his pupils for the defense. Walking around his spire, he activated various wards and barriers. While these were primarily used to stop backlash, they should at least delay the army. He quickly commanded his students to prepare their spells. With a flick, he unlocked his storage allowing them to use any reagent no matter the cost. Bidding them luck, he climbed the stairs to enact his own plan. Contacting the cult, he could only hope they would agree to his terms.


    Meanwhile Oreas was having the time of his life. Alchemists were always a bit crazy, the toxic fumes doing something to their brains. His capstone skill [Linked Storage] while innocuous was quite effective. It was simple, anything in his lab he could ¡°grab¡± from any range. Standing at the forefront of his students, he threw potion after potion. The moment one left his grip, another appeared. A maniacal cackle left his throat as he witnessed their effects. He rarely could trial them on flesh. Yet this was the perfect opportunity for knowledge. As they landed into clumps of undead, various effects were unleashed. Some turned to glass before shattering on the floor, others melted into viscous puddles of slime, another group transformed into stone statues, and even more burst into flames. Pausing to message his arm, he sipped a focusing potion and glanced around. Like him, his students were using this time to the fullest. His prized pupil unbothered by the commotion was rapidly taking notes on what potions did what. Various annotations on ideas to improve their efficacy underlined for future testing. Others were working in groups to perform their own experiments. One team unleashed a corrosive haze that slowly stripped those caught to bone. The flesh melting and dropping to the ground below. While it greatly weakened the attackers, the bones were unaffected. As such, all they accomplished was transforming a group of ghouls into animated skeletons. Thankfully, those were quickly torn apart by some transformed pupils. Various animal extracts distilled into a singular substance, their bodies melding with the beast¡¯s essence forming chimeric monsters. While their intelligence dwindled, their strength drastically increased. Rampaging brutes tore through the undead flinging bodies into the air, their thick hides protecting them from the bites and claws.


    However, while the headmasters were able to protect some students the others only delayed the inevitable. Many barricaded themselves in classes, they did their best to halt the flow of undead. But once a few other mages joined in the assault they were quickly eliminated. Their bodies rapidly reanimated and joined the ranks of undead. Even those of great talent struggled in their defense. While they could win in a mage duel, it was nigh impossible to focus when surrounded by an army of undeath.


    ¡°Is it time?¡± Cirhan turned to Arceus


    The two were swapping between scryglass, assisting their students where they could. While they wished they could do more, it was time to focus on the army outside. With the paladins, warpriests, and other attackers stepping onto the field; it was time to unleash their grand spell. Both paused for a second, staring each other in the eye. After casting this, there would be no going back. They¡¯d be marked for life. With a mutual understanding, Arceus grabbed Cirhan¡¯s hand and offered up his own well of mana.


    Shifting his focus away from the animated undead, Cirhan turned towards the map on the table. It was a perfect replica of the underground caverns. The entire region is carefully carved out into a massive spell circle. At each point they had created a region of death. It was a masterclass in summoning and something he had been yearning to unleash. Cutting his finger, he touched the blood to the dark ink. A guttural chant passed his lips as he spoke the forbidden words.  Deep in the underground, the carved runes lit up with the ancient magic. His pupils began to join the spell, each holding hands as they circled the zones of death. Negative energy whipped through the tunnels as aether connected each region. Bits of magic leaking from the spell circle and causing the ground to tremor. Within moments, the isolation runes disintegrated. Their actions now open for all to see. With such a powerful spell, mages from all over the world felt the shift in aether. Various skills activated as the world¡¯s eye turned toward their academy. But it didn¡¯t matter, in fact. Cirhan was happy all could see, they would learn the true power of necromancy!


    But what the two didn¡¯t tell their students was a spell this grand required a certain¡­sacrifice. As the final words left their mouths, they spell activated. Each room of negative energy rapidly expanded until it filled the entire circle. The students caught in the wild magics rapidly drained their life. Muscles atrophied, eyes began to wither, and a terrible weakness took hold. Some tried to flee, but they only stumbled a few steps before collapsing. Moments later they were nothing but desiccated corpses, their lives fuel for the grand spell.


    Up above, a feeling of dread swept through the army. The [High Father] and his inner circle began chanting protective prayers. They were not sure what was happening, but they needed to be prepared. Calling for a retreat, the various groups tried to return to camp only for the ground to open beneath them. Giant chasms tore across the land, swallowing those too slow to flee. Screams of terror echoing through the deep canyons as the men fell to their doom. Huge plumes of decay shot forth draining the region of color. The scent of rot and putrescence lingering on the nose. Spells were cast and weapons were drawn as they stared into the gaping abyss. Terrible screams cried out from below, a chorus of hundreds piercing the air. It was pure blasphemy. A cacophony of anguished cries that grew by the second. Within moments, a pillar of corpses erupted from within. Dozens upon dozens of bodies melded together into a single column. The mass of bodies crashing down as a second appeared. One by one those others arrived, all connected to a singular body.  .


    It was a hand, a huge hand of animated flesh. Walking along the tips, it barreled through the army with brutal efficiency. Each digit slamming down with such force it left a small crater behind. Even at its size it was quite quick. It targeted any spellcasters, charging forward and quickly smearing them into a bloody paste. With the horror unleashed, the [High Father] shifted from casting miracles to empowering his army. Warpriests joined the chant as their weapons glowed with divine might. Every swing unleashed a flash of light that seared the flesh. Yet for all their attacks, the creature only regenerated. Each kill adding to his ever growing mass. And it was only the first of three¡­


    The second soon crawled from its prison. A towering creation of flesh and tendrils. It had no defining characteristic, just a glistening blob of viscera. Slimy appendages slammed into the ground as the thing pulled itself forward. All it passed was left in a state of decay. Stringy globs of putrescence left a rancid slime in its wake. The rancid goo desecrated the land with pestilence. Puffs brown gasses wafted from seeping holes. A smell of rot and filth carried on the winds and assaulted the senses. Those nearby were overwhelmed with sickness and malaise. Many succumbed to the foulness, collapsing to their knees as they began to vomit. Eyes bled as they clawed at their throat, the vomit turning red as their innards began to rot. Congealing chunks of blood intermixing with the yellow bile. Some tried to crawl from the creature, but the effects were too great. The slug-like monster crept forward. Tendrils of flesh lashed out and pulled the men towards it. Upon contact, veins penetrated the skin crept beneath the surface. Their flesh yellowed as they melded with the monster, yet they didn¡¯t die. Leaving their voices intact, it wore their screaming flesh as macabre armor.If you encounter this story on Amazon, note that it''s taken without permission from the author. Report it.


    Then the third arose from the ground. Unlike the first two, this one floated in the air. Three casters merged into one. Their crying faces were covered by boney hands. Dozens of other limbs haphazardly attached at the torso. The heads were spaced equally from each other allowing full view of the battlefield. Frost fell from the body as a terrible chill filled the air. Those it gazed upon felt their fragile mortality. However this one was far more blunt then the others. Each limb pointed at a target and a blast of decay shot forth. Each twitching finger unleashing a high tier death spell. The thing cried in sorrow as it murdered the cult, It begged for the priest to kill it, and screamed for the weak to flee. Every few moments pausing to unleash a wail of painful agony.


    Cirhan nearly collapsed. Three monsters of legend summoned forth. Already he could hear The Will in his head, such a display of magic pushing him into the next level. But it would have to wait, each point was precious. Only after thorough research would he decide what to do. Gazing upon his creations, he felt powerful. That stupid cult was starting to falter. The bullies now faced something far greater than ever before. A gleeful laughter leaving his throat as the beasts slaughtered his oppressors. He felt an inherent connection with the death zone, every one that fell refilling his own mana. Each kill expands the zone slightly. There would be no mercy, he would hunt each and everyone down. This wasn¡¯t some stupid post-battle horde either. Each was linked to his will. Whenever he noticed some resistance, he would disengage and focus on the unprotected. Their heroes called out as they chased the monsters down. Entire sects slaughtered as the lower-leveled members were targeted. He was going to destroy their foundation and allow the rest to topple from it.


    While Cirhan dealt with the cult. Arceus returned to the academy. Leaving the others unattended was asking for trouble. Like Illoneus, he wasn¡¯t one for direct combat¡­but that didn¡¯t make him defenseless either. Instead he used his mind magic to link all his students into a collective. Their knowledge rapidly shared between groups as they worked as one. Taking a moment, he delved into the aether and felt the stirrings of something powerful. Sending a command to his students, he forced them to leave the others alone. They could cower for a bit longer, and besides after they had won they¡¯d need fresh sacrifices to rebuild. With the plan set, the army of death assaulted the labs with a renewed vigor.


    Zenos could hear his students start to fall. The group retreated back towards his reinforced laboratory as the assault intensified. Many already were suffering from burnout as they pushed their magic to the limits. The shattering of mana potions echoed in the room while cries of pain pierced the cacophony. Yet they still didn¡¯t stop. Some even pushing beyond their limits, burning out in a flare of aether-light. But truthfully, Zenos didn¡¯t care. They were all dead anyway, might as well go out fighting then a coward. Staring back at his flaring furnace, he felt a tinge of sorrow. This spell would destroy everything. He built this from the ground up, traveling the realm for exotic materials that could contain his powerful magics. Yet; magic was all about sacrifice and if he wanted to succeed, it would all have to go.


    ¡°MORE¡± He called out as students threw all they could into the flame.


    The metal glowed red hot, the radiant heat burning his skin as he stared at the deforming furnace.


    ¡°This better work¡± he muttered as he pulled out a vial.


    Oreas had concocted this potion from a lost bet years ago. It nearly killed Zenos when he first used it! He still wasn¡¯t sure how, but that crazy man had distilled the essence of a volcano into this one small vial. One droplet was enough to set his old lab aflame, even still he could hear that man''s cackle from the ¡°Accident¡±. However, now he was glad to have such a powerful source. Slowly, he walked back to the field of battle, carefully stacking his skills to protect him from the grand spell. [Unnatural connection], [I am merely a conduit], [You are all one], [Reinforce Sample], [These Chains Shall Not be Broken]. As he concentrated, he gathered various samples from the ground chunks of rotted flesh, enchanted bone, and globs of shadowy essence. Once selected, he began chaining each to the invading army. An intense chill overwhelming his flesh as his vast pool of mana rapidly drained. His mind fogged as was pulled 1001 ways. Each passing moment, more were added to the spell until he couldn¡¯t contain it.


    ¡°FUCK YOU BOTH¡± he cried out as he tossed the samples and potion into the blaring furnace. Flames erupted with such force he was sent flying across the room before smashing the wall with a sickening¡­


    CRUNCH


    ¡°WHAT DID HE DO¡± Cirhan had to drop his connection with his army. His veins burned as the sympathetic magics tore through his creations.


    Each one burst alight as the raging inferno transferred into the constructs. The heat was indiscriminate, even those not targeted were ignited from proximity. Those that didn¡¯t sever their connections felt their blood boil from within. While members of the cult back off from the flames. Huge chunks of the army transformed into a raging bonfire, fats igniting and adding to the ever growing inferno. Deep, thick smog filled the sky as the corpses collapsed into smoldering fires. While it devastated the army, it did little to halt the rampaging monstrosities. However, the damage was done and the clergy was given an opportunity to regroup.


    Zenos wasn¡¯t as lucky. The archmage had pushed himself beyond mortal limits. His skin burned black, his body failing. However in that singular moment, He showed the world why sympathy was the path to follow. One single spell and he had wiped out half the undead army. His surviving students did their best to alleviate his wounds, but his life was done. He could only hope that one of his pupils would surpass his greatness.


    All could feel his passing, the incredible aura fading from the realm. Oreas and Illoneus filled with a deep rage. While Arceus and Cirhan were satisfied that one of their foes was gone. As the two worked together to regain control of their army. Illoneus stood in his tower surrounded by his injured pupils. Gaping wounds stuffed with gauze, limbs raised up in tourniquets, and a few unconscious from blood loss. He failed them, he was a grand ritualist, he should always be prepared for the worst. But he couldn¡¯t dwell on it now, more would die if he didn¡¯t take down these wards. Focusing above, he began to align the astralarium. Each star carefully shifted to channel the astral energies. Working through each ward, he slowly unwound the spells, neutralizing it layer by layer.


    Oreas reached out and felt nothing in his hand. The alchemist finally understood his mortality. Most of his students had perished in the name of science. His scribes noted their cause of death for the archives. The bulk hadn¡¯t even fallen by their enemies, instead their creations failed at pivotal moments. Transformations turning unstable and becoming a mindless mass of limbs. Experiments backfiring and coating the students in toxic liquid that rapidly aged the flesh. Normally, they had fail-safes to resist such reactions. However, in the field of battle it was do or die. Only when he witnessed the crowd combust did he relax. That old man finally did something. Suddenly his eyes widened as he felt the man¡¯s passing. This wasn¡¯t a game any more, he would end this even if it killed them all. With the attackers turned into a burning mess, he returned to his lab to craft.


    While a major setback, it wasn¡¯t the end. Since they had turned this whole region into a negative zone, it just took time to reanimate another group. Yes it wasn¡¯t as strong, missing many of their more powerful undead, but it was enough. With an army of zombies and skeletons, the two headmasters resumed their assault. The normally jolly Cirhan was frustrated from the whole experience. Why didn¡¯t they give up already? His creations had wiped out so many, but they kept fighting. His summons attack the flesh while Arceus invades the mind. They were both one man armies, tapping into the academy¡¯s leyline, and still the cult didn¡¯t give up!


    ¡°WHAT!¡± He cried out as Arceus tapped his shoulder.


    ¡°Look there¡­they are up to something.¡± Arceus pointed at the [High Father]. No longer were they actively trying to engage the undead.


    Instead, the entire army had gathered into concentric rings. A living ritual of chanting men and women. The [High Father] leading the entire group in unison. Prays, offerings, and vows were committed as they yearned for their god. Their strongest warriors formed a perimeter to halt the advancing undead. Even the towering monstrosities struggled against the divine barriers. Letting go of the army, the undead turned mindless. Instead he focused the negative energy into his three most powerful creations. With the flood of undeath, they began cracking at the defenses while ignoring the heroes assault.  near the [High Father] was an entire congregation.=.


    ¡°Working on it, take out the other headmasters!  We need to crush them now. ¡± He replied.


    However, at that moment they felt the barrier flicker. The two glanced at each other with mutual understanding: IIloneus. They were split, either stop the chant or keep the wards. However, with their defense down they had little to protect themselves from the army. Once more, Cirhan shifted his resources into the academy.


    The ritualist realized his actions were discovered when the attacks reached a crescendo. New monstrosities appeared before his tower. Undead spellcasters, flesh beasts, and massive marauders. Each creature working in tandem to dismantle their defenses. The reanimated students are gifted with craving for aether. Their very touch rapidly drains the magical barriers, the flesh beasts lashing out and tripping those trying to flee, while the towering warriors execute those with a single swing.


    Illoneus could barely stomach the massacre. Heads smashed into the ground, bits of brain matter splattering the earth, glistening viscera and gore stained the marble, and captured students were eaten alive by the wave of dead. He couldn¡¯t watch any longer. But should he do it? Fiddling with his final ritual ring, he heard a student begging for his family. His arm twisted and bent as a ghoul pulled on the limb. Damn the consequences, he couldn¡¯t delay anymore.  the warriors executing those in a single swing. He could barely stomach the sight of heads flying. Glistening viscera stained the cobblestones the students tried to slow the assault. He couldn¡¯t delay anymore, he had to unleash another spell. Twisting his ring, he activated his capstone once more. [Rebound - Grand Ritual] [The World is but a Single Moment].


    A flash of light erupted from the shattered jewelry as a wave of magic swept through the academy. Anything it touched slowed to a stop, the attacking army paused mid swing. Everything went silent as the spell took hold, seeing the effects of it all filled him with a sense of joy. Yet, the sacrifice wasn¡¯t over. Before the second part to hold, he felt the eyes of Zixais gaze upon him. A deep, resentful wave of hate smashing into his mind¡¯s eye. The God of Time and Destiny tore through his soul, stripping it of memories. He would never know what was taken, but it was necessary to save his students. His thoughts must have reached the deity as the hate shifted into pity. At that moment, the ravaging stopped and he was freed from the God¡¯s grip. Uttering the second half, his allies were freed from the effects. Each one immune to the time anomaly created.


    He ordered them to retreat. Zixais was fickle and quite demanding. IIloneus had already spent 10 years of his life performing this ritual. And in return, he was gifted a single minute of pause. Many thought he was stupid dedicating so much to this single minute. But Illoneus knew that a brief moment was all one needed to change history. With his students safe once more, he activated the last bits of personal wards. The others channel their mana into the various barriers as reinforcement. They just needed to stall a bit longer. Using up the last few seconds, he tore through another layer of the academy¡¯s ancient magics. The sound of the world returned and time resumed. This would be their last stand.


    Once more Arceus felt victory snatched from him. He was systematically destroying that proud man, and now they teleported to his most inner sanctum. Still, it was a delay and only that. Tapping into the leyline once more, he personally worked on dismantling that final barrier. His army waited outside, eager to tear into the soft flesh of the remaining students. It was a race to finish, Illoneus working as fast as he could. While Arceus fought against the top pupils. Yet, he was too slow. That stupid man had destroyed their main protection. The grand barrier began to disintegrate, the magics floating away as sparkling dust. Illoneus had done it, he collapsed onto the ground with joy. All they needed to do was hold out for rescue.


    The [High Father] smiled. That mage had done it, unfortunately there would be no rescue. His god demanded retribution, instead he would dedicate a day of mourning for the man¡¯s sacrifice. Deas would reward him greatly in the afterlife.\ Reaching the crescendo of their prayers, the congregation performed one final bloodrite to summon Deas into the realm.


    The sky parted as the world was cast into darkness. Everything stilled as their God began the final miracle. Ghastly light flicked above and coalescence into the image of a massive clock. A reverberating gong shook the land as light burst forth from the construct. Nothing was safe for their God¡¯s ire. All things were touched by the light regardless of the protections held. Each and everyone embraced in the cold arms of Deas. Those touched soon saw their own clocks form. A decrypt device hovering in the air behind. With the curse set, panic set in. Yet, no matter what they tried they couldn¡¯t dispel the effect Moments later, the [High Father] began to float high above. His body channeled the essence of Deas himself. His voice is deep and powerful. Only a single phrase was uttered


    [All Life Ends in Death] and the clock began ticking to midnight.


    ¡°TAKE HIM OUT NOW!¡± Archeus cried out.


    ¡°WE HAD A DEAL¡± Illoneus was distraught, he was to die with the rest.


    In those last twelve minutes, Cirhan and Arceus unleashed every skill they had. Yet it was nothing in the wake of a god. His monstrosities smited down with a flick, the slug exploding into a pile of filth, the hand torn apart corpse by corpse, and the mage crushed into a cube of meat. Swapping to his golems, they arose from the ground and charged forth. Yet the devout congregation didn¡¯t give in. Each pounding fist, a few collapsed. But the others only chanted harder.


    Arceus was erupting with divine energy as he went head on with the [High Father] he tried every enchantment he learned, anything to distract the man and interrupt the miracle. Each assault cost him far more than the damages he did. Yet, he couldn¡¯t even insert doubt into the man, his faith far too strong for the mind mage. It couldn¡¯t end like this. Every passing minute at heavy gong would indicate that death loomed. They had so much to teach, so much to learn, so much to uncover. Tears streamed down his face as they entered the final minute.


    But there was still one final trick to be had. Oreas was giggling with glee as he watched the panic ensue. Such a grand display of might and he got to witness it first hand. His twitching eyes carefully watched the timer above. He hoped he measured the right dosage or his own finale would be the biggest flop of all. Reaching into his bag, he pulled out two potions from the reserve. While he used some in the battle, this was going to be a true test of his talent. As the final ten seconds arrived, he tossed both into the air, and chained together many of his skills. [Mass Replication][Friendly Fire][Special Delivery][Delayed Dosage][Temporary Boost] and finally [Trademarked by Oreas]! That last one wasn¡¯t necessary, but he didn¡¯t want any sleuthing spies to steal his formula.


    The two portions quickly replicated over and over. Their trajectory flew across the academy as they honed in on their targets. Anyone deemed a ¡°friend¡± was in for a wild surprise. The small ampules smashed into the cowering students. Most didn¡¯t even notice as they held their friends. Death was coming and they couldn¡¯t stop it. Yet the effect was nearly instantaneous, the ritualist smiling as he saw what Oreas had done.


    ¡°You dirty bast¡­¡± and the final potion smashed him right in the face.


    The clock hit midnight and a wave of terror erupted from the skies. It was quick, brutal, and efficient. Nothing was safe as it tore through the various buildings. Shadowy hands reached from the heavens and swept through the grounds. Beings of pure necrotic energy reached into the living and tore out their screaming souls. Hundreds of offerings forcefully taken back to the realm of death. Only those carrying the god¡¯s mark were spared. The rest were transformed into withering husks of rot. There were no second chances, everyone only had one life to live.  A ghastly chill reaching into the body and tearing out the soul With their mission complete, the sky closed and the [High Father] gave one final thanks.


    Sending in his scouts they found a peculiar sight. All throughout the academy were frozen statues. Rock creations in the exact replica of the students. They approached with caution only to be started by the sound of shattered glass. Quickly retreating they watched as the stone fa?ade melted away into gasping students


    ¡°Survivors¡­?¡± They were astonished and called for backup.


    Thankfully, they surrendered. Each explaining what happened and agreeing to be examined for any taint. Those that resisted the call of necromancy were lauded as heroes, while those that embraced the temptation buried in mass, unmarked graves. Once more, the cult and the academy worked together to rebuild. Only now, they took a far more active role in the teaching of the next generation.


    ¡ª---------------------------------------------------------------


    Eldor did as he was told and only taught the most fundamentals of necromancy. With a priest of Deas watching, he couldn¡¯t deviate from the pre-written script. He encouraged the students to practice with the priests and learn ways to counteract the horrific magics they may encounter. Warning them one final time, that if they ventured onto this dark path. That none would come to protect them from the wrath of the god. However, if one good thing came of it. With Archeus gone, he was quickly elevated to head of enchanting¡­


    ¡°As for our final lessons, I¡¯ll cover a few unclassified or historical systems¡±


    Witchcraft.


    ¡°I¡¯m sure you have heard about these¡­alternative ways of magic. But you must be able to separate a witch from a mage. The class is one of emotion and power. Witches are versatile spellcasters who supplement their mana with¡­craft. What each witch does is dependent on their background and specialties. I cannot go further on this, but just be warned. There are no good witches in this world¡­¡±


    Dreamwalking


    ¡°I wish I could say more, but even I dare not venture into these realms. As you may have heard, the primary expert was lost while on an expedition. However, if you have a heart for adventure, I will not stop you. Dreams are games, dreams are puzzles, dreams are¡­weird. They do not give traditional spells, instead completing a dream bestows a boon. Within our library, we have a variety of mapped realms but take this as a guide not fact. Many times the rules shift and change, adaptability is key to surviving these realms. However, if blessed with a powerful boon, you can perform feats equal to the greatest of spells¡­but are you willing to take the risk?


    Druidic


    ¡°We have not seen a druid since society has rapidly expanded. Many theorize that this is due to our reliance on skills and industry. While many have tried to re-establish their connection to nature, none have yet to succeed. However, for historical purposes we do have some writings on the subject.¡±


    With the last bit finished, he raised a hand.


    ¡°That is it for today, I will see you all back in two days for your first test. Study each of the path¡¯s carefully. Each of you will randomly select one to be quizzed on. Welcome to the academy and good luck on your path towards enlightenment¡±

 1.14 A long Journey Ahead

    ¡°STEVE! STEEEEEEVVVVVVVVEEEEE¡± Ryland kept screaming. His body bobbing up and down as they charged down the road.


    But Steve refused to stop. His singular focus was to escape, waves of adrenaline flooded the veins as he ignored Ryland. He¡¯d gone through worse and if that crazy priest appeared, they were good as dead. Steve gave a few side glances to the driver next to him. Thankfully, the guy was still breathing. It¡¯d be really bad to arrive at the next village with a dead man. Most likely, they¡¯d need to bury and walk the extra distance. Still, a man creeping out of the woods with a barrel in hand would generate a lot of suspicion.


    But what was he going to tell the driver? What would he remember from before? No doubt he¡¯d get kicked off the cart. Helping a fugitive from the wrath of Deas led to a lifetime in jail. While Steve always looked after himself first, he felt bad bringing misfortune to others. Only when he felt the aura of the priest disappear did he start to slow. His brain firing rapidly as he came up with a cover story. Clearly saying an angry priest trying to murder a fugitive necromancer and first ever ghost wouldn¡¯t work. Steve wished he was back with Faust, at least the man didn¡¯t put him in near-death scenarios every other day.


    As he brought the horses to a trot, Steve kept glancing back. He half-expected the priest to appear out of thin air. When the hour passed, he finally relaxed. Pulling the cart to the side, he stumbled from the seat. Grabbing the wood, he began to heave. Nothing came out, but he was so stressed it made him sick. Every muscle was sore and his throat was beyond dry.


    ¡°We made it¡± He muttered, quickly taking a swig from his canteen.


    It was the best tasting water he had. That semi-warm liquid revitalizes his insides.


    ¡°OH GOD¡± Steve heard Ryland call out.


    Glancing over, he saw the ghost crawling along the ground. His back arching as a wretched sound left his maw. Ryland couldn¡¯t stop gagging, the ghost motion sick beyond belief. It was a bit intriguing to watch, could a ghost vomit? Nothing was coming out, but the man looked like he was undergoing a full on exorcism. Only after a few moments did Ryland regain his composure.


    ¡°You¡­¡± Ryland spit


    ¡°You are so lucky¡­I like you¡± His voice filled with spit.


    Looking back, Steve could have been a bit smoother on the escape. However it was life or death. There wasn¡¯t time to care about everyone¡¯s feelings. He just wanted out no matter the cost. Besides, the ghost was immaterial. Sure he was a little motion sick, but anyone else bouncing across the landscape would be dead. Ryland must have felt those thoughts as the man tossed a pebble at Steve¡¯s cheek.


    Steve turned and glared. After a tense moment he sighed.


    ¡°Ok¡­I deserve that.¡± He admitted


    Ryland smiled, He¡¯d take a win wherever.


    ¡°Still thanks for blocking that shot. I should have guessed you¡¯d be fine with death magic. Most undead are resistant or immune to it¡± Steve said as if it was common knowledge.


    ¡°Oh yeah totally¡± He lied, Ryland didn¡¯t even think about testing that. But he was a rogue in life, not a fucking mage. Being a ghost might not be so bad after all. If it wasn¡¯t for the whole no body thing, he could tackle a grave-type dungeon. But with the new discovery, he¡¯d have to work with Steve on testing the limits.


    ¡°How''s the body?¡±


    ¡°Good, Ended up leveling in the fight. Ya boy is now level 5 baby! The Will gave me a new skill that lets us tap into each other. I¡¯d prolly burst from all that magic, he was a good sink¡± It was true, his soul was on fire from the powerful spell. Only with the ravenous zombie yearning for that tasty magic did he survive.


    ¡°Sounds like the good boy needs a tasty treat!¡± Steve joked


    ¡°Don¡¯t treat my body like a dog! He is a dignified creature like myself¡±


    ¡°Creature yes, dignified¡­no¡± Steve retorted


    ¡°What! I¡¯m dignified. I¡¯m the most dignified out of all of us. When I met you, you were just some dirt covered man lost in the woods!¡± Ryland kept going but Steve ignored him. He was so sensitive sometimes.


    Heading to the back of the cart, he pulled off the lid and was surprised by the zombie¡¯s look. If it weren''t for the torn up clothes and bloodstains, he nearly looked alive. Again that was incredibly weird, undead didn¡¯t regenerate in that manner. Sure they could reattach muscle or transform dead flesh into limbs, but this was new. Putting it in his mental list to study, Steve pulled out a piece of jerky and held it out. The clawed hand lashed out with extreme speed and snatched the meat from his hand.


    ¡°Woooah¡± Steve was startled


    Not wanting the thing to escape, he quickly capped the barrel once more. For good measure he nailed it down a few times. IF that thing got a whiff of the driver, it would be quite hard to control. With everyone accounted for, he sat on the back of the cart and closed his eyes. Like Ryland, he ended up leveling¨Ctwice. It was surprising, but the near death experience must have given him a ton of experience. It was well documented that higher risks gave great rewards. Facing down his antithesis must have pleased The Will of the World.


    As he focused inwards, he felt the power waiting within. A single skillpoint had been granted, the power just yearning to be unleashed. Within moments, his Soulboard filled his vision. An overlay that displayed his current stats, levels, and classes. Sitting in the top right corner was [Friend of the Dead - Level 6]. He was getting close to his original [Fledgling Necromancer], but this new class had already granted him so much more. Opening up the skill menu, he called out.


    ¡°Hey Ryland? What did you end up choosing?¡± Steve asked as he read through his options.


    ¡°Oh, I was so focused on the fight I forgot to check. Hang on let me see¡­Ah damn don¡¯t get to pick. Gave me [Shared Strength]¡± He said


    ¡°Hmm¡± Steve mumbled.


    He knew they were on death¡¯s door, but it must have been far worse than he thought. Very rarely does The Will directly impose a skill, especially at a pivot level. It wasn¡¯t unheard of, most agreed that The Will actively encouraged growth and fostered potential. While normally hands off in its actions, if somebody died. All their possible futures were gone, thus it had some incentive to keep people alive. While it couldn¡¯t directly intervene, it did tip the scales. Only in times of extreme stress did it choose a skill perfectly suited for the situation¨Cand only if they were on the cusp of leveling. With such specific requirements, the times it occurred were quite rare. Usually it only happened during a duel to the death, the climax of a battle, or some other triumphant moment. The Will of the World had a penchant for drama, intrigue, and turnabouts. No doubt [Shared Strength] would be the precursor to something great. He could only hope that Ryland appreciated that gift. Shaking off the thoughts, he refocused on his Soulboard


    ¡°Give me something good"


    Navigating through his Soulboard he began reading the potential skills. He was honestly surprised at the list available. Their first time he reached level 5, he only had three to pick. Now he was presented with an entire selection, each with their own strengths and weaknesses.


    Passive: Sense Unlife, +1 Will, +1 Perception


    Gain the uncanny knack to feel nearby undead. Radius determined by Perception. Precursor to scouting type skills and long-range communications.


    Passive: Minor Negative Attunement, +1 Vitality


    Acquire an affinity for negative energy. Endure negative and death zones for longer periods. Slight resistance to death based magic and skills. Scales slightly with Vitality and Willpower. Precursor to territorial magics and resistance based skills.


    Passive: Friendship (Undead), +1 Charisma, +1 Perception, +1 Will, +10 Mana


    Designate one undead as a ¡°friend¡±. Form a strong bond with the target, increasing as you spend time together. Target may be swapped every five levels, upon swapping reset any and all bonuses. Precursor to teamwork abilities and other buff based skills.


    Active: Blood Rite: Hold Undead, +1 Strength, +1 vitality, +10 mana


    Sacrifice blood to paralyze target undead. Blood and mana increased per rank of undead. Costs decrease based on users Strength and Willpower. Precursor to control and blood skills.


    Active: Minor Flesh Sculpting, +1 Intelligence, +1 Perception, +1 agility


    Actively change the flesh of a touched target. Close minor wounds, create minor cuts, or adjust shape and form. Scales on intelligence. More intense changes require exponentially more mana. Precursor to shaping skills.


    Active: Malaise, +1 Intelligence, +10 Mana


    Target creature feels a wave of nausea and a general sense of unwell. Any poisons, illness, or disease currently affecting the target flare up.  Precursor to disease and direct death magics


    Active: Raise Dead (miniscule), +1 Intelligence, +1 Will, +10 mana


    Animate small undead creatures. Such creations may include rodents, fingers, or custom creations within the miniscule category. Requires components to animate and injections of mana and/or negative energy for maintenance. Precursor to undead creation skills.This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it


    Steve was a bit overwhelmed by the entire selection. So many options to choose and he only had a single skill point. That flashing notification just sitting in the bottom corner of his vision. Thankfully he didn¡¯t see any ¡°ethereal¡± tags. Those skills would only be offered once before disappearing forever. Whatever he chose, his next level he could pick something else.


    Still though, this was his first pivot point. Whatever he chose would signal his desire to The Will. Sure other options outside of his initial path would be offered, but this decision would set his fate. It was known that two people under the same circumstances would be offered vastly different abilities based on their level 5 skill. Even if they took the other¡¯s skill at level 6, their path had been set. But there were so many options to choose from! At early levels you might get three or four at the most. Seeing 7 was extremely abnormal. Whatever [Friend of the Dead] was, it was highly flexible. Taking a moment, Steve began to ponder his options.


    If he was still a [Necromancer] he¡¯d instantly take [Raise Dead]. That was THE fundamental skill for the class. Anyone that wanted to work with undead would start with the basic raise dead. As they leveled, they could specialize in one strong creation or hordes. However, while necromancy was very appealing, Steve was in it to cheat death. High level necromancers could transform into a lich class and bind their soul to a phylactery, but there may be an easier way to accomplish it. However, it was the most well-known of choices so gathering information would be far easier than the rest.


    [Malaise] was¡­interesting. Early on Steve learned [Death Bolt] for defensive purposes. While the name seemed scary, it wasn¡¯t the strongest of spells. A simple hit of negative energy that drained life. While great for killing off vermin and other critters, it mostly slowed targets. Sure a barrage of [Death Bolt]¡¯s could slay a man, it took far too much mana. If he got to a higher level, the skill would hit harder, but at a measly level 6 it was mostly a nuisance than a proper kill. Furthermore, he really didn¡¯t like disease magic. That wasn¡¯t the best at a duel, instead it was more for spies or assassins. Something long-term that was far more insidious than a direct attack. While he could see the benefit in combat, a hardened warrior would have experienced far worse than minor nausea. Lastly, he really didn¡¯t like killing people. Yes he¡¯d done it in self defense, but it really made him sick. It wasn¡¯t the whole blood or body thing, he¡¯d been dissecting corpses for nearly two years now. But the actual act of taking a life didn¡¯t sit right with him.


    What did catch his eye was [Minor Flesh Sculpting]. That was an extremely rare ability, usually only seen at higher levels. Normally, this was offered to high level estheticians or healers. Even at the minor levels, fixing cuts, removing blemishes, and shifting fat was highly profitable. Not to mention at higher tiers, entire persons could change. A leg could be regrown, spies changed races, or more. It was a highly versatile and sought after ability, but it took forever to level with. Most people do not willingly get sculpted. Furthermore, if mistakes were made it would lead to permanent disfigurement. Besides, his class wasn¡¯t one of healing. It would be mostly worthless on the living, instead would solely be used for constructs. As such, it drastically hindered its great potential. Still, it would be a strong choice and one he would like.


    Blood skills were also very useful to have. Like flesh sculpting it was extremely flexible in its usage. Instead of using mana on a spell, a bit of blood could fuel it instead. Furthermore, nearly anyspell could get a boost by sacrificing some of that crimson gold. Steve already had a minor focus in blood craft, seeing it as a shortcut to stronger powers. While that was true, it did have a major drawback of¡­using blood. During his most intense training, he¡¯d get lightheaded and weak from the bloodless. Not to mention the food prices skyrocketed from eating so much afterwards. While it was great in small amounts, using it consistently caused a lot of harm to the body. Sure as he leveled he¡¯d be able to use other¡¯s blood, find ways to make his own more efficient, and even keep blood from going bad¨Callowing him to make blood batteries to carry. But was it worth it to specialize in it? The only thing that kept his mind on it was the skill offered [Hold Undead]. It was clearly an upgrade from calm undead, instead of blunting their aggression just halting it entirely. But was it worth signaling to be a blood mage for a single ability? In the end, Steve decided against it. While a nice perk to have, it wasn¡¯t something he felt the need to dive into.


    With only Fleshsculpting interesting him within the actives, Steve started to ponder the passives. While not as flashing; passive skills were extremely useful. Not having to use stamina/mana/blood/whatever to keep them going was a huge benefit. But that did make them less impactful than most actives. Still by combining a series of passive skills, one could create a devastating combination.


    [Sense Unlife] was a bit boring and niche. In fact, Steve couldn¡¯t really figure out how to use it well. There were plenty of skills that allowed identification of undead, why would he need a passive to handle it. Besides, since it was on the path of death what else would derive from it? Normally scouting skills would increase perception, locate missing people, notice things that were ¡°off¡±, or just general intuition on the right direction. At best, Steve might find some hidden ruins or ancient graveyards. Besides, he wanted to focus on his craft, not travel the globe. After working with Ryland, he¡¯d like to start up his own lab. If that happened, most scouting type skills would be wasted. It was a hard pass.


    [Minor Negative Attunement] would be perfect for his path. It was what Faust had specialized in and allowed the creation of the death zone. By setting up his lab in a negative area, he could focus more on his studies than maintenance. His creations would no longer need a constant supply of mana, any flesh harvested would fail to rot, and rituals would be bolstered by the artificial leyline. Overall, it just made everything easier. However, it did have a major drawback. It was immobile. Sure he could up and leave, but any reagents or sacrifices used would be lost. Additionally, if discovered, he¡¯d be under constant attack by the follower¡¯s of Deas. It was why Faust built his so far away from society, and even that was discovered. Yet through all its faults, at high levels he could become a demi-god in his realm. Yes, he would be locked into it. But that would give him a form of eternal life.


    And then there was [Friendship (Undead)]. What even was that? In all his studies he¡¯d never seen [Friendship] let alone what it specified. It had to be some joke skill, something that was only added in at random. But the more he read it, the more¡­off he felt. His class name was [Friend of the Dead] and already that gave some very unique abilities. Furthermore, having never encountered or read something like this made it special. But else could come of it? Nothing was popping into his brain. It did say buff skills but he could get that within the [Negative Attunement]. However, it did have a ton of raw base stats. While not as exciting, that alone could push the skill over the edge. Either way, this would either be something extremely powerful or just super niche.


    But the stats could be very good this early. Sometimes it was best to ignore the skill and just go for the boosts. So many things were directly related to a person¡¯s stat score. A high intelligence allowed for more efficient mana use, understanding new concepts, and processing information. Wisdom gave a natural intuition to life, the ability to communicate with the divine, and resist mental effects. Vitality was linked to endurance, health, and the ability to resist physical negative effects. Mana was well¡­the mana pool. The list goes on and some are inherently linked. Perception was just a subgroup of Wisdom. Gaining three stats in wisdom naturally increased perception by 1. It was so strong, that some people went purely for stats. Boosting themselves way beyond normal limits. Who would need skills when their body was nearly perfect? Why waste mana on [Haste] when you just move faster? Why use a [Mental Barrier] when you simple out-willed other casters? Not to mention, higher stats made it much easier to acquire non Will based skills. While they may sacrifice potent abilities early, they could forcibly learn them later.


    But again why Friendship? He mind kept roaming back towards it. Just the allure of the unknown called to him. Did he really become that close with Ryland? I mean they both did save each other¡¯s lives. Steve got him out of the cave, while Ryland tanked the shot from the priest. But did he honestly like the man? That stupid ghost annoyed the hell outta him, but it was kind of endearing. Ryland was a huge goofball who refused to focus, but there was a genuine sincerity to the man. IT was strange to form such a bond in only a few weeks of travel, but near-death experiences do bring people close. But what happened if they had a falling out or Ryland died¡­again? Would his class become useless? In the worst case, he¡¯d just have to last five levels and create a new undead. Sure it¡¯d suck to restart whatever this skill gave him, but five levels this early wasn¡¯t too hard to manage. He¡¯d give it a trial run and see where it ends up.


    Glancing over at his friend, he thought long and hard.


    ¡°Don¡¯t screw me¡± he muttered, hoping The Will heard him.


    Accepting that strange skill, he felt The Will reach into his soul. Power flooded into his body as the stats took hold. It was only a minor boost, but he noticeably felt stronger. A vague sense of power flowing through his mind while his instincts sharpened. It was only a few moments before he was finished. Within his ability list he saw [Passive: Friendship (Undead) - Target Not Chosen].


    ¡°Ahh right¡± Glancing over at Ryland he shouted out.


    ¡°Hey Ryland you wanna be friends?¡±


    ¡°Uhh sure buddy! I thought we already were?¡± Ryland replied


    Instantly, he felt the skill settle. Ryland¡¯s name appeared on his soulboard and he felt a very strange connection with the ghost. It was a natural understanding of his mannerisms and mindset. It was like he ¡°got¡± the ghost, just a instinctually knowledge of what made the man. It was VERY strange, like his own mind had adapted to cater to Ryland¡¯s. While still annoying, it was a bit blunted. What the hell was this skill and where would it take him in life?


    ¡°Hey, looks like our guy is waking up!¡± Ryland said, poking his fingers through the man¡¯s face.


    ¡°Oh man, what happened? I had the weirdest nightmare..¡± he mumbled.


    Handing the man some water, Steve began to craft a story to tell. It was a simple recollection of the events that happened, but missing a few details. How the priest was searching for a fugitive necromancer and he stopped every traveler. That his interrogation was a bit forced as he wasn¡¯t used to lower levels, resulting in the driver passing out. Steve ended up waking first and taking the reins so they wouldn¡¯t be too late. Overall, he kept the story about 80% true as it was far easier to lie when grounded in truths. Thankfully, that bit of extra charisma he earned helped a bit as well. The driver clearly didn¡¯t believe all of it, but was fine with the explanation..for now.


    With the driver placated, the two opened their rations and began to chow down. Finally safe, he was starving. Without care, Steve Ravenously devoured the meal in minutes. The driver looked a bit concerned as Steve pulled out a second tin and began consuming that as well. With the adrenaline pushing him to his limits, he needed to refuel the sugar reserves. As he finished the last bits, he offered the driver the scraps¨Cin which he politely declined. Feeling refreshed and rejuvenated, they were ready to finish the journey.


    The driver re-hung his lantern and inspected the straps holding the cargo. Satisfied all was good, he grabbed the reins and they were off.


    ¡°So what brings you out this way?¡±


    ¡°My teacher sent me on a mission to gather new materials. Been jumping from village to village for a few months now¡± Steve replied


    ¡°Damn, the most mine did was smack me for being slow. Hey, Least I inherited his business!¡± He chuckled


    ¡°Yeah, sometimes they can be a bit harsh¡­¡± Steve was reminded of the various punishments Faust doled out.


    ¡°Still though, must be nice getting out of the city. I think all people should travel more, the life on the road is so free¡± He said as he scouted the landscape for rough parts.


    ¡°Drink?¡± He pulled out a flash.


    ¡°No, still full from earlier¡± Steve replied. While he loved a good drink, it was bad to drink and drive¡­


    ¡°How long you think we got?¡± He asked


    ¡°Oh I¡¯d say we¡¯d be there by morning. Then a nice sleep at the inn!¡± The driver responded.


    ¡°Good good, need some rest. Been very hectic these last few¡­


    THUNK


    The wagon shuttered as an axe hit the side. Moments later, it flew back tearing out a chunk of wood in the process.


    ¡°Oh come on! NOT AGAIN¡± Steve screamed out.


    ¡°HOLD TIGHT BUDDY¡± the driver yelled, a strange grin stretching across his face as he activated a series of skills


    Instantly, their cart began to accelerate. Steve could only hope it was enough to escape this ambush.

 Fenix and Ash

    ¡°Hey Fenix, Think fast¡± Ash shouted as he tossed some of his water at his brother.


    ¡°Wha¡­Damn it Ash! Stop messing around, I just want to get this done.¡± Fenix ignored his brother¡¯s laughter as he shook off the liquid.


    ¡°Ahh come on, lil bro. Just trying to keep ya on your toes. Don¡¯t know if a coyote or some other critter pops out?¡± Ruffled his brother¡¯s hair and went back to checking the crops.


    Fenix just shook his head and ignored the teasing. It was a hot day and the two were caked in grime. Dark patches of sweat stained their clothes and they gave off a pungent odor. Fenix''s eyes burned from the salty rivers trickling down his face. Every few minutes he took out the drenched rag to wipe off what he could. Unfortunately the old thing seemed to make it worse. Ringing it out, he continued onward. The old stalks crunched beneath their boots as they surveyed the fields. Bugs meeting their end as the guys swatted the mosquitoes from their skin. Yet for all the faults and hard work, it was a simple life.


    ¡°What ya think Mom is cooking?¡± Fenix spoke.


    ¡°Hopefully not soup again. Dad caught some duck this morning, crossing fingers it''s that¡± Ash replied.


    Meat was a rare delicacy. While they could treat themselves to the scraps from slaughter, the majority was sold and shipped. Most of the time they subsisted on various soups and stews. They were hearty, but bland meals. Filled with plenty of calories to fuel their ever-working bodies. Knowing that duck was a possibility, they two rushed through their chores. The sooner the work was done, the faster they¡¯d have a full belly. Already they had combed through two fields, checking for blight and other pests. As the last bits were finished. Both brothers returned to the farmhouse, a gleam in their eye as they noticed smoke from the chimney. Before they could enter, a muffled voice yelled out.


    ¡°Make sure to rinse off, I just swept!¡± Their mom called out.


    ¡°UHHH COME ON¡± Ashe whined but their mom wouldn¡¯t budge.


    The two went to the well pump and began the process of cleaning. It was quite refreshing, the cool water dripping down the hot skin. Each scrubbed off the dust and grime, with special attention to their nails and fingers. Didn¡¯t want to taste a hard crunch of sand while they ate. As they entered the room, the smell of roasting meat overwhelmed the senses. Ash meandered into the kitchen taking a good look at the grilled duck. He dared not to touch it or he¡¯d feel the wrath of his mom. For such an older woman, she could hit like a brick.


    Fenix went to his room and began to water his prized collection. Unlike his brother, he spent any extra coin on exotic specimens from the trader. Over the years his room had turned into a greenhouse of colorful plants. It helped that he¡¯d been working the farm since childhood. An intuition on what they required and how to care for them. Some days he could spend hours just observing and musing on what else was out there. He only got a quarter of the way done before Ash slammed open his door.


    ¡°Dinners ready! Let¡¯s go lil bro¡± He said while fiddling with his necklace.


    He hated that still. They were no longer children anymore. He was 19 while his brother was nearing 21. Already Ash had a few prospects for marriage and his parents would be pressuring him as well. Sighing, Fenix stood up and stretched out his sore muscles. At least they would have a quality meal for dinner. Glancing out the window, he could already see the sun setting in the distance. An orange glow washed across their fields as the stalks swayed in the winds. While many in his village aspired to be kings, queens, or traveling merchants. Fenix was content with what he had.


    The four sat at the dinner table and rapidly devoured the meal. Sounds of clanking silverware, smacking lips, and the occasional cough filling the air. Talking was for after dinner. With each of them exhausted from the day, only a full belly was on the mind.


    BURRRRRRP


    Ash bellowed as he leaned back on two legs of his chair.


    ¡°Great roast Ma! Hope we have some leftovers for lunch¡±


    His vulgar display only earned him a smack. The impact caused him to lose balance and crash. Fenix chuckled and was quickly met with a death stare. He didn¡¯t want to be a part of this and went back to finishing the plate.


    ¡°Oh come on, that was a good one!¡± Ash mumbled as he dusted himself off.


    Almost instantly a chorus of curses left his mother¡¯s mouth. Each hex finished with a smack. Their dad sighed and began to clean up the table. Fenix dipped from the brawl and began to wash the dishes. For being so close in age, they two were complete opposites. Ash was the older one, he should have been more responsible.


    Ignoring the commotion behind, Fenix focused on his task. Carefully washing down the pots and pans, hanging them out to dry, and moving onto countertops. Glancing out, he noticed something in the distance. A faint orange light in the night sky. A sense of dread overcame him, that was where the village was. No festivals or gatherings were planned¡­


    ¡°Dad, come look at this!¡± He called out.


    Instantly, the infighting stopped and his family crowded around the window. The air tense as each watched the glow intensify. He could feel his parents shift, a darker personality arising. There was always something different about his parents. They rarely talked about their past, but in these moments he knew there were many secrets to uncover.


    ¡°Raiders¡­¡± His mom whispered.


    ¡°Boys, you know the drill. We will be back shortly, keep hidden and head to the cellar¡± His dad quickly added.


    ¡°I¡¯m coming too!¡± Ash tried to put on his boots but was shoved away.


    ¡°Ash, you are a farmer, not a fighter. Just keep your brother safe¡± His dad said, a strange glow passing his eyes.


    Ash sighed, his muscles relaxing as he settled into defeat. Marching passed Fenix, he grabbed the keys to the bunker. Fenix quickly followed and the two rapidly crossed the farmlands. Birds retreated as the raging inferno filled the air. The two stood at the entrance and glanced back. Both watched as their parents began heading towards the village on horseback. A flicker of steel reflecting the faint light.


    ¡°When did Mom get a sword¡­¡± Fenix muttered


    ¡°Pssh, must be something else. Now get in I still need to lock it up¡±


    As the door closed, they waited in silence.


    And waited¡­


    And waited¡­


    And waited¡­


    But they never returned. Panic set in and Ash broke the tension.


    ¡°Should we¡­¡±


    ¡°No! What could we do Ash? We don¡¯t even have a weapon¡± Fenix interrupted.


    ¡°We can¡¯t just leave them!¡±


    ¡°I know that but what can we do Ash? You think I just want to sit here too?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m going out. Just a peak¡± Ash reached for his keys


    ¡°Ash, don''t go out there! What if they find us, we are as good as dead!¡±


    ¡°I have to know Fenix!¡± he shoved his brother aside.


    ¡°ASH!¡± He screamed out


    ¡°WELL LOOKS LIKE WE GOT SOME RATS.¡± An unknown voice called out.


    The brothers froze, a cold sweat rippling across the skin as the footsteps intensified.


    BANG


    The door shook as something pounded the otherside.


    ¡°Let¡¯s make this easy now, open the door and I¡¯ll make it quick.¡± But they couldn¡¯t.


    BANG


    The wooden door began to break from the force. Piece of wood cracking off and bouncing across the dirt surface.


    BANG


    This was the end, Ash went to the side and went flat against the wall. Fenix hunkered behind one of the shelves and crouched.


    BANG


    The door slammed onto the ground and the raider took two steps in. Ash quickly jumped towards the man only to be met with a fist.


    ¡°Come now, you think that would work? I¡¯m insulted¡± He grabbed Ash by the wrist and tossed him outside.


    ¡°I see you, let¡¯s go. Might make some use out of you.¡±


    Fenix didn¡¯t fight, he was a pacifist at heart and carefully left his hiding spot. As he crossed the threshold, His eyes went wide. Their precious land was burning. A conflagration sweeping across the fields and destroying months of work. Shifting his head, he saw the raiders loading their horses with their belongings. After the last one left, he tossed a torch inside.


    ¡°Please no¡­¡± he whispered.


    His soul shattered as his home went up in flames. His entire world burning before him. The flickers flickering across his iris as he stared at the destruction. Tears streamed down his cheeks as the weight of life hit. It was over, it was all over. Everything he had done was gone. His daze broke as the man pushed him forward.


    ¡°Check ''em for valuables. Might as well keep em alive for work. I know a baron or two that could use some grunts¡±


    Fenix didn¡¯t even respond as grubby hands violated his body. The men reached into his pockets and pulled out gifts from his mother. Old trinkets of silver and gold she shared for luck. He didn¡¯t care about the value of the metals, only the memories attached to them. He could feel them prying back his fingers as he instinctually clenched the final ring.


    ¡°Don¡¯t make me break em!¡± The disgruntled man commanded.


    Fenix got the message and relaxed, that final memory stolen from him. However Ash refused to give.


    SLAM


    His older brother was thrown to the ground with a knee in his back. He was screaming at the raiders, cursing their bloodlines, and thrashing along the ground. It took a few good kicks to the side before he curled up in pain. Blood dripped from his mouth as he tried to hold onto the silver necklace from his father. Since they were kids, His dad always said to keep it on him. That it would keep the two safe from harm. It was a silly little thing engraved with unknown symbols. He always promised Ash he¡¯d teach him the meaning. But as the years went on, they cared less and less.


    ¡°Please not that!¡± He whimpered as he grasped at the chain. The knuckles white as he held on with a death grip.


    ¡°LET¡­GO!¡± The brutish man screamed as he smashed in Ash¡¯s face. A tooth launching from his mouth and rolling along the ground.


    But Ash didn¡¯t. Only after a hard yank did the chain snap with a deafening.


    CRACK


    Time halted and the bright flames were extinguished. A cold haze descended upon the lands while an ominous mist filled the air. Strange scents filled his lungs, the sensations rapidly shifting each second. In the distance, Fenix saw a group of four circling his brother. One kneeling down and staring at Ash¡¯s face.


    ¡°Hmm this one isn¡¯t Roland?¡± And the group disappeared¡­taking his older brother with them.


    Realizing something was wrong, the captain called out.


    ¡°Leave them! We retreat¡± The group hopped onto their horses but an ethereal voice called out.


    ¡°Excuse me Sir. But we must remember etiquette. What be your name?¡±


    ¡°Ignore it and es¡­¡±


    Before the leader could finish the sound of screams echoed out. His body contorting from an invisible force before disappearing into the mists. Fenix tried to back away and felt a thick droplet on his arm. It was a tar-like substance that slithered down his skin. Before he could identify it, he saw hands reach out from the black puddles of growing filth. One of the raiders stumbled too close and was dragged into the inky depths. The phenomenon leaving alongside him.


    ¡°MOVE BUDDY¡± A voice called out and Fenix stepped to the side.


    A chariot rushed past and smashed into another man, the two figures fading in the mists. His brain began to hurt, he was witnessing something he shouldn¡¯t. All around he heard the terrified screams of the raiders, each subjected to a different horror. Yet¡­it never came for him. In the span of minutes, it was over. The magical phenomenon retreating and the mists revealing the smoldering wreckage of their land. He was alone in the darkness. Everything taken in a single night.


    As Fenix returned to the wreckage of his childhood home, he had no more tears to cry. Their prized family portrait now ash. His old toys that his mom kept on the shelves charred blobs¨Conly the iron pots remained. He could feel the various splinters stabbing into the palms as he moved the wreckage, But he didn¡¯t care. He just needed something, anything to help with the horror.


    Crunch


    He froze. The sounds of movement caught his attention and he turned. Within the rubble a single piece of wood shifted. Fenix cautiously walked over, it had to be an animal of some kind. With care, he pulled up the debris and nearly fainted.


    It was the strangest thing he¡¯d ever seen. A small creature, no bigger than his hand holding out the bright red berry he¡¯d ever seen. The¡­thing was a twist of vines and twigs. It stood on two ¡°legs¡± and vaguely resembled a human shape. It¡¯s arms bobbing up and down indicating the object in hand. It was the cutest thing he¡¯d ever seen and Fenix couldn¡¯t help but laugh at the absurdity.


    He was in hysterics. His family was dead, his life was gone, and there was nothing left to live on. Now he was staring at something he¡¯d never seen or heard of holding out a berry. This had to be a hallucination. His mind shattered from the experience and now makes up imaginary creatures. But the thing wasn¡¯t happy with the response.


    The living twig stomped its little ¡°feet¡± in anger and threw the berry at his shin. Walking away, Fenix realized his error and squatted down.


    ¡°Ok sorry, I get it you are trying to help¡± he apologized to the strange creature. Holding out his hand, the little thing picked up the fruit and handed it off.


    With care, he inspected the exotic berry. He gave it a few sniffs and squeezes¨Cjust to make sure it was real. It didn¡¯t seem poisonous¡­


    As he brought the fruit to his lips, the little thing watched on with great intent. Something pricked his brain, should he do this? What if it was some kind of trap? But at this point he really didn¡¯t care. If he died, he died. Biting down, a flood of sweetness filled his maw. It was something he¡¯d never tasted before. As he chewed and swallowed the fruit, the voice of the world echoed in his skull.


    All classes and levels removed


    New Class Obtained ¨C [[Nature¡¯s Friend - Level 1]]


    Companion Obtained ¨C [[Mote of Earth]] If you stumble upon this tale on Amazon, it''s taken without the author''s consent. Report it.


    And Fenix passed out.


    A cool chill eased Fenix awake. His muscles stiff, his head sore, and his brain still fogging from the night before. He didn¡¯t even want to move, just lay in the dirt until somebody came to rescue. But who would? It was miles before anyone could arrive and why would they check the farm first? With care, he wiggled his toes and fingers. At least nothing was permanently damaged. Taking a deep breath, he went to sit up.


    ¡°Hurugh¡± a stab of pain shot through his chest. His lungs seized up as he fought for air.


    Leaning to the side, he began coughing up a foul substance. A thick, tar-like combination of saliva, ash, and mucous. As the fit began to slow, he wiped off the spittle and glanced around. The entire region was under a layer of thick soot. What burned the night before slowly fell across the lands. No wonder it hurt to breathe. Pulling out his pocket knife, he cut off a bit of fabric from his pants and made a quick mask. It wasn¡¯t perfect, but it¡¯d at least help keep the dust out. With the filter secure, Fenix hobbled to his feet. He scraped off as much gunk as he could, but the night of sweat caused it to stick to the skin. Sighing, he shuffled over to the well to wash off the mess.


    He took three steps before seeing that bit of metal sticking up from the ground. Yet that little spigot made him pause. His brain was flooded with painful moments once more. All the times he fought his parents to wash up, him and his brother pranking each other by dumping a bucket on em, or just fetching water for dinner; it was gone. So many things caught up to him.. Each and every one centered around this tiny object. So much of his life he brushed off, yet now. Now it is over. The only thing left is this stupid little spigot. Emotions ran wild as a bellowing rage swept through his body. A visceral scream of anguish and agony reverberated from his throat. It wasn¡¯t fair! They weren¡¯t rich, they kept to themselves, yet why did it happen? What cruel god set this fate before him? He screamed and yelled until hoarse. It wasn¡¯t healthy, but he didn¡¯t care. He just let the grief overtake all sense of thought.


    Each memory of his former life is a painful reminder of what he lost. His dad teaching them survival skills at night, the smell of delicious cookies his mom would make on the weekends, he and his brother laying on the roof to watch the stars. So many moments of joy and a blow to the gut. Fenix wasn¡¯t sure how long had passed, only pulling himself together when there were no tears left to shed. Wiping the snot on his arm, he continued forward in silence.


    He grabbed the old rags and leaky bucket. With each pump, he filled the container with fresh water. Using the damp cloth to wipe down the dirt clinging to his skin. Thankfully, the cool liquid helped soothe his sore body. It took a bit of rubbing to get rid of the layers of grime. As he scrubbed down, he began to dissociate from this world. He just needed to retreat from all the pain, letting his base knowledge clean himself as his thoughts went blank.Within moments the ground was soaked and he felt fresh once more. It wasn¡¯t much, but it did help. Placing the bucket down, he muttered to himself.


    ¡°Ok Fenix, pull yourself together. What did dad say to do when stranded¡­¡±


    He began to rehash the lessons learned as he journeyed back to his collapsed home. Stepping over the charred wood, he saw the little creature diligently working. Already the curious thing had cleared out a tiny circle in the living room. It wasn¡¯t much, but it gave some space to maneuver through. As Fenix approached the strange being, he saw a faint glow emanating from the center.


    ¡°What are¡­HEY!¡± He called out.


    Somehow the twig found his collection of seeds. His face went red as a wave of anger overtook him. He¡¯d spent good money on his collection and was going to start a new garden when he moved.


    ¡°Stop that!¡± He yelled.


    His loud voice started the creature interrupting whatever spell it was casting. The living twig ran under the rubble to safety. Fenix quickly went over to pick up the scattered seeds, carefully dropping each into his pockets. As he reached for the last bits, he noticed that some had begun to germinate. Holding it up to the light, he saw the initial sprout poking out from the hardened shell. It was at that moment he realized how blinded he was from grief. Why would the creature try to steal? He felt like a total jerk for over-reacting. Getting to his knees, he crawled to where the cowering creature hid.


    ¡°Come on out little guy. I didn¡¯t mean to scare you¡± He held out a hand.


    The strange creature refused to budge, instead it sat motionless under the debris. If Fenix didn¡¯t know what to look for, it would have been impossible to find. It was just a small pile of sticks resting on the charred floor. Something you¡¯d see on a forest trail or walking out between the fields. Nothing of importance, yet it was very much alive. Realizing this wasn''t going to work, Fenix tried a different tactic. Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a few of his prized collection and offered them up to the little guy.


    At first, nothing seemed to happen. But once the creature noticed the seeds, it slowly crawled over.


    ¡°Go on, we can share¡± Fenix smiled.


    The thing carefully took a few of the seeds and went back to its circle. It glanced back at Fenix who gave an approving nod. Placing them onto the floor, the animated twigs began to channel once more. Fenix carefully crept over to observe. While he had met with the local magician before, he¡¯d seen nothing like this. A warm glow surrounded the tiny seedlings, the kernels pulsing in light as they took in the energy. Within moments, the first cracked open and a tiny stem grew.


    ¡°Wow¡­¡±


    But the creature didn¡¯t stop, once one seed sprouted he moved onto the next. As Fenix watched, he noticed the glow weakening. After the third sprouting, the twig creature collapsed.


    ¡°Oh¡­¡± he quickly ran over to try and help.


    Staring at the unmoving mass of detritus, he began to panic.


    ¡°Come on little guy, you ok?¡± Nothing


    No no no, He couldn¡¯t lose another. The two had only just met and he felt a strange connection to the spirit. Rubbing his temples he began to brainstorm.


    ¡°Ok, Fenix. Think¡­What did the voice say? [[Mote of Earth]]. GOT IT!¡±


    Bending down he gathered the remains of the creature into his palm. He was extra careful not to damage the twigs. Heck, It didn¡¯t feel that different from regular sticks. A nagging thought clawed at his brain that this was all some crazy hallucination. All that trauma and now he was talking to inanimate objects. But at the same time, if it helped him cope, so be it. Fenix searched the room for an old bowl. Heading outside, he filled the container with soil, partially buried the twigs, and gave it some water. It was a stupid idea, but he had to work. The thing was clearly a plant of some kind and plants needed good soil and water right?


    Placing the bowl down he waited¨Cbut nothing happened.


    ¡°What else¡­what else. THE SEEDS!¡± He exclaimed.


    Reaching into his pocket, he planted the other seeds around the creature. After a few moments, the little guy began to twitch. A sense of relief allowed Fenix to finally relax. With his tiny friend recovering, he decided to salvage what remained. With care, he walked through the remains pocketing anything of use. As he reached the door, a faint flicker caught his eye. It was just some coins reflecting the sunlight, but he noticed a few bags torn open. Rummaging through the raider¡¯s remains, he found some candles, rope, jerky, and other supplies. It wasn¡¯t much, but at least it would help. Gathering up the material, he tried to salvage some of the wood and formed a pile outside. The sun was already starting to set and he had to move quickly.


    With care, he began to form a lean-to out of the remains. It wasn¡¯t anything fancy, just a basic shelter his parents taught him to build in an emergency. A few wooden posts to hold it up, sticks to form the basic roof, and some old hay to make it covered. As the moon began to rise, Fenix returned to the cellar to grab some preserved fruit. Dipping his hand into the syrupy material, he ravenously devoured the contents. Normally he wouldn¡¯t be able to stomach that much sugar, but he couldn¡¯t halt the hunger. As he finally filled the aching stomach, a sense of weight overcame him. All this work began to catch up. Since last night, Felix had been running on stress and adrenaline. Now that he was somewhat safe, his body was forcing him to rest. But he still had one thing to do before crashing.


    Heading back to the farmhouse, Fenix lit a candle and went to the earthen bowl. His tiny friend had mostly recovered and was tending to the various seedings. Felix had to do a double take with how much they had grown. What should have taken a week only took a few hours. He knew some high level farmers had skills like these, but it required many many levels to accomplish. Not to mention they had to specialize in rapid growth to even have a chance at getting something so efficient. Whatever this [[Mote of Earth]] was, it was special. Grabbing the bowl, the twigs turned his way. The little limbs waved at him to stop.


    ¡°Shh calm down, only here to help¡± and he lifted the container.


    Carrying it back to his new home, he placed it against the wall and laid down. The hard dirt was anything but comfortable, he¡¯d need to get more hay and build a bed. But this was fine for now. Gazing out into the night sky, he wondered where they had taken his brother, whether his parents survived, and what happened to the town. There was so much to do and very little time. Yet; even with all the raging thoughts, he quickly fell into a deep sleep. If he couldn¡¯t find them, he would be sure to make home a place worth returning to.


    ¡ª--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------


    ¡°What is this place¡­¡± Ash muttered.


    He stood on a glistening path that stretched far beyond the horizon. A trail of stars wading through waves of darkness. Each time he turned, a new vision popped into frame. The clouds swirling into temporary portals, each revealing a wondrous realm. Before he could process what he saw, it was quickly replaced with another visage. Even the ground itself seemed to shift, one moment gravity was fine, the next the world inverted. Gravity tugged at him from all sides as the perspective kept shifting. His head was throbbing from the madness, falling to his knees he tried to shut out the sights. But it didn¡¯t stop, no matter how much he tried the visions were hammered into his skull. Blood trickled from his nose, tears streamed from his eyes, and the pounding migraine had him nauseous.


    Curled up in a ball, he tried to focus. He wasn¡¯t sure how much time had passed, but his brain partially adjusted to this terrible realm. It wasn¡¯t so much as understanding, but learning how to filter out the madness. As long as he kept staring at the star-lit path, he could stumble forward. Even the space itself was an illusion. A portal passed by revealing an idyllic cottage, two faceless farmers tending to viney crops. As he reached out, the threshold perpetually left his reach. It was a cruel trick, no matter how hard he tried to escape it was just too far.


    Strangely Ash didn¡¯t feel tired nor hungry, he was in a perpetual state of content. All he could do was keep his eyes on the path ahead and continue onward. Nothing was true, yet it was all quite real. His mind did its best to understand the various discrepancies. A human mind forcing earthly logic onto a magical realm. On occasion he saw other¡­things appear on the path, only to disappear moments later. Strange creatures of inhuman proportions. Some he could swear ¡°looked¡± at him. As Ash tried to find a way to communicate, one of the shadowy beasts passed through him.


    Glistening lights swirled through the air and a cacophony of sounds flooded the skull. The slamming of a gong, the high pitched violins, the screams of battle, explosions of magic, boring lectures from the mage tower, it was everything and nothing at all. Anytime he tried to focus on one source, it was silenced and replaced with more noise. Nothing could stop the blaring sounds, even blocking his ears with cloth was futile. He wanted to scream, he begged for it to stop, but it only intensified with each passing moment.


    His stomach twisted and he stumbled to the side to vomit¡ªbut nothing came out. Instead he froze, a feeling of wrongness crept up the spine. His legs shackled and unmoving from the terrible sight before him. It was nothing, and it was everything. A swirling mass of chaotic darkness sucking in anything that approached. Magical lands torn apart and swallowed down. Yet for every space destroyed, a new one was spat out. Strange denisons flying past and slamming into one of the floating worlds. A constant turmoil of creation and destruction.


    It had a¡­intelligence behind it. Something that thought on levels higher than human consciousness. The ever-changing mass seemed to turn. Suddenly a terrifying power rushed into Ash. His mind tore open and splayed out for the thing below. Nothing was sacred, his very essence violated by the probing being. As the writhing darkness tinkered with his soul, entire lifetimes flashed before him. He tried to pull away but was trapped, some many experiences he was forced to endure. The rush of first love, the pain of death, the taste of steel in the stomach, the betrayal of his greatest friends, the joy of innovation, each one experienced many times. Yet nothing stayed, his brain couldn¡¯t process it all. It was too much to comprehend and he begged for it to stop.


    The abyss grew, the stars dimmed, and the world faded. Whatever it was, it wanted him. It wanted his essence, his very being, and to add all his memories to its ever growing self. Promises and threats were imprinted into his brain. He could be one of many, experience anything he wished for. While others threatened his very existence, how he would be destroyed if he refused. Not just his soul, but his very existence. It would be as if he was never born at all. Yet how could he resist? It was a tempting offer, an easy way out from all the pain. Just one simple step and it was all over. One measly motion and all hardships were a thing of the past.


    ¡°NOOO!¡± He slammed the remains of the relic into his thigh. A sharp pain running up his leg shattering the trance.


    Stumbling back, he covered his ears.


    ¡°GET OUT OF MY HEAD! STOP!¡±


    It listened, the world went silent. Instantly, everything was cast into darkness. g. But this wasn¡¯t just darkness, it was the essence of nothing. This was the absence of all, there was nothing to sense. Only his thoughts keep him company. How many years before he¡¯d go crazy? As the horrific realization set in, his mind finally cracked. All the grief and sorrow rushed into his head. His parents were gone, his brother was dead, and he was trapped in this hellish world.


    ¡°Oh jeez, can you stop being such a baby?¡± A harsh female voice said.


    Ash perked up and tried to find the source. But the reverberating sound surrounded him.


    ¡°Please, can you help? I¡­I don¡¯t know what to do¡± He called back.


    ¡°Sure, just like all the other lost walkers. Look, ya messed up and it¡¯s over. Maybe in a few hundred years somebody might find ya. Good luck buddy¡± The girl taunted, her voice fading.


    ¡°No please! Don¡¯t leave, I can bargain. I¡¯d do anything¡­¡±


    Suddenly, a harsh light took hold. A single white light penetrated the darkness¨Cblinding him. As his eyes adjusted, he saw a girl standing before him. She was dressed strangely, a white petticoat and black blazer. Her hair dyed pitch black and her face like porcelain. With each step, the sound of her heels filled the space. The white tights were unblemished and the black shoes perfectly polished.


    ¡°You really are stupid aren¡¯t you. Well if you say anything then I accept.¡±


    SNAP


    The light faded and the darkness began to shift. Slowly, the world came into being once more.


    ¡°What the¡­¡± Ash was beyond confused.


    He felt himself sinking, the ground soft and wet. Pulling his leg free, he noticed a few torches along cobblestone pathways. The sky showed no stars, yet it had two full moons. But the worst were the graves. Hundreds upon hundreds of tombstones lined the roiling hills. Some small, some massive mausoleums. A cold sweat made his skin clammy while his blood filling with adrenaline. He needed to get out. Glancing around, he noticed a large metal fence surrounding the graveyard¨Cbut no gate was in sight. Walking over, he noticed they were nearly twice his height and topped with a rusted tip. It was futile to try and climb that, he¡¯d need to find some other way. As he moved to the pathway, he felt the first droplets of rain.


    CRACK


    Lighting shot across the sky followed by a resounding boom.


    ¡°Holy!¡± He stumbled in the soft mud and ended up tumbling down a hill.


    The rain only continued to intensify as the time passed. A deep shiver began to took hold as the cool water sapped his strength. Trudging through the mud, he ended up stepping into a deep pit. Cursing, he tried to pull out his foot only to lose his boot. A raging inferno began to grow inside him. He was done playing stupid games. Wiping the mud from his brow, he yelled out.


    ¡°ENOUGH! WHERE ARE YOU?¡±


    CRACK


    The rain stopped as another flash of lightning illuminated the realm. Nestled in the bright light was the dark silhouette of the girl. She slowly walked towards Ash, her lips parting into a sinister smile. But unlike him, she traveled across the mud with ease. Not a single piece of grime stuck to her shoes nor did the rain dare to touch her clothes. It was then Ash realized the rain hadn¡¯t stopped, instead it curved around her presence. Old stories arose from his deepest memories. This his dad would tell to get him to sleep. She wasn¡¯t human, but something¡­other. He dared not to move as she approached. This was HER realm and he didn¡¯t want to be offended. Within moments, she was standing in front of him. She was tiny, nearly a foot shorter yet her presence was one of a titan.


    ¡°Ash, I accept your bet of ¡°anything¡±. If you succeed, then I will help you escape the darkness. If you lose¡­well I¡¯m sure I can think of something¡± She ended with a little giggle.


    He was beyond screwed.


    ¡°Wait, no. I didn¡¯t mean¡± But a single finger silenced his pleas.


    ¡°Blah blah blah. Look, this aint anything special. We will have a simple duel.¡± She snapped her fingers and the world shifted.


    Ash watched as the ground split up and a new tombstone rose from the earth. Sitting six-feet deep was a fresh wooden coffin. The door opened wide waiting to take in the next body. She couldn¡¯t be serious about this? Panic set in and he tried to back away from the grave. But the girl was quick, she snatched his wrist and held him still.


    ¡°No running buddy. Did you skip class or something? It¡¯s basic not to make deals if you can¡¯t back em. Guess the old man getting caught set ya back. Good riddance¡± She spat.


    ¡°Wait I don¡¯t know what you are¡±


    ¡°Shut it. Game is simple. First one to go in the coffin loses. Got it? Good. We start in 3¡­2¡­1¡­¡±


    CRACK


    She disappeared in another flash of lightning only to reappear beneath him. Her body twisted as she slammed an elbow into Ash¡¯s stomach. The farmer was sent flying as spittle left his lips.


    ¡°Hmmm, no protection either¡­¡± she mumbled


    ¡°Ooof¡± Ash doubled over as he tumbled along the ground. His elbow cracked against a tombstone in the process.


    He couldn¡¯t die like this. Standing up, he held his limp arm and waited.


    CRACK


    Another flash and she appeared once more. A single fist slamming into his jaw with such force it knocked out a tooth. He stumbled back as stars filled his vision. He tried to retaliate with a right hook, but she easily dodged and smashed a knee into his thigh. Ash didn¡¯t even have time to groan before he took a kick to the back. Each flash of lightning resulted in another hit. Her rapid assault knocked him back and forth like a ragdoll. With one final blow to the knee, he finally fell.


    ¡°Come ON FIGHT¡± She yelled.


    He stumbled back to his feet once more. His eye was swollen shut and lips bleeding from the punches. Her leg slammed into the back of his knee and sent him falling once more.


    ¡°What tricks do you have? Huh? Give me something! IT¡¯s been years since I got to fight¡±


    The girl lifted her leg into a split before swinging it downwards. This was his only chance. He felt a rib crack as the heel made an impact. But it gave him the opening he needed. Grabbing her ankle, Ash pulled.


    With his weight, he twisted and slammed her to the ground. Before he could pin her, she quickly contorted out and backflipped to safety.


    ¡°Now that''s what I¡¯m talking about¡± She put up her fists once more and shuffled in.


    Ash did his best to parry and block the punches. But she was too quick; even when he thought he¡¯d hit, it was only an afterimage. He wasn¡¯t sure how much longer he¡¯d be able to last. He was one punch away from passing out and went for a desperate gambit. The girl saw the feint and went in for the kill. However, luck seemed to be on Ash¡¯s side. As he stepped into the punch, his leg sank into the mud. Her first shot through the air gave Ash just enough time to wrap his arms around her. Squeezing with all his might, he lifted his opponent into the air.


    While he wasn¡¯t a fighter, all those years on the farm gave him plenty of muscle. With his opponent trapped in the crushing bearhug, he stumbled towards the coffin. He could feel her kicking his thighs and trying to bite his shoulder¡­but he ignored the pain. He had to return home, he had to see his family. Only 10 steps and he could escape this hell. His legs wobbled and he nearly fell stepping into another mud pit, but he held on. 5 more steps and it was over. It was then she stopped fighting.


    ¡°Hey Ash, I think it¡¯s time you learn something¡­¡± He ignored her.


    ¡°We don¡¯t play fair¡­¡±


    A cold grip wrapped around his ankle. All warmth was gone and his foot gave out. As he fell, she easily escaped his grasp and tumbled out. Ash turned to see what stopped him, what he saw was horrifying. A single hand reached from the grave and held on tight. Ash kicked and kicked until the fingers broke and he could pry himself free.


    ¡°HA HA LOOK AT THAT STUPID FACE DID YOU HONESTLY THINK YOU COULD WIN!¡± She taunted.


    One by one, more hands appeared. The various victims clawing out from their tombs and shambling towards him. Zombies in various states of decay began to fill the realm. Ash tried to find an opening in the mob, but nothing appeared. The stench of death filled the air as the group closed in. He tried to fight back. Shoving some to the ground, kicking others back, but it was futile. Within moments, dozens of hands pulled him to the ground. Ash began to thrash about, he couldn¡¯t die like this. He should have accepted the abyss thing¡¯s offer. His fingers began to bleed as he tried to claw free. Yet it was one man versus many. He was dragged across the soil and quickly tossed over the side. As he struggled to get out, he saw the face of the girl above.


    ¡°Looks like I win¡± and the coffin slammed shut.

 1.15 A bumpy ride in the forest of fun

    The sudden acceleration caught the two by surprise. The once easy-going ghost tumbling across the back and launching him over the side. His past-life reflexes took hold as his hand instinctively grabbed the side. Ryland held onto that wooden material with a full death grip, each of his muscles bulging with power as he pumped mana into his body. It was necessary as a simple bump would turn him into a skipping stone once again.. Pulling hard, he reached out and anchored in a second hand. Holding tight, his lightweight body flapped in the winds like a waving flag.


    ¡°OH GOD MAKE IT STOP¡± Ryland screamed out, his pool of energy rapidly burning from the effort.


    It wasn¡¯t so much that he was worried about being left behind, he¡¯d already been dragged for miles before. But it was such a terrible experience and one he¡¯d not like to experience a second time. But time was working against him. Finally his thoughts settled onto a simple plan. Closing his eyes, he focused on that feeling of ethereality. Shifting the power from his fingers, the ghastly appendages sank into the wood. Satisfied with the depth, he quickly reactivated his skill and solidified them once more. Just like that, Ryland had bound himself to the wood. While he still needed to pump mana into his fingers, the rate drastically decreased from before. One problem solved, now to deal with the attack.


    Glancing around, he tried to survey the situation. Screams and shouts echoed in the dark forest, various critters fleeing their burrows from the commotion. Torches and other lamps cast deep, flickering shadows against the large trunks. It was a full raid as the bandits leapt out from the woods to stop the rampaging cart. Arrows rained down and dug deep into the wooden sides. Strangely, the cargo seemed protected from the driver¡¯s skills. Various munitions harmlessly bouncing off the containers via an unseen force. At least his body was safe for now, it would be to have a living pin-cushion. For now, Ryland was stuck and could only hope that the two up front had some sort of plan.


    Steve felt his neck crack as the rapid acceleration slammed his head back. His skull smashed into the headboard with a hard THUNK. A pounding headache scrambled his thoughts while his vision filled with flashing stars. Blood rushed into his nasal passages as the impact reverberated throughout the bone. He¡¯d need to see a healer after this to check for any brain damage. After a few moments, the stars faded and he attempted to stabilize himself. Twisting his head forward, Steve felt the intense g-forces press into his body. What the hell was this driver? Even still they were accelerating far beyond any normal horse. The winds transformed into a vicious, scything mess. His skin forced back into deep wrinkles, tears rolling down his cheeks, and lips parting revealing his pearly whites. Even breathing was an ordeal, each breath short as the ribs pressed into his lungs. It all happened so fast and the world turned into a blur as they sped onwards.


    ¡°Aruaghg¡± horrific gags and spittle flew out of his mouth from a bug smashing into his throat.


    ¡°KEEP YOUR MOUTH SHUT! YOU JUST SPIT ON ME!¡± Ryland cried out.


    But Steve didn¡¯t care, he was too focused on the road before him. Rapidly blinking, he cleared the tears from his eyes and prayed to every deity known to man. (but not Deas that bastard). At these speeds, each bump launched him into the air. Butterflies filled his stomach as gravity lessened, his ass leaving the seat briefly before slamming back down. There was no way this rugged cart could keep up like this. It was a basic, wooden contraption that seemed to crack and groan on every impact. Skills were one thing, but physics was another. Each wheel was training against the axles and he swore they started to smoke. Shifting his eyes, he glanced at the older driver.


    ¡°WOOOOOO. FEELS GOOD TO GO ALL OUT¡± The drive was standing, reins in hand. His voice was loud and powerful as he chained various skills together.


    The man was crazy and what level was he? Whoever that assistant booked was far beyond a backwoods level. Why did Steve keep running into these powerful people? Unfortunately, those skills seemed to protect him and his cargo. As the arrows rained down, they curved around the driver before smashing into the wood beside him.


    ¡°Holy!¡± An arrow clipped his cheek before shattering a piece of the headboard.


    Steve needed to move, forcing blood to his muscles. He crawled along the seat and ducked behind the driver. He wasn¡¯t cargo, but he¡¯d use that man as a meatshield. Thankfully, they reached the top speed and Steve regained a bit of control. Peaking out, he watched as a group of bandits tried to form a barricade in the road. Swords were drawn and boxes were stacked, but the cart didn¡¯t stop. Only a few seconds later, the driver smashed into the group without a care in the world


    ¡°HAH ANOTHER TO ADD TO THE TALLEY! DON¡¯T MESS WITH ROADIE BOYS OR YOU¡¯LL END UP ROADKILL!¡± He adjusted his path to run down any that tried to flee.


    ¡°TWO POINTS!¡± He cheered with a sadistic glee.


    While Roadie was enjoying himself, Steve was struggling to stay in the cart. That first impact sent him flying high, his body tumbling over the headboard and crashing into the cargo behind. Scrambling to his knees, another crash had him rolling towards the edge. He didn¡¯t even notice Ryland screaming as he fought the cart. Grabbing the cargo, he pulled himself forward. Thank the gods for his skills, they didn¡¯t move an inch.


    ¡°RUN RUN¡± Steve braced for impact, his fingers digging into the wood till they bled.


    Once more he was launched skyward, but this time he was prepared. Holding tight, he slammed back down onto his stomach. He choked down some air as the wind was knocked from his lungs, but he couldn¡¯t stop. If he fell off that cart, he was beyond dead. He swore that he¡¯d come back to haunt this man for eternity. Pushing the muscles to the limits, Steve pulled himself forward and back over the headrest. He rolled onto his back as he worked off the exhaustion.


    ¡°SAY HI TO DEAS FOR ME¡±


    Steve lurched forward and smacked into the front boards.


    ¡°HEY DON¡¯T BREAK MY CART OR I¡¯M CHARGING DOUBLE!¡± He heard the driver yell.


    Honestly, at this rate he might as well jump over the side. If this kept up, he¡¯d be dead from the various bruises. Pulling himself back up, Steve glanced over the side. The ambush had turned into a full-scale retreat as the bandits fled the rampaging man. Roadie alongside his horses were stained from blood. Bits of bandit flesh sticking to the fur as they were torn apart from the impacts. A man screamed as the cart made impact, the force turning the bandit into a bloody mist. Chunks of meat smashed into Steve while the whipping winds spread the various guts along the skin.


    ¡°Oh god, I¡¯m gonna throw up¡± Steve mumbled


    It was one thing to dissect a body, it was another to be splattered with the warm flesh.


    ¡°NOT IN THE CART¡± Roadie yelled


    Steve turned to the side and hurled. Between the massacre, the motion sickness, and exhaustion it was far too much.


    ¡°DAMMIT STEVE GET YOURSELF TOGETHER¡± He heard Ryland call out. The ghost disgusted as the puke passed through his flapping frame.


    ¡°LET IT OUT, I REMEMBER MY FIRST AMBUSH. THEY JUST GET¡­..OH FUU¡­¡± Roadie was too busy taunting Steve to see the leader up front. Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.


    Unlike the obstacles before, the group had felled a few trees and dragged them into the dusty path. With their massive trunks stacked a few feet high, it was quite impressive. A few lingering were adding to the mass of wood as Roadie charged forward. They clearly misjudged the speed of the cart and Roadie showed no signs of slowing. It wasn¡¯t as if he could stop at this point anyway. Roadie did his best to swerve, but it was far too late. Pulling out his knife, he cut loose the horses allowing them to leap over the mess while his cart smashed into the barricade.


    Roadie used every skill in his arsenal to lessen the impact. Yet, once again physics beat The Will. It was a deadly explosion of wood. Lumber splintering from the tremendous forces and radiating outward in all directions. The nearby bandits were skewered from the flying limbs while the two lackeys were crushed between the cart and trunks. Strangely, the cargo somehow was fine. Roadie¡¯s skill kept them intact even as they turned into makeshift projectiles.


    Roadie wasn¡¯t as lucky, he was launched out of the cart and smashed into the ground with a sickening THUD. Steve had a bit more foresight and lept from the cart before impact. However at these speeds it was still extremely dangerous, his body kept its momentum and tumbled across the grass for nearly two dozen feet. As he skidded to a stop, he was afraid to move. His clothes were torn to shreds and blood leaked from hundreds of wounds. Little scrapes and gashes covered his skin and he could have sworn he had a fractured rib. Yet, he was alive. Strangely enough, he still felt closer to life now then when confronting that crazy priest. Taking a moment, he wiggled his toes and fingers¨Cat least his spine was intact, working through the rest of his body he heard the leader screaming at his lackeys.


    ¡°27 men, TWENTY-FUCKING-SEVEN goodmen were killed!¡±


    He was the most stereotyped bandit Steve had ever laid eyes on. Big, bulky, face-covered, and armed with various knives and daggers. His face red with rage as he berated his crew. The others could only cower as his voice rang in their ears. The man paused briefly to calm himself. What¡¯s done is done and he¡¯d worry about the consequences later.


    ¡°Boss man, we tried out best to stop him. How did we know he was¡­¡±


    ¡°SHUT¡­IT. I Taught each of you dodge roll, DODGE THE FUCKING CART NEXT TIME. I swear, if ANY of you try that shit again. I will PERSONALLY sent you to Deas with a custom greeting card.¡±


    Honestly, Steve kind of agreed¨Cminus the profanity of course. That was a sailors tongue and they were far from the water. Besides, it was stupid of them to try to stop a rampaging cart. What did they think was going to happen? Especially after seeing their friends splatter from before. If it was him, he¡¯d have dipped out and dealt with the consequences later. At least he¡¯d live another day. A few more shouts and the group began looking for the goods. They may have lost most of their men, but that just meant a larger split for the rest. Each tore open the various boxes and scoured the insides. Each hastily filled their own bags and pockets with merchandise. After reaching the main city, they could pawn it off to a decent fence.


    As they looted the wreckage, Steve took a mental note on how many remained. Their leader was clearly in good spirits as he tallied the spoils. Surrounding him were four lackeys and one wounded. Honestly, for the size of their starting party, the driver did well. He¡¯d be called a hero in most spots, but it would all be for naught if they died in the woods. If that man lived, Steve would be sure to drag his body to the next outpost. With care, he began to formulate a plan of escape, only to hear the clanking of chain and metal as one of the men approached.


    Two options played through his brain. He could either ambush the man, get a clean kill, then try to escape in the woods. If he was fast enough, he might lose the rest in the escape. However, without the road to guide, he¡¯d be lost in the forest. Besides, he had enough time in the woods already and wanted to get back to civilization. Not to mention, if any of those bandits had tracking skills it would be a pointless move. He¡¯d be dead before morning. Realizing that was a bit stupid, he decided to play dead. Or well unconscious. It didn¡¯t matter, he just needed to convince the bandit¡¯s he wasn¡¯t a threat. Holding his breath, he still his muscles, and hoped his ruse would work.


    ¡°Let¡¯s see what ya got for me¡± the nasty breath of the thief washed over his face.


    Steve wasn¡¯t sure what was worse. Dealing with that halitosis or the grubby hands ruffling through his clothes. Each calloused finger leaving a trail of grimy sweat across his dainty skin. While he may have lived in the woods for a while, Skincare was the key to looking young. It only took a few seconds for the bandit to find his coin purse.


    ¡°Jackpot¡± The man stood up and began counting.


    Steve took a short breath while the man was distracted. He could do this. Moments later, the thief was back at it. Not a single inch was left unscathed as he got a full body pat-down. Soon his hidden dagger was found and he felt the weight leave his body.


    ¡°Oi. This is some good work¡± The bandit held the dagger to the light and tracked the filigree with his eyes.


    ¡°Some sorta runework. Might keep this for myself¡± He glanced over his shoulder to make sure the others didn¡¯t see him pocket the knife.


    The man kicked Steve onto his stomach and kneeled onto his back. This wasn¡¯t good, it was nearly impossible to hold his breath as the weight pressed into him.


    ¡°Come on, come on. Go back already¡± Steve wished in his mind.


    But the thief took his time. He checked the back pockets and found nothing of interest. Adjusting his stance, he took a seat on the ¡°dead¡± body and began to rummage through the satchel. Reaching inside, he felt for any treasures only to recoil in disgust. There was a wet, squishy sensation that sent chills up his arm. Pulling out his hand, he saw fresh blood coating his fingers.


    ¡°What the hell¡± He took his knife and slashed off the satchel. Opening it up, he glanced inside and froze.


    ¡°Boss! You might want to check this out!¡± He called out.


    ¡°Dammit¡± Steve cursed.


    He found the meat pocket. It was a simple bag enchanted with a basic refrigeration spell. While not as strong as his original backpack, it did keep things cold, fresh, and filled with flesh. A great tool to grab interesting materials for future creations, but now it was giving away his class. One by one the bandit pulled out more pieces of zombie chow. Hacked off fingers with congealed blood oozing from the stub. Three ears of various species, one of which was partially chewed. One gooey eyeball with the nerve ending still connected to it. (Something zombies really loved as a gummy treat). He couldn¡¯t even identify the rest, just bits and pieces of flesh piled together.


    ¡°Don¡¯t care! We got loot to loot¡± The larger man called back..


    ¡°I get that boss¡­but this is some weird shit. Really think you should check it out¡± But his calls were ignored.


    Damn this man and his language. What was with bandits and cursing. Speaking of curses, Steve was in the process of cursing this man¡¯s left nut. His body was nearing the end of its air reserves and his lungs burned for clean oxygen. He could feel the slight tremors as the muscles begged for air. But he couldn¡¯t give in, forcing back the spasms he cut out all thoughts and entered a state of meditation. Just a few more seconds and this would be all over.


    ¡°Whatever¡­¡± The man said as he gathered the remains and tossed them into the bag.


    Once they gathered around the campfire, he¡¯d show off the body parts. They¡¯d take it to the local priest and see if it was tainted with necromancy. If so, they¡¯d get a nice bag of gold for their troubles. The priests of Deas didn¡¯t care what side of the law people were on. They wanted to stamp out any death magics and rewarded those who further their cause. He¡¯d show them off later. If this guy was a real [Necromancer] they¡¯d get a good bounty whether dead or alive. Gold flowed freely to those that furthered their cause. Satisfied with his goods, he stood up and stretched a bit.


    Once more Steve gasped for air. This was getting to be a bit much, he was regretting not killing the man and running. But he committed to the act and had to see it through.


    ¡°Hmm might need a piece of ya for evidence¡± The bandit said and pulled out his dagger.


    Piece? What did he mean by that? Steve noticed the man reach out for his hand. He shifted between the fingers and held out the pinky. Raising the knife into the air, he went for a quick cut.


    CRACK


    He paused and turned.


    ¡°What the hell¡­¡±


    Instantly, a high-pitched scream filled the air. The other survivors began to panic as their leader tried to restore order. The man abandoned Steve and rushed towards the commotion. Steve finally rolled onto his back and let off the biggest sigh of relief. He was so close to losing a finger or worse. His moment of respite was shattered as Ryland¡¯s voice screamed out.


    ¡°YEAH GET HIS ASS¡±

 1.16 The first attack

    ¡°OH WHAT NOW! SURPRISED YA! Ryland was laughing as his body erupted from the barrel.


    He could feel his body itching to attack, that bond pressing hard into his brain. But the thief was smart, forcing back the hunger he kept the zombie still. Those stupid bandits didn¡¯t know what they were dealing with, each one casually checking the cargo and calling out various goods. A sadistic grin stretched across his face as he waited for the lackey to approach. The closer the man got, the more excited his body got. Finally, that bandit reached out and Ryland couldn¡¯t hold it back anymore.


    Infused with deathly magics, the zombie was a monstrous force. Otherworldly strength shattered the wooden restraints with ease. The bandit tried to run from the ambush, but was too slow. He took two steps before the beast was on him. Ryland cheered as his body leapt onto the man¡¯s back and slammed him into the dirt. Blood was drawn as the sharp talons dug deep into the flesh, his leather armor giving little resistance to the undead creature. Yet even through the pain the bandit tried to fight back. Shifting his weight, he rolled across the grass trying to dislodge the ravenous zombie. Screams left his throat as he called out for help.


    Ryland had to give it to the man, he was scrappy. He tried punching the zombie, but each hit only made his knuckles bleed. Realizing he was outgunned, he tried to disengage. Using his legs, he kicked the creature in the chest. It worked, the zombie recoiled just enough for him to crawl away. Using his hands and feet, he stumbled forward to create distance. But this wasn¡¯t an ordinary beast, before he got back onto his feet the creature lashed out.


    ¡°ARGHAR¡± He cried out as the nail sliced into his ankle.


    His leg crumbled as the Achilles was sliced. With a dead leg, he tried to shuffle back with his hands. A feeling of dread washed over as the creature charged once more. Thinking fast, he grabbed his dagger and feeble held it forward. In a knife fight, one died and one left in stitches. With the zombie already dead, it didn¡¯t even care as the blade pierced deep into its chest. Rancid blood bubbled out and coated the bandit¡¯s hand as he tried to pull back. But the dagger was deeply lodged into the dead flesh. Disarmed and incapacitated, he could only watch as the beast began to feast.


    Even after watching his body feast, it was still quite gruesome. It didn¡¯t help that the man continued to scream the entire time it happened.


    ¡°Can¡¯t you like¡­.Kill him first? Is this necessary?¡± He loomed over the zombie, but the creature didn¡¯t respond. It was far too focused on slurping down that wonderful lifeforce.


    This was a man-eat-man world and the zombie exemplified it. With brutal efficiency, the sharp claws cut into the warm flesh. Tearing open the abdomen, it salivated at the juicy, tender innards. Reaching inside, it scooped out chunks of meat before biting into the still-living tissue. A feeling of raw ecstasy passed through their bond as he feasted. It only took one bite for the knife wound to start closing. New flesh pushing out the sharp dagger and stitching itself shut. Going in for a second helping the man¡¯s screams transformed into gurgles. But the zombie kept chewing, it wanted to eat as much as possible before the spirit left. Reaching down deep, it scooped out the guts and tore. Dislocating its jaw, it shoved the meat inside and slurped up the intestines like a bowl of ramen.


    ¡°Where are you packing all those pounds?¡± Ryland was both very disturbed and very curious. His body had consumed nearly five feet of man-sausage but the belly didn¡¯t even expand.


    It hadn¡¯t eaten this good since¡­ever. Ready to sample more, it spit out some chunks of guts and grabbed onto the ribs. Even Ryland had to avert his eyes as the zombie slowly broke each rib. One by one, they were broken from the sternum and tossed to the side. With most gone, the fingers reached underneath and pulled. It wasn¡¯t a clean break and the zombie had to rock back and forth a bit to get it out, but soon it tore free with a sickening


    CRACK


    It was at this point that the others realized what was going on. Each one two focused on their own loot to notice the screams. As they rushed across the field, the zombie ignored their approach. Besides, it made it easier when the food came to it. Tonight was going to be a wondrous buffet of exotic treats and delights.


    But for now, it wanted that succulent, tender prize. Pulling back the remaining bones, it shoved its face right into the chest cavity. Like a twisted version of bobbing for apples, it searched for the pulsating muscle. Sensing the source of life, the teeth bit down onto the squirming flesh. Pulling back, veins ripped open and ligaments snapped with a squishy squelch. It took a bit of force to bust the connective tissue, but with one final flex; the zombie ripped out the man¡¯s heart. His life quickly fading moments after. Reaching up, it quickly devoured the fleshy fun prize¨CSavoring the raw life energies flooding through it.


    Ryland felt the joy and satisfaction pressing into their bond. It was the thrill of hunting combined with a full stomach. The excess power transforms into a sensation of happiness. Yet, that bond quickly shifted as the first bandit appeared. He paused and the two made eye contact. While he¡¯d seen death, this was on another level. It was a bloody scene, crimson viscera covering the grassy field as the zombie held the chewed up heart. He wanted to vomit, but that quickly shifted into a feeling of rage.


    ¡°You ate him, and then you are going to try and eat me. OH MY GOD!¡± And he attacked.


    He was a brute compared to this spindly man. Using one of his skills; he licked the zombie in the chest, launching him across the grass.


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry friend, Ill avenge you¡± he promised the desecrated corpse.


    Drawing his sword, he went in for the kill. This wasn¡¯t his first time dispatching a wayward zombie. Anytime they raided a battlefield or entered a mass grave, there was a natural chance of animation. All it took was one good hit to the head and they¡¯d be down for good. His buddy was stupid for getting caught. Should have gone for a head stab instead of whatever the hell he did. Twirling his sword, he was going to do this with a bit of flair. Might as well use this thing as a training dummy.


    Unfortunately for him, Ryland¡¯s body was anything but a zombie. With a fresh meal and flooded with deathly magics; he was a full on ghoul. Bones sprouted from the extremities and sharpened into daggers. Its milky eyes tracked the movement as it studied the attacker. Ryland¡¯ could feel the rage building. This man had interrupted the feast and would pay dearly for it.


    ¡°Fine, I¡¯ll help¡± Ryland activated [Shared Strength] and gifted some of his energy to the creature.


    The bandit raised his sword and charged forward. A battlecry left his throat as his muscles bulged from various buffs. Each step he seemed to grow a few inches and cover more ground. Not wanting to be outdone, the zombie met his charge with its own. As the torches burned around, their forms cast deep shadows in the grassy arena. A wide swing started the attack, it was a full-forced assault meant to cut the creature in two. Digging its hand into the ground, the zombie ducked under the sword and pivoted. A bloodied hand lashed out towards the calf, only to be deflected by the glistening steel. Rotten meat was carved off as the sword dug into the arm, yet the reinforced bone only chipped under the swing. He quickly went into an overhead swing, only to miss as the zombie rolled across the ground. Leaping up, the creature latched onto the bandit¡¯s arm. Deep gashes formed in the flesh as the claws tore through the skin. A second skill was activated and he flung the beast back. The claws dig deep into the earth to slow the momentum. There was no respite as the Zombie went on the attack once more.


    It rushed forward, one clawed hand reaching outward aiming for the man¡¯s gut. The swordsman shifted his weight and spun his leg forward. Bone met bone as he tripped the charging monster, his sword lashing out and slipping between the ribs. Thick globs of congealed blood splattered the grass below. He followed up with his own lunge, only for his weapon to be deflected by the forearm. The zombie backed off briefly, the wounds quickly stitching up as dark magics pooled around the cuts.


    ¡°You are a hardy one arent you?¡± He called out.


    It was only a brief engagement and he was sweating. The zombie was unlike any undead he¡¯d fought before. An intelligence sat behind the milky eyes and the movements far faster than most men. He needed to end this fast, he only had a few more skills left. One small mistake and it¡¯d be his guts on the ground. This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.


    But he was merely a man and the undead never played fair. With an uncanny groan, the zombie attacked once again. Instead of charging, it swung its clawed limbs in wide arcs. This was no tactical assault, instead it was flailing without care. Stepping back, he planted his leg for support and began to parry the fury of limbs. Each arcing swing knocked aside by the edge of his blade. Thick chunks of muscle were severed and slabs of flesh splattered the earth. Yet for all the damage dealt, nothing slowed the frenzied attack. As fast as he carved the creative, the next swing it had regenerated.


    As the seconds passed, his stamina drained. Muscles began to ache and his vision blurred from the salty sweat. He started to slow down as exhaustion set it. Then it all went to hell. One missed block and the clawed hand tore into his side. Blood rushed from the open wound, amplifying the fatigue. He kept trying to hold his ground, just needing to last until one of the others engaged. He could barely lift his sword for the final block when.


    SHUNK


    An arrow pierced the skull and scrambled the brain. He fell to his knees and watched as the creature began to stumble. Hands reached up to the shaft and tried to remove the wood, but it held fast. It only took two more steps before collapsing to the ground, becoming a corpse once more.


    Congratulations! You have reached level 7! Please select your new skills promptly.


    The Will echoed in his head. What the hell was this thing? He was still far from leveling, but this thing gave him a ton of experience. Whatever, take the blessings when you can. Maybe The Will was entertained by the fight and gave him a bonus. Tearing off his shirt, he wrapped it around the open wound. He¡¯d need to see a healer after this. Undead related injuries tended to get infected quickly. With the bleeding halted, he spit to the side and called out.


    ¡°Took you long enough!¡±


    ¡°What? Thought you could handle a lowly zombie. You owe me five gold for that save¡±


    ¡°Bullshit, you still owe me for cards last night. Don¡¯t try to weasel out of this one¡±


    ¡°Fuck you! I know you are a cheat¡±


    The two continued to argue before the leader stepped in. They had already lost most of their group and a fight would only make things worse. He opened a pouch and tossed a bottle of alcohol to the swordsmen. Uncapping the container, he grimaced as he poured the distilled liquor on the open wound. It stung like hell, but better than dying of grave rot. With all the threats down, they sat around the fire to distribute the loot.


    Ryland ran over to Steve.


    ¡°Steve man, Why didn¡¯t you help? We could have taken them!¡± He was pissed


    ¡°What do you want me to do? I only have basic spells and he stole my dagger¡±


    ¡°Seriously? Literally anything other than wallowing in filth would help out. I can¡¯t do this alone¡±


    ¡°Look you are already dead, I¡¯m not and I would like to keep it that way. Unless you have a plan, I¡¯ll lay right here until they are gone.¡±


    ¡°I know that is a lie. I saw him trying to cut off that finger of yours. You just gonna let them do that? Besides what do you think will happen when he sees you bleeding? You were carrying a Zombie, they will take you straight to Deas and serve you on a ivory platter.¡±


    Steve hated it, but Ryland was right. He was the bigger man and didn¡¯t feel the urge to argue. The two were in another mess and would have to work together to figure it out.


    ¡°Fine, but I got nothing. I¡¯m already drained from getting us out of the village and I¡¯m better at fleeing then fighting¡±


    ¡°Hmm, I think I got a plan. These guys are pretty dumb. I mean we watched like half of them get murdered by a manic in a cart.¡± Ryland leaned down and whispered his idea.


    ¡°Got it?¡± Ryland asked and Steve nodded in agreement


    ¡°Good, that arrow is draining the hell out of my energy. Good thing we overfilled it earlier or I don¡¯t think this will work. Sent a command to my body to lay low, that battle turned into a 3 v 1¨C no thanks to you¨Cand they gave me the perfect out. When they get close, I¡¯ll signal a new assault. This time, I better see you doing your best.¡±


    Even though Steve admitted to being bad in a fight, he was still quite scrappy. He¡¯d witnessed the man fighting to the death in the cave and that was a 2 v 1. Or well, a 1 v 1 with some annoying bits from the ghost. He¡¯d have some time to think of an attack while they waited. If Ryland and his body got a quick kill, they might be able to take out the rest. But if Steve could at least get rid of one, they¡¯d be in a very strong spot.


    ¡°Don¡¯t let me down buddy¡± He mumbled as he ran back to the bandit camp.


    As they chatted, he carefully surveyed the area and took notes on where they stored their goods. He couldn¡¯t do much as a ghost and needed to conserve as much energy as possible for his body, but he might be able to assist in other ways¡­


    ¡°We gotta torch Jake and the Zombie. Can¡¯t have them reanimating again¡± The boss said.


    ¡°Agreed, but we should grab some evidence for those priests.¡±


    ¡°Right, go back and cut an ear or something. Hell, cut one of the driver, Jake, and that other guy. Might be able to pass them off as well¡±


    ¡°Good thinking boss, Who gonna do it?¡± The lackey asked.


    All three looked a him.


    ¡°Come on I don¡¯t wanna do it. What if he comes back? I aint got no skills in battle!¡± But they wouldn¡¯t budge.


    ¡°Fine fine¡­¡± he mumbled and got up.


    Grabbing one of the daggers he walked over to the zombie in the field. The creature was bent in strange ways and facing the sky.


    ¡°Hey! Grab my arrow while you are out there. Those things ain''t cheap¡± The archer said.


    ¡°You come get it! I ain¡¯t touching no zombie brains¡± The lackey screamed back.


    ¡°I¡¯ll shoot your eye out kid if you don¡¯t do it¡± The archer threatened.


    He wanted to respond, but knew it would only cause trouble. Didn¡¯t want to get stabbed while sleeping, especially with all this loot split between them. Instead he bent down, cursing the man as he surveyed the body. Even dead¡­again, he swore those milky-white eyes were staring right at him. The face busted open from the munition and covered in blood. Its gaping maw littered with chunks of flesh and muscle, while the torn clothes were covered in gore. hose milky-white eyes were staring right at him. Bits of blood and chunks of muscle trapped between the teeth while the clothes were stained with crimson. He wasn¡¯t sure whose blood was whose and honestly didn¡¯t want to know. Reaching down, he grabbed the shaft and started to push it through the skull.


    ¡°Damn you are one ugly bastard.¡± He tried to distract his brain from the horrid, squishy sounds as the arrow passed through.


    Ryland was highly offended by the comment. Yes his corpse might not be the prettiest thing in the world, but it was ten times better then this so-called bandits. This man was covered in muck, smelled like fresh manure, and was missing half his teeth. How dare he call his body ugly! The eye alone was three tiers prettier than this man. That statement nearly made him attack right then. But, he let it slide as the man removed the annoying arrow. With a final¨CSquelch it popped free. A sigh of relief was shared through their bond. Before the bandit could notice the regeneration, he shut off the flow of energy¨Cmuch to the chagrin of his body. He didn¡¯t want them to be revealed¨Cyet.


    Placing the arrow to the side, he grabbed his weapon and gave it a twirl. Glancing over the creature, he wasn''t sure what was best for the bounty. Fingers, ears, hands, or trinkets was normally the go to. Those claws were looking a bit dangerous and he didn''t want to accidently get infected. With the hands and fingers out, that only left the ear. Leaning over, he hooked the knife on the back and began to saw into the cartilage. It wasn''t pleasant, but was necessary. After they pawned off the goods, they''d have to lay low for a while. A fight like this would be found in the morning and evidence was everywhere. Hell, they might have to break up as a group and start over. It was nigh impossible to do a class change and he really didn''t want to work inside the big city. Maybe he''d get enough gold to carrying him for a bit till he found a new crew to join. But most of all he was a bit pissed at his boss.


    He warned them not to attack the man. The load was light and didn''t look like it had any value, not to mention it was only one driver. This world was filled with powerful people and it was a gamble to attack a loner. Either they were stupid and tried to save a few gold cutting bodyguards, or had some crazy level/skill to manage threats. While counter-intuitive, it was far better to attack grouped up caravans then a wandering cart. Those guys hired the bare minimum and were far more showy in strength then actually having it. But their leader wouldn''t listen; with such a large size crew, they should have overwhelmed one driver. Sure a few might be lost or injured, but that was the life of a bandit. One day you swimming in riches, the next you are dining with Deas. He spit to the side in disgust. It didn¡¯t matter now, the bulk were dead and he¡¯d at least get a big payout from it.


    As the last bits of flesh were cut through, he sheathed the dagger and gave it a tug. Dead flesh was far easier than living to break. With his prize in hand, he turned back towards the group.


    ¡°What the¡­¡± was all he could say before the zombie grabbed his leg and pulled.

 1.17 Thats my moms special dagger!

    The lackey fell forward, crashing into the bloody mud. A sharp pain spread across his face as the nose shattered from the fall. Adrenaline flooded the body as he forced back the pain. He had to move quickly or he¡¯d end up filleted. Digging his hands into the dirt, he pulled forward with all his strength. Yet the creature didn¡¯t let go, the crushing grip grinding the bones within his ankle.


    ¡°HELP!¡± He nasally called out while twisting to his side.


    Now on his butt, he used the free leg to kick off the zombie. His boot smashing into the unguarded face over and over. Bone caved in as chunks of jellied blood radiated outward, One of the eye¡¯s popped and oozed up from the sunken sockets, while the jaw hung loosely from torn muscle. Yet; for all his effort, he couldn¡¯t do any permanent damage. Horrific thoughts flooded the brain as the flesh regenerated before his eyes. Scrambling, he reached for his pocket and pulled out his knife. Leaning forward, he went to stab the beast through the destroyed eye.


    It quickly shifted and the dagger slid into the cheek and out the bottom of the mouth. Cold, congealed viscera dripped onto his hand as he tried to pull back. Instead, the creature lashed its maw forward and bit down. In one clean bite, it tore off two fingers and some of his palm. His eyes widened as he starred out his mutilated hand. All the fight left his muscles as he went into shock.


    ¡°This can¡¯t be happening, this isn¡¯t real¡± he mumbled like a mad man.


    Sensing the weakness, the creature reached forward with its other arm and clamped down onto the second leg. Dirtied nails pierce the flesh, penetrating down to the bone. Yet, the man barely reacted to it. His sanity shattered as he faced his death. It was ridiculous, this whole scenario stupid. From the driver, to the zombie, to this. Just a crazy dream and he¡¯d wake up all fine. Even through the pain, an anxious laughter left his lips.


    But the zombie kept going. Each finger wiggled within the man¡¯s muscles shredding the tissue to ribbons. Even if he wanted to flee, the calf was beyond repair. Letting go of the ankle, it reached up and grabbed the dagger from its mouth. With a tongue, it pulled the weapon from its cheek and tossed it to the side. For a moment, it stretched the jaw as the tissue quickly regenerated. Satisfied, it bent down and bit into the inner thigh.


    Ryland could feel his essence start to refill. They had used up nearly half setting this ambush and another quarter during the first bit of fighting. He had to admit, it was great for unnerving people. But constantly restitching flesh without something to consume really drained him. He watched as his body dug into dessert, the sharp teeth tearing through muscle, tendons, and more. Each bite filled with the essence of life and converted into deathly energy. Even experiencing it a second time, that feeling of euphoria never faded. It made sense as to why the undead sought out life. This was better than any drug.


    But his cry for help stirred the others to action. Only a few seconds had passed when his body attacked and already they were rushing to help. Or at least trying to help.


    ¡°Bloody hells, that arrow should have put him down permanently. What the hell was this man carrying?¡± The leader said as he reached for his sword and charged forth.


    The archer shrugged and went for his quiver. Grabbing the straps, he pulled up only for the twine to unravel. It slammed to the ground and scattered his remaining arrows across the dirt.


    ¡°Dammit!¡± He cursed as he began picking them up one by one.


    The other just watched, he had already used up most of his stamina from the battle before and figured the two others could handle one zombie. Still, he went to the boss¡¯ tent to find some of their prized stamina potions. They were rare, and extremely expensive. But it was better to lose some gold than to die in the woods.


    ¡°Where the hell is the key to the potions?¡± He called out.


    ¡°How the hell am I supposed to know? He never trusted me with that info!¡± The archer replied, still trying to grab his munitions.


    This wasn¡¯t good, they kept the key nearby for this very reason. Yet it wasn¡¯t in its assigned spot. He didn¡¯t want to bust open the container as the glass inside could easily shatter. Annoyed, he started searching the area trying to find the metal in the dark.


    Ryland grinned at the chaos caused. He couldn¡¯t fight directly, but he could be extremely annoying. This whole ghost thing wasn¡¯t so bad now that he could interact with the world. Sure everything had to be only a few grams and moving that key took a few tries, but it made a huge difference in the battle.


    ¡°ANY DAY NOW STEVE!¡± He called out, the man still not helping.


    If they made it through tonight, he¡¯d have a very long talk with the man. It was starting to get a bit ridiculous. He could try and pull back his body. Already he was down to the bone, the thing looking like a stripped chicken leg. But they really needed to recharge and he decided on a different stall tactic.


    Running across the field, he positioned himself between the bandit leader and his body. Normally, he¡¯d be screaming for help if a wild man was swinging a sword at him. But the whole being dead thing let him phase through nearly all objects. Kneeling down, he forced power into his hand and grabbed a bit of dirt. It wasn¡¯t much, but it should do. With his weapon in hand, he waited for the man to run through him.


    ¡°ARguugh¡± The leader spit out as a cloud of dust smashed into his face.


    It worked! He had gotten the idea when Steve swallowed that bug earlier. Now it was time for his special move.


    ¡°Hold still¡± He muttered as the man shifted back and forth, his free hand trying to wipe the dirt from his eyes.


    The leader was pissed. What the hell even happened? He tried to search the area for a hidden foe, but nothing appeared. Tears streamed down his face as his eyes worked out the dirt, but it wasn¡¯t fast enough. Slamming his sword into the ground, he grabbed his shirt and began rubbing at the face.


    ¡°Stop that whining!¡± he screamed at the partially eaten man. The constant cries of pain intermixed with bits of laughter really pissed him off.


    If they were going to die, at least die in a fight. It was utterly pathetic giving up like that. The thought of giving up and becoming a babbling mess only enraged him. If that man died, it would be nearly impossible to carry all their loot to town. Already the losses were insurmountable and it¡¯d take him months, if not years to rebuild his crew. Plus he¡¯d need to bribe, lie, and cheat to keep word from spreading about this fight. Who¡¯d want to join the crew that was wiped out by a cart driver? That story wouldn¡¯t ever leave him and he¡¯d get downgraded. His class as a [Bandit Leader] would be reverted to [Bandit Lieutenant] or god forbid a [Lackey] of some kind. He¡¯d rather restart at the bottom and live a lawful life then go back to the lackey life. With one last swipe, he cleared out the rest of the dirt and grabbed his sword.


    The creature was only a few feet away and glanced up like a lost puppy. Bits of sinew stretched between the mouth and open wound before snapping back like rubber. It was a territorial stare, this was HIS food and nothing would get between it. The leader wasn¡¯t even shocked at the carnage, he¡¯d killed many men in worse ways. Besides, it was mostly the leg. Once this was finished, he¡¯d chop that torn up appendage and cauterize the wound with a torch. It¡¯d be painful as hell, but at least the man would be alive. He¡¯d just dock the man¡¯s pay based on how much the healer charged. Already the numbers were slipping, black-market healers overcharged like crazy. But they¡¯d just have to eat the cost as there was no other option. Support the creativity of authors by visiting Royal Road for this novel and more.


    Pickup up his sword, he took a moment to analyze his foe. Already this thing had killed one, worn out another, and was eating a third. He could tell it wasn¡¯t your basic zombie and didn¡¯t want to fall into a trap. Both hands grabbed the handle, the fingers wrapping around the worn leather as he activated a few skills. This would be overkill, but he was going to decapitate the thing in a single swing. No need to draw this fight out, just one clean cut and it¡¯d be done. He took one step and¡­


    Click


    His trousers fell. The leader was so focused on his foe, he didn¡¯t even notice the hands working at his belt. Those ghastly fingers easily pulling apart the loops and hooks with finesse. A small tug here, a push there, and bam. Ryland couldn¡¯t help but laugh as he stumbled forward. That powerful aura fading as he held his pants with one hand and the sword with the other. Thank the gods he had fresh undergarments on. Nobody needed to see those taters in the night. He began to struggle trying to slide them off, but his boots were far too thick to slide through. Fabric got tangled in the straps and tore slightly from the pressure. As he struggled trying to strip down, he lost balance and tumbled to the ground.


    Both legs were twisted as the pants wrapped around the ankles. Sitting up, he grabbed his sword and went to cut through. With care, he began to slice through the first bits when¡­


    SMACK


    Or at least Ryland hoped it felt like a hit. Instead, the ghost had shoved more dirt into his eyes. The sudden impact caused his focus to slip and he sliced open his leg. It wasn¡¯t a deep cut, but it was annoyingly painful.


    ¡°WHO IS THAT!¡± He screamed out. It wasn¡¯t a coincidence anymore.


    The man turned into a raging mess as he continued to curse. Every known insult and various statements of defamation left his lips as he struggled to remove the dust once more. It was a horrible prank; every time he cleaned out some of the debris, Ryland was ready with another handful. It was humiliating, he was the strongest of the group. Yet here he was tangled in his pants and fighting dirt.


    ¡°FUCKING KILL IT ALREADY!¡± He called out to the others.


    ¡°ALREADY ON IT¡± the archer called out.


    He¡¯d given up collecting all the arrows and just had a handful by his side. Some of the fletching was ruined, but at this distance it¡¯d still be an easy shot. Pulling back the drawstring, he slowed his breath and aimed at the zombie once more. It should have killed the creature on the first shot, this time he¡¯d be sure to burn it immediately. As he was about to release the arrow, his head shifted when another voice joined the fray.


    [Death Bolt]


    Ryland glanced over as Steve unleashed his spell.


    ¡°Finally, It took you long enough!¡± He shouted back.


    Steve flicked him off and watched as the first shot slammed into the archer¡¯s arm. The impact loosing the arrow but shifting its aim. All watched as the bolt arc¡¯d across the sky and smashed into the back of the half-eaten lackey. That wasn¡¯t good, his boss was going to dock his share too. He tried to turn and fire at the distant caster only to see the blob of negative energy flying towards him. He got up to dodge, but was far too slow. The glob of magic smashed into his chest and was quickly followed by three more. Thinking quickly, he dove down to the ground and began crawling towards cover. His muscles burned and his body was exhausted from the magical assault. Laying back, he rested against the cart to catch his breath. What they hell was that skill? He¡¯d fought magics before and they were always fire, ice, and lightning. Hell some just threw chunks of rocks at you like a territorial hill giant. This was new. He opened up his shirt and saw the skin slightly discolored, but it wasn¡¯t damaged in any way. Yet all he wanted to do was doze of and take a nap.


    ¡°Eli! Have you found those health potions yet? I could really use one right now!¡±


    ¡°Not yet! Why is that man still alive? I thought we checked the bodies and he was called dead¡± The swordsman called out from the side.


    Grabbing his bow, he preloaded an arrow and peaked out the side. He was instantly met with another blast of that dastardly spell. Unless they could find a way to distract the man, both were on lockdown. He was happy the caster didn¡¯t know any fire spells or their cover might have turned into a bonfire.


    Steve was shaking as he held out his arm. Without a wand to focus, it drained so much of his mana. It was a bluff shooting out so many bolts, but thankfully the two were on lockdown. Now he was wishing he took higher tiers into the death magics. While they were not good in one on one fights, low tier death magics were the bread and butter for sample collection.The spells were not as destructive as fellow mages, but did have one good perk¨CIt directly assaulted stamina. Sure there was some minor health-loss from the rush of negative magics. But draining the living energy is what its primary purpose was.


    Early [Necromancer]s quickly learned that fresh flesh was best flesh. Yes, making camp near an old battlefield or graveyard was best for forming a negative zone. Yes, a steady supply of corpses allowed for armies to grow. But to make truly powerful servants, one needed fresh reagents. It was why many would take a few points into flesh sculpting as they leveled. Being able to shift muscle, stretch tendons, and revitalize connective tissue allowed for great chimerical servants. A plus side to these skills was the use of torture. Anyone would start yapping when they watched skin get stripped and grafted onto some wailing undead. The pain amplified as they worked the nerves and the duration extended as they shifted blood vessels. Some of the worst monsters of mortals were those that specialized in these techniques. Oh yes, they¡¯d scream, beg, barter, and cry; but at the end of the day they were just another reagent in a well stocked lab.


    As such, the simple [Death Bolt] and its variants were such powerful tools in a [Necromancer]¡¯s arsenal. Each blast steals more strength from their target. It was insidiously slow, many ignoring the assault at first. Just minor annoyances and a bit of a sting, yet the effect compounded quite quickly. As the stamina was drained, they became more sluggish. Skills shut off and power was lost. Many would chug health potion after health potion, hoping it would do something to staunch the effects. Yet those were worthless, that beautiful flesh was never damaged. By the time they realized the true nature of the spells, most could barely stand from exhaustion. Collapsing to the ground and captured for experimentation. Soon they couldn¡¯t even stand as the last few blasts knocked em out cold.


    ¡°Look, you bait and I¡¯ll shoot. We need to take him out fast.¡± He shouted to his friend.


    ¡°I can hear you and the moment you pop out, you¡¯re dead¡± Steve yelled back. He only had one or two shots left, but needed to make them count.


    ¡°I know you can hear me dumbass! Doesn¡¯t mean it won¡¯t work.¡± The archer yelled across the field.


    ¡°How about you bait, and I charge! You already shot Greg!¡±


    ¡°Ok look, that was an accident and I¡¯m sure Greg is doing fine. What do you want me to do? Hit him with my bow. Gods why did I join this stupid team.¡± The archer complained.


    ¡°I heard that. I swear I¡¯ll knock three teeth out once we finish these bastards off¡± The leader responded.


    ¡°And did I hear you shot Greg?


    ¡°IT WAS AN ACCIDENT CAN¡¯T YOU GUYS JUST DROP IT ALREADY¡± He was getting ticked


    ¡°Enough of that¡± Ryland said and dumped a pile of dust into the leader''s maw. If only he had some millipedes or bugs, it would be far more fun.


    With their leader silenced, the remaining two continued to bicker. Both wanted to peek and see where the mage was, but both were too scared to do so. Using the opportunity, Steve began to sneak towards Greg the lackey. That man stole his dagger and he wanted it back. He tried to stay as silent as possible, keeping far from the bandit leader before him. He was a trapped animal and would lash out at the most minor movement. Finally, he reached the half-eaten man and felt the ire of the zombie before him.


    ¡°Can we trade?¡±


    The zombie glanced up and gulped down its latest bite. Turning towards Ryland, the ghost nodded and it backed off. It was full and wanted to try another tasty treat. As the bloodied thing scampered off, Steve bent down and took back his weapon. Greg groaned as he lay dying in the field. His legs torn to shreds, his face half eaten, and most of his fingers bitten off. Steve felt bad for the guy and decided to end it. Closing his eyes, he plunged the weapon into the man¡¯s throat.

 1.18 The Power of Friendship

    It was far worse then Steve thought.


    ¡°Oh god, I¡¯m going too¡± he turned to the side and began heaving.


    Somehow this man was still kicking it. His chest was impaled with an arrow, his legs mangled, and his throat now gashed open. While Steve could dissect a corpse without issue. That warm blood gushing onto his wrist was too much. The fresh smell of coppery ichor scorching his nose. He pulled out the dagger with a wet¨CSchlick. Each bloodshot eye staring deeply into his soul with a look of pure betrayal. Screams shifted to guttural gurgles as the blood flooded the lungs. His head drooped and skin turned white as the crimson liquid drained from the veins.


    ¡°JUST DIE ALREADY¡± Steve was starting to freak out from the whole experience.


    How much endurance did this [Lackey] have? Anyone else should have perished at this point. Hell, he should have died when he became a zombie chow. Even now, blackened veins formed in his arms as the infections took hold. His skin was clammy with sweat and grime, but he kept fighting. He had to end this. He couldn¡¯t take it anymore. Clenching his dagger, he aimed for the man¡¯s heart. Stabbing forward, the flesh parted for the sharp steel.


    But his grip was weakened from the blood and it slipped. The weapon bounced off the bone and punctured a lung. Immediately, the man bent over and began to tremble. Sickening gasps of gargled air left the dying man¡¯s throat. His weight pressed into Steve and the [Friend of the Dead] did his best to scramble back. Blood soaked through his clothes and the sticky icky liquid spread across his skin.


    ¡°No no no, I¡¯m sorry I didn¡¯t mean¡± He pushed the Bandit off and shook off what he could.


    The bandit fell onto his back, a mangled, bloody, groaning mess. Each breath labored and filled with pain. Those eyes staring back with strange clarity, a single unspoken phrase burning into Steve¡¯s brain.


    ¡°This is your fault¡± it said


    He couldn¡¯t take it anymore. Steve held his dagger with both hands and plunged down into the skull. A visceral scream crossed his lips as he put all his strength into the strike. That sharpened point cracked open the skull and slipped right into the brain behind. Steve breathed deep and focused on his time in the cave. He needed anything to distract his thoughts as the death spasms took hold. With one last twitch, the man was sent to the other side. Steve paused briefly to contemplate what happened. That wasn¡¯t clean, that wasn¡¯t fun, that was one of the worst things he¡¯d witnessed. But it was done,


    ¡°OH Shi¡­.¡± He muttered as he remembered this was a full fight.


    But he was too slow, a faint whistle was heard before.


    Schunk


    The arrow smashed into his shoulder and through the back. Instantly his arm went numb as the nerves were cut from the sharp metal. He reached up to pull it out, but remembered his training. He needed cover, now. Diving to the ground, he narrowly avoided the second shot. That dangerous munition flying overhead and smashing into a distant tree. It was so stupid, he was too focused on the dying man to watch the others. He waited for the third arrow before responding with his own [Death Bolt]. His other arm started to go cold. He was reaching the end of his mana-reserves and needed a potion fast. He had to get back his pouch and supplies. Yet, all of his stuff was sitting by the fire. Glancing over, he noticed the zombie had engaged the leader. At least that would buy him some time. Yet; without help, he was about to be target practice.


    ¡°RYLAND COULD USE SOME HELP¡± He called out


    ¡°See I told you there was somebody else. No way that one man could have done all this¡± The archer said to his friend.


    ¡°Ok sure, what difference does it make?¡± He replied


    ¡°Look you watch out for a thief or god forbid some [Assassin]. Might be under some camouflage or invisibility skill. Just look for anything weird and cover me. I¡¯ll take care of the caster¡±


    ¡°Got it.¡± He activated another skill to increase his perspective and carefully watched for this ¡°Ryland¡±


    Ryland shoved one last bit of dirt into the leader¡¯s eyes. He had to give his body some advantage before rushing to save his friend¡­again. After tonight, Steve better find a way to get his body back cause this was getting ridiculous. Scooping up a bit more dust, he ran across the field to blind the sniper. Unfortunately, he was quickly met with his arch-nemesis: Goggles. Two pieces of enchanted glass sat in a leather strap. They were basic equipment that helped in low-light conditions. Additionally, it had a hidden perk of halting trickster ghosts wandering the forest.


    There wasn¡¯t much else that he could do. He picked up a pebble and threw it, but it didn¡¯t even disrupt his focus. He really needed to sit and have a long chat with Steve about this. They needed to come up with some action-plans for future encounters. A pebble and a piddly spell were not going to cut it in this world. While dust was great as a surprise, it didn¡¯t do much in the grand scheme of things. He needed an army of squirrels or some other undead creatures to command. He was going to be the vermin king! Ryland shook his head, he was getting distracted again and needed to focus. The next arrow was being loaded and the bow began to bend under the pressure. He needed to act now! Without many other options, Ryland reached out and tapped into that wellspring of energy. He pushed as much power into his palm right as the arrow was shot.


    Holding out his hand, the projectile easily pierced the ghostly appendage. A sense of fatigue sent him stumbling as he interacted with the world. While it wasn¡¯t enough to halt the shot, it did disrupt the path for it to miss.


    ¡°Damn missed again¡± the archer cursed.


    He too was feeling the sluggishness of the fight. His arm was burning up as the muscles were pushed to the limit. If they made it out, he¡¯d need to rest for a week. He carefully circled his arm, trying to get the blood flowing. Everything was sore and he could feel the bones popping. Whatever the hell that spell was, had really done a number. His brain was screaming to sleep, but he pushed back those thoughts. If he dozed off now, it¡¯d be the end of them.


    ¡°Stamina potion. I need one now. I can already tell my next shot will only clear half the distance¡±


    ¡°I couldn¡¯t find the key! What you want me to do?¡±


    ¡°Fuck the key and smash it open! Are you stupid?¡±


    ¡°What! Boss said if we break it he¡¯d break our heads¡±


    ¡°Damn the boss and damn this crew. I¡¯m not ending up zombie chow cause we are too cheap to buy a potion¡± He dropped his bow and reached for the bag.


    ¡°No, we can¡¯t do this¡± The swordsman slapped his hand aside.


    ¡°I¡¯m not fighting you. But don¡¯t stop me! If you wanna blame me, do it. I¡¯d rather the chance at some bruises then eaten alive¡±


    The swordsman paused briefly. It was a good case, either die tonight. Or deal with the boss¡¯ anger later. Maybe they could lie and say it accidentally opened. Nodding he handed off the enchanted satchel to the sniper.


    Reaching into his boot, he grabbed the hidden knife. It wasn¡¯t the sharpest thing and was mostly used as a last resort but it should do. Holding the bag taught, he slipped the point into the fiber and began to saw. It was a lot tougher then he¡¯d expected, taking up much of his strength just to cut through the enchantments. Least the boss didn¡¯t skip on protection. A few flashes of light later and the runes were shattered. Wiping the sweat from his brow, he continued to cut through the now normal satchel until.


    ¡°That bastard!¡± He stared at the contents in disbelief.


    ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°There aint anything in here. He cheated us!¡± He tossed the bag to the side in anger. Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.


    ¡°Wait what! He took 10% of everyone¡¯s cut for supplies. Said healers were experienced, just chug a potion to fix it.¡± He too was in shock.


    ¡°Well, nothing in that bag. I swear he just pocketed the gold and lied to our faces¡± He was pissed. A man was only as good as his word and that word was like wet paper.


    ¡°I¡¯m done. Fuck this!¡± He said in anger.


    ¡°Done? You can¡¯t just be done!¡± The swordsman replied


    ¡°Ya heard me, I aint joining our buddy over there¡± He pointed to the torn up body.


    ¡°HEY YOU, YOU LISTENING?¡± He called out.


    ¡°What are you doing?¡± the swordsman whispered back.


    ¡°Just shut up and let me do the talking¡± He replied.


    ¡°BOSSMAN CHEATED US. I AIN¡¯T LOOKIN TO DIE TONIGHT AND I THINK YOU EITHER. HOW ABOUT WE CALL IT QUITS AND SPLIT FOR THE NIGHT. I DIDN¡¯T SEE NOTHIN¡±


    ¡°You can¡¯t be serious, if we desert, the boss is gonna put a hit on us. You know the rules!¡± He was trembling, while he was a bandit he did have a sense of honor.


    ¡°Bossman broke the road¡¯s cut stealing from his men. This aint cheating in cards, this is fucking with our hard earned money!¡±


    ¡°Ya but..¡±


    ¡°Plus don¡¯t look like the boss is winning tonight¡± He pointed at the duel between the man and zombie.


    It was not going well for him at all. Thankfully the constant attack of dust and dirt stopped, but it had done some damage. One eye was completely swollen shut, the lid drooping over and cutting off his vision. The other wasn¡¯t faring much better, only cracked half open and producing a flood of tears. He was looking like a ragged mess in the moonlight, barely able to evade the swiping claws from the undead creature. Even still, he occasionally stumbled as he stepped onto the swinging trousers wrapped around the right ankle. It was only through instinct and superior levels was he able to resist the assault. Ducking down, he rolled along the grass to gain some distance. Turning back towards the two others he called out.


    ¡°WHAT IN THE HELLS ARE YOU TWO SCUMBAGS DOING. GET OVER HERE AND HELP¡±


    That pause was nearly the death of him as the claw lunged forward. His arm rocked as he parried the sharpened nails met his blade. Even still, the arm glazed his side leaving deep scratch marks in the skin. They were beyond useless. He was going to kick both of them out the moment it was over. What good were henchmen if they couldn¡¯t stop a single man. Seriously, it was a 2 v 1 against a weak mage. The man can¡¯t even cast a basic [Fireball]! What was taking them so long? Shaking off the bad vibes, he channeled his rage into his current foe. He would beat those weaklings later, for now he had to end this fast.


    Focusing up, he studied his opponent. Both sizing the other up, trying to find a weakness to exploit. It was a bit unfair, one wrong move and he¡¯d get disemboweled. While this¡­thing would rapidly regenerate any damage done. If only those dumbasses didn¡¯t get eaten, zombies were easily slain on an empty stomach. A fully engorged one was a pain to deal with. But that pool of energy would run out eventually and then it was easy pickings. He had two options, a clean decapitation or death by one thousand and one cuts.


    The creature went in for another attack. Shifting his stance, he adjusted his grip to counter. Ducking down, he swung low in an attempt to slice the leg. However, it was just a feint. His blade met air as the zombie pivoted and went in for a kick. Everything slowed as his brain tried to process what happened. Zombies were simple, they didn¡¯t kick. They bit and clawed, a singular goal to consume anything living. That action quickly shifted his perspective, this thing had some intelligence.


    He was too slow to dodge the attack, instead he activated one of his defensive skills. [Abs of Steel]. Muscles hardened and his obliques flexed extra tight. His body taking on peak physical condition for a man of his stature. Even Ryland was a bit jealous of those clear-cut abdominal muscles. That bandit looked like he was a carved statue in an ancient temple. While sharp, those infected nails couldn¡¯t penetrate that perfectly sculpted core. Each one bending and snapping as it dragged along the bumpy ridges. The creature looked at his mangled hand in shock, what just happened? But that brief moment of surprise was interrupted by the flickering blade arcing through the sky. Ryland¡¯s body tried to deflect the blade, but it was far too powerful. In one smooth swing, its arm was sliced off. Both watched as the butchered limb rolled across the dirt. He exhaled as the skill wore off and smiled


    ¡°Not so tough now are you?¡± he taunted. One appendage down, 3 more to go.


    ¡°Ok well he wasn¡¯t winning but still, don¡¯t like the chances of it. I say we truce, change our names, and get the hell outta here¡± The sniper said.


    While his boss did get a bit of a advantage, he was still burning through skills like crazy. Besides, if they made enough distance then they¡¯d be free and clear for a bit. Might get enough money scavenged to get their faces sculpted. It would drain them of their accounts, but once again. Better than dead. He turned towards the swordsman.


    ¡°So what you say?¡± he asked.


    ¡°...¡±


    ¡°Fine¡± he clearly wasn¡¯t happy, but logic ruled out in the end.


    ¡°SO, TRUCE?¡± He called back out.


    ¡°How do I know you¡¯ll not just shoot me in the back?¡± Steve responded.


    Damn, he honestly should¡¯ve just done that. Well¡­they were just some lowly bandits, not great strategists. Still, there was a bit of honor running through them and breaking a truce was bad luck in the eyes of most gods. Better to keep it honest then piss off the pantheon.


    ¡°I¡¯ll throw my bow out and he¡¯ll toss the sword. Can you just leave em be for a bit so we can grab later. That thing cost me like 3 gold to buy.¡±


    ¡°Toss it first then we talk!¡± Steve wasn¡¯t going to risk it.


    ¡°...Fine¡± He threw his bow far across the field.


    ¡°I¡¯m not giving up my sword. Why would you even say that?¡± The swordsman complained.


    ¡°Just throw it, we can grab it later. I doubt that man will stick around for long anyway¡±


    ¡°No¡±


    ¡°I swear. If you get me killed I am going to beat the hell out of you at the gates of Deas. Just throw the fucking sword¡±


    ¡°...Fine. But if this doesn¡¯t work out. You are buying a new one¡±


    ¡°Fine¡±


    The swordsman tossed the sword and raised his hand.


    ¡°SEE TRUCE?¡± The archer called.


    Steve took a few moments to ponder it. But what other options did he have? He was down to one or two more casts anyway. Better this than fighting it out. He¡¯d die either way, at least with a truce there was a chance to finish the battle.


    ¡°FINE GET OUT¡±


    The two fled the fight and ran back down the road. Both leaving their great leader behind and hoping for his death. If he somehow made it out, they¡¯d be in for a horrible fate.


    With the two nuisances taken care of, Ryland and Steve wandered back to the deadly duel. His body was being pressured by the smiling man. All sense of self-preservation was gone and he was swinging that sword like a lunatic. Ryland could feel the sense of panic on his bond, already his energy was rapidly dwindling with the missing arm. He had taken to leaving the smaller cuts and gashes alone, instead focusing on the larger injuries to stay moving.


    Ryland turned to Steve and immediately the [Friend of the Dead] felt the connection. His skill tingling as a mutual understanding was met. Steve couldn¡¯t wait to see what the power of friendship could really do. Grabbing his dagger, he charged into the duel ready to help out his buddy. Immediately, the leader turned and screamed.


    ¡°THIS IS BETWEEN US!¡± And punched Steve so hard in the gut he was sent tumbling.


    ¡°What the hell was that Steve?¡± Ryland said in shock.


    Steve coughed up a bit of blood and turned back.


    ¡°I thought you wanted to attack! So I started to attack."


    ¡°Steve, you are a caster. What did you think was going to happen? Besides, you didn¡¯t even try to be stealthy, you just ran at him.¡± Ryland knelt by his friend.


    ¡°Well! What do you think I should have done then?¡±


    ¡°Stay back, let me hit him with my fist of dirt special. Then you follow up with¡­whatever you do.¡±


    ¡°Ok ok, got it¡± Steve nodded


    Ryland shook his head in disappointment. At least his body could hold up for a minute or two longer. Seriously, he said it before but it was VERY apparent. This man couldn¡¯t fight and he¡¯d need a bit of training before the next encounter. Grabbing some dirt once more, he ignored the flailing sword and stepped into the battle. Tossing the dust in the air, he heard the man curse.


    ¡°DAMN IT ALL NOT THIS AGAIN! FIGHT ME WITH HONOR YOU COWARDS!¡±


    Steve channeled his last bits of mana into a final volley of [Death Bolt]s. Each one slamming into the leader¡¯s back and siphoning a chunk of his stamina. As those last bits were used up, he finally felt the adrenaline subside. Within moments, the pain wracked his body and he nearly collapsed. Between the overexertion of mana and the arrow in his flesh, he''d pushed himself to the limits. Saliva filled his mouth as the gut punch sent waves of nausea through his system. He just wanted to curl up in the grass and pass out. Stumbling along the ground, he called out to his friend.


    ¡°Ryland, I need a health potion bad!¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry buddy, the body has it from here!¡± Ryland gave a thumbs up and continue cheering on his body.


    Ryland smiled as he watched his friend stumble back to the campfire. While he couldn¡¯t fight a teddy bear, he did have a crazy strong will. Ryland was quite impressed he had any spirit at all after enduring an arrow to the shoulder. Hopefully, that position would heal him up nicely. Least they could get some loot out of this and pay for a proper healer back at the village. Turning back, he watched as his body tackled the blinded man to the ground. He had to admit, it was like watching the pitfights back in the city. Sadly for the bandit, the odds were very much against him.

 1.19 A Ghost, A Zombie, A Friend, and One Whiny Bandit.

    Ryland smiled as he watched his friend stumble back to the campfire. While he couldn¡¯t fight a teddy bear, he did have a crazy strong will. Ryland was quite impressed he had any spirit at all after enduring an arrow to the shoulder. Hopefully, that position would heal him up nicely. Least they could get some loot out of this and pay for a proper healer back at the village. Turning back, he watched as his body tackled the blinded man to the ground. He had to admit, it was like watching the pit fights back in the city. Sadly for the bandit, the odds were very much against him.


    ¡ª----------------------------------------------------------------------------


    Steve stumbled into the makeshift encampment, his eyes darting across the ground to locate supplies. Near the crates he noticed the glassy reflection. Even crunching hurt, a deep exhale and a groan of pain left his throat. But it was a jackpot. A few mid-tier potions that were half consumed sat in the bag. Gathering the precious liquid, he leaned against the crate and closed his eyes. This was going to hurt like hell, but he had to do it. Tearing off a piece of his shirt, he made a makeshift rag and bit down.


    His breathing intensified as he gripped the shaft. He really didn¡¯t want to do this, but there was no other option. Counting down from ten, he hyped himself up. On zero, he pushed the shaft with all his might. He bit down onto the rags with such force his jaw nearly shattered. Screams of pain muffled from the fabric while tears streamed down his face. He felt every inch slowly work through the shoulder. Fresh blood trickled down his arm as the wound widened. It wasn¡¯t a clean cut either. A few times he had to wiggle the thing to keep it moving. Sweat dripped from his brow as he paused to gather strength. Glancing to the side, it was almost through. Letting go, he reached behind his back and pulled. Finally, it broke through and blood gushed from the hole.


    It was only a few seconds of hemorrhaging, but already he was lightheaded. Uncorking the potions, he poured the contents onto the open wound. A stinging sensation crept up the arm as the flesh began to regrow. But it was fixed¡­somewhat. His skin formed a tumorous bump over the wound and his arm was still quite weak. While the potion would halt the bleedout, he¡¯d need to see a proper healer to fix the nerves and muscle damage. For now, he¡¯d live. Taking a few moments to gather his strength, he stood back up. He needed to check the driver, but until they got the zombie under control that could wait.


    Walking back to his friend, he saw the bandit wrestling the zombie on the ground. His leg was torn to shreds, but the man had a lot of fight. He tried to punch at the creature¡¯s face, but a swipe of the hand deflected it with ease. It was now a battle of attrition and the undead creature had a significant advantage¡ªeven with the zombie fighting with one arm.


    The two watched the deathly duel. While Steve might have tried to intervene, he could still feel the internal damage from the punch earlier. Best to leave the boss to the regenerating monstrosity. Turning to his friend, he spoke.


    ¡°So what next?¡±


    ¡°Not sure, you check the driver? I guess we could walk the road but with my¡­¡±


    ¡°HELP OH GOD HE IS EATING ME!¡± The leader screamed out


    Sure enough, the zombie had bitten down and tore off a chunk of flesh from the bandit¡¯s arm. Blood poured from the wound as the man¡¯s face turned into one of panic. Ryland had to admit that it was far easier watching a man get devoured the second time. His once tan skin slowly turned pale as his life ichor leached into the grass below. Yet, that didn¡¯t matter right now. They still needed to get to the next village.


    ¡°Hopefully that driver is still alive, he seemed pretty high leveled. If not he might ha¡­¡±


    ¡°YOU BASTARD, YOU FUCKING BASTARD JUST KILL ME ALREADY!¡± The bandit was thrashing against the ground as the zombie continued to take huge bites from the man¡¯s flesh. Each time the snapping of sinew and crunch of bunch flooded the air. Ryland continued to ignore the screams and raised his own voice instead.


    ¡°AS I WAS SAYING. WE SHOULD CHECK ON THE DRIVER AND¡±


    ¡°PLEASE DEAS! PLEASE ANYONE SAVE ME. I DON¡¯T WANT TO DIE LIKE THIS¡± The once proud man was crying out to nobody. His stomach slit open as the zombie reached inside to chew on the liver.


    ¡°Hang on buddy. Let me handle this real quick. ¡± Ryland was quite annoyed by the constant interruptions. Reaching down, he grabbed another handful of dirt and walked over to the vivisected man.


    Ryland waited for him to open his mouth again. A wail of horror and pain intertwined that echoed in the dark forest.


    ¡°Ahh shut it!¡± He threw the dirt down and directly into the throat. The effects were immediate, the leader choking as the soil soiled his lungs. He tried to turn to the side and spit out the offending material as his body choked.


    Steve was a bit horrified by Ryland¡¯s actions. He did his best to avoid looking at the dying man. While he was fine dissecting corpses, the thought of death made him feel icky. It was Faust¡¯s job to collect the¡­specimens. While Steve just prepped them for reanimation. Forcefully coughing, he drew Ryland¡¯s attention.


    ¡°Do you think we should just¡­¡± Steve mimed out a slit throat. Even though the man had tried to kill him¡­multiple times. This was a terrible way to go and he kind of felt bad.


    ¡°No no, they called me ugly. He deserves this¡± Ryland waved off the suggestion.The author''s tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.


    ¡°Don¡¯t let me get on your bad side¡± Steve muttered


    It was true. Ryland was a petty man. He held a grudge for far too long and insults to his vanity really set him off. While he could deal with insults or a fight, to two both hurt his precious ego. Now in a position of power, he wanted to make sure the bandit suffered. The ghost was completely focused on his bond, nudging it and drawing the zombie¡¯s attention to the less¡­interesting parts. The moment his body opened the stomach, Ryland pressed in a feeling of disappointment, the creature turned back with a sour face. Vicious globs of flesh falling from the open maw during the staredown. Ryland just shook his head and the creature obeyed. It wasn¡¯t that he couldn¡¯t eat the bandit, it was that he had to eat the man in a certain way.


    Pulling the grimey hands from the stomach cavity, the zombie shifted to the arms instead. Sharp tore through the chunks of meat as it scooped the goodies to its maw. Ryland was methodical in the feast, making sure to start at the limbs and work his way inwards. Only when Steve started to gag did he remember his buddy standing nearby. A devilish thought popped into his brain and he turned.


    ¡°Hey buuddddy? That is a gnarly scar you got, I see you found the healing potions. You got any extra?¡± He said with a wild smile.


    ¡°Yeah, they are not the best. But they had about 6 total, I had to use three to heal this shut. But why? I don¡¯t think you could use them¡± Steve tilted his head slightly as he tried to follow his friend¡¯s thought process.


    ¡°Oh no no no. They are not for me, but for him¡± Ryland pointed.


    ¡°Sure¡­Wait why?¡± Steve took a step back, they just spent all this time fighting. Why would he being trying to heal them now?


    ¡°I wanted him to last longer¡­¡± Ryland responds with a dark chuckle.


    ¡°OH-KAY ya murder hobo we are done here¡± Steve couldn¡¯t tell if Ryland was joking or serious. But he really didn¡¯t want to find out.


    ¡°WHAT? Aren¡¯t you supposed to be all evil and sulking? [Necromancer]¡¯s are the scum of the realm, the most hated creatures here.¡± He taunted his friend.


    ¡°Ryland you already know we are just¡­misunderstood. I can¡¯t help that Deas and his cult rewrote history. Besides, have you ever seen a demon? They are far worse than any necromancer¡± Steve replied.


    ¡°Don¡¯t tell those in the city that. You know they worked hard to keep a fine reputation.¡± Ryland said.


    ¡°ARHGHAGHAD¡± The bandit screamed.


    ¡°By the GODS SHUT UP!¡± Steve turned and yelled back. Even he was done with the constant interruptions.


    That man was all rough and rugged when he could easily beat up his lackeys. And now he was a whiny, annoying brat. Ryland and Steve were having a delightful conversation about who was worse in the world, shady casters or literal demons; and this guy just kept intruding. Tilting his head, he signaled towards the crash site. Ryland nodded and they decided to distance themselves from the festivities. It would at least keep their minds busy while they checked for loot and other goodies.


    ¡°NO PLEASE. GOLD. CONNECTIONS. GET HIM OFF AND WE CAN DEAL¡± the partially consumed man begged for mercy. But there would be none this night.


    His screams softened as they approached the fire. Soon they were merely background noise to the two. Both sauntered around the site, kicking over boxes, picking through pockets, and gathering (or in Ryland¡¯s case pointing) what they found. With care; Steve laid out various coins, weapons, gems, and other loot on the ground. Ryland¡¯s eyes filled with greed as Steve calculated the rough worth.


    ¡°Honestly, not that bad of a haul. Still a bit mad that they broke the enchanted satchel. Not sure what kind of enchantment it was, but they are super expensive to get. That thing alone would have been worth more than all this¡± he waved his hands at the minor treasure before them.


    ¡°Hey, Enchantments are one thing. But cold, hard gold is even better.¡± Ryland said with a twinkle of greed. He might be a ghost, but that Rogue class still shown through.


    ¡°Sure Ry, Still this is great for us. I nearly spent my reserve paying those fines and booking this cart. Least we¡± He paused and thought about the zombie feasting behind them.


    ¡°Well, I won¡¯t starve for the next few days¡± He pocketed the gold and inspected some of the weapons.


    None were that useful to him, but he did want to keep his word. Grabbing the bow and sword, he placed them by the fire in clear view. Already his class pissed off one god, might as well keep Osnos somewhat happy. Besides, it would look quite strange to be an apprentice apothecary and carry around two very different weapons. But he was still missing his most prized possession.


    ¡°Ryland, you see a tiny pouch? Has red and gold threading.¡± He asked


    ¡°Oh yeah, the appetizer had it on him.¡± Ryland said straight-faced.


    Steve didn¡¯t want to give him the pleasure of a response. Instead, he ignored the comment and walked back to the torn up [Lackey]. Now dead, it was much easier to look at. No longer was he a person, but instead a fresh reagent. Sadly, in the condition he was in, he¡¯d only be good for grafting. But still, it was in his nature not to let material go to waste. Pulling out the empty health potions, he carefully made an incision to the side. Shifting the body, he drained out the cool blood until it filled the container. While it wasn¡¯t as strong as still living, fresh from the vein; it still could still power a few blood-rites. Besides, it was far better to use a few pints of dead blood than a pint of his own. Anemia felt terrible after a hard day in the lab.


    Searching the remains he finally found his minor pouch of refrigeration. A sense of relief overcame him as he felt the cool interior. It was nice that it didn¡¯t break. Faust had spent a lot of money getting it for Steve and he¡¯d make sure it would last him for at least 2 class evolutions. If he made it that far at least.


    With his pouch in hand, he grabbed his dagger and began dissecting the remains. Steve was quite methodical in his slashes, something he¡¯d done many times before. Hell, he could give a [Butcher] a challenge. Humming his favorite tune, He slowly refilled the treat bag with various body parts. Fingers for chewing on, meat chunks for rewards, and of course fresh ears. He could never figure out why zombie¡¯s loved ears. But man, they would fight to get those chewy snacks. While he used to hate doing this, Steve found that it did calm him. A simple task to push out all other thoughts. While multiple near-death experiences in twenty-four hours, he really needed this moment of stillness. Not to mention, it was strangely cathartic. This man tried to cut off his own ear, and well Steve did it instead.


    ¡°HEY STEVE?¡± His trance was broken by the ghost


    ¡°WHAT?¡± He slid his dagger away and glanced up.


    ¡°I UHH NEED YOUR HELP WITH SOMETHING¡± Ryland said with a bit of panic.

 1.20 Such a handsome boy!

    ¡°HEY STEVE?¡± His trance was broken by the ghost


    ¡°WHAT?¡± He slid his dagger away and glanced up.


    ¡°I UHH NEED YOUR HELP WITH SOMETHING¡± Ryland said with a bit of panic.


    ¡ª-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------


    ¡°ONE SECOND!¡± He called back


    Sealing up his pouch, he¡¯d have to wait on his other supplies. Once again Ryland needed his help. He was starting to think less of being a [Friend of the Dead] and more like a [Servant of a Bossy Ghost]. But still, since he aligned his class with Ryland, he¡¯d have to stick with the man. Returning to the crash-site, he saw his friend staring at his body.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know what it is. I¡¯ve been pushing so much energy into it, but I can¡¯t get it to regrow the arm. You know why?¡±


    ¡°Oh that is simple, most undead can¡¯t fully regenerate limbs or other major loss. Why decapitation works quite well! But don¡¯t worry, this is a easy fix just give me a moment¡±


    Steve searched the grounds once more.


    ¡°Where is it¡­ahh!¡± His eyes perked as he found his apprentice kit.


    IT was quite unassuming, an assortment of familiar tools for various professions. Some scissors, thread, needles, balms, and more. Yet for a [Necromancer] it was a basic stitch and fix set. Some parts were missing, no doubt tossed to the ground after they searched the kit. But he had what he needed.


    ¡°Alright! Let''s go fix up that body of yours. I might even make it pretty¡± Steve joked


    ¡°HEY I AM PRETTY. I MEAN HANDSOME. TAKE THAT BACK¡± Ryland called out as he chased after.


    Somehow the man was still kicking it. This was why you never put all your points into constitution and stamina. Through all the torture, his body wouldn¡¯t give out. It wouldn¡¯t last much longer though, his eyes were starting to fade and he couldn¡¯t even tilt his face towards Steve. That wave of sickness returned and Steve had to glance away from the dying man.


    ¡°Can you uhh¡­finish this? He asked


    ¡°You¡¯re joking right? I saw you perfectly butcher that other man but this is too much?


    ¡°Look, I work with the dead. I don¡¯t go deading others¡± He replied


    Ryland took a moment and just stared. Steve was serious¡­


    ¡°Fine. Just close your eyes¡±


    Steve did that and plugged his ears. Ryland just shook his head, confused about how a man that loved death couldn¡¯t stand to watch it. Taking a moment, he broke the bond with his body. With the pressure lifted, the creature immediately went in for it¡¯s favorite part. Its hand dug into the chest, rapidly flinging flesh behind as it dug for its crimson prize. Clearly the thing was afraid that Ryland would stop it again. Yet, it wouldn¡¯t give the ghost time to change his mind. Within a few seconds, it pulled out that tasty heart and bit down. Finally, the leader could meet his crew on the other side.


    ¡°Done¡±


    ¡°Oh great!¡± Steve said as he opened his eyes.


    Immediately he began to survey the remains. Fingers working across the skin as he felt the musculature underneath. OR well, what was left of it. Most of the arm had been stripped to the bone. Only bits and pieces hung from the limb, the edges blackened as the tainted rot set in.


    Ryland watched in fascination as Steve worked. It was night and day. When the man was dying, the necromancer could barely hold lunch. But now, he was like a corrupt collector on tax day. It was a bit strange watching him work, various phrases muttered under his breath, and he kept feeling up the body. But Ryland kept his mouth shut, what was weird to him was normal for a man with this¡­class. Turning back, he decided to check on his body.


    The creature was slowly savoring that juicy heart. Each bite filled with bliss as it chewed and sucked on the bloody flesh. A feeling of pride and accomplishment filled their bond. Still, Ryland might argue that paying their way to a sense of pride and accomplishment might be better. He knew of a few seedy establishments that could handle his very large¡­pride for coins. However, with most of the deathly magic gone. His body reverted to a more zombie-like state. The nails are more blunt, the skin rotting, and bits of teeth showing through the cheek.


    Ryland also felt drained from the whole thing. If he¡¯d known about undead regeneration, he wouldn¡¯t have wasted so much trying to heal the thing. Still; as the zombie feasted, he could feel that deep well slowly refill. They had done it, they beat the odds and made it through. Sure it took a few cowards, a crazy driver, and a surprise attack. But they did it. Closing his eyes, he felt The Will pop into his head. The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.


    Congratulations! You have reached level 6 and gained 1 skill point.


    Additionally through life experience you have earned the skill


    [Passive - Overcharge (Death)]


    That was great news. Plus he got a skill without having to spend a point to earn it. He¡¯d worry about his choices later but what did this new passive do? Opening up his soul menu, he read the description.


    [Passive - Overcharge (Death)] - When deathly and/or negative effects overfill the energy pool, convert any excess equally into stat enhancements. Stats are randomly increased and include Intelligence, Strength, Constitution, and Dexterity. Only one point may be added into each, any excess energy may harm the user. Scales directly with level, every 5 levels increases the total amount by 1.


    ¡°HEY I LEVELED!¡± Ryland shouted but Steve ignored him.


    He was tempted to view the abilities now, but decided to wait until he could discuss it with his friend. Already his impulsive nature got him into this situation and he really was trying to change that. Putting the menu away, he glanced at the boney stub of his body¡¯s arm.


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry, Steve will get ya fixed right up¡± As if on cue his friend called for him.


    ¡°Alright. I think we can do this. Just get your body to lay down and I¡¯ll work from here.¡±


    It was a challenge getting the thing to comply. All it wanted to do was eat. There was so much fresh meat in this field and it just wanted to consume every last bite. Only by Steve using some blood rites and Ryland using his encouragement skills were they able to get the thing to lie down. Steve pulled out the ear and placed it into the creature''s mouth.


    ¡°Now you be good and I¡¯ll give you the other one later, ok.¡±


    ¡°Steve, stop treating it like a dog. It is me you know.


    ¡°What, look at that handsome face. I just want to ruffle it¡¯s hair¡±


    ¡°Steve, come on!¡±


    ¡°What you said you wanted to be called handsome and it¡¯s such a handsome boy.¡±


    The ghost paused. This was a battle he wasn¡¯t going to win.


    ¡°Just fix up the arm. Daylight is coming soon and we have to check the driver¡±


    Steve gave a thumbs up and got to work.


    First, he used his knife to cut away the excessive flesh. He was extra careful to not startle the monster, but with his passives. He was able to come across as friendly. Each flick of his wrist shaved off more rotten flesh. Working his way up the arm, he reached inside and pushed. A wet ¨C Crack had the zombie thrashing. Steve held firm as the blackened blood oozed around his hand. Using a free hand, he quickly grabbed a finger and shoved it into the thing''s mouth.


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry, You¡¯ll feel better in a second¡± He used a blood-enhanced [Calm Undead] skill once again. His bottles were nearly drained, but with the corpse next to him he had a near unlimited supply.


    With the shoulder dislocated, he began to extract a broken limb.


    ¡°Damn, that is sick. You can¡¯t deal with killing but you can deal with that?¡± Steve ignored the ghost and continued.


    With the arm extracted, it was time to work on the donor. Twirling his dagger, he eyeballed where the connective tissue remained. Plunging in his knife, he began to cut through the various ligaments holding the shoulder together. It took a bit of skill to work it into the socket, but pushing down he dislocated the shoulder with a ¨C POP. With a slight tug, he pulled the bone out and carefully cut back remaining tissue. Pull it free, he held it to a torchlight and inspective the work. While normally, he¡¯d never attach something this damaged. It was the only piece they had. The other was even more mangled.


    Third, he aligned the two joints. It took a bit of effort to shove the two together. Placing his palms on the ball, he pushed down with all his weight. IT did fracture the socket, cracks rippling throughout the bone as he jammed in the oversized limb¨Cbut that¡¯d be fixed later.


    ¡°Normally, Faust would channel in negative energy. But we don¡¯t have a field for that. Try your regeneration trick for me¡± He asked Ryland.


    Moments later, he saw the bone begin to shift. The ball-jointed started to shrink and match the original socket. The fractures disappear as with each passing second.


    ¡°OK hold¡± He commanded.


    With the arm properly attached, he began to cut bits of muscle from the dead leader. Each strip was carefully matched with those of a normal arm. However; due to the damages, he had to get a bit creative with it. Bits of back muscle made up the deltoid, some of the calf was used for the biceps, the haunches for the forearm, and more. Each one carved down roughly into the proper shape and laid onto the bone.


    Thankfully, some connective tissue remained and Steve could sew the ligaments to the fresh flesh. But it still wasn¡¯t enough. Once more he scavenged the remains for parts. He grabbed tendons from the knee, the neck, and the foot. Each one used to repair the arm into a proper shape. It was good that the hand was mostly in one piece. While an arm was somewhat easy to make, hands were far above his skill set.


    ¡°OK one more time!¡±


    As before, the muscles began to fuse together. Each shifting its bulk as the magics fixed any problems. It was always fascinating to watch, for something that was the antithesis to life, it mimicked it quite well. Once the muscles were properly set and the tendons pulled right, he halted Ryland again.


    The final bit was the easiest. Stripping away the dermis, Steve wrapped the exposed tissue in the cold flesh. A makeshift cast of 100% real human skin! Once more, Ryland began to funnel in that energy and the loose flesh tightened. Outside of a few new tattoos, it looks just like Ryland¡¯s old arm.


    ¡°WOW, that was amazing yo!¡± Ryland crouched down next to his friend. The two watched as the zombie began to test the new and improved arm.


    Just then, Steve heard The Will pop into his brain.


    Congratulations¡­

 1.21 Thats my good arm!

    The final bit was the easiest. Stripping away the dermis, Steve wrapped the exposed tissue in the cold flesh. A makeshift cast of 100% real human skin! Once more, Ryland began to funnel in that energy and the loose flesh tightened. Outside of a few new tattoos, it looks just like Ryland¡¯s old arm.


    ¡°WOW, that was amazing yo!¡± Ryland crouched down next to his friend. The two watched as the zombie began to test the new and improved arm.


    Just then, Steve heard The Will pop into his brain.


    Congratulations¡­


    ¡ª-©\¡ª----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------


    Great job helping your new BFF! For your skills in battle and great surgical skills you have advanced to level 6! Choose your skills wisely.


    ¡°Oh I leveled!¡± Steve was a bit shocked to rank up so soon.


    ¡°Me too!¡± Ryland called back


    ¡°DON''T YOU BOYS FORGET ABOUT ME!¡±


    Steve turned, Ryland turned, and the zombie just¡­ate. This wasn¡¯t good, Ryland rushed to grab some dirt while Steve went for his dagger. If word got out that Steve had a undead pet, it would be over. How the hell was he still alive? He was launched clear across the field! How much had he¡¯d seen¡­maybe they could explain it was a recently reanimated body due to the bloodshed. Still, they¡¯d have to come up with a reason to take it back. So many thoughts rushed through his brain as various plans began to form. The old man must have noticed the distress and let off a billowing laugh.


    ¡°You have so many surprises! I thought you¡¯d be dead for sure after that fight but I think you are even crazier then I¡± He limped forward holding onto his arm. While not dead, the wreck had done a lot of damage.


    ¡°Oh stop being a worry wart and put that knife away. We all have secrets and those cults don¡¯t have sway this deep in the woods.¡±


    Steve loosened his grip and shook his head. Not everything had to be a battle, maybe they could talk this out.


    ¡°But a [Necromancer]....wooo that is a doozy. Here I thought you were just a cleaner. But never did I think I¡¯d have a [Necromancer] on bored. No wonder that priest caught your scent, how the hell you escape em anyway? You are either extremely lucky, powerful, or stupid. I¡¯d reckon a bit of all three based on that last fight¡­¡±


    ¡°Wait what? How did you know?¡± Steve responded.


    ¡°Oh boy, I think you¡¯z more stupid then the others now. I¡¯m a driver! Knowing my cargo is half the job. You don¡¯t think I can¡¯t tell a corpse from some grain?¡± He smiled, lips bloodied and a few teeth missing.


    ¡°However, I wasn¡¯t expecting to see THAT¡± He pointed at the feasting zombie. After a moment of curious staring he continued.


    ¡°Sides, it wouldn''t be the first underhand package. Since saving¡­most of my cargo. Let''s split the gold and I never saw a thing. Deal?¡± He held out a hand.


    Steve paused, he really didn''t like loose ends but he was in no shape to fight. Glancing over, Ryland shrugged.


    ¡°Fine deal¡±


    ¡°Great, now uhh. Think you could do something to help with this?¡± He lifted his arm and the limb bent in unnatural ways.


    The thing was so damaged it looked like a wet noodle. Both Ryland and Steve just stared, that man should be screaming. But instead he just shook it a bit, the arm undulating from the movement.


    ¡°Ok stop that¡± Steve was sickened from watching the grotesque display. Bits of blood trickled down the flesh and he swore that some bone poked through.


    ¡°What can¡¯t handle a bit of blood? This aint nothing compared to some other fights. You wanna see the scars?¡± he pulled up his shirt and there was a jagged wound crossing his abs. .


    Both men stared, mouth agape.


    ¡°I¡­ok, let me see what I can do¡± Steve motioned for Roadie to lay by the fire.


    Grabbing his tools, he carefully prodded and poked the bruised flesh. Already it was starting to swell from internal injuries. Closing his eyes, he felt up the arm. A cold chill ran down his spine as the bone creaked from the pressure. With a general idea of where the breaks occurred, he began to push and shove them into place. A bit of warm blood spurted out and splattered his arm.


    ¡°Oh fuck¡± He turned and heaved. It was disgusting, he could feel each pulse of the driver.


    ¡°Why are you so squeamish, it''s just a little blood? Come now, you are a [Necromancer] right? Get a hold of yourself lad.¡± Roadie looked at Steve strangely.


    ¡°SEE I TOLD YOU IT''S WEIRD¡± Ryland echoed


    ¡°Shut UP! IT''S BETTER WHEN THEY ARE ALREADY DEAD. I DIDN¡¯T TAKE A [DOCTOR] CLASS FOR A REASON¡± He countered with such force that even the night critters went silence. This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.


    ¡°Lad, you ok there? Who you talking too? It was just a lil joke¡­¡± Roadie was starting to regret the deal. This man was talking with imaginary friends.


    Steve paused and took a deep breath. He was still jittered from the fight and was suffering from mana burn. Wiping the spittle from his lips, he spoke.


    ¡°Sorry about that, just still a bit shocked from earlier¡­¡± He really wasn¡¯t in the position to explain that ghosts were real.


    ¡°Ahh, all good. When we get to town, let Roadie buy you a good meal. Nothing quenches the jitters like a meat pie and cheap ale!¡± He showed that toothy smile once again.


    ¡°Thanks, I could REALLY go for that¡± It was true, All he wanted to do was sleep and forget about these tribulations.


    Focusing up, he continued to set the bone. With the tip of his knife, he cut open a small channel to the breaks. Grabbing the healing potions, he carefully poured a bit into the open wound. The restorative liquid melded the bone back together and began to heal the muscle. It wasn¡¯t pretty, but it stopped the bleed. Threading his needles, he sewed the skin tight and wrapped the wound in thick cloth. Repeating it a few more times, he finished mending the arm as best he could.


    ¡°Bone is brittle, but in a few months should be passable. I''d get a healer to correct any mistakes but this will keep it from getting worse¡± Steve wiped the sweat from his brow and sat.


    ¡°Thanks for that. Here I thought you¡¯d give me some wild lich arm or just stitch on a new one. Sure you still can¡¯t do that? I¡¯d love to get some muscle like that one there.¡± He joked while pointed at the one-armed leader.


    Steve wasn¡¯t in the mood for jokes, instead he just collapsed onto the ground. Healing that man had used up the last bits of his reserve. All that fatigue deadened the limbs and he fell into a deep sleep. Immediately Ryland panicked, he pressed on the bond and prepped for another fight. That was his only ticket to salvation and he didn¡¯t fully trust Roadie. His body felt the waves of emotion and turned towards the driver. Those cloudy eyes staring deep into the soul. Roadie slowly raised his hand and took a step back.


    ¡°Easy now, he just getting some zzz''s I''ll watch¡±


    Ryland watched the man like a hawk. He wanted to make sure there wasn¡¯t a sneak attack of some kind. Besides, he didn¡¯t really need sleep unlike Steve. Sure it was good to rest, but as long as he had his deathly magics, he could go on forever. He just continued to observe Roadie as the driver began to salvage what he could. The man muttered curses as he tried to reseal his cargo. Most of the boxes were damaged beyond repair from the bandits busting into them. Still, he was able to retrieve about half of their initial shipment.


    With the goods secured, he began to untangle his cart from the pile. It took a few attempts as he could only use one hand, but after a bit he was able to pile up the pieces. With care, he did his best to fix what he could. What he couldn¡¯t repair, he set down in roughly the correct place. Taking a step back, he did one final check before placing his hand onto the wreckage. He whispered.


    ¡°[Won''t Be Pretty, But''ll do]¡± and his body buckled from the skill drain.


    He wasn''t lying to Steve, he¡¯d do many shady runs and this skill was a result of that. It was his level 25 capstone skill, while not super powerful it was extremely flexible. IT could create a quick getaway vehicle, emergency repairs in a pinch, or help somebody in need while on the road. Heck, sometimes he¡¯d charge and make some spare cash on the side. While his skin went cold, the cart began to fuse together. The amount of energy drained was proportional to the job required. Sure he could create a cart out of thin air, but that would kill em. Instead it was best used on a broken thing or something relatively similar to a wagon. Unfortunately, that was all the skill really did. It wasn¡¯t a complete repair, instead it just gave the bare minimum. There were no cushioned seats, no hinged doors, nor hooks for strapping in goods. Instead it was basically a wooden box on basic wheels. But¡¯ll do.


    It was a bit annoying as he¡¯d have to pay for upgrades once again. That magical cushion kept his ass warm on the coldest nights. While the bandit¡¯s gold would still be a bit of a profit, it wouldn¡¯t get him the magical seat-warmer. Still, least he was still alive¨Ceven if it was with such strange company. Putting his fingers into his mouth, he exhaled into a high pitched whistle. Instantly his horses rushed back to his location. Grabbing some grains, he fed his family and strapped them back into the harness. With his cart fixed up, he loaded up the rest of the cargo. With only one-arm, he was thankful to have put a few skill points into [Haul]. That bit of extra strength allowed him to carry even the heaviest boxes one handed. Satisfied with the work, he walked back to the snoring [Necromancer] and gave him a poke.


    ¡°Wake up sleepyhead. We got a deadline to meet. Hope you enjoyed that beautyrest¡±


    Steve groaned as he slowly stirred. His eyes were bloodshot and every muscle ached. Grabbing Roadie¡¯s arm, he carefully stood and stretched. Roadie gave him a bit of water and some jerky to calm the rumbling tummy.


    ¡°Thanks again, I owe you a lot¡± Steve spit a bit as he rinsed his mouth.


    ¡°Could always give me the full bandit share¡±


    ¡°Not that much¡­¡±


    ¡°Hey can¡¯t blame a old man for trying¡± Roadie let out a billow laugh.


    The booming voice only intensified the headache and he winced in pain.


    ¡°Oops, forgot you went through hell tonight. Don¡¯t worry, I¡¯ll not talk your ears off. But, I do need you to handle that¡± He pointed at the zombie wandering the fields. The thing was sampling each corpse like grazers at a charcuterie board


    ¡°Oh yeah, hang on I¡¯ll get it¡± He dusted off his shirt and slowly walked towards the creature.


    It took a bit of teamwork, but Ryland and Steve were able to calm the creature. Grabbing a crate, Steve baited the container with the chewy ears.


    ¡°Come on, get it boy!¡± He said, tossing a few treats along the grass.


    ¡°Steve, do we have to do it like this. I mean, it¡¯s a night beast not some playful pup¡±


    ¡°Shh! I¡¯m the [Necromancer] and this is how I do it¡± Steve really needed to get some form of command undead skill. Herding Ryland¡¯s body was always a struggle.


    Finally, the creature climbed into the crate and Steve quickly sealed the top.


    ¡°Think you can keep it calm till we find a spot?¡±


    ¡°Yeah, he¡¯s full. Not much else on it¡¯s mind right now¡±


    ¡°Good, no more surprises please. Two meetings with Deas is enough for my life¡± Steve said.


    ¡°Agreed¡± Ryland replied


    Roadie helped Steve load the zombie crate. With everything settled, the two climbed into the front. Ryland hopped into the back and then they were off. Roadie said they were still a few hours out from the village. But if he burned through his last few skills, they¡¯d be there right at sunrise. Steve nodded and closed his eyes.


    With a few hours on the road, he¡¯d be able to review his soulboard and wanted to spend his new skillpoint wisely. Dazing off, the various displays appeared and he gasped at the top. He hadn¡¯t gained just one skillpoint, but two.

 1.22 Its what on the inside that counts

    With a few hours on the road, he¡¯d be able to review his soulboard and wanted to spend his new skillpoint wisely. Dazing off, the various displays appeared and he gasped at the top. He hadn¡¯t gained just one skillpoint, but two.


    ¡ª-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------


    ¡°You know, back when I was a young¡¯n I always wanted to be a mage¡ªthat was till I needed to read. My old teacher would yell ¡°ya know Roadie! If you¡¯s don¡¯t get to reading, you¡¯ll just be a common crook¡± HAH that old hag called us all snot-nosed crooks. She was right though, nothing beats the undercity coin. I¡¯m sure you know about that¡±


    ¡°Yup¡± Steve replied


    ¡°I swear that some of your kind can¡¯t keep a promise. Why I chose that crash skill. After the first holdup, I needed somethin to surprise them. You should¡¯ve seen the look on his face when I slammed the cart into a tree. Well, not like he had much of a face after that. Just goes to show don¡¯t mess with old Roadie right?¡±


    ¡°Sure¡± Steve rubbed at his temples


    ¡°Still why out all dis way? I might not be a reader but I know a thing or two. Arent¡¯ yous supposed to be near a graveyard or somethin? Can¡¯t get much done out here in the backwoods. You know if you wanna give me an extra share, I¡¯ll give ya a good spot. It¡¯s a spot to dump the bodies for the The Scarlet Slicers. Not sure how good their victims are after a night with those knives, but I¡¯m sure a reputable man like yourself can deal with it.¡±


    ¡°Sounds great¡±


    ¡°Oh yeah it¡¯s real great! Outta all the gang¡¯s they keep their word. Strange bunch, nearly got my thumb cut off when I first worked with em. Apparently, they didn¡¯t realize a new delivery boy was showing up. Thought I was some spy or scout, I can tell ya. Seeing a man get skinned next to ya really is a downer. There was nothin left in me after I got strapped to that table, Pissed and shit me-self. Looking back kinda of funny but soon boss came in and explained the situation. Still bit peeved they didn¡¯t give me a new set of trousers. But did at least give me an extra coin for the troubles.¡±


    ¡°Oh wow¡­¡±


    ¡°Does he ever stop?¡± Ryland called out. Both were getting a bit annoyed by the long-winded driver.


    ¡°Still, would rather keep with the slicers over most gangs. They quick, easy, and pay well. Long as I don¡¯t leak their activities, I keep me skin. Now The Ivory Ivies however, those gals are slick. Upfront they are quite pretty, but beneath the perfume and make-up, they are cold-hearted women. One night I got a good bonus and took up a night in the brothel. Was the greatest lay I¡¯ve ever had! But outta the 10 that started, only 8 of us made it out. Not sure what happened to the other two. They look out for their own, long as you keep the gold flowing allz is good.¡±


    ¡°Hey Roadie?¡±


    ¡°What Steve, you got any tales to tell? I¡¯m sure the Ivies would have a field day with you¡­¡±


    ¡°Can we just¡­Rest. It¡¯s been a long day and I¡¯m not in the mood to chat.¡±


    ¡°Oh Fine¡­Just trying to pass the time. Not much else to do tonight but I get it. You don¡¯t want to talk with an old man. Old Roadie too boring for you. Fine, I get it. I¡¯ll mind me business¡±


    Steve knew he was getting guilt-tripped but honestly didn¡¯t care. Closing his eyes, he wanted to sit back, relax, and enjoy the evening. When all of a sudden, he heard this agitating, grating noise. Opening his eye, he turned toward the sound. It was Roadie once again, but now whistling a song¨Cextremely off-key.


    The driver looked back with that toothy grin.


    ¡°Oh what, I can¡¯t even whistle. Come now Steve, stop being such a bore.¡± Roadie ruffled Steve¡¯s head and continued his horrid song.


    Steve reached back behind and pulled out his kit. Tearing some strips of fabric, he bundled them into make-shift earplugs. Roadie just laughed at the absurdity of it all, but didn¡¯t say anything more. Instead the man focused on the road, activating another skill to speed up the pace.


    Finally, Steve could focus on his selection. His list was mostly similar, it was rare to lose a skill unless they were mutually exclusive. However, he did notice a new one.


    Passive: Sense Unlife, +1 Will, +1 Perception


    It¡¯s like Sense Life, but dead! Gain the uncanny knack to feel nearby undead. Radius determined by Perception. Precursor to scouting type skills and long-range communications.


    Passive: Minor Negative Attunement, +1 Vitality


    Feeling drained? Just ignore it! Acquire an affinity for negative energy. Endure negative and death zones for longer periods. Slight resistance to death based magic and skills. Scales slightly with Vitality and Willpower. Precursor to territorial magics and resistance based skills.


    Active: Blood Rite: Hold Undead, +1 Strength, +1 vitality, +10 mana


    No mana, No problem! Sacrifice blood to paralyze target undead. Blood and mana increased per rank of undead. Costs decrease based on users Strength and Willpower. Precursor to control and blood skills.


    Active: Minor Flesh Sculpting, +1 Intelligence, +1 Perception, +1 agility


    Remember, it¡¯s what is on the inside that counts! Close minor wounds, create minor cuts, or adjust shape and form. Scales on intelligence and Agility. More intense changes require exponentially more mana. Precursor to flesh-based shaping skills.


    Active: Minor Bone Sculpting, +1 Strength, +1 Perception


    Got a fracture? Well, fix it! Meld bone together, reinforce limbs, or just stop cavities. Make creations stronger, faster, and bigger! Scales with Strength and Intelligence. More intense changes require exponentially more mana. Precursor to bone manipulation skills.


    Active: Malaise, +1 Intelligence, +10 Mana


    Got a rival? Make him pay! Target creature feels a wave of nausea and a general sense of unwell. Any poisons, illness, or disease currently affecting the target flare up. Precursor to disease and direct death magicsIf you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.


    Active: Raise Dead (miniscule), +1 Intelligence, +1 Will, +10 mana


    Allergic to animals? Who cares! Animate small undead creatures. Such creations may include rodents, fingers, or custom creations within the miniscule category. Requires components to animate and injections of mana and/or negative energy for maintenance. Precursor to undead creation skills.


    Steve carefully considered each option alongside the new Bone Shaping skill. No doubt he got that after fixing up Roadie and the zombie. He was tempted to grab both shaping skills. It wasn¡¯t uncommon for similar abilities to benefit each other. Sometimes they¡¯d even fuse into a single skill and free up other paths. Yet, after that fight in the field. Steve knew he had to start shoring up his offense. That left him with [Malaise], [Raise Dead], and [Blood Rite].


    Still thought he was a bit surprised at having two skill points. Normally multiple skills were given out for great deeds. Steve and Ryland just fought till the bitter end and barely made it out alive. They didn¡¯t even finish off the entire encampment, if those two others didn¡¯t parley he¡¯d be a dead man. Yet there it was, the two skill points just flashing in his mind''s eye. Whatever he did, The Will seemed to enjoy it. Once he made it back to the coven, he¡¯d have to go over every detail. Those studying the world would pay heavy gold for the information. More efficient leveling was constantly being researched and breakthroughs were quite rare.


    He knew he was going to take [Raise Dead]. After watching Ryland distract the bandit with a handful of dirt, a few critters nipping ankles would be great. Also he was previously training to be a [Necromancer], not being able to animate the dead was starting to look bad. He¡¯d need to get new bags for his minions. Hopefully the looted gold would pay for a bag of stasis. Unless they wanted to go rat hunting every few days, he really needed a way to keep materials fresh. Confirming his option, he felt the rush of power once more. The mana was a bit low, it was only enough to cast an extra [Death Bolt] but every bit counted. While the bump in intelligence and will was a great bonus. It didn¡¯t beatout hard work, but it did sharpen his thoughts.


    But what was next? Malaise felt like the correct choice. He could distract with minions and sicken his adversaries. It wasn¡¯t necessary to kill them. In fact, Steve would prefer not to kill anyone. Worst case, he could incapacitate and let Ryland finish the job. But disease magic was icky. There was one [Poisonmancer] he met with Faust and the guy was off¨CEven being near him was draining. Furthermore, while it could be great at taking out a rival, most spells were compounding or slow. Even [Malaise] was ineffective unless his opponent had a primary infection. He would just have to lean more into [Death Bolt] over [Malaise] and hope The Will offered up more direct magics.


    [Blood Rite] seemed a bit more niche. Unless he pissed off his fellow scholars, it really only stopped wayward minions. He also didn¡¯t expect to fight that often, so it was unlikely The Will would give him [Blood Darts] or other offensive skills. Still, being able to empower other skills with excessive lifeforce was extremely enticing. Maybe he could get a general blood sacrifice passive, something he could use to cast [Death Bolt] without wasting mana. It would be a great supportive choice.


    Yet, his mind kept returning to the previous engagement. He was shot, nearly lost his hand, and lost most of his supplies. Supportive skills could wait, he needed something much more direct moving forward. With one final confirmation, he chose [Malaise]. Once they reached the next area, he¡¯d need to test the limits of his newly acquired abilities.


    Ryland was a bit more¡­erratic on his skill selection. The ghastly thief really chose things that sounded cool. Since skipping the last level, this was the first time he¡¯d seen his selection. He wanted to take them all, but was stuck with only a single skillpoint.


    Passive: Manager of the Dead, +1 Will, +1 Charisma


    Tired of dead ears? Your commands, suggestions, and directions are magically reinforced. Lower tier creations scales on Will, Higher tier creations scales on Charisma. Precursor to leadership skills


    Passive: Unfair Fight, +1 Strength


    Honor is for the dead. Well, more like the dead and buried. When fighting alongside your Body, boost all of its stats by +1. Scales on all stats, each proportionally increases the body. I.E Higher intelligence gives Intelligence. Precursor to brawling and fight skills.


    Passive: Eerie Existence, +1 Perception, +1 Charisma, +1 Presence


    Ever see a shadow in the darkness? Feel like somebody''s watching in the woods? Now become that spooky creature! While in the dark, unnerve those nearby. Scales on Presence and Perception. Precursor to territorial based skills.


    Active: Chilling Touch, +1 Presence, +1 Strength


    Cold hands taken to the extreme! Expend Presence to cool things in your grasp. Scales on Presence. Precursor to skills that directly interact with the living.


    Active: Ghostly Jaunt, +1 agility, +1 Presence


    Walking is for the living, travel in style. Expend Presence to teleport a brief distance. Scales on Agility. Precursor to scouting and movement skills.


    Active: Siphon Life, +1 Presence, +1 Will, +1 Intelligence


    Feeling drained? Then drain others! Thrive on death and decay! As things weaken, steal their essence and empower your own. Restore Presence, Stamina, Health, or other pools of power. Scales on Will. Precourse to skills that interfere with the balance of life (Warning! Some deity¡¯s may not appreciate meddling).


    For once, Ryland wasn¡¯t sure the best option. All of them could be quite fun to use. But what was ¡°presence¡±? He had heard of mana, stamina, health, faith, and a few niche resources¡­but never presence. Hell, his ability to mess with dust only worked on his stamina. Yet, for what it was, he felt like it was important to his class. A calling that shifted his focus onto the three actives. Sure the passives were great and he¡¯d grab a few on the next set of levels, but he really needed more direct abilities. Throwing pocket sand only got a ghost so far.


    Chilling Touch seemed to be the most efficient of all. The skill was a bit vague and based on his other ghastly abilities¡­weak. Sure he had a huge advantage being permanently invisible, but still a bit of a cold slap wasn¡¯t going to change a fight. Yet, it was the only one that would lead to more direct abilities. It might be best to sacrifice a skillpoint to be more self-sufficient.


    Ghastly Jaunt looked fun. He always wanted a teleport or blink-like skill as a rogue. They were extremely powerful in combat and seeing one this low was a bit of a surprise. Still, it wasn¡¯t like he could carry a dagger on him. It was so frustrating, what should be super strong was basically worthless.


    ¡°Being a ghost sucks¡± he groaned


    That only left Siphon Life. The skill was kind of dull, nothing flashy or fun¨Cbut that warning intrigued him. Ryland always loved to stick it to authority and pissing off the gods was appealing. Still, after seeing that crazy priest, he decided against it. That would be an ability once he gained some levels. Sure it¡¯d be fun to give Deas the middle finger, but the eternity of torture wasn¡¯t worth it.


    Without much else to go on. Ryland selected Chilling Touch and felt the points take hold. Turning back towards Steve, a devious smile crept onto his face. He was slow and quiet, not wanting to alert his friend. Reaching out, he expended his point of Presence and poked the man in the neck.


    ¡°Ahhh What the Hell!¡± Steve lurched up from his seat and nearly fell off the side.


    ¡°Boy! Sit down. I aint stopping this cart for nothin!¡± Roadie grabbed his pants and pulled him back in.


    Ryland left off a deep laugh as he watched his friend. He wasn¡¯t sure how cold that touch was, but clearly it wasn¡¯t pleasant. This might be a bit better than he thought. Unfortunately, until he picked up more ¡°Presence¡± it was a one and done skill. Maybe grabbing [Siphon Life] would be next¡­


    Steve glanced back and gave a stare that would rival Deas¡¯ himself. They were going to have a long, VERY long talk when reaching the village. Ryland held up his hands and shrugged. He made a mental note to see how long it took to recharge, hoping it wasn¡¯t too bad of a cooldown. With the two fully leveled, they rode through the night quickly reaching the next town.

 1.23 Safe at last

    Steve glanced back and gave a stare that would rival Deas¡¯ himself. They were going to have a long, VERY long talk when reaching the village. Ryland held up his hands and shrugged. He made a mental note to see how long it took to recharge, hoping it wasn¡¯t too bad of a cooldown. With the two fully leveled, they rode through the night quickly reaching the next town.


    ¡ª------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------


    As they passed through the gates, Roadie waved down the guards.


    ¡°Bandit attack in the woods. Handled a few and got out. Might wanna warn incoming travelers¡± He handed the guard a few coins as taxes.


    ¡°Thanks Roadie, glad to see you fine. I¡¯ll signal the healer to take a look¡± The guard smiled and let them through


    Steve was happy that it was much easier the second time. The group crossed to the merchant¡¯s guild and signed the final bits of paperwork. Once the last gold was exchanged, the two met outside for goodbyes.


    ¡°Well Steve, great doing business with ya. I¡¯d offer to take ya to the main city, but that aint where I¡¯m headed. Hang on, let me give yous some recommendations. Promise they keep secrets as good as me!¡± He wrote down a few names and handed off the note.


    ¡°Thanks Roadie, sorry for being a jerk earlier. Just been on edge¡± Steve could finally relax now they were in the safety of the town.


    ¡°Ahh all good. I got some extra thick skin. Sides we bonded in battle, or well you did. Stay safe¡±


    With that, Roadie took his share of gold and left for the craftsman¡¯s corner. It was going to be a long time before he¡¯d get his cart fixed. With the driver gone, Steve grabbed the box and hoisted it onto his back. His legs wobbled a bit, but he was used to carrying a corpse or two for Faust.


    ¡°Hear let me help!¡± Ryland acted like he was carrying the backend, but it was more in spirit.


    Finding the next inn. The bartender helped hoist the crate to their room before handing off the key. Locking up the doors, Faust jumped onto the bed and passed out. Meanwhile Ryland began to scope out the region. The tavern was much more eloquent than the first. Hardly anyone was gambling and a talented bard deftly played his luft. Barmaids swindled extra coins by flirting with patrons and he did catch the innkeeper watering the booze. But overall it was a fairly upscale establishment. Oh how he wished he could have a nice mug of mead. That tasty treat warming his cold body and loosening his lips. Instead, he could only watch as the various customers enjoyed the late night. This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.


    Only when the sun began to rise did Ryland return to the room. Phasing through the door, he saw the zombie had pounded through the crate and found the stash of meat. That was good, best to eat that then try and eat the living. A ray of sun burst through the window and smashed into Steve¡¯s face. His friend groaned and shifted, doing his best to ignore the light. Unlike Ryland, Steve really needed his beauty rest.


    Finally, Steve began to stir. Ryland just awkwardly watched as the man stretched out and rubbed his eyes. Even sleeping through the day, Steve still looked bad. His eyes sunken, body bruised in various places, and skin pale. His legs wobbled as he tried to stand, every muscle burning from overexertion. But he really needed to get food to help with the recovery.


    ¡°Finally! Steve, we need to talk.¡±


    ¡°Ryland, not now. I need to eat, bad¡± Steve rubbed at his temples before stumbling out of the room.


    ¡°FINNNE¡± Ryland followed the man down to the tavern.


    Finding an isolated table, Steve sat down and ordered the largest meal available. He didn¡¯t care what it was, he just wanted a lot. A few minutes later, a cauldron of stewed meat appeared. Ryland was¡­concerned. Steve was devouring the soup like a raving madman. Droplets of salty liquid splattered along the table and horrific slurping noises left his lips. Each deep gulp was accompanied by moans of pleasure.


    ¡°OOOOOO KKKKKKKK STEVE ENOUGH OF THAT¡± Ryland smacked his face with a cold slap.


    The intense chill broke the food trance and Steve glanced up. All around the room people were staring. That wasn¡¯t good, he needed to keep a low profile. Yet, that food was the best thing he ever had. Sure it was due to the night before, but he needed the energy. Taking a moment, he cleaned up his mouth and wiped down the table. He pulled out an extra coin and tipped the bar staff to apologize for his uncouth actions. Gold always greased the wheels and the night continued onwards. With the first bits in his stomach, Steve slowed down and savored the remaining meal.


    With the last bites done, he loosened his belt and basked in the warmth. They made it, he still couldn¡¯t believe they survived, but they did. Now the two just needed to get to the enclave, Steve would gain tons of renown in the deathly circle and hopefully Ryland would get the help he needed.


    ¡°Done?¡± Ryland whispered into Steve¡¯s ear.


    ¡°OH!...Don¡¯t do that.¡± Even still, Steve wasn¡¯t used to the ghost. He nearly fell out of the stool from the surprise.


    Wiping off his lips for the final time, Steve signaled for the waitstaff to remove the remnants and bring him some beer. Chugging it down in seconds, he returned to the room, ghost in hand. Ryland wanted to talk and it¡¯d be best to do it in private. Already he looked like a lunatic downstairs, didn¡¯t need the constable called because he was talking to nothing.


    ¡°Alright, let¡¯s plan¡± Steve said


    ¡°Great skills first!¡± Ryland replied.

 1.24 Thats It?

    ¡°Alright, let¡¯s plan¡± Steve said


    ¡°Great skills first!¡± Ryland replied.


    ¡ª------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------


    The two sat in the room discussing the in''s and out''s of their various abilities. Ryland went over how he can feel the urges of his body. His ability to give suggestions to undead around him. As well as his limitations on interacting with the living world.


    ¡°But this new [Chilling Touch] is amazing! I can¡¯t wait to try it in battle and see the looks on their faces¡± Ryland said.


    ¡°Hopefully the battles are far behind us. I¡¯m not dead yet Ry, and I plan on staying alive for quite some time¡± Steve replied


    ¡°FIIIINNNE. But why do you have to be such a bore? Try entering a duel or something to test out your skills.¡±


    ¡°Ry, What skills could I use? First [Death Bolt] and I¡¯ll be skewered by every weapon in the region!¡± Did he honestly forget that Steve was a former [Necromancer].


    ¡°Ahh right, My bad. Still¡­I want to test this some more.¡± Ryland responded dejectedly.


    ¡°I¡¯m sure you¡¯ll have plenty of opportunities in the future. Now onto my stuff¡± Steve wrangled the conversation back to its primary purpose. If he didn¡¯t keep Ryland in line, they¡¯d be talking about any subject that popped into the ghost¡¯s skull.


    Steve was quite meticulous in how he explained his abilities. Going into extreme detail on the ins and outs of what he could do. How [Death Bolt] wasn¡¯t the best at open combat. Blood spells were strong at first but severely hindered him later. As well as possible options he could take in the future. He was careful to leave out the whole [Friendship] thing. He still wasn¡¯t sure how strong that was and what it did exactly. Besides, he didn¡¯t want to commit fully to Ryland. In a few levels, he¡¯d have the opportunity to swap if needed.


    ¡°You didn¡¯t take [Bone Shaping]?¡± Ryland asked with a bit of excited confusion.


    ¡°Why would I take that? It is only good for making creations and until now I¡¯ve had none¡±


    ¡°Steve! Get creative! You could make nails like claws, turn your forearm into a shield, spit teeth like projectiles! You¡¯d be a menace on the battlefield. Hell! If somebody grabs you, turn that arm into spikes.¡±


    Steve had to admit he¡¯d not thought of those ideas. All his focus was ways to better his constructs, not self improvement to that level. Packing away the thoughts, he shifted the ranking of the sculpting skills a bit higher.


    ¡°Those are great and all Ry, but it doesn¡¯t align with what I want. I took this new animation skill so I could send a few distracting minions. If I do it right, I can poison their teeth, then amplify the effects with [Malaise].¡±


    ¡°Ooooo that is a good combination! I like that¡± Ryland turned and gave a thumbs up.


    ¡°Besides, thinking about your abilities¡­I think we can actually form a pretty good team. Do you want to try some things tonight?¡± Steve asked.


    ¡°Oh yeah! I¡¯ve been itching to do stuff. What you got in mind?¡± Ryland replied.


    ¡°Just wait here for a bit. I need to grab some supplies¡± Steve reached for his sack and left towards the alleyways. He was going to find some vermin¡­


    Thankfully, the Inn kept it¡¯s garbage in the back and away from prying eyes. He was new to the town and the last thing they needed was guards questioning his motives. Anyone rifling through the trash was sure to draw attention. Holding his breath, he dug deep into the pit of filth pushing rotting meat and other slop to the side.


    ¡°Jackpot¡± He grinned as he found a bloodied sack of dead mice.


    Clearly the inn, like many others, had a rat problem. But what was a nuisance for the kitchens, was rotting gold for a [Necromancer]. Using a torn cloth, he carefully pulled out the mice and stuffed them into his own bag. Sealing it shut, he quickly returned to the room with his newest prize.


    Dumping the contents onto the floor. The zombie quickly reached out to snatch a snack.


    ¡°No¡­ ¡° Ryland scolded his body. The zombie paused briefly before trying again.


    ¡°I SAID NO¡± This time he pushed onto the bond the creature backed off.


    ¡°Hang on, I got this¡± Steve pulled out a severed ear and tossed it to the zombie. The thing retreated and began to chew on the cartilage.


    ¡°Keep him busy, I need to set this up¡± Steve said and pulled out his paintbrush.


    Grabbing the jars of blood. Steve dipped the brush inside and slowly drew the sigils onto the floor. Various curves, lines, and vaguely familiar objects formed the ritualistic circle. It was a strange sensation, he¡¯d drawn the basics many times. Yet Faust refused to show the last bits. With the new skill, he was able to deduce the final symbols and complete the runework. His brain scoured the glistening blood, checking for any flaws. Satisfied, he placed his fingers onto the markings and began the chant.


    It wasn''t a long or complicated ritual. Many [Necromancer]s had performed this in the past and many more would continue in the future. With such repetition, the aetheric webways were already carved out in the world. As such, the mana needed was minimal for such a small creature. He smiled as the power flowed from his body and illuminated the runes. Once bright blood quickly darkened as the inherent lifeforce was transformed into deathly energy. Swirls of bluish light engulfed the mouse, the circle of life twisted and tainted. Within moments, the creature began to twitch. Legs kicked out, arms clawed at the air, and distorted squeaks left its jaws. But it was working, Steve was creating life! It felt so¡­personal. Magic always was intoxicating to use, but this was a whole new experience. IT resonated with his class and encouraged him to do more.


    It struggled to its feet. Steve didn¡¯t notice at first, but the creature perished from blunt-force trauma. Somebody must have kicked or stomped on the poor thing. Its jaw hung loosely from the mouth, Bits of bone poked out from its ribs, and one eye was missing from the face. But for all the damage¡ªit was kind of cute. This was HIS. A creature HE created! The first of many on his way to greatness. What starts at a mouse only grows to something far more complex. He¡¯d not fear any bandit, priest, or king! After this journey was done, he¡¯d find a secluded spot and form his own lab. Maybe he¡¯d take on an apprentice or two. Unlike Faust, he¡¯d never gatekeep knowledge. But, in his dreamy aspirations. Steve failed to notice the ghost drifting towards the ritual. This content has been unlawfully taken from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.


    ¡°That is beautiful¡­¡± Ryland reached into the circle, inherently drawn to the swirling energy before him. .


    ¡°RYLAND NO IT''S NOT FIN¡­¡± But the ghost''s subsumed the spell. Upon contact, the light blazed bright and the mouse let out a high pitched shrill.


    Flesh shifted and bones snapped as the injuries were forcefully healed. Even the eye started to regrow, only this time the pupil split into a clover formation. Muscles bulged out and enlarged as the deathly magics flooded the tissue within. It tried to waddle forward, but the bulk was too great for the tiny legs. Instead, it fell forward and rolled onto the side. Tumors erupted from the sides and bulbous growths of flesh stretched the skin. The snapping of bone and sinew was heard as bits of calcified mass penetrated the skin. Squeaks turned into gurgles when a second head began to form at the neck. The thing more teeth than face and gnashing at the original head. Even the tail began to split into nine separate pieces. The thing tried to contain the influx of energy, but being so small it couldn¡¯t only take so much. Moments later, a sickening¡­


    POP


    And the beast exploded into a shower of gore. Chunks of flesh launched across the room as congealed blood splattered the onlookers. The entire rib cage was open and little meat remained. Yet¡­it didn¡¯t die. Even now, the muscle undulated and the skin twisted from the deathly magics. Only when the zombie reached in and snatched up the treat did it stop. The clumsy creature smears the runework and halts the spell.


    Steve ended up with a facefull of rancid blood while the rest just went through Ryland. Both just watched on with curious horror as the zombie chewed the remains like gum. The flesh is heavily reinforced by the magics and difficult to chew. Still, it didn¡¯t stop the zombie. After a few more bites, he forced back the meal and swallowed. Ryland felt a bit of his stamina return as the creature was processed in the zombie¡¯s belly.


    ¡°Ryland¡­What the hell was that?¡± Steve turned, blood dripping off his cheek and plopping onto the floor.


    ¡°I¡­I don''t know. I feel¡­drained. Whatever it was, it took nearly a third of my stamina.


    ¡°Hmmm¡± Wheels turned as Steve stared at the chunky remains littering the room. His eyes drifted to the zombie as it scoured the floor for what was left. Good thing it was on his side, that creature was voracious¡­


    Steve took a moment to reflect on all the events leading to this. From the meeting in the cave, he knew that Ryland was a deep wellspring of deathly magic. Even with his low level, it was surprisingly large. It just didn¡¯t make sense. Steve had met some of the most powerful [Necromancer]s in the region and they would struggle on such a feat. And it only took a third of his stamina to do it!? Steve started to worry about even introducing the ghost to the others. With such a wellspring of power, they¡¯d be able to circumvent so many restraints. He¡¯d need Steve to avoid any spells in the future. If that was a regular zombie, who knows what damage it may cause.


    ¡°I uhh¡­ I think I''ll let you handle the animation from now on.¡± Ryland said


    ¡°Yeah. I think that''s for the best¡± Steve responded.


    He wanted to ask so many questions, but that was for later time. For now, he¡¯d need to focus on this new skill. When he got back into the coven, he¡¯d book a private lab and experiment under more controlled conditions. So many questions had been raised and each answer only led to more. Who knew a simple zombie and annoying ghost would skyrocket the world of necromancy. Pushing the thoughts behind him, he grabbed the second mouse.


    ¡°Stay back this time¡± He said, Ryland held up his hands and drifted back to the bed.


    Wiping down the floor, Steve made sure that the area was clean before restarting. His brush tracing out the runework for a second time. For some reason, the second time was far more relaxing than the first. With the first success, the second would be even easier. His mind quieted as he painted the floorboards. It was simple, calming, and something he needed after the hectic few days. Once finished, he placed the mouse instead and began the incantation.


    Moments later, the second mouse was reborn. Satisfied with the creature, he smeared the lines to halt the ritual. This one was even cuter then the first, it barely had any injuries and explored the area with an intense curiosity. Leaning back, he just watched the undead critter sniff the air. Satisfied with his newest minion; he walked over to his supplies to grab a little treat.


    ¡°HEY NO!¡± Ryland called out.


    Steve twisted but was too slow. The zombie snatched the thing with a clawed hand and shoved it into its maw. The crunching of bone intermixed with the mouse¡¯s death squeaks was a horrific sound. Steve wanted to reach into the creature¡¯s mouth and pull his creation free¡­but it was far too late. The zombie was only two bites in and the mouse was nearly mush. Unfortunately, zombie mice were far harder to kill and it continued to shriek. Only when the zombie slurped up the tail like pasta and swallowed did it finally stop. Satisfied with the meal, the zombie began to lick at its fingers, savoring the remnants of the mouse.


    Both were¡­quite annoyed at the zombie. After a brief moment, Steve stood up and grabbed a pillow off the bed. Walking into the corner, he held it to his face and yelled. Ryland and his body watched in silence as the muffled screams leaked out from the cushion. Steve pulled his head back, took a gasp of air, and repeated the action a few more times. Once the anger subsided, he placed it back onto the bed, fluffed it a bit, then grabbed his brush once more.


    ¡°Shall we try again?¡± Nobody acknowledged the outburst.


    Thankfully, Steve only had to fix the single smear to get the ritual working again. Onto his third mouse, he placed it back into the circle. Touching the runework once more, he glanced up.


    Ryland and his body backed off as they made eye contact with the man. His stare filled with deep hate. In that single moment, the [Friend of the Dead] grew several inches. The air shifted as the rage coalesced around him. He was a fierce beast, taunting them to move. Then, it was gone. All of it contained once more and he smiled.


    ¡°Ready?¡± Steve asked


    The two nodded and took one more step back¡­for safety purposes.


    Without any interruptions, Steve was finally able to get his mouse reanimated, normal size, and uneaten. A faint connection tethered to his soul as the creature drew upon his mana for existence. If this was on a battlefield or other place of death, he could supplement the mana with innate deathly magics. But for now, he was the sole source of energy. With a simple command, the critter ran up his leg and climbed to his shoulder. Reaching into his bag, he pulled out some meat and held it up. Sharp teeth snatched the morsel from his fingers and quickly devoured the semi-fresh flesh.


    ¡°Jealous are we?¡± He asked the zombie.


    The creature turned and ignored the statement. Clearly it thought IT deserved the meat over that pathetic thing.


    ¡°Be nice, still plenty for you¡± Ryland said and pressed into the bond.


    Ignoring the two, the zombie returned to its ear, sloppily chewing on the severed appendage. Occasionally glancing up to stare at the skittering mouse.


    ¡°So..that¡¯s it?¡± Ryland broke the silence


    ¡°What do you mean ¡°That¡¯s it¡±?¡± Steve retorted.


    ¡°I mean like, can¡¯t you animate something better? What is that gonna do?¡± Ryland was serious.


    ¡°Ok here me out. You said you have command skill right?¡±


    ¡°Correct¡­Well more of a suggestion¡± Ryland replied


    ¡°Great, One weakness of minions is their lack of thought. Why don¡¯t we give it a test, I¡¯ll command this creature to follow your will. You can then watch and correct its actions. Think of it as a third hand!¡± Steve said


    ¡°Oh Steve, you are a genius!¡± He tried to kiss Steve¡¯s forward but floated right through.


    Steve smiled and placed the rat on the floor.


    ¡°I know.¡± He said to Ryland. Turning to the mouse he spoke once more.


    ¡°Follow Ryland and listen to him¡­But return to me before the day''s end. Nod if you understand¡±


    The creature took a moment then gave a slow nod. Ryland grinned as the little thing looked his way.


    ¡°ONWARD MY MINION¡± Ryland shouted and phased through the door, the mouse quickly followed.


    ¡°How did you put up with him?¡± Steve turned to the zombie. Both savoring the moment of silence now that the rogue is gone.

 1.25 A man and his Mouse

    ¡°ONWARD, MY MINION!¡± Ryland shouted and phased through the door, the mouse quickly followed.


    ¡°How did you put up with him?¡± Steve turned to the zombie. Both enjoyed the moment of silence.


    ¡ª-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------


    Ryland and his new minion crept through the halls, spying on the various patrons. Walking into the common room, the ghost approached a group of guards. Coins were tossed onto the table as they played a round of cards. Unlike the bandits from before, these guys were playing fair.


    ¡°Boring lot¡±


    Clinking glasses shifted his focus onto a new group. While they were not wealthy, the crew was dressed well. Some kind of merchant or traveling salesman.


    ¡°Heard a bandit encampment was wiped out.¡±


    ¡°Good riddance costs me nearly a quarter of my profits to hire these guards.¡±


    ¡°Word is they can¡¯t tell what got them. Lots of wreckage, and some appeared to be mauled by animals.¡±


    ¡°Wolves? I¡¯d say a half-decent crew should be able to take a pack of wolves.¡±


    ¡°Ahh, most likely they got a batch of bad booze. Ambushed while drunk and now puking on Deas¡¯ toes¡±


    ¡°Still, the Mayor sent word to the main city. Something off on it, and he is requesting investigations¡±


    ¡°Doubt they will agree. It¡¯s just some bandits, anyway. I don¡¯t want my taxes paying for that! Sides, not like some animals would attack a well-stocked caravan.¡±


    ¡°Yea yea, still careful on the roads. Might be more than wolves out there.¡±


    Ryland took mental notes from the conversation. A royal detective would reveal that these were not animal bites but something far more sinister. Still, they would be long gone before anyone would arrive. As long as they kept the trail clean, it would become a cold case. Packing the knowledge away, Ryland decided to do what he did best.


    Leaning over, he glanced at the merchant¡¯s key¨CSecond floor, room three. A greedy grin snaked along his face as he turned back towards the stairs.


    ¡°Oh¡­hang on¡± he pivoted and rushed the guard¡¯s table.


    When the winner reached for the pool of coins, Ryland slapped the man¡¯s face with his [Chilling Touch].


    ¡°Oi what the hell was that!¡± The guard cried out.


    A few drinks were knocked over as his legs smashed on the underside. The others stared back with a look of confusion and concern. Slowly, the man rubbed his face trying to warm the cold flesh. His head scanned the crowd trying to identify the attacker.


    ¡°You are going to pay for that right?¡± one interrupted.


    ¡°What?...Oh. Sorry, I swear somebody just hit me with a spell or something¡± He mumbled.


    ¡°Sure¡­¡± He snapped and the barmaid quickly rushed over with an old towel.


    Ryland left the scene laughing like a madman. Being a ghost was fucking awesome! Looking back at the mouse, the critter gave him a disapproving look.


    ¡°What? You¡¯d do it too if you weren¡¯t so small¡±


    Squeak


    Or it tried to, instead a black ball of sticky phlegm gurgled out of its broken maw. If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.


    ¡°That¡¯s nasty¡­let¡¯s go¡± he commanded, he didn¡¯t need no stinking mouse judging him.


    The man and his mouse returned to the second floor and into the merchant¡¯s room. He walked about the room, trying to find the stored goods.


    Snap


    A few snaps shifted his attention towards the door. Glancing down, the mouse was struggling to enter the room. Little claws pulled and tugged at the wood dragging the bulky behind through. Unlike a living creature, the threat of injury was non-existent. Even as the spine shattered and nails tore, it didn¡¯t stop.


    ¡°Ok, hang on buddy¡± Ryland reached down and solidified his essence.


    A surge of negative energy lept between his fingers and into the creature''s flesh. He felt a tug at his pool of power and jolted back.


    ¡°What the¡­¡± it was the same feeling as the ritual only on a smaller scale.


    Whatever it was, the mouse used the surge and broke through the barrier. The thing shoots out like a rocket and rolls across the floor. Moments later it smashed into the chair leg with a crunch¨Cit¡¯s body going still.


    ¡°Dammit!¡± Ryland cursed. He¡¯d need to get another made and somehow dispose of this one.


    Turning to the exit, the snapping sound returned. His eyes drifted back to the critter as the thing began to undulate. Bones shifted back into place while the talons regrew. It was a macabre sight as the panting mouse struggled back to its feet. Even with broken limbs, it fought valiantly. However, the tenacity won out in the end and the mouse was back and better then before. Shaking its head, it glanced back up at Ryland. Both were surprised at the transformation.


    ¡°Yeah¡­I¡¯m going to need to talk to Steve about that.¡±


    Ignoring the¡­incident, the two searched the room for goodies. The mouse squeaked in excitement whenever it found food.


    ¡°Not food. Shinies, like this.¡± He pointed at a ring. It didn¡¯t look expensive, but it would hopefully convey the point.


    Instead, it ignored the ghost and continued to chow down on the dried jerky.


    ¡°No, Steve said to listen!¡± he activated his skill and forced his presence onto the mouse.


    Both got into a stare contest, a battle of wills that neither wanted to lose. One greedy ghost faced the ravenous rat. When both sides refused to budge, Ryland shifted tactics.


    ¡°OOOK, One more big bite then shinies¡­deal¡±


    The critter shook its head in agreement and forced down a large chunk of meat. It wasn¡¯t happy, but some battles were not worth fighting.


    ¡°Hmm¡­Jackpot¡±


    Ryland found the merchant¡¯s main stash. While he could see it, he could feel the gold within. Various rings and metal tucked inside a coin purse. Calling to the minion, the mouse eagerly rushed up the dresser and into the drawer. His accomplice tearing through the cotton pouch and spilling the goods within. It was a simple task to retrieve the rings, each one placed on top before diving back in for the next.


    ¡°We gonna be eating good tonight¡± Ryland muttered


    Even as a ghost, he couldn¡¯t break his rogish habits. It was such a rush, just completing a heist and spending the spoils. He¡¯d need to get a few minion skills, this little mouse was a perfect partner. Reaching out, he tried to grab one of the glistening metals only for his fingers to phase through. His mood shifted, it was right there! Why couldn¡¯t he just grab and go? He could do minor manipulations, why couldn¡¯t he touch this?


    Focusing harder, he pushed nearly a quarter of his power into his fingers. Even with all that energy, the golden ring barely budged. A wave of anger washed over as he cursed. This wasn¡¯t fair, this was his payout and now nothing. Pacing around the room, the ghostly thief brainstormed possible options. On the third circle, he caught the mouse chewing the jerky. A new idea sprung into his head and that ghastly grin returned. The poor critter sensed the mood shift and glanced up. Realizing something was going to happened, it turned and tried to bolt.


    ¡°STOP¡± Ryland called


    It tried to fight, but Steve¡¯s commands were clear. It was at the mercy of the greedy ghost.


    Oh how it wailed, how it cursed, and how it despised its master. The jewelry jingled as it shuffled across the desk. It¡¯s neck squeezed between three separate rings, It¡¯s tail knotted with a golden necklace, while it carried a earring in it¡¯s maw. Ryland took a step back and giggled. It was ridiculous, the mouse was decked out in more jewels then a king. A golden critter wiggling across the floor. It¡¯s gait awkward from the heavy weight.


    ¡°Alright, that¡¯s enough lets go!¡± Ryland gave the thing a thumbs up and went to leave.


    As he reached the door, the wooden portal swung open revealing a very drunk salesmen. Ryland paused, the merchant screamed, and the rat was confused. The drunkard stumbled forward, tripping as he reached for the adorned mouse. But the critter was quick, it dodged the giant and scrambled along the walls. Ryland pointed towards the window and the creature nodded. Scrambling up the curtains, it reached the windowsill and rushed outside.


    The merchant cried out as he rushed the window¨Cnearly falling out as he swiped at the rat. Turning back, he started screaming.


    ¡°I¡¯ve been robbed! GUARDS GUARDS¡±


    His voice dulled as he ran down the steps and back toward the bar. The commotion woke other patrons as they stumbled into the halls. While the bulk looked toward the screaming man, Steve turned back toward Ryland. The ghost shivered. That gaze was pure hate. He felt small, worthless, and weak. He¡¯d messed up.

 1.26 Robbery gone wrong

    His voice dulled as he ran down the steps and back toward the bar. The commotion woke other patrons as they stumbled into the halls. While the bulk looked toward the screaming man, Steve turned back toward Ryland. The ghost shivered. That gaze was pure hate. He felt small, worthless, and weak. He¡¯d messed up.


    ¡ª---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------


    The curious crowd pushed past Steve as the man stared in the distance. He didn¡¯t say a word, only pointed at the room. Hanging his head, Ryland slowly entered.


    ¡°Ryland¡­¡±


    ¡°Look, I thought.¡±


    ¡°RYLAND!¡±


    ¡°Steve, hang on.¡±


    ¡°I ask you to do ONE thing, ONE THING!¡±


    ¡°Ok, but I thought we could use a bit more coin.¡±


    ¡°MORE COIN!?! WE ROBBED A WHOLE BANDIT CAMP. WHAT KIND OF COIN DO YOU THINK WE NEED?¡±


    ¡°Hey, can¡¯t ever have enough gold,¡± Ryland grinned.


    Steve sat on the bed, and a throbbing vein appeared on his reddening face. He needed to calm down; nobody knew it was them. As long as the guards didn¡¯t catch the mouse, they¡¯d be fine. Steve¡¯s eyes went wide when he remembered the final command.


    ¡°Ryland, we have to leave.¡±


    ¡°Wha,t why? Not like they can catch us.¡±


    ¡°I imprinted the mouse with my mana. It¡¯s going to return. When the guards see that, what do you think they are going to do?¡±


    ¡°Oh¡­Yeah, didn¡¯t think about that one.¡±


    ¡°You didn¡¯t think at all.¡±


    ¡°Ok, Steve, you don¡¯t have to be mean. We all make mistakes, and I can fix this.¡±


    Steve didn¡¯t respond as the two joined the commotion downstairs. The merchant was screaming profanities across the room, and the poor innkeeper tried to calm the man during this¡­distressing situation. Already, the guards were discussing how to sweep the area; it was just a rat so it couldn¡¯t get too far. Focusing up, Steve felt the tug of mana. He could feel the vague direction of the minion and nodded to Ryland.


    ¡°I¡¯ll stay here. He is in the back alley. Get him out.¡±


    ¡°Got it!¡± Ryland turned to leave.


    ¡°And Ry, if even a single flake of gold is on that mouse. I swear, I will personally turn you into Deas¡¯ myself.¡±


    ¡°Uhh¡­ok, buddy.¡±


    Ryland shifted and phased through the wall. He had to find that critter fast.


    ¡°Come on out, mousy, we got treats back home.¡±


    Moments later, the well-adorned rodent emerged from the garbage. It was happy to remove the heavy jewelry and quickly scurried back up the gutter. Still, leaving the gold in the open didn''t feel right. Glancing around, he saw a drunkard stumble into the alley. Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.


    ¡°Perfect¡±


    As the man reached into his trousers, Ryland snuck up behind. Reaching out, he poked the man in the cheek and activated his chilling touch.


    ¡°Ahhh,¡± he called out.


    The man jerked at the cold touch and lost control of his stream. The fetid liquid sprayed across the alley and into his trousers. Feeling the sudden warmth, he quickly sobered up and cursed. It was nothing, and now he¡¯d gone and pissed himself. His wife was going to kill him. He looked around for something to clean up with and noticed that faint glint of gold. Well, it might be his lucky day that¡¯d pay for new pants and more. As he bent down to collect the stolen loot, Ryland returned to Steve.


    ¡°Rings in the back alley, up to you now.¡±


    ¡°Hey, it¡¯s a mouse, right? Why not check the alley first, that¡¯s where vermin congregate.¡± Steve interrupted.


    The crowd turned, and the guards nodded. It couldn¡¯t hurt. Moments later, they stormed out the door. Instantly, the merchant''s shrill voice cut through the night.


    ¡°THAT¡¯S HIM THAT¡¯S THE THIEF¡±


    Steve turned to Ryland, who just smiled.


    The two joined the group. Steve was horrified as the guards slammed the piss-stained drunkard to the ground. He was sobbing and begging for mercy, saying he just found the gold and was totally going to bring it to the station later. He was a hard-working man who wouldn¡¯t ever turn to a life of crime. Nobody was buying it, and the merchant continued to rant about how terrible this city was.


    ¡°See, fixed it,¡± Ryland said


    Steve thought watching the zombie kill was disturbing, but Ryland was just as bad. Not only did he start this whole incident, but he framed an innocent bystander. Well, maybe not entirely innocent; the drunkard was caught pocketing the rings. But still, it just didn¡¯t sit right. Fading back from the crowd, the two returned to the room.


    ¡°By the frozen balls of Deas!¡± Steve was done.


    ¡°Hey, no¡­NO!¡± Ryland called.


    Somehow, the mouse and the zombie tag-teamed the bag of flesh. Bits of meat were strung across the floor as the two ravenously devoured all they could. Ryland was smacking at the zombie¡¯s face, trying to get it to drop the half-chewed finger. All while the mouse skittered around, sampling whatever bits it could find. Steve had three toddlers on his hand, three bloody children that nearly gave him an aneurysm.


    ¡°OK, THAT¡¯S ENOUGH!¡± His voice loud and very forceful.


    All three stopped and stared. A glob of congealed mush fell from the slack-jawed zombie and splattered the floor.


    ¡°All three of you, clean this up. NOW¡± He didn¡¯t even need a skill for it. His presence alone carried his command.


    Even the zombie wasn¡¯t going to fight that. Boney fingers carefully put the fleshy bits back into the preservation bag. While it handled the larger chunks, the tiny mouse formed a pile of gore. Steve carefully swept up the meat mass and dumped it into the bag. Slamming the door shut, the three sat in silence. It was an agonizing few minutes that none dared to break. Steve returned with a bucket of water and a rag in hand. They all watched as he cleaned up the blood and tossed the crimson mix out the window.


    ¡°You never listen to Ryland unless it¡¯s something I¡¯d approve of.¡± He pointed at the rat; he knew the command was too complex, but the feeling should stick.


    ¡°You are not getting any treats for three days, only the chewy bits for dinner¡± he told the zombie.


    The creature groaned


    ¡°Four days,¡± and then it was silenced.


    ¡°And you, Ryland. You I am most disappointed in. Can I get one night of sleep? One, for the love of all the gods of this realm, one night of sleep. The next time you come up with what you think is clever, take a moment and ask. Would Steve approve this?¡±


    ¡°What? I thought it was a good way to test¡­¡±


    ¡°Ryland, this isn¡¯t an argument. You know what?? There is nothing I can do about this. Let''s just drop it and discuss it later. I¡¯ve nearly died dozens of times since we met, and I¡¯m starting to think it isn¡¯t worth it.¡±


    ¡°Steve, come on, buddy.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t buddy me! I work so hard to make this work, and you keep thinking it¡¯s some kind of game.¡±


    Congratulations, you have reached level¡­


    ¡°AND YOU CAN SHUT IT TOO!¡± Steve pointed upwards.


    ¡­


    ¡°That¡¯s what I thought. I¡¯m pissed, I¡¯m tired, and I don¡¯t want to hear it. Now I¡¯m going to sleep and all of us can have a nice chat in the morning.¡± Steve climbed into the bed and closed his eyes.


    ¡°Dick¡­¡± Ryland muttered


    Even The Will agreed.

 1.27 Loudmouth

    ¡°That¡¯s what I thought. I¡¯m pissed, I¡¯m tired, and I don¡¯t want to hear it. Now I¡¯m going to sleep, and all of us can have a nice chat in the morning.¡± Steve climbed into the bed and closed his eyes.


    ¡°Dick¡­¡± Ryland muttered


    Even The Will agreed.


    ¡ª---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------


    The moon set as the first rays of sun crept into the room. Stretching out his limbs, Steve slowly awoke. Taking a deep breath, he opened his eyes and.


    ¡°Aoierah,¡± He stuttered and fell out of bed.


    Sitting on his pillow was the reanimated mouse, the broken critter just¡­staring. Each milky eye unblinking as it peered deep into his soul.


    ¡°Yeah, creepy, isn¡¯t it? I remember when Lil Ry did that to me on my first night. Welcome to the club,¡± Ryland chuckled.


    In reality, Ryland ordered the mouse to do it. He just waited for his friend to wake up. Steve''s reaction was a bit over the top. He really needed to work on his nerve. The man was far too skittish, but it made for a hilarious scene. The poor [Friend of the Dead] was tangled in blankets, squirming on the floor. Even Ry¡¯s body watched with amusement, the zombie casually chewing on its morning breakfast.


    ¡°Ryland, I swear to the gods above and below if you say one more word¡­¡±


    Ryland floated silently and waited. Steve wiggled out of the smothering blankets and tossed them to the side. He wore nothing but cotton briefs that needed replacing. Its elastic band barely held, and a hole formed near the thigh. Ryland wanted to comment on it but held his tongue.


    Glancing in the mirror, Steve fixed his hair and quickly got dressed.


    CONGRATULATIONS


    ¡°By the cold bollocks of Deas,¡± Steve squealed as The Will slammed into his brain.


    It had never been that loud before, and the screaming voice rang in his ears. Will paused, letting the man recover from the abrupt announcement.


    Congratulations on reaching Level 7. You have created a new life or, well, kinda. That, alongside your impeccable leadership skills and grandiose display of talent, has pushed you to a new tier. Bow down to the mighty and amazing Steve. The Level 7 nightmare of innkeepers and bandits. His impressive feats include relying on others to do his job and stealing all the credit. Screaming like a madman in the wee hours of the night and rudely interrupting those trying to help. Spend your skills wisely!


    That was a lengthy level-up message. Not only has he pissed off the entire congregation of Deas, but even The Will was pissy. Opening his skill list, Steve was surprised by the selection offered. All previous choices were gone and replaced with¡­eccentric abilities.


    Active: Loudmouth


    Sometimes, you just can¡¯t stand letting others speak. When activated, make your voice heard. Rudely interrupt the current speaker and talk over those around. Precursor to faux pas and other socially rude abilities. This story has been taken without authorization. Report any sightings.


    Active: Grating Voice


    Really cement how much people dislike you. Shift your voice into more annoying sounds. Transformation is based on who is in the crowd. Enjoy speaking like a squeaky door. Precursor to other negative voice modulations


    Active: Unapologetic Dick


    Never take accountability for your actions. Burn those bridges and those that care for you. When activated, ignore the feeling of guilt when lying, fighting, or just being a dick. As long as you never apologize, enjoy being a self-righteous prick.


    ¡°What in the 30 hells is this?¡± Steve tried to close the tab. He needed to talk with Ry about this.


    Nope, not getting off that easy. You pick and choose now.


    Why was The Will acting like this? Ryland caused this entire incident in the first place. Clearly, he was being punished for talking back to that ever-present thing. Had others been offered abilities like this? At least he could sell the information to researchers back in the city. Nobody could figure out what The Will was; any clue could fetch a reasonable sum of gold. There was no real point in fighting back. Clicking [Loudmouth], he finished the level.


    ¡°OK I¡¯m sorry, I¡¯ll not lash out next time,¡± Steve directed upward.


    ¡°Uhh, what you doing there buddy?¡± Ryland asked


    ¡°Just making amends. Now let¡¯s try this again.¡±


    ¡°Sure, So uhh Sorry for last night. I just thought we could use a bit of extra gold.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll forgive you this once. But Ryland, please, just take a moment before causing a scene. We might be freed from the clergy, but they will be back on our trail if we make one wrong move.¡±


    ¡°Ok, buddy, no stealing unless it is absolutely necessary.¡±


    ¡°And I am sorry for yelling. I was stressed, but that doesn¡¯t excuse being a loudmouth, grating, and unapologetic dick¡± Steve glanced upwards.


    ¡°I¡­uhh, I wouldn¡¯t go that far with it, Steve. We all crash out at some point. I¡¯d say you handled it better than some of my teammates,¡± Ry chuckled. It was true. He could really get his squad going.


    Both stared at each other for a bit. The only sound coming from the two undead shuffling about the room.


    ¡°OH, that reminds me!¡± Ryland jumped


    ¡°I heard they were bringing a full inquisitor to the bandit camp. Guards thought there was something off about the incident and requested a bit deeper investigation.¡±


    ¡°Wait, what? No, no no no. Ryland that is bad, that¡¯s really bad. We¡­We need to go.¡± Steve shot up and started to pack.


    ¡°Why? It¡¯s not like they will be here for a while. We got plenty of time.¡±


    ¡°Ryland, I know you don¡¯t study magic. But if they have a half-competent detective, he will pick up the lingering remnants of dark mana. There are VERY few legal classes that use it, and with the priests already out for [Necromancer]s, it won¡¯t be hard to connect the two.¡±


    ¡°Oh¡­Yeah. So, uhh, gameplan?¡± Ryland asked


    ¡°Find a new driver, get to the city, and lay low. Hopefully, they will be stuck searching the woods and ignore our trail.¡±


    ¡°Sounds good. I¡¯ll prep dead Ry and the mouse. You good with everything else?¡±


    ¡°Yup, I¡¯ll see you tonight,¡± Steve replied. The [Friend of the Dead] quickly left the room, leaving the three alone. Trying to keep his promise, Ryland patiently waited for his return.


    It didn¡¯t take too long for Steve to wobble into the lodge. Once again, he decided on the barrel method. Dead Ry was used to hiding and climbed in without much fuss. It helped that they¡¯d dumped a good amount of treats on the bottom. Meanwhile, his new mouse friend climbed into his pants pocket. With the crew gathered, they waited for the delivery boy to load the wagon.


    This time, Steve was able to join a full caravan. There was always protection in numbers, and they''d be OK with a six-wagon procession. It would be a two-day journey back to the capital, two days dealing with talkative merchants and other inquisitive guards. Steve spun a backstory in case of campfire chatter. With all things accounted for, they set off. The village slowly faded into the darkness of the night.

 1.28 Into the Woods...Again

    This time, Steve was able to join a full caravan. There was always protection in numbers, and they''d be OK with a six-wagon procession. It would be a two-day journey back to the capital, two days dealing with talkative merchants and other inquisitive guards. Steve spun a backstory in case of campfire chatter. With all things accounted for, they set off. The village slowly faded into the darkness of the night. The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.


    ¡ª----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------


    Steve and Ryland rode the caravan to the capital and nothing happened.

 1.29 The City of Ambrosia

    Steve and Ryland rode the caravan to the capital and nothing happened.


    ¡ª---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------


    ¡°Kind of surprised we made it in one piece. Since we met up, it feels like there has been some incident every other day,¡± Steve said.


    ¡°Yeah, honestly since going ghost it¡¯s been nonstop. Like The Will is constantly throwing in random drama to keep it exciting,¡± Ryland replied. The Ghost casually sits on the back of the cart.


    ¡°True, at least it was quick. Could have been worse. There was one time a fellow traveler gave me his entire backstory, saying that he was someone important. I¡¯ve never seen the man since; it was just one long interlude.


    ¡°Yeah, I¡¯ve seen that before. You just want to get to the action, but some dude decides to go into excruciating detail about his time at the academy or some crazy event that happened at the farm. Like, can you just shut it and let me sleep. I don¡¯t care.¡±


    At least, that was one point the two agreed on. They had their own goals and were not here to help others. The dirt road shifted into paved cobblestone as the impressive city appeared on the horizon. It was an engineering masterpiece. Towering spires penetrated the sky, each casting deep shadows on the surrounding land. Visible streams of aether circled the structures, powering their inner magics.


    Runic walls surrounded the cityscape. The stone structure formed an impasse for any approaching armies. Not only did they protect the city, but they also housed many citizens, each living in a carefully carved dwelling. For a discounted rent, they would infuse their mana into the walls, constantly reinforcing the ancient magics.


    The closer they got, the busier the passage became. As others pressed against them, their caravan formed a single line. They had to make it in before nightfall, or the gates would close. It was more annoying than dangerous; bandits would never attack this close to the capital. Still, it took quite some time for them to reach the guardhouse.


    It was standard procedure to check the wagons. Paperwork was exchanged, and passes were given. Steve''s documents from his last visit expedited the process. With the bureaucrats satisfied, the group was waved in.


    He missed that smell- the scent of progress¨CGrease, Sweat, and plenty of magic. Many gods blessed the city of Ambrosia. Each one vying for power at the capital, their priests performing miracles daily to sway others. Steve knew it was all for show. While the coven of necromancers kept to the undercity, the various cults, sects, and congregations were battling above. Leaders disappeared, and those in the king''s ear were ousted. For all the hate [Necromancer]s got, at least they stayed in the shadows.


    They continued onwards to the Rider¡¯s Guild. It was only two streets down from the main entrance. Hopping off the wagon, Steve pricked his finger and signed the arrival paperwork. The blood anchored the magics to his soul, and the gold was deducted from his account. He¡¯d forgotten how convenient city life was. A region-wide enchantment linking the banks to those within. He wasn¡¯t sure how it worked, only that it took the goblins, gnomes, and dwarves nearly two years of negotiating before casting. Each of the three races held competing firms, constantly vying for the gold of others. Steve had chosen the goblins to handle his funds; they tended towards the shadier side of deals, keeping the money clean and their clients private. They open their ledgers only in times of great war or crimes against the realm.


    ¡°Damn, I miss this place,¡± Ryland said


    Steve shook his head but didn¡¯t respond. He didn¡¯t want to look like a madman talking to the air. Grabbing the barrel, he strapped it to his back and began the long journey home. Those he passed gave him a dirty look, he didn¡¯t blame them. Steve was covered in grime, and his clothes were torn from the journey. It didn¡¯t help that he was walking into the better part of the city. Cobblestone smoothed into properly paved roads, carefully curated boulevards intermixed within the sidewalks, all while the rich folk passed by. In theory, all were equal under the king¡¯s watch. But in practice, it was far from the truth. The author''s tale has been misappropriated; report any instances of this story on Amazon.


    Steve stuck to the servant walkways. Bushes and other decorations partially obscured them to keep the poor out of sight. He could have moved towards the proper sidewalk, but that would only enrage the guards. He was a firm believer in only breaking one law at a time, and, well, carrying a zombie was enough to get him executed. Thankfully, the cult of Deas wasn¡¯t out. No doubt they were harassing others, trying to find any inkling of dark magic.


    ¡°Steve, where are we going? Shouldn¡¯t we be going to Dagger Alley or the pleasure district?¡±


    ¡°No. Our coven is far smarter than that.¡±


    ¡°Huh, interesting. Makes sense, didn¡¯t think [Necromancer]s would mingle with the upper class.¡±


    ¡°Uhh, not exactly. Just wait a moment. I¡¯ll explain once we are safe.¡±


    ¡°Sure, Steve.¡±


    Steve was nearly exhausted when he finally reached the spire of healing. The pathway opened into a lush circle of life. Berry bushes were being picked by the poor, priests and [Doctor]s met those outside. They would treat as many as possible, but it was nigh impossible in a city of this size. Still, out of all the gods, Steve had to respect Aena. While all others fought for power and influence, the Goddess of Healing focused on life. Those who entered the spire were sworn to secrecy. Even under extreme torture, none confessed. Their Goddess removing all pain and suffering.


    A visible wall of divine magic isolated the spire from the rest. Taking a breath, Steve stepped through. The lingering magics wiped away the pain and rejuvenated the muscles. With newfound strength, he crossed the blossoming field.


    ¡°Uhh Steve, Lil Ry is getting a bit antsy,¡± Ryland said


    Sure enough, Steve could feel the creature shifting within. It was dangerous for the undead to be this close to a locus of life, which, like the warm sun, was the antithesis of their form.


    ¡°Steve¡­faster.¡± Ryland had a bit of panic in his voice.


    ¡°I¡¯m trying, I can¡¯t make it obvious.¡± He said.


    Passing through the door, he was greeted by Roxy. She was a high-level [Secretary Nurse]; no one knew her skill set, but she could diagnose nearly any illness with a glance. Not only that, she was already planning doctor schedules before greeting the latest client. Her mind keeps the spire efficient and effective.


    ¡°Hey Roxy, uhh bad news. Uncle F was attacked in the woods and ended up passing from his injuries.¡± It was a stupid lie, but enough to get the point across.


    ¡°Oh, I¡¯m so sorry. I know the two of you were extremely close. Thank you for telling me; I¡¯ll update his file now. Would you like to keep his room, or are you vacating?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll keep it, thank you. Anything I can get you later?¡±


    She smiled


    ¡°I could go for something sweet. We have a new plague that is hitting the outer villages; I¡¯ll be working overtime as we try to stifle the spread.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll be sure to have it delivered fresh.¡± Steve didn¡¯t have to do anything, but it was best to keep the secretary happy. Roxy ran this place, and he¡¯d do anything to keep her friendly.


    ¡°Steve, this is weird¡­this is a sanctified house of Aena. Why would you have a room here?¡±


    ¡°Ryland just wait; it¡¯s better to see than explain.¡±


    The ghost huffed and continued to follow.


    The two descended the sprawling staircase into the structure''s crypts. By the third floor, the air had shifted into something sinister. The life giving aura transformed into the same vibe as the cave.


    ¡°Steve this is getting weird¡­¡± Ryland muttered


    ¡°Just wait¡±


    The stairs ended with a open pit. It was a large circle surrounded by a waist-high fence. Eighth hallways radiated outwards, each lined with dozens of doors. A bright blue glow filled the air as ghostfire flickered in the sconces. Ryland could feel a tug at his soul, something calling him forward. Glancing over the side, he stumbled back.


    The pit was filled with the dead. Dozens upon dozens of corpses forming a macrebe pile. Some twitching and groaning as the pooled essence of death reaminated those below.


    ¡°Steve¡­What is that?¡±