BONUS SHORT STORY I

The Merry and Mournful Days of the Undead

 

 

Undead.

The word referred to corpses resurrected via necromancy or dead people otherwise revived through irregular methods.

In society, their existence was especially abhorred; it was no exaggeration to say that human history was a record of wars against the undead. Anecdotes of the reanimated deceased were copious all over the world, many of them tragic tales.

If someone had told me that after being afflicted with a strange illness, despairing, and dying helplessly, I would become one of the undead, I certainly wouldn’t have believed them.

In life, I’d harbored no interest in the undead. Everything I knew about them was common knowledge.

There I was in that dark basement room with nothing but rows of corpses…

Looking once again at the books I’d brought here from the library that were now lined up on the stone floor, I felt a deep, private sense of satisfaction.

Moving around felt sublime. But just because I’d obtained a working body that felt no pain—my heart’s desire—I couldn’t let myself neglect learning. The lord didn’t suspect whatsoever that a sense of self had sprouted in me, but regardless of whether I continued to deceive him or chose to reveal it to him, it was imperative that I gained knowledge.

The books I’d sneaked out of the lord’s library were about necromancy, the undead, and things of that nature.

Fortunately, reading didn’t cause me any distress. Reading books was my hobby. You could say that since I’d been essentially bedridden, it was the only thing I was able to do, but nevertheless, I’d read many things ranging from novels to encyclopedias.

I had more time than I knew what to do with. The key point of caution would be not letting the lord or Lou see me reading.

There were plenty of other teaching materials around, too. I was apparently a type of undead called a flesh-man, and the mansion was full of armed undead creatures called skeletons roaming the halls. When we went hunting, the lord would bring reanimated animal corpses for protection, and he’d made me fight them a few times. I’d even gone into the lord’s laboratory once, though I didn’t have the opportunity to observe for very long.

I looked around at the corpses in the underground room. I wasn’t sure what purpose this room served, either. Maybe the bodies were going to suddenly come to life. I highly doubted they’d attack me, but still…

Leaning against the corner of one of the wooden platforms with a corpse on it, I slowly started turning through the pages of a worn-out encyclopedia.

A flesh-man is an undead created by a unique necromantic technique using a fresh human corpse as a base. Flesh-men possess strength comparable to their abilities in life, as well as bodies that do not grow tired. Corporeally, they are in a near-living state, and if undamaged, they are indistinguishable from humans at a glance. They never rot, but even if they receive a wound, they do not shed blood, and their heart is permanently stopped. Their muscle strength is higher than that which they had in life, but they possess no regenerative abilities. They retain certain knowledge from their life, and while they have the ability to think, they have no will of their own and never act without a command from their master. Their combat abilities are low compared to other undead of the lowest class, such as skeletons and zombies, but discovering one means there is an extremely high chance a necromancer was around to create it, and thus it warrants caution. Through rank mutation, a flesh-man will mutate into a ghoul, then a darkstalker, then a lesser vampire. Ultimately, this being will become a fearsome undead possessing a body very similar to humans as well as immense power and high intelligence.

It seemed I was the lowest class of undead. The gist of what was written there aligned with what I felt. I never got hungry or tired, and I didn’t feel pain, or lust, or a need to sleep, either. Nor did I have to go to the bathroom.

Only the point about flesh-men not having a will of their own was clearly different.

Considering what had been declared as fact, what happened to me must have been a notably out-of-the-ordinary occurrence. Maybe it was only natural the lord never realized that I had self-awareness.

As I continued flicking through the pages, I found several other pieces of information.

First, while flesh-men were of the lowest class of undead, they were comparatively rarer.

And come to think of it, plenty of skeletons roamed the mansion, but I was the only flesh-man. Many other corpses who hadn’t rotted yet were in the basement room, but the lord didn’t seem to have any intention of creating more flesh-men. I didn’t know if the ritual to create one was difficult or if there was some other reason, but I had a feeling there was something special in the lord’s eyes when he looked at me.

Flesh-men themselves seemed to be relatively featureless undead. Their biggest—and only—strength was probably that, through rank mutation, they eventually mutated into the infamous kings of the night: vampires.

That was another thing I’d just now learned. I’d always thought people became vampires after getting bitten by other vampires, but that didn’t seem to always be the case. Of course, the only vampires I knew were the ones who had been bitten, so this was more of a chicken-and-egg issue than anything.

Details about rank mutations, which I’d wanted to learn about, were evidently entry-level knowledge in the undead business world (if such a world actually existed), and it was described in some detail.

Most undead accumulate negative energy by killing living creatures and thereby mutating into more powerful beings. This phenomenon is called rank mutation. Undead created from a necromancer’s curse see especially dramatic changes during a mutation as they become even stronger beings.

That was, in other words, the reason the lord brought me on hunts.

He was trying to make me into something more powerful—even though he clearly didn’t seem to lack battle power, considering the many strong skeletons serving him and his own mastery of mighty magic… I would have to be cautious of this.

I’d let myself loosen up a little, perhaps because I’d gotten used to being an undead.

As I contemplated, I continued reading the book—which was interesting enough on its own—and eventually got absorbed in it. When I’d been bedridden from illness, I’d adored the heroes who appeared in fairy tales.

And because of that, the monsters the heroes fought were a subject of interest as well.

Ghouls are flesh-men who have achieved rank mutation. They have few differences in appearance, but ghouls possess stronger physical abilities and regenerative capacities than flesh-men, in addition to the abilities Sharpen Nails and Hone Fangs, through which they can freely alter their fangs or claws. Driven fundamentally by powerful resentment and hunger, they prefer to attack people and devour their fresh corpses to accumulate power. In addition, they possess a greater capacity for thought and self-awareness than pre-mutation, having intelligence on the level of a small child. Their combat tactics are juvenile but worthy of caution. Ghouls are mainly active at night, as they hate sunlight, but they are able to operate during daytime as well.

Ghouls. The lord had mentioned that before. Apparently, it was the next thing I’d be mutating into.

It would be wonderful to grow stronger. Whatever happened in the future, amassing power would improve my survival abilities. That regeneration ability was what I wanted most—I wouldn’t have to rely on the lord’s magic then.

As a bonus, I’d even gain the ability to alter my nails and fangs. I stared hard at those words on the page.

Abilities. They were abilities. I loved heroes, but I loved magic, too. Altering my nails or fangs didn’t seem like magical abilities, but they were probably something similar. Just imagining it got me excited. I hoped I would mutate soon so I could try that out.

The problem was where the book talked about powerful resentment and hunger, but I couldn’t do anything about those. I couldn’t exactly sit out a night of hunting, so the mutation would eventually come. I would just have to brace myself and accept it when it did happen.

…How exciting. It’s been such a long time since I last ate anything but liquid food.

What would I eat when I gained hunger? If I could eat corpses, surely I could eat anything else.

Darkstalkers are the result of a ghoul undergoing rank mutation. Their physical abilities aren’t vastly different compared to ghouls, but they have a human level of intelligence and excel in concealing themselves. Though they have the form of a human, a clear indicator is the jet-black skin that blends in with darkness. Their Shadow Creep ability allows them to conceal their presence, making them difficult to detect at night. Though they strike at humans from the dark, they boast higher intelligence than a ghoul and lower brutality. Since darkstalkers are few in number, they are rarely spotted. Their skin has a major weakness to sunlight, and they can’t be active for very long in it.

That…was troubling. The ability was fantastic, but it would feel weird to have skin the color of night. And if that happened, even the lord would notice the mutation right away.

Plus, while I hadn’t done it recently, I enjoyed sunbathing. It was a little sad I wouldn’t be able to stay active in the sunlight. I was an undead now, so perhaps it was only natural, but still…

But the buck would stop there. If I mutated that far, the lord would realize it. I’d have to think of my next course of action before becoming a darkstalker.

The undead encyclopedia I’d brought here had been exactly what I’d needed.

It probably didn’t contain as much information as something more technical, but this had everything from undead traits to examples, from somewhat entertaining columns to hair-raising illustrations.

Those illustrations were especially fun. Depicted with a precise brush, they were fairly dubious when it came to how realistic they were (after all, the flesh-man illustration had it crawling on the ground; I didn’t remember crawling on the ground since becoming a flesh-man), but they had a strange sort of charm to them that drew you in.

As I was flipping wide-eyed through the encyclopedia’s pages, I suddenly heard a soft clatter.

I’d let my guard down. For a moment, I didn’t know what happened, but then I frantically looked up.

That was the same moment the basement room door opened.

A chill ran down my spine. My body froze.

The one who entered was Lou, the servant. She carried a mop—perhaps she was here to clean?

I’d forgotten the time. I should’ve known this might happen, but the encyclopedia had really sucked me in.

I immediately stiffened like a statue. She wouldn’t have seen me moving. At least, I didn’t think so.

But I was usually standing up against the wall. Now, not only was I in the corner of the room, but I had a book open on my lap. I was reading. It was clearly not right.

Lou looked around the basement room with her usual irritated expression. When she saw me, her eyes went wide.

“?!????”

She plodded over and got right up close to me, staring at the book in my lap, then tilted her head curiously.

Lou was the lord’s slave. She wasn’t treated very well. But if something happened, she would at least report it to him. I didn’t want the lord thinking that anything was wrong right now.

Luckily, my body couldn’t sweat. A second felt like a minute, even ten minutes.

Lou watched me for a short time as I pretended, belatedly, not to move, but eventually she gave a little sigh and muttered, “Well, whatever… I should clean.”

Wait… Really?

As questions swirled in my mind, she let me be, swiftly cleaning the basement room before giving me one final confused look and leaving. Her plodding footsteps grew distant.

Timing it to when I could no longer hear them at all, I finally deflated.

Had I…tricked her? As far as I could tell from her attitude, she certainly didn’t look like she was going to report this to the lord.

His servant was more harmless than I thought.

I heaved a sigh, but this wasn’t an occasion that called for relief. Luck had saved my neck, but this had been a complete mistake on my part. It wouldn’t have been strange to lose my freedom because of this.

I really need to be more careful, I chided myself before lowering my gaze to the encyclopedia’s pages again, this time paying attention not to let any footsteps escape me.

---

Skeletons are one of the lowest classes of undead, created using human bones as a base. Like their name implies, they possess bodies constructed only of bones, and they attack the living through grudge alone. They are weaker than when they were alive, but they have fast, light bodies, and because their characteristics in life greatly color their actions, there is a large variation between individuals. A few retain dim recollections of their lives, while some carry weapons or dress in clothing themselves, unlike other lowest-class undead like flesh-men and zombies. Through repeated rank mutations, they acquire a more powerful sense of self as well as mana, but they warrant caution as they carry deep envy for those with bodies of flesh. Because one can create exceedingly powerful skeletons depending on the bones used, necromancers frequently employ armies of them.

“Not all fun and games for you guys, either, huh?” I whispered, voice filled with emotion, to the skeleton knights patrolling the dim corridor.

The skeleton knights said nothing as they silently searched for intruders. They didn’t seem to particularly feel anything as I walked with them, even if I got in the way.

As far as I knew, skeletons were the most populous undead in the mansion.

They were armed with grand helmets and suits of armor, but they didn’t have any blood or skin, and unlike me, they’d been trained in combat. If the information in the encyclopedia was to be believed, they’d probably been created from the bones of talented warriors.

Because they secured their vital points behind light armor, they all appeared the same at a glance. But a closer look would reveal that their bone shapes were all different, as were their builds. I didn’t know where the lord had gotten the materials, but necromancy was truly sinful, for forcing them to fight on like this even after their deaths.

Unlike what the encyclopedia mentioned, the skeletal knights didn’t seem to have any grudges toward the living—or anything of the sort. Were they prioritizing their necromantic commands, or was I simply not an object of envy because I was an undead as well? Still, if I’d been created as a skeleton, I would have had a little envy of my fleshy body. I was thankful to the lord for building me from a fresh corpse.

The reason I’d risked sneaking out of the basement room to see the skeletons like this was certainly nothing frivolous, like wanting to observe up close for myself the skeletons I’d read about in the encyclopedia.

My objective was to gauge the lord’s military prowess.

If I was to ever turn against him, this skeleton army was sure to block my way. Just fighting a handful of these things would lead to me being utterly dismembered, and besides, I could be suppressed in a fair fight with the lord’s absolute authority over me. Still, it couldn’t be a bad thing to know the skeletons’ numbers.

They moved in small groups, patrolling fixed areas in a loop. They never entered the numerous rooms, either—maybe they couldn’t open doors.

It was strange, but once I got used to their horrifying forms, I began to like these skeletons, silently continuing their patrols without taking any breaks. It was just a little unfortunate, to me, that we couldn’t communicate. It was written that, after repeated mutations, they gained strong senses of self, but as far as I knew, no intruders had ever come to this mansion.

In that case, why not give them names? Knowing the lord, he probably didn’t distinguish between them. And if I gave them names, I might become friends with them when they gained awareness one day.

I had so much time that even naming every single one of them was feasible.

“Let’s see… The one with the scar on his rib can be Jack. That’s a good name, right?”

Jack completely ignored me, but I supposed it would have been bad if he had responded.

As I was soaking in self-satisfaction and thinking of a name for the other skeleton who was with Jack, I suddenly heard heavy footsteps.

They were coming this way. I had no time to hide.

But I didn’t need to panic. The lord almost never came out of his laboratory, and his footfalls sounded different.

I calmly followed after the skeleton knights. I pretended to be a mindless undead, somehow keeping myself hidden as I walked.

A faint light appeared. Coming from the other direction was Lou, holding cleaning supplies. She was a hard worker, unlike the lord, and patrolled the mansion on an irregular basis, which made her troublesome.

When she spotted the skeleton knights, she lowered her face and started walking ever so slightly faster.

The skeleton knights glanced at her as well but immediately turned back, having lost interest.

I did my best to pretend to be undead, walking with as regular a pace as I could.

Right before we passed each other, Lou lifted her head slightly and caught sight of me.

“……?”

She passed me by, and eventually I lost track of her footsteps.

But Lou’s mystified expression had been burned into my mind.

It seemed it wasn’t that she was dull-witted but that she had very little willpower to do anything.

Did she think something was going on with me? Was I in danger of being found out?

Still, it’d be boring—that is, a waste of precious time to stay in that basement room forever. Lou had encountered me several times already, but it didn’t seem like she was reporting it to the lord.

I’ll proceed with caution, I decided again before going to check how strong the other skeletons were.

---

The rank mutation happened while I was on standby in the basement room.

The change was sudden.

A nauseating heat permeated my gut, and a strong sense of urgency overwhelmed me. The pain was hard to resist, and I’d only realized it was hunger—which I hadn’t felt in so long—after a day’s worth of resisting impulses, thinking that the corpses laid beside me looked “delicious.”

I cowered in place, still desperately restraining my arms and legs, which so eagerly wanted to leap at the corpses.

I’d anticipated my mutation into a ghoul was close at hand, but I hadn’t expected it to be this sudden.

I’d been convinced the mutation would at least occur during a hunt. The requirements for a rank mutation were killing living creatures to accumulate the power of death, so it wasn’t a stretch not to expect it to happen while I was just waiting around.

Luckily, I didn’t let the starvation overwhelm me and start chomping on the corpses.

The reason I was able to endure the hunger might have been because I hadn’t had an appetite in so long, but I could only think of it as a stroke of good luck: how fierce the appetite was, how sweet the desire. It made sense that the book said the prime motivation for a ghoul was its hunger. If this sort of thing was going to happen to me daily, I wasn’t confident I could continue to endure it.

The sense of urgency slowly ate away at my sanity, but I couldn’t allow myself to feast upon the corpses in this basement room. There were ethical concerns, but more importantly, the lord would notice if the number of corpses in here went down. And I doubted my body could handle eating an entire person on its own anyway.

But I needed to sate my hunger as soon as I could. It’d become difficult to feel my stomach grow empty at all ever since being confined to my sickbed, so a long time had passed since I was hungry to the point of dizziness.

I didn’t have a moment to spare. I shook off the corpses’ fragrant scents and exited through the door.

My eyes spun. My gait was unsteady. I couldn’t even hear. I’d probably eat a skeleton now if I had to.

I felt shockingly weak. I’d sneaked out several times before, but I didn’t feel like going outside in this state. Sniffing around, not thinking, I headed in the direction of some delicious scents.

Perhaps it was the hunger that had made my sense of smell so awfully sharp. I passed several skeleton guards on the way, and at some point, I started running. Hunger threatened to cloud my judgment, but fortunately, I managed to figure it out.

This direction…was the kitchen. It was where Lou always made food for the lord.

Flesh-men didn’t care about empty stomachs, so I’d never showed any interest. But if this mutation was going to happen, I should have made sure to investigate it.

Sweet smells and sounds came from the kitchen. It appeared my timing was poor—she was cooking right now. I could smell her in there. For me, the cooking wasn’t the only ingredient; she was, too.

Vision swimming, I stopped my hand just before it reached for the door. I couldn’t go in there. Even Lou would be shocked if I suddenly burst into the kitchen. Seeking food? Out of the question. I’d managed to fool her so far, but if I went looking for something to eat, she’d report it to the lord.

I leaned up against the side of the door and took deep breaths, but the smells were so sweet that my mind nearly blanked out.

That was…meat being cooked. And bread.

I was starving… I wanted something with bite to it. I hadn’t had anything like that in so long.

My impulses wanted me to burst right in there, but I couldn’t. The thing that seemed most delicious in there was Lou. It was probably a trait of ghouls—if I let go of my reason for even a moment, I would, without a doubt, kill her and eat her. Incidentally, the corpses in the basement room smelled even better.

Had I been alive, I would’ve started crying out of sheer agony. But I didn’t seem to have such faculties yet as a ghoul; all I could do was repress my emotions as much as I could so they didn’t show.

As I was desperately trying to keep myself in check, the door opened from the inside. The fragrant scents exploded into me at point-blank range, sending sparks flying before my eyes.

As Lou exited, holding a tray with the food on it, she saw me—standing there right beside her like a ghost—and let out a short yelp.

A warm, delicious air touched my cheek. I’m so hungry… No—this is bad. I should’ve at least hidden in another room. What on earth am I doing?!

Lou watched me for a few moments, creeped out, but eventually mumbled:

“……What is it?”

I’m hungry; please give me food…

I resisted the painful starvation and the awful heat spreading throughout my body.

After watching me for a time, Lou seemed to realize that she needed to bring this food to the lord and set off down the hallway at a quick pace. After making sure her footsteps had quieted, I immediately entered the kitchen.

I’d made it in time. For me, right now, this place was heaven.

I could smell all sorts of foods. Meats, vegetables, spices. Was that a pantry past that door? I didn’t know where the lord was getting it all, but there seemed to be a surplus.

I couldn’t even think about what to grab next. I snatched up a baguette sitting on a table and, without hesitation, crunched it down. No time to savor the tastes. Only a sense of fulfillment burst within me then, and my vision whited out. Apparently, ghouls could eat things other than corpses.

From that point on, I was absorbed in one thing only: sating my hunger. I grabbed the piping-hot meat from the frying pan and ate it, then downed the uncooked meat, still dripping with blood. I took tomatoes and cabbages out of their cloth wrappings and stuffed them into my mouth raw.

As I satisfied my craving, power unlike anything I’d experienced before welled up inside me. The only thing that stopped me was when all the food in the kitchen was gone.

The hunger that had been tormenting me the entire time had utterly disappeared. And it felt wonderful.

After lapping up an unknown soup I had in my hands, I rubbed my belly, which hadn’t changed at all after achieving my goal of filling myself up.

And that was when I realized: Oh no.

The kitchen was a mess. Cooking implements littered the floor, and plates were broken. The floor was splattered with scraps of ingredients and juices, probably because I’d stuffed it all in without thinking about it—even beasts wouldn’t have made such a disaster out of things. The only saving grace was that my clothing wasn’t that dirty.

And those ingredients that had been laid out before… Were they supposed to have been Lou’s portion? There had been a lot of it, though, so it was possible they were for preparing the lord’s next meals.

I’d eaten it all. I had no way of fooling her now.

I could clean it up; I could cook more food—but I couldn’t bring it back to normal. I frantically took a swig of water from a container, then burst out of the kitchen and left before Lou returned.

Please forgive me. I’ll eat outside from now on… But thank you for the food—it was delicious.

---

My mutation into a ghoul wasn’t all bad. In exchange for the hunger, my strength increased, and now that I’d acquired regenerative abilities, I didn’t have to worry about getting hurt during my nighttime hunts.

Most of all, I was ecstatic over the two abilities I’d gained.

Sharpen Nails and Hone Fangs. All they did was extend my nails and fangs, but getting strange abilities like these was enough to make me feel somehow special.

Sharpen Nails was especially handy since it let me alter my fingertips and extend and retract my nails at will. They only reached about ten centimeters at most, but they were sharp enough to pierce the tough skin and cleave the bones of beasts, and with them, I didn’t need a knife. If I tried, I could cut down trees and even make sculptures. They were thick yet lightweight, which gave me pause, but they could maybe parry a sword. My freely extendable and retractable nails were another convenience—I didn’t know how it worked exactly, but I kept them put away when I wasn’t using them.

They might not have been very important abilities in the larger world of the undead, but it felt wonderful.

I would meaninglessly extend the nails to play—to train with them. I wouldn’t be able to use them at will without practice. And for some reason, I could gradually extend my nails farther and farther.

Today, I was once again grinning, enjoying my new ability in the underground room, when suddenly I sensed someone approaching. My senses had been sharpened upon mutating into a ghoul. I wouldn’t make any idiotic mistakes like before.

I quickly returned to my usual position, put my hands at my sides, and wore a serious expression.

As expected, Lou entered the room.

Cleaning again? What a hard worker.

In fact, she might have been visiting more frequently than the lord, even, who only came here when it was time to hunt.

As I was thinking about that, Lou, with much fear but no indecision, walked over in front of me.

Her dark eyes stared up into mine. Her dry lips hesitated, then opened.

“……Did you…steal food?”

“……”

…No, I didn’t.

“The kitchen…was a huge mess.”

“……”

…It wasn’t me.

“Did you eat…the master’s food…and mine, too?”

“……”

I kept up my stare of feigned ignorance without looking away.

It was delicious, and I’m grateful for it.

“Are you…playing dumb?”

“?!”

I—I am not!

I was startled, but Lou’s expression quickly darkened again.

“Flesh-men can’t move on their own. At least…they shouldn’t…… Wait.”

Lou’s gaze fell to the hands at my sides—more precisely, to my fingertips.

Damn… I’d forgotten to shorten my nails. They weren’t fully extended, but they were clearly longer and sharper than usual.

“……Were your nails…always this long…?”

“……”

Yeah, they were…

I didn’t think Lou had been watching me enough to notice the length of my nails.

She didn’t have any proof, though, so she left the room, her head cocked askance. After confirming she was gone, I relaxed. Putting my nails back to normal, I let out a big sigh.

I knew I was making all kinds of silly mistakes, but apparently I’d underestimated her too much.

I’d been careful up until now, but I needed to really take the caution up a few notches.

After carving those words into my mind, I decided to exercise and try to loosen up my body, which was stiff with tension.

---

Despite the many twists and turns, I’d avoided the worst possible outcome.

On the lord’s orders, I’d be going to the town of Enge with Lou on an errand.

It had been a long time since I’d felt the sun, and now it stung a bit, but it felt great.

An undead’s life—a life without pain—was enjoyable. Part of me wished it would go on forever, but the difficult thing was that it wouldn’t.

I talked to Lou many times, but she never gave a real response. Every little thing she did spoke to her fear of me. I’d deceived her plenty of times already, so that came as no surprise, but I hadn’t been tricking her because I wanted to. I was never going to disparage her or do anything like that again, so her lack of a reply left me just a little lonely.

As fellow underlings of the lord, I hoped we’d be able to get along.

I kept talking to her, even though she wasn’t responding, and eventually, sounding fed up with it, she asked softly, “……Were you…deceiving me…the entire time? So that you…could kill the master?”

“…I wasn’t deceiving you.”

Lou ignored me and continued, her tone accusatory. “Were you reading a book?”

“……No.”

“Were you playing with the skeletons?”

“………No, I wasn’t.”

“…D-did you…did you mess up the k-kitchen…and eat my food…and the master’s?”

“………I…I didn’t eat anything.”

“Rrgh…”

The terror left Lou’s face for a moment as her expression changed. She seemed angry.

When I really thought about it, of course she was angry. I quickly lowered my head. “Yes, I ate it. It was…really good.”

“……I…I see…”

Lou’s clenched fists were trembling, but she managed those couple of words anyway.

It seemed she was willing to forgive me.

Maybe she figured nothing would come of yelling and shouting at me.

“……Are you going out at night and exercising in the hall?”

“……”

I quietly lowered my gaze. It looked like she knew everything.

It was really embarrassing, thinking I’d be able to keep it all from her. My walks after returning from hunts at night were very enjoyable, and the main hall, with its size and all the handrails to hold, was the perfect spot for a workout.

……The nervousness about it hadn’t lasted very long. That happened, when you did the same thing every day. But I’d only exercised in the hall one time, and it wasn’t like I was going outside at all every day.

I shrunk away, and Lou averted her gaze before muttering, almost to herself, “You can do whatever. Just…don’t get me involved.”

“…”

“That’s…the end of the conversation. What we need to do…is finish our job…quickly…and head back.”

Lou’s voice was frail, but it had a note of stubbornness to it.

Well, I wasn’t rebelling because I wanted to. And I did think that if I had safety and freedom, I wouldn’t mind remaining under the lord forever.

But unfortunately, there was no outcome where she and I could coexist. I was too wicked. I wanted to survive at any cost, but I didn’t have a normal future ahead of me—far from it.

Necromancers were detested by all who existed, and they had far too many enemies. If his existence was revealed, nations and towns would send hunting teams after him, and he could potentially lose if he was to fight another necromancer.

Above all…there were the Ender Knights. The disciples of the light, the band of heroes—those who obliterated the darkness. They were the oldest, most ancient of humankind’s guardians and the mortal enemy of necromancers. I’d never met any, of course, but their relentless fighting style was said to be like heavenly judgment itself.

And if Hak’s information was correct, they would already be a stone’s throw away.

The encyclopedia I’d read had made sure to include a section on the Knights as well.

The positive energy wielded by the Ender Knights is the polar opposite of the power possessed by the undead. In exchange for their power, undead created by necromancers have many weaknesses, and one could call the energy enveloping the Ender Knights the greatest among them. It fills up any undead’s abyss, purifying corrupted souls extremely efficiently.

I was probably an outlier. I’d never heard of an undead who had kept memories from their previous life.

What would the Ender Knights think if they knew I existed? Would they decide I was pitiful and therefore overlook me?

I wanted to believe that. I wanted someone to save me. They were heroes—messengers of justice. Even if I was an undead on the outside, I was human on the inside, and it wasn’t my fault I’d turned into an undead.

It was a temptation that was hard to fight against.

But at the same time, I knew it was impossible.

I looked at Horos’s miserable slave.

If she asked the Ender Knights for help, they would most likely save her. She was just Horos’s servant, and if she was to bring them information on him (though the slave collar would put her in intense pain for it), they were sure to treat her warmly.

Me, however, they would not save. I was too dangerous now. While I was harmless on my own, the existence of a humanlike undead with memories from his past life would wreak chaos throughout the world.

Even if they learned of my situation and knew it was true, they wouldn’t hesitate to kill me. Because as long as something was an act of justice, they’d have no reason not to carry it out.

Reborn as an undead, I no longer had any allies.

That was a very sad truth, even though I had predicted it some time ago.

The lord who created me, the Ender Knights who were humankind’s protectors, and most likely my family from my past life—they all would silence my will, my volition, and trample on it.

But the tears wouldn’t flow. Not because I was undead—but because I was already prepared to keep on living in solitude.

I looked at Lou, who was so scared of the shadow of her master.

Even a lonely life was far better than dying alone, unable to do anything about it.

I would clear the frustrations of my old life. There were so many things I wanted to do. I wanted to go around and see the rare things, the entertaining things in the world, and ultimately die with a smile, knowing that my life had been a fun one.

Why else would I have been brought back to life—and through wicked mystical arts, at that?

Giving a little smile, I said softly, “Yeah… Let’s finish up and get back. Before the lord grows impatient.”