Bro, I’m not an Undead!

12 hours after the rumbling.

…

Opungale.

Viccil pushed open the thick double doors to a wide corridor, and allowed Darwel to pass through before her. The sheer mesh of naturally garnished stone and small trees lined on both sides of the corridor, all with their absurdly large roots extending through neatly arranged channels to the ceiling, was immaculate, especially when considering that weeds and flowers of various kinds somehow grew over the aforementioned roots in harmony.

Darwel craned her neck and bent it forcefully to the side with her hand. She felt absolutely horrible. Something within her kept bouncing against her flesh, the painful reaction keeping her skin tone pale.

Thankfully, she wasn’t hanging limp with her mouth agape anymore. The disappearance of the illusory frame, the counter above her and the Control Seal, had spelled the end of the aggressiveness of her soul like before, and frankly she appreciated it.

“So fussy. I wish she had actually provided solutions instead of doing all those meaningless tests,” Darwel said, irritated.

Viccil turned to the Sif princess with a hidden concerned visage.

“She was trying her best to heal you, Lady Darwel. It was really eating her up that she couldn’t stop your soul from behaving this way,” she said.

Darwel sighed.

“I know, I know,” she said and turned to Viccil, “I sound terrible, don’t I? Not really the voice of appreciative royalty.”

“I can understand how you feel, Lady Darwel. It’s not a crime to feel frustrated. Your parents… felt the same, didn’t they? They tried to cheer you up by calling your guests…. steps you took towards consolidating diplomatic relations with the humans.”

“Dear Listafelle… I can remember that look on mother’s face!” Darwel slapped her face in her palms.

Her parents had come running when Viccil and Sevill had arrived with her. While she had been attended to by one of the best Healers on the continent – in the nation – a carrying, ancient Sif who was universally loved because of her fussy nature, Darwel’s parents had stayed by her side till she woke up, and discussed with her several things before attending to another crucial matter that Viccil had explained briefly before.

“Any more news about what that rumbling was all about. It was concentrated around Feinheath, right?” Darwel asked.

“Well, my guess is, it was related to that Game Master. I was there when he collected something other than souls from most of the spectators. He left right away. Considering what that masked man went on to do, I wouldn’t be surprised if the other disaster to happen today was related to him,” Viccil replied.

Darwel turned to her.

“When you were in the stadium… did you fight him? The masked man I mean?” she thought, shuddering a little at the thought.

“No. He didn’t care about any of the survivors. Sevill and I didn’t see a merit in attacking him at the time. We would have been outmatched, even if we teamed up with the Paladin Champion who was there. We bided out time and attempted to escape the stadium instead to rush to you instead.”

As Viccil thought about this, she couldn’t help but think about the fates of everyone in that stadium, not to mention the massive construct itself. She hadn’t seen a trace of it when the Cluster shattered. The Cluster beasts, she sensed, but the stadium should have appeared dipping into the sea or something.

Her face turned dark.

All those corpses….

The time to mull this over ended quickly, however.

The two reached another set of doors and this time Darwel insisted on opening them on her own.

A wide, beautiful and fragrant space was revealed.

Nature was a main part of the decor, similar to the winding corridor Viccil and Darwel had been walking through. Several long-eared Sif were stationed close to the walls, waiting to serve, and two distinct human figures were sitting by a large bed at the end of the room.

One of the two was Vali, and the other, was Maxim.

Both had been given a change of clothes, the long, silky robes that draped their shapely figures looking to have been received different by either of the two; Vali quite happily, and Maxim not so much. She didn’t like this type of fashion. The robes seemed to emphasise the bosom and loathed them.

But she couldn’t bring herself to complain.

At Darwel’s entry, both stood up, yet not a speck of relief could be seen on their faces. It didn’t seem like Darwel’s well-being was one of their concerns, but because they considered Darwel to be their host also, they both knew enough etiquette to respect her in her own home.

The same lack of concern for their well-being was shared by Darwel also. This wasn’t the room Maxim and Vali had been placed originally.

In the end, the reason these four ladies were here was because of one man.

Said man was lying on the large bed.

Darwel looked at him and her face strained.

“You said there’s a chance he’ll live?” she asked Viccil, her eyes sparking with uncertainty.

Viccil didn’t reply right away.

The man in the bed, Skullius, was in terrible condition.

Thankfully, the transformation he had undergone had receded, given away by how his usual auburn hair could be seen.

However, Skullius’ hair was practically the only thing about him that was intact. His face was… broken, dented like hard concrete with what looked like black smoke trying to force its way out.

Half of his upper torso was missing, and a series of special bandages and artefacts had been placed there to stop the bleeding and try to encourage the body to heal, but nothing was working.

He was missing his legs too, and they too seemed to spot the dark air from the stumps.

Viccil sighed.

It was actually surprisingly that Skullius was in a better state than when she and Sevill, while gliding in the same general direction that he had been blasted in by Rayn’s Deific Moonlight Paradise, had found him in.

They had hoped to spot him on the way, and that hope had paid off, yet despite the odd defence Seramoro had tried to use to guard against Rayn’s attack, the damage received was still immense.

It was thanks to Maxim’s store of restorative consumables from her Family that Viccil imagined Skullius survived the several hour long trip to Opungale.

And after all that treatment he received, Viccil didn’t know if the encouraging, ‘They say he will survive’ that she had given Darwel, was valid.

It really didn’t look like it.

“You said his soul was damaged too, right?” Darwel asked another question, seeing as Viccil refused to answer the last.

“Yes but—”

“His soul seems to respond poorly to advanced restoratives…” Maxim answered for Viccil. She seemed to eager to share the latest updates, which the Sif guard didn’t have.

Darwel turned to her.

“On another note, recently, his soul seems to have started slowly regenerating on its own. But I’m sure it’s not because any of the things your people tried,” Maxim continued.

“What do you mean?” Darwel frowned.

“He has strange soul,” Vali chimed in. “Somehow, parts of it… are restoring the rest bit by bit, as if feeding it. That’s the best way I can describe it. Honestly it barely makes any sense. I’ve never known souls to be like that. That said <sigh> , it doesn’t seem like he’s out of the woods. If this continues…”I think you should take a look at ραΠdαsnovel.cοm

Darwel’s face turned hard.

“I’ll talk to my parents,” she said.

“They were here, Lady Darwel. They already assigned a lot of people and resources for your guests, including hi—” a maidservant had begun when Darwel cut her off.

“No. They supplied enough help assuming he’s a normal human. If I tell them about what he is…”

“What he is…?” Vali asked with intrigue.

Viccil turned sharply to Darwel.

The Sif Princess had not told her parents yet about what Skullius was, and her guards would never reveal such a thing without her say so.

If Darwel told her parents, they would pull every limited and valuable resource they had to save him. There was definitely a way to solve this bizarre set of injuries.

“Uh… are you going to tell us what you mean by what he is?” Maxim said, a frown showing on her face.

Darwel hesitated.

Telling a stranger before telling her parents seemed like all sorts of wrong, but she opened her mouth to reveal it anyway.

“Oh you are sorely mistaken, and misinformed~,” a musical voice came with a loud cracking that resounded within the room.

Someone had appeared from thin air behind Darwel.

No. It was actually two people!

A man with blonde hair, a smile and a lute waved at the people in room, staring aghast at him, while another, a handsome with silky dark hair, a mithril shirt over his body and a sheath peaking from behind his back, blinked a couple of times as if not expecting to be here at all.

Viccil was already speeding to the intruders when she saw the blonde-haired man strum his lute quicker than she could reach him. At once, she stopped moving.

A look of realisation popped on her hidden face, and she reluctantly took steps back.

“Viccil?” Darwel said anxiously.

“It’s okay, Lady Darwel. He’s… he’s not an enemy,” Viccil replied unevenly.

“What?” Vali who was already conjuring her Aura said, confused. She thought that perhaps Viccil had been attacked, but the reality spiralled in a direction she couldn’t have dreamed of next.

The blonde-haired man gave a cheerful smile.

ραndαsΝοvεl.cοm

“And who are you?” Maxim asked brusquely.

“Let’s skip to why I’m here. My timing was intentionally impeccable, after all,” the man said as he too focused on the man on the bed.

Before everyone else knew it, they were also looking at Skullius.

How could they not?

Dark clouds burst from his body, bright Levin jumping in their midst to obscure his body briefly. The bed Skullius was resting on burst into flame when the Levin that struck every second became too much, and too destructive, and even cast a gloomy light in the entire room.

Everyone gawked.

Soon, what lay on the burning bed, was not a handsome, fleshly man, but a tall dark skeleton with four dim sockets, most of it buried under a thunderstorm of its own making…

***

Completely oblivious to what was happening outside, Skullius was standing on a torn island that featured a bunch of pretty flowers, each with a globe of light on top that showed blurry memories.

The skies above were a deep, dark green, and a red, flaming sea surrounded this ravaged island.

This was the inner representation of Skullius’ soul.

The Reflection of it.

Skullius was feeling extraordinarily tense.

A giant, dark, bulky skeleton stood in front of him, somehow siphoning around it both Null Life powers and Insurgent Magnus elements. In one hand it held a nasty green bladed scimitar with a golden hilt that possessed a chilling presence, and in another, it held a very, very long sword, chipped at ends, and with a spectacularly crafted brass hilt.

The creature was terribly menacing.

But it wasn’t this bulky skeleton that made Skullius nervous.

It was the man this skeleton was guarding him from.

A man with long, dark hair and sharp almond eyes that seemed to see through everything, as if he was a god. His frame, while smaller than that of the skeleton standing before Skullius, was more than ten times more imposing.

When he finally spoke, the time, which had seemed frozen since this stand off began, seemed to start moving again.

“Well, I think it’s about time we had a chat, don’t you think?” the man said, and Skullius, who didn’t like the fact that he was currently a mere Boneman, had no choice, but to heed.

…

[End of Volume Three].

—

[Author’s Note]

That concludes “Volume 3: Congested Evils Raise A Tide!”

This also marks the half-way point into this book!

How did you feel about the Volume, when compared to the other two, and on its own? How did you feel about the Final Arc?

Do you leave COMMENTS and REVIEWS on it. I’d REALLY love to hear your thoughts. For extended talks, you can join the discord to be part of the Sockethole Community.

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Thanks for reading!

[P.S.: if you desire to have your own custom character moving in the plot, do reach out. Best change before the Fourth Volume begins].