Undead vol1 p1

Prologue

This... This is bad.

That was the first thought that flashed across my mind as the monster before me opened its crimson-red lips, rushing at me with its mouth wide open.

In a particularly rural corner of the lands was the Kingdom of Yaaran, and on the fringes of the kingdom was a small town by the name of Maalt. I, Rentt Faina, an adventurer of the lower-Bronze- class, found myself hunting weak monsters in the Labyrinth of the Moon’s Reflection—which, if I may add, was close to the township of Maalt. On this day, much like any other, I continued my relentless hunt for Skeletons and Goblins, assembling what little materials and magical ores I could.

That was my daily routine, after all; I basically did the same thing every day, returning to town in the evenings and off-loading my gathered materials at the adventurer’s guild for a humble sum of coin. At least, that was what I had intended to do today, as I always have before.

However, the disruption to my well-established routine was sudden and abrupt—a quick wrench in the cogs, if you will.

Perhaps I should elaborate a little on the subject of labyrinths. As I have walked the chambers and paths of Moon’s Reflection every day, there was little to no possibility of me getting lost. Ironically, it was this familiarity that was my undoing, for I had discovered what appeared to be a new, different path along my old and familiar routes. I suppose one could call it bad luck.

Yes, let’s go with that.

Under normal circumstances, I would have probably overlooked such a thing. Adventurers, after all, were supposed to be individuals who adventure. With that being said, the definition of “adventure” was not exactly rushing into situations without any prior surveillance or planning.

In reality, however, there were far more adventurers who simply charged headfirst into any situation—and as ashamed as I am to be counted amongst their number, I, too, have made such mistakes.

It would probably do me well to raise a single point in my defense here:

To begin with, the Labyrinth of the Moon’s Reflection was discovered ages ago. To find new chambers and paths in such a well- explored labyrinth was virtually unheard of—in other words, it was a big discovery. One would summarily deduce that some sort of magical grimoire or weapon with a wildly ridiculous price tag sat at the end of this mysterious path. In addition, one could attain a certain degree of fame and fortune by charting a previously unexplored area of a labyrinth.

And so it came to be that I entered this strange path, with thoughts of potential riches clouding both my mind and judgment. My short- lived exploration trip, however, did not end well. I soon found myself toe-to-toe with a monster of gigantic proportions in a large chamber. And when it rains, it pours—or so they say. The monster, of all things, had to be a Dragon.

You know. Dragons. Monsters that stood at the top of the monster hierarchy. Normally, one would have to be a Platinum- or Mithril-class adventurer to even stand a chance against them, as they were the monster of monsters.

At a glance, it looked a little different than one’s usual vision of a Dragon. While most Dragons looked a certain way, this one was markedly different—it was like a large snake, or perhaps a frog.

However, there was no mistaking that the monster in question was a

Dragon of some sort—at the very least, that was what I thought.

Unfortunate adventurers who do cross paths with Dragons usually do not make it out alive to tell the tale. As Dragons do not usually appear before people very often, eyewitness accounts are rare, perhaps historically so. In fact, you could even count existing, recorded instances on one’s hand. Legend has it that there were no more than four of such Dragons in the world, and their strength was said to even rival that of the demon king. Some would say that they were not monsters, but instead divine beings, while others would say that they were beyond even that.

In other words, someone like me, who had been stuck in Bronze- class for eons despite their best efforts, would be utterly crushed and defeated if the Dragon so much as lifted its little finger.

—For a while, I wondered if Dragons actually had fingers.

With a Dragon appearing before me, I had no choice but to be surprised—in the first place, I did not have any illusions or thoughts of fighting it at all. This, specifically, was why I decided to run. If I didn’t run, I would surely die—and so my feet began to move, as they should.

But then—

I guess the Dragon really was the monster of monsters, as it quickly noticed my attempt and intention to escape. Perhaps it could not help but notice, just like how my feet could not help but freeze on the spot. Just like that, I found myself unable to move.

It was perhaps more accurate to say that my body itself refused to move. It did not even twitch. A normal individual would question why this was the case—if they were, say, a normal person who had never come face-to-face with a monster before.

Owing to my long tenure as an adventurer, however, it was not difficult for me to understand this current phenomenon. Adventurers eventually learn to read their opponents regardless of their nature, be

they human or monster. Summarily, the pressure and aura released by a being of high strength was often enough to oppress and intimidate the weak; they say it is like being crushed by a heavy, invisible weight.

At least, that was how the rumors went. But what I experienced was exactly that.

Incapable of withstanding the pressure emanating from the Dragon, I was unable to move, completely rooted to the ground. Upon realizing my situation, I wished from the bottom of my heart for the Dragon to spare me. It probably would not, however. This, I knew as much.

At that point in time, all I could do was stand and watch as the Dragon advanced closer unto me—all the while praying that it would change its mind about eating me. Reality, however, was not quite so forgiving.

After it caught sight of me, the Dragon swiftly opened its mouth, charging in my general direction. Of course it was going to eat me—as expected. That was the conclusion I arrived at as I pondered, somewhat leisurely, in the face of death.

At the same time, a little voice in my head reminded me of how dire the situation was, and the fact that I would soon be dead. There was not much I could do about it, however—my body simply wouldn’t move.

It had been about ten years since I first became an adventurer at the age of 15. Back then, I had believed that I would one day exceed Platinum-class rank and become one of the few legendary Mithril- class adventurers—that was my dream when I first started out.

So, I took on simple quests, earning my daily keep as I continued dreaming of such a future. When I was done with my daily quests, I would continue my daily training regimen. And although I did all that, it seemed like it would all end here.

It was pathetic; unfortunate, yes, but mostly pathetic.

With feelings of utmost regret, and a strange sense of release knowing that my relatively pointless life would end here and now, my body was engulfed in the mouth of the Dragon—and that was that.

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What I was not expecting, however, was the strange sensation of waking up after an indeterminate period of time. It would seem that I had woken up, regardless of how I was sure I had been eaten by a Dragon, and how I had confirmed my death with these very eyes. Yet here I was, awake.

And then I noticed—

Wait. No, no no no. That’s impossible.

That was what I thought as I woke up, confirming the situation around me.

This all seemed impossible, particularly the matter of what had happened to my body. I could not process what was happening; even so, first, a look at my hands was warranted.

It was then that the realization struck me. There was no flesh on my hands—though there should have been—and there was no skin, either. In fact, all that remained of what was once my hand were a series of white, thin bones.

—And that was all there was.

This strange ailment did not stop at my hands, however; it had apparently afflicted every inch of my body. My feet, too, were plain bone—no flesh or skin anywhere. Same went for my thighs, as well as both my arms.

As for my face... Well. It was not common practice for adventurers to carry compact mirrors. Needless to say, I did not have one. I would assume with an educated guess that I probably had a skull for a face.

In other words:

I, Rentt Faina, adventurer of the lower-Bronze-class, had apparently conducted a class change from “adventurer” to “Skeleton” at some point in time.

Impossible...

Chapter 1: A Grasp of the Situation and Existential Evolution

I found myself at a complete loss. My first thought—What should I be doing?

For starters, it would be fair to say that I had definitely been eaten by the Dragon. Even if I were alive in a somewhat non-human form, I supposed I should be grateful.

Well, no. I could not be sure—was I even alive in the first place?

Skeletons were a type of undead monster, creatures that have already died once. As such, it would be easy for bishops and priests of the church to exorcise them with simple cleansing magic. If anything, they were exceptionally weak monsters.

The explanation behind Skeletons being cleansed was simple: being a sack of walking bones, they were creatures brought forth against the divine logic of the gods. Other explanations included the more simple “they are dead, and as such cannot exist on this world.” Succinct, but true. This continued defiance of the divine rules of life and death was apparently the prime reason for their weakness to said magic.

Personally, I had no idea if any of this held water, owing to the fact that I wasn’t a bishop or priest in the first place. However, the general argument for it seemed sound, and for myself at this point in time, it was a critically important piece of information.

Plainly put, if I were to expand upon that logic, I was definitely very, very dead. More accurately, I was existing in the world as a dead pile of bones. This was a very, very bad thing indeed.

As I had mentioned a while ago, the fact that a dead being continued to exist apparently flaunted some severe laws of the divine nature. If I

were to simply saunter back into town and enter a tavern as if nothing had happened, it would not end well. No matter how much I would claim that I was Rentt Faina, some no-good priest who spent all his time in the tavern from morning to night would chance upon me, then promptly get rid of me with his stave. If this were to come to pass, my existence would simply be erased. This was something I definitely wanted to avoid.

Such were the bones of the situation. On the bright side, I was still alive. Even if I were to exist as a Skeleton and defy the laws of life and death, as far as I was concerned, my consciousness was intact; I was still very much alive. This was precisely why I could not simply skip back to town and carelessly get myself killed.

Well, then, what should I do? That was the burning question.

This was the Labyrinth of the Moon’s Reflection; adventurers would certainly make their way to the labyrinth as they always had, merrily killing what monsters they found along the way. Even for a relatively beginner-oriented labyrinth populated by weaker monsters, adventurers stronger than myself often made their way here. If I appeared before such individuals, I would certainly be killed—for good, this time.

Whatever, then, should I do...?

As I continued to think, a few strings of thought connected in my mind:

It was perhaps safe to assume that I was now a monster of some sort. There was a certain mysterious aspect to monsters: older and more experienced monsters tended to evolve into more powerful versions of themselves. This phenomenon was commonly referred to as “Existential Evolution.”

Although I was not absolutely sure if I was a monster to begin with, I seemed to be some sort of walking Skeleton at a glance. If that really were the case, then wouldn’t this concept apply to me, as well?

—The whole “Existential Evolution” thing, I mean. After all, having knowledge of monsters was sort of an occupational requirement for adventurers. If memory served, Skeletons could apparently evolve into flesh-eating Ghouls—at least, that was what I remembered reading in a book about monsters some time ago.

Although Ghouls were also a type of undead monster, and hence also went against the divine laws governing life and death, they at the very least had a more humanoid appearance than a Skeleton did.

Rotted and dried out though it may be, a Ghoul even had flesh. With a robe and mask, I could perhaps pass for a human—those were my thoughts on the matter.

If I did this, I would be able to sneak into town rather uneventfully, and I would finally get the chance to explain the nature of this situation to my friends and compatriots. I was, of course, very much aware of the absurd nature of my plan. If anything, it was not very well thought-out; although this was all I had to work with at this point in time.

I made a decision—

I would aim to somehow trigger this Existential Evolution. I, Rentt Faina, would evolve into a Ghoul in the Labyrinth of the Moon’s Reflection.

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The Existential Evolution from Skeleton to Ghoul was the first thing I had to address. Although I had already decided on that course of action, I was unsure of the extent of my combat abilities. I was only a low-ranked Bronze-class adventurer that was near the bottom rungs of the guild. I did, however, fare better than Iron-class adventurers, who were the newest of the new. If I were to objectively state my combat prowess, I would say that taking down one or two Goblins and Skeletons was doable, and well within safe limits. I could do at least that much—

Although I probably would not come out of it unscathed.

If there were three or more enemies, it would perhaps be a little more difficult, but I would still be able to win, somehow. If there were four or more enemies, I would definitely run; if there were five, I would be done for. That was how it looked at this point in time.

It would not be fair, however, to call me weak. I did not have much say in the matter to begin with, having begun my journey as an adventurer only a decade ago. But I had been training hard for almost 20 years. In fact, I would actually like some empathy here—I had trained for that long, but I could only do this much.

If one were to ask why I had spent that much time and effort training, only to have nothing much to show for it, the answer was very simple: I did not have enough reserves of mana, spirit, or divinity. In addition, I did not have many of the abilities required to adequately control my already meager reserves of power. It could be said that this was a more-than-fatal issue for any budding adventurer.

Frankly speaking, I would actually appreciate some praise for having made it thus far.

I suppose I have not explained what magic, spirit, or divinity are.

Let us talk about the nature of mana, to start. Mana is a required prerequisite for the casting of magical spells—the font of mysterious magical energy that some individuals are rarely born with. If one were to put it simply, those blessed with mana at birth are able to conjure flames and wind without the use of any tools, to cause water to flow freely from nowhere, and to persuade the earth itself to move beneath their feet. In more ways than one, magic is a very convenient skill.

Although the ratios differed between the various races of sentient beings that populated these lands, one in approximately every 50 humans was born with mana in their being. This was no small number.

However, those with enough mana and aptitude to actually become

successful mages numbered at one for every thousand—such was the rarity of this blessing. As long as the user possessed a certain amount of mana, however, simple spells like the venerable Foteia Borivaas fireball, or the Gie Vieros earthen arrow, could be cast without too much trouble. Though, to proceed beyond rudimentary attack spells, one would require the aforementioned combination of mana and aptitude, which was available only to one in a thousand humans on average.

It was perhaps worth mentioning that, while I did have some mana reserves at birth, they were pathetically low—hardly a fraction of what one would need to become a powerful mage. After all, I had been unable to cast any low-level attack spells despite my long periods of training. My lack of talent in this field was painfully apparent.

I could, however, conjure water for drinking and embers to light campfires with. For that, I was grateful, even if said blessings were small ones. Yet it was extremely regrettable that I could not use magic in combat.

An explanation of spirit would perhaps be in order. Often referred to by a plethora of other names, such as “Chakra” or “Prana,” spirit is the life force of all living things.

Unlike magic, spirit is the root of all life, and as such was available to any and all living persons. If one were to use it well, one could strengthen their own body, augment their attacks, and even obtain stamina way above that of an average human. However, as most individuals subconsciously used spirit as a means of staying alive, few come to realize its true potential.

On the other hand, even if one were to become aware of one’s own spirit, a significant amount of training was required to use it adequately, in addition to requiring a natural aptitude for channeling one’s life force.

In my case, I did not have enough command over my spirit reserves to actually utilize it effectively, even though I had become aware of its

existence. But even so, I did come up with the ability to amplify the force of a single attack by 1.5 times once in a single day—personally, I considered that ability my trump card. Although the augmented attack did carry a significant amount of force, it would certainly be seen as child’s play to an actual practitioner of the spirit arts.

Last but not least would be an explanation of divinity. I suppose you could say it is even rarer than the blessing of mana, as most people have no affinity for it whatsoever. It is said that divinity is bestowed unto humans by divine beings, such as gods or faeries. Having any pool of divinity in oneself is considered a rare thing indeed, and most people blessed with it find themselves working for the church.

Depending on how one uses it, divinity is known for enabling the use of healing and cleansing spells which, on a rudimentary level, could be used to heal illnesses or purify the undead. Wielders of greater fonts of divinity are even able to purify vast tracts of corrupted land.

In addition, due to its nature as an ability bestowed by divine beings, the lucky few with divinity in them find themselves able to communicate with faeries and gods. In some cases, they even rise to prominent social positions.

In this case, if we were just talking about a run-of-the-mill individual, they probably would not have a single trace of divinity in them at all. But I, for one reason or another, did have a sliver of divinity in me. With that being said, a sliver is a sliver, so greater tasks were beyond me.

If memory serves, this snippet of divinity originated from an event in my younger days, where I decided, for some reason, to fix a local run-down shrine of sorts. The spirits that inhabited that shrine probably saw fit to bless me, and that was that.

Although I had been able to use the divine arts a little since then, all I had managed to do was purify dirty water so it was safe for drinking, or to clear a wound of its infections. Things like closing wounds

instantly or purifying corrupted land was, and still is, unfortunately beyond me.

It is, however, still a very handy life skill to have. More often than not I find myself thanking that faerie or spirit from the bottom of my heart.

And that concludes my explanation as to why it was difficult for me to continue in my capacity as an adventurer with only this much aptitude and ability. After all, the fonts of mana and divinity within me were small, and even I knew that I was not exactly cut out for adventuring.

It was perhaps worth noting that individuals with the ability to command and utilize all three abilities were very rare. In fact, I do not recall encountering another quite like myself. Unfortunately, with the important factor not being quantity, but the degree of aptitude and power one has, one could also say that I was extremely unlucky.

Most individuals who aspire to be adventurers usually have a strong innate disposition to one of the three abilities—about, say, half of them were that way. Someone like me, who was neither here nor there, was very much a rare oddity. In fact, people like me would have probably just chosen a normal, non-combative job, and would live their entire lives out that way in relative peace. I, too, should have done that; at least, that is what I would say in hindsight.

One thing prevented me from doing as I should have, however: the fact that I had a great dream.

From a young age, I had chased it, and have continued to do so—to become a Mithril-class adventurer. There was no way I could give up after all this time.

But as a result of my great dream, I appeared to have ended up as a Skeleton of sorts. While nothing much could be said about that right now, I still did not feel like I should give up.

Regardless of my current appearance, I was apparently not completely dead. While I had no idea why I was still alive to begin with, I felt like I was on the luckier end of things, given that my body still moved.

It is said that humans will find a way as long as they have life. They are able to achieve great feats precisely because they live. It was with that thought in my mind that I continued to live on.

Come to think of it, being a Skeleton wasn’t entirely a bad thing. Although it was a huge problem in and of itself, in addition to how I didn’t know if I was truly alive, I could move, and thus was not entirely helpless. There was nothing inherently wrong with thinking that I could continue to work hard from now on, even in my current form.

Just to be sure, I gave the abilities I had when I was “alive” some short test runs. Mana, spirit, and divinity all seemed functional, having apparently followed me into the afterlife. I felt like I had more than enough to go on with these advantages.

At the very least, I could say that I had quite the leg up from a typical Skeleton monster of this level, who definitely would not have any of said abilities. I could probably fight with this—it was more than enough.

It was also worth noting that while my aspirations to evolve into a Ghoul sounded alarming, I had no intentions of eating human flesh. I was doing so just to obtain a more human form.

Either way, I did not recall Ghouls requiring human flesh for sustenance. If I were compelled to do so by instinct or some other reasons, I would cross that bridge when I came to it.

Perhaps I would do it in secret, or at least find some way to sate my hunger; for now, that was not worth thinking about. More importantly, it was vital to verify the extent of my strength in combat, and to continue my task of evolving into a Ghoul.

To achieve that, I had to defeat the denizens—more accurately, monsters—of the labyrinth I was currently in. Justifying my actions in doing so was simple: Existential Evolution was only triggered by monsters gaining more experience and strength with time—at least, that was how the typical explanation on the matter went.

The best textbook example of this would, ironically, be a Dragon.

Dragons, born as juveniles and eventually maturing over the years into an Ancient Dragon, were a good illustration. However, Dragons were monsters with a high amount of latent ability and power in the first place. Compared to Dragons, Skeletons simply remained Skeletons, regardless of how much time had passed.

Undead monsters were very much dead, after all. Even if they were to spend thousands of years standing in place, they would simply just exist. Accounts of undead monsters becoming stronger simply by standing in place were virtually unheard of.

The logic behind this was simple: bones were bones. A pile of dead bones did not grow.

I once again found myself at a loss, but not for long. I had to gain experience; I had to fight.

It was said that monsters absorb the life force of other monsters should they fall in combat. This definitely held true, both for humans and monsters, with the core difference of humans remaining human regardless of how much strength they absorbed from fallen monsters. While there were many strong, seasoned fighters and adventurers, they were still human on the inside.

Monsters, however, differed from humans in this aspect—after obtaining a certain amount of experience and absorbed strength, the typical monster evolves into a stronger form via the phenomenon of Existential Evolution. Based on that, it would seem like my path had already been laid out for me.

Of course, the problem of whether or not I was really a monster to

begin with still remained; even so, I would be able to find out easily via trial by combat. I viewed it as a prerequisite that had to be carried out before evolution.

As such, my first task was to locate and defeat a nearby monster. As for monsters that even a simple Skeleton could defeat... Slimes,

Goblins, and other Skeletons came to mind. Thankfully, they could all

be found within this very labyrinth. Although I was currently in an unexplored section of the Labyrinth of the Moon’s Reflection, I did recall seeing a number of monsters on the way here.

There were multiple theories as to why monsters existed in labyrinths in the first place. All those theories, however, seemed to agree on the fact that monsters reappeared after a set amount of time once slain. The phenomenon, colloquially referred to as “re-popping,” would see monsters resurrect themselves at any time, within 30 minutes, to days, or sometimes years. Weak monsters in labyrinths, in particular, were observed to reappear within approximately one hour.

While I could not precisely determine how much time had passed since I had been eaten by the Dragon, I was sure the time required for said monsters to reappear had long passed. My death, after all, did not feel like a mere five- to ten-minute affair. Though it seemed silly thinking that my biological clock would make any sense, given that I was currently a dry pile of bones, all I had to do was wait around should my estimate of time be off.

With that in mind, I set off back toward the way I came in, having deemed this the fastest way to encounter another monster. Lifting my bony feet, I began to walk, returning to the worn path with a series of heavy steps.

Upon actually trying to move, however, I discovered that my body was painfully heavy—I supposed as such that I could not fight like I was able to in life. However, the fact that I could move somehow filled my heart with relief.

Although I was currently the weakest in the overall monster hierarchy, I was still considerably faster and stronger than an average human. I could only hope that it would somehow work out, but that could have simply been baseless optimism on my part.

As for my weapons, I found myself still equipped with my well-worn one-handed sword and armor from my previous life, so there appeared to be no problems in the equipment department. All other aspects of my combat potential, however, would have to be tested in the field.

It did not take long for me to cross paths with another monster, taking about, say, five minutes after I had set off on my quest. My opponent, for better or worse, was just like me, albeit without any kind of weapons or armor—another Skeleton.

◆◇◆◇◆

And so it came to be that I stood facing my adversary in the dark passageways of Moon’s Reflection. My opponent was a Skeleton, just like me. A pale pile of bones, held together by the bare minimum of life force required for it to move about. It was unable to use magic, did not possess a shred of spirit, and was hardly able to channel divinity of any sort. It was, in all senses of the word, a normal Skeleton.

As I readied my sword, the opposing Skeleton stared in my direction, as if affirming my presence.

Clack clack clack!

Its bones clashed together, releasing a dreadful sound. If I didn’t know any better, I would think it was laughing at me.

Skeletons—

I had fought them many, many times in my career as an adventurer.

But now, I found myself freshly revolted by their existence, perhaps due to my newfound perspective.

Once a living thing had become a pile of bones, it would definitely never stand again. However, the Skeleton before me could move in spite of that, as a continued defiance of the divine laws of life and death. The more I looked at it, the more I felt that its existence in and of itself was a mockery of nature.

It occurred to me that I was probably viewed the same way by other human beings. No matter how I spun it, it seemed impossible for me to return to Maalt as I currently was.

Once again reminded of that fact, I could not help but sigh.

Although, I did not have any organs for breathing, let alone lungs. Having become nothing but bones, I suppose this much was obvious.

I felt a fresh wave of shock wash over me at this revelation—the fact that I was now something completely inhuman was driven deep into my mind. There was not much I could do about it, though. That was just how things were now.

Although I felt like I had already digested the facts of my newfound state as a Skeleton, it would seem like many other things about this development still bothered me. If anything, I felt more hesitant than ever.

Despite that, I had no choice but to press on. I had to defeat this other Skeleton before me and evolve into a Ghoul at all costs! With that in mind, I put my backbone into the task, making a running start toward the opposing Skeleton—

At least, that was what I had wanted to do. The speed at which I was advancing toward the other Skeleton was, for lack of a better word, painfully slow. I suppose one could define it as a sort of run; a jog, maybe. However, the speed at which I was moving left much to be desired—it did not seem like a pace suited for combat.

At the very least, I was faster than an average member of Maalt’s townsfolk. But I was still decidedly slower than the common adventurer, even the lowest-ranked Iron adventurers.

It would seem that my physical abilities had also been adversely affected by my untimely death. It was obvious, perhaps, if one thought about it:

A Skeleton was nothing more than a walking pile of bones. As all living things needed muscles of some sort to move, it was a miracle that Skeletons could move at all—and a given that they did not move particularly well.

As if to prove my point, the opposing Skeleton’s speed was also achingly slow. Thinking back on it, all the Skeletons I had met up to this point moved in a similar fashion. If anything, it could be said that their sluggishness made them the perfect prey for Bronze-class adventurers such as myself. It was possibly thanks to them that I had continued existing as an adventurer for this long.

But even if Skeletons were easy prey for Bronze-class adventurers, I was currently a Skeleton, as well. It was surely not going to be an easy fight; this much I realized the moment I raised my sword.

Although it was obvious that my swordplay would be a lot slower than it was in life, it was not as if I had suddenly forgotten how to swing my weapon. At the very least, I firmly recalled the basics. It was with that knowledge that I came to a simple conclusion: the only quick attack I had in my repertoire at this point in time was a simple downward swing. Just to be sure, I decided to test my theory. The results, however, were extremely disheartening.

For one thing, it was difficult to lift my sword. This was most likely due to the changes in my musculature, or lack thereof. Even so, I was greeted with more difficulties as I tried my best to lift my weapon. The combined weight of the sword, along with the force required to reverse the direction it had been traveling in, was considerably straining.

If my observations rang true, this was all due to a lack of muscles. In other words, all the techniques and movements that I had learned up until now could not be employed in this situation.

Once again, it occurred to me that this was an obvious fact. After all, the techniques I had learned were used and taught by humans. There wouldn’t have been a single technique or attack that was designed for the physique of a Skeleton in mind.

Even so, I strived to work out a solution. If I simply stopped here and now, I would surely be defeated by the other Skeleton and die, again. Perhaps, then, it was quite the stroke of luck that my first opponent was a sluggish and simple Skeleton.

As I was busy testing out potential sword attacks, the opponent had picked up speed, and was rushing in my direction—until it promptly slipped. As a result of its unfortunate fall, my opponent’s right leg bone had apparently dislodged itself. The Skeleton was now sitting on the ground in a somewhat awkward position, desperately attempting to retrieve and reattach its detached leg.

I could not help but laugh at the dark comedy of this scenario. At least, I wanted to laugh, but Skeletons in general were incapable of producing such a sound. The only sounds a Skeleton could make were rattling sounds, and that was about it. Without much of a choice, I decided to emulate the sound that the opposing Skeleton had made when it first set eyes on me. A miserable series of clacks was the result of my attempt at laughter.

As if enraged by my bony laughter, the enemy Skeleton jammed its detached bone back into its socket, then stood up and rushing toward me once more. It seemed like it was serious about attacking me this time.

I could not see this as a good thing—it most definitely wasn’t.

Although Skeletons were weak monsters, it had enough speed and power to kill a grown man—minus the typical adventurer, of course. With that being said, even the weakest Iron-class adventurer would take severe damage from such a blow.

While I was lost in thought, the Skeleton’s charge hit me straight on, and we had now both fallen onto the ground. I nervously looked for a

way to counterattack, convinced that if I simply sat and did nothing, the other Skeleton would surely kill me. But apparently, that was not necessary.

The reason for that was simple: the other Skeleton simply did not attempt to attack. This was perhaps due to a combination of factors, including the fact that the momentum it was moving at, and the specific angle I was holding my sword, had caused my weapon to become firmly embedded in its skull. A truly serendipitous occurrence.

However, that much wasn’t quite enough—the enemy was an undead monster, after all. If anything, the enemy Skeleton seemed more irritated at the fact that its field of vision was now blocked by a sword sticking out of one of its eye sockets. This fact, as opposed to being bothered by the fact that the sword in question was a sharp, metallic instrument in its skull. It was also far from being dead.

Judging by everything I had seen thus far, it was fair to assume that Skeletons did not possess much in the way of intellect or logic, even though they had a somewhat humanoid form. The Skeleton that had attacked me was a good example, as it was thoroughly confused by the current developments, and apparently could not decide what to do.

Capitalizing on this chance, I quickly grabbed the handle of my blade, placing what force I could onto the weapon. I had thought to simply push the blade through, given that it had been so conveniently impaled into the enemy’s skull.

I was, however, reminded of the unfortunate fact that I was an almost-powerless Skeleton. After all, bone was a material used to make armor, and it was considerably hard. The enemy’s skull probably wouldn’t shatter with what little strength I had. Even if I tried to put my body into the attack, it would not work, as I did not have much of a body to begin with.

I found myself at a complete loss.

I had to somehow channel more power into the blade’s hilt, no

matter the cost. If this went on, I would probably be stuck mud- wrestling this Skeleton forever. It was greatly undesirable for my first battle to drag on for hundreds of years.

Drawing my mind back from its hopeless daydream, it occurred to me that I should at least attempt to use one of the abilities I had acquired in life. For all intents and purposes, I was not a normal Skeleton, and I should be exploiting that fact to the fullest.

I had become too caught up in the matter that I was currently a Skeleton, and had forgotten that I had defeated many Skeletons in my previous life. In fact, I used to be able to defeat Skeletons with nothing but brute force. I even had mana, spirit, and divinity at my disposal.

Although normal Skeletons were not aware of it, their movements were powered by magic, as well. As a result, Skeletons possessed a higher measure of speed and power than the average person, hence its classification as a monster. Since I was no longer human myself, it occurred to me that I should be using my newfound capabilities as a monster as much as possible too.

Amongst the three abilities available to me, spirit was the one that was the most suitable for an application of brute force—and as such, the most suitable for my current situation.

Having finally arranged my thoughts, I began to focus, surrounding my body with spirit energy. Amidst considerations that I had last used this ability when I was more than just a pile of bones, I had no idea if it would actually work. But I had to test it out somehow. If it didn’t work, then I would have to rely on simple force. If it did, on the other hand...

I was known in life for pushing forward even if things seemed grim.

It didn’t make sense to simply give up now.

As I continued to focus, it would seem like my gamble was paying off—with all of my strength, I thrust the sword’s hilt, slowly pushing the weapon through the Skeleton’s eye socket and eventually breaking through its skull. But the force of the attack did not seem to stop there

—a series of unpleasant crackling sounds spread through the enemy Skeleton’s body, and all at once, all the bones in its body broke into a thousand small pieces.

Like a puppet with its strings cut, what used to be the enemy Skeleton collapsed into a shower of bony fragments, scattering across the ground of the labyrinth. Up until a few moments ago, those bones had been connected, and had formed the body of a Skeleton. But with its head crushed and form compromised, the Skeleton seemed to have lost its undead traits, returning once more into a lifeless pile of bones.

I won. Somehow.

Although it was a clumsy and thoroughly shameful display of a first battle, all that mattered was my victory.

While I was not as agile or strong as I was in life, I had managed to use the abilities available to me for a strained victory. Perhaps I didn’t do as badly as I thought.

With that notion in my head, I leaned back, my mind somehow filled with an ambivalent sense of relief.

◆◇◆◇◆

Well, then. While it was all fine and good that I’d defeated a fellow Skeleton, would this be a definitive step toward my evolution?

Searching amidst the shattered bones of my opponent, I picked up what appeared to be a magic crystal. I held it up to myself, as if expecting some sort of change to occur. Unfortunately, however, nothing of the sort happened—at least, I assumed as much. Suddenly, as if to prove me wrong, a stream of light slowly rose from the Skeleton’s shattered remains, gradually heading toward my body.

Is it still alive?!

Alarmed, I quickly took a combative stance, but the stream of light

did not seem hostile in any way. It did, however, ignore my most valiant attempts to dodge it, eventually making its way into my body. Preparing myself for some sort of impact, I half expected the light to hurt me in some way, it did not. Instead, I felt full of strength.

As I slowly began to absorb the light, I could feel the energy I had expended in the previous fight return to me. Oddly enough, even my reserves of mana, spirit, and divinity all seemed to increase, if only by a sliver. Was this the much-vaunted Existential Evolution that monsters went through?

Deciding to find out, I conducted a thorough inspection of my body

—not that it took very long to do at all. Although I definitely felt stronger, I was still visually a walking pile of bones, not quite yet the Ghoul I was hoping to become. If anything, my appearance did not actually change in the slightest.

While the lack of a mirror prevented me from confirming, the visible parts of my body, such as my arms and legs, were still pale white bone. My face probably did not fare any better. In that case...

Then was this all for naught?!

That was the first thought that had crossed my mind in this moment.

Thinking about it calmly, I realized that Existential Evolution was probably not something that happened overnight, especially not with the defeat of only one other Skeleton. This was also knowledge that was gleaned from my readings of various tomes on monsters— numerous books seemed to reach the same conclusion.

For instance, if said evolution truly did occur with the simple defeat of a monster by another of the same type, they would then instantly become stronger, more powerful monsters. In turn, they would effectively spread like wildfire and make the world a living hell for the rest of humanity. Although the lands were populated with distinct types of monsters, including those that posed credible threats to

humanity, most of them were monsters that could be safely hunted and disposed of. This was how humanity managed to live on in relative peace inside established towns and villages.

As such, those very same books I had been reading deduced that not many monsters must go through Existential Evolution on a regular basis. Simply put, the process was not something that happened easily or quickly. One would possibly need to defeat a great many enemies first, with some having a higher degree of strength, or to live for a certain amount of time before it would even happen.

In my case, I had just become a monster, and had struggled to defeat another Skeleton. Evolution would not be knocking on my door anytime soon—such was a reasonable assumption. If anything, I should be grateful for becoming a little stronger, especially if the surge of strength and slight increase in my abilities were anything to go by.

While I had trained for days, weeks, and months without much results in life, the instant gratification of my previous battle was much more preferable. With the defeat of a single enemy, I grew a little stronger.

Relatively speaking, I would find battles easier the more of them I fought—a reasonable deduction, I thought. Of course, there was no guarantee that my battles would result in victory each and every time. I did also get rather lucky for my first fight.

Well, I suppose it would ultimately come down to me trying my hand at defeating various other monsters in the area. I had to at least try.

With that thought in mind, I set off on the passageways of the Labyrinth of the Moon’s Reflection once more.

◆◇◆◇◆

As expected, my hypothesis was correct—I grew a little stronger with each defeated foe. After that initial battle, I encountered and

swiftly defeated a number of other Skeletons. Each time, that strange light would rise from their body, making its way inside me.

With each absorbed light, I felt stronger and faster. It was not just a mental illusion of sorts; my movements had become markedly faster and stronger. Even my spirit art attacks had their offensive power increased. While I had struggled to push my blade through the enemy’s skull during my first encounter, I could now send my opponent’s bones flying if I put my backbone into it, crushing them in the process.

Perhaps the time had come for me to move on to bigger prey, like Slimes. I had certainly become strong enough to at least entertain such thoughts.

Although Slimes were somewhat weak, just like basic Skeleton monsters were, qualities to not be underestimated were their indeterminate shapes and jelly-like bodies. Due to these traits, physical attacks did not work too well on them, so the easiest way to defeat Slimes was to attack them with spells of some sort.

With that being said, however, it was inaccurate to say that Slimes were invulnerable to everything but magic; it was still very much possible to defeat them with physical attacks.

There were two ways to go about doing this: one could crush the Slime’s core, which was a crystalline organ in the interior of the Slime. If that object were destroyed, the Slime would simply dissolve and die, leaving only magic crystals in its wake. But that was much easier said than done. A Slime’s core was not stationary, as it often moved around inside its fluid-like body. Certain degrees of technique and finesse were required to damage it with a sword or spear. Such skills were commonly found in adventurers past the middle-Bronze-class level.

On that note, I was a lower-Bronze-class adventurer, so I obviously could do nothing of the sort.

The other method was somewhat messy, as one could simply scatter the gelatinous parts of the jelly around with blunt force impacts,

eventually reaching the core before the Slime could regenerate, thus destroying it. As this was an extremely simple method, even I was capable of executing it. It did, however, require a certain amount of execution time.

The gelatinous nature of a Slime meant that it could reform even if scattered, starting with the largest piece. In order to prevent that from happening, either a relatively forceful blow, or a series of rapid blows, had to be applied. In my case, I chose for a single, powerful spirit art reinforced attack. It was all I had.

Basically, I was only able to hunt one Slime a day in my previous life. I was incredibly weak—

Well, I was a lower-Bronze-class adventurer, after all. To make matters worse, I often traveled alone, as opposed to joining a party with others.

Slimes were simple monsters that could be easily dispatched even if the sole member of the party had some small degree of magical aptitude. One did not need to be a great mage to take out Slimes, as a single fireball or earthen arrow would do the trick. If anything, few adventurers chose to utilize the time-consuming, inefficient method I was now forced to use.

In exchange, I was able to hunt lower-tier monsters, such as Skeletons or Goblins, in relatively large numbers. This resulted in respectable earnings for a lower-Bronze-class adventurer such as myself. Though in my current form, I might even give my archnemesis, the Slime, a run for its proverbial money.

Having at last gotten used to my skeletal body, I was able to deliver blows of considerable force, even without utilizing spirit arts. Surely that would be enough to scatter the gelatinous body of a Slime.

It was time to give my new skills a spin. I set off for an area in Moon’s Reflection that was well-known to be inhabited by my archenemy. Although I had already defeated one on my way into the

uncharted territories of the labyrinth, significant time had passed for a re-pop to occur, according to my assumptions. Of course, it was quite possible that another adventurer could have gotten to the Slime before I did.

After exploring labyrinths for such extensive amounts of time, one eventually develops a biological sense of time within its walls, which is handy for keeping track of time when surveying. In highly-populated labyrinths, the smell of blood and metal would often fill the air, in addition to vibrations caused by combat that could be felt in the floor and walls. In my case, I had spent most of my time exploring this particular labyrinth, and as such, I had a relatively good grasp of its scope of time. Thanks to that, I could even determine which areas of the labyrinth would experience high adventurer traffic during specific times of the day.

As such, I determined that there were no adventurers known to frequent this labyrinth around this period of time. This wasn’t the only labyrinth around the town of Maalt, after all. There was another, bigger one close by, apparently called the Labyrinth of the New Moon.

Many parts of that labyrinth remained unexplored, with multiple areas and floors only partially mapped out. As a result, most adventurers in Maalt headed toward New Moon. Those who had instead opted to frequent Moon’s Reflection were either stubborn or solo adventurers who could not find a party to explore the depths of New Moon.

For the record, I was of the latter group. Although I had originally wanted to explore the Labyrinth of the New Moon instead, it was populated by a vast number of monsters, including those that attacked adventurers in packs. A lower-Bronze-class adventurer wandering into that labyrinth alone would be no better than a death sentence. Barring the times when I had been invited at the last minute to fill a slot in someone else’s party, I greatly preferred hunting in the Labyrinth of the Moon’s Reflection instead.

Thinking back on it, it was a relatively lonely life.

There were many reasons as to why I adventured alone, but the main reason was simple: no other adventurers wanted to be in a party with me. After all, I had been stuck as a lower-Bronze-class for roughly ten years. Even the most untalented adventurers would rise to middle- or upper-Bronze-class level in that lengthy span of time.

—That was evidently not the case for me.

Even so, I was not completely isolated; I was occasionally invited to join other parties. However, as I wanted to become a Mithril-class adventurer of my own ability, the nature of my dream prevented me from joining the parties of other adventurers quite often. In addition, my long stagnation in the adventurer ranks had apparently earned me the name of “The Thousand-year Bronze-class,” and as a result, even the occasional party invitations had eventually dried up.

It was a sad tale, so let us leave that be for now. More importantly, I still had to hunt myself a Slime.

Shelving those thoughts, I continued moving forward, and was soon greeted by the sight of a slowly-moving, almost transparent monster of jelly.

—It was unmistakably a Slime.

Drawing my sword, I slowly crept up upon my archnemesis, the very same kind of Slime that I had hunted these past ten years.

◆◇◆◇◆

It did not take long for me to notice that this Slime was slightly different from its peers. Its body was clear and transparent—it was obvious that it had reappeared not too long ago.

A clean Slime like this was considerably rare. It’s perhaps worth mentioning that Slimes’ hues often became clouded after living for a while, mainly due to eating other monsters, or the occasional unfortunate small animal. Trapped in the Slime’s gelatinous body, its

prey would slowly start to dissolve, resulting in quite the unpleasant sight. Slimes also sucked up corpses and other dead bodies quite frequently, and it was not uncommon to see bones and half-digested remains of monsters suspended in a Slime’s body. New adventurers not yet used to the sight of viscera often found themselves throwing up.

While the sight of dead mice and the like were somewhat tolerable, Slimes sometimes absorbed the remains of humanoid monsters such as Goblins, or in some cases, even the half-digested corpses of adventurers who had died exploring the labyrinth. Most adventurers would lose their appetite for exploration after such a sight, if not their stomach altogether. Of course, those who continued being so easily disgusted did not remain adventurers for long. Though even those that did press on down the adventurer’s path still continued to find half- digested dead bodies disgusting.

In my case, I felt very little, having continued on as an adventurer for some ten odd years. Common wisdom stated that adventurers needed to steel their guts during their first year.

Drawing my mind back from yet another train of thought, I once again became aware of the relative clarity of the Slime before me.

Although I was currently a Skeleton, and could be more frightening to the common man in certain situations (more so than a Slime in the middle of digesting its meal, at least), my emotions were still very much human.

I did not want anyone to think I derived any sort of pleasure from destroying a corpse-filled Slime. But this particular Slime was clean, and very much so. The fluid of a freshly spawned Slime like this was worth a tidy sum. If one were to somehow collect its fluids with a vessel of sorts, it could be sold to the adventurer’s guild or to an alchemist as an important, rare ingredient. Even the fluids of an impure Slime could be boiled and mixed with various medicinal ingredients to create basic healing potions, so it was not a bad ingredient by any means. The fluids of a pure and clean Slime, however, had many more uses, and as such could be sold for much

larger sums.

Although I was a Skeleton now, the tool belt I had in life was still attached to my waist. In said tool belt was a container I had specifically prepared for this situation, and I quickly decided that this was the course of action I would take after defeating the Slime.

Slowly, and with considerably suspicious movements, I began to approach the Slime. As I did so, the Slime, as if noticing me, shivered intensely, shooting out what appeared to be a glob of water in my general direction.

Anticipating its attack, I dodged cleanly to the side. The glob of water I dodged promptly hit the ground, instantly beginning to dissolve the earth. It did not take long for a small trail of smoke to rise from the unfortunate patch of dirt.

This was one of the Slime’s signature attacks—Acid Blitz. As its name may suggest, the Slime produces an acidic substance within its body, and shoots it out as a form of ranged projectile attack. Whatever was unfortunate enough to be hit by said attack would then dissolve.

It was a simple, acid-based attack, and depending on where the victim was hit, it would not deal too much damage. However, if it caught one in, say, the eyes, the unfortunate victim would not escape unscathed. At the very least, one should endeavor to protect one’s face in such an encounter.

Although I would not lose my vision from a simple acid attack to the face in my current form, the bone structure of my skull would most likely dissolve, in which case I would simply die. So losing one’s eyesight was hardly the problem here. It occurred to me that I had to avoid every single one of the Slime’s attacks, just to be safe.

It’s worth noting that while the Slime’s attack was considerably dangerous, the Slime itself was markedly slow. A normal Slime like this one was not known for moving fast. In addition, its movements were easily predictable; all I had to do was be sufficiently careful. As

long as one was alert for the ever-present threat of the fast-moving Acid Blitz projectile, Slimes were not fearsome monsters by any means.

If anything, the main problem adventurers faced when attempting to defeat a Slime was that of their own skill sets and abilities.

Due to my current state as a Skeleton and the absorbed energies of the other Skeletons I had defeated, I was stronger than I had ever been. At the very least, I was now capable of movements close to my original speed in life. I would probably not lose to a Slime, of all things.

As I gradually continued to advance, the Slime motioned to shoot yet another round of acid in my general direction. This time, however, I was prepared, holding up my sword and boosting my speed with my spirit arts. Sprinting toward the Slime, I swung down my sword in a flash, hitting its body and retreating rapidly before it could finish shooting its acid.

Although I felt something give as I landed my blow, there was no way I had instantly defeated the Slime. With that thought in mind, I quickly recovered, once again readying myself for another blow.

But this time, the Slime did something unexpected. Instead of following up with an attack, it simply stopped, quivering in place. All of a sudden, it completely stopped moving, before promptly dissolving into a lifeless puddle.

This was a commonly observed phenomenon when Slimes embraced death—with the life force supporting their gelatinous body gone, they returned to a liquid-like state, spreading out limply upon the labyrinth’s floor. Simply put, the Slime I had hit with my weapon was very much dead.

I could not help but be shocked at this sudden turn of events. It was beyond comprehension; after all, I had never been able to defeat a Slime in just one blow when I still drew breath as a lower-Bronze-class

adventurer. Even so, the truth before my eyes was undeniable.

Due to the nature of my desperate attack, I had not been able to confirm it, but perhaps my weapon had hit the Slime’s core by a stroke of luck. I would then be able to fully justify what had just happened.

If anything, I should be fully prepared to not be so lucky when encountering my second Slime. Caution, in this case, was a great virtue.

More importantly, there was the matter of the Slime’s jelly—the alchemical ingredient I wanted to harvest. If a Slime’s fluids were to touch the ground, it would no longer be usable as a clean ingredient, so one would have to be prepared with a container on hand at the opportune time.

Of course, if one were to attempt to do this to a living Slime, the container would simply bounce off its membrane. Fortunately, this membrane was dissolved upon the Slime’s death, and it felt very much like stabbing one’s arms into a bucket of jelly.

Retrieving a container flask from my tool belt, I stuck its nozzle into the body of the dying Slime, fully filling it. Although Slimes shot out strong acidic fluids in life, such as with Acid Blitz, it was strangely not very acidic at all in death. In fact, adventurers who had a habit of sticking their hands in dead Slimes found that their hands often ended up clean and rejuvenated. On that note, I would mention that the bodily fluids of a Slime were often used in women’s cosmetics. In fact, clean Slime fluid was often used for this very purpose, as it apparently had some medicinal properties due to its unique composition.

While such a rare ingredient could be easily used to create higher tiers of healing potions, most of it ended up being used for cosmetics. It occurred to me that the feminine pursuit of beauty was a seemingly infinite venture.

Was it so truly necessary to create cosmetics from monster parts...?

Well, I suppose there was some justification for that—it is said that monster-based ingredients have significant effects on humans. The impacts supposedly range from immortality, to reviving the dead, or even turning an old man young again... Perhaps this was a natural progression in the grand scheme of things.

Ending my internal monologue, I turned to look at the container, which had now been filled up by the rapidly deflating corpse of the Slime. Filling it up to the brim, I slid it out slowly from the Slime’s dying goop, taking care not to spill any of the precious fluid.

Good. This will surely sell for a fair amount of gold.

A fair sum, indeed—perhaps even worth quite a few days of work. As I had mentioned, clear Slimes were worth their weight in gold—

almost literally. To even meet such a Slime, one would have to wait about an hour for it to appear once more, in addition to not contaminating the Slime in combat with fire or earthen spells. In fact, there was no easy way to gather uncontaminated fluid with magic, so that was why the Slime had to be defeated with brute force.

For these reasons, it has been said to be an ingredient that was only gathered by adventurers who had suitable expanses of both stamina and strength. In fact, adventurers who could defeat Slimes in a single blow could hope for even greater rewards. For someone like me, however, it would probably take up to half a day to accomplish.

That being said, I had no means to sell this ingredient, let alone use the funds to pay for any sort of inn or accommodation. From that angle, my endeavors seemed somewhat useless.

Leaving those thoughts aside, I once again set my mind to evolution

—I had to become a Ghoul at any cost.

If I could evolve, I would be able to walk into town, and even sell the rare ingredient I had just collected.

As for accommodations... Well, while I wasn’t sure about the opinions of prospective landlords, rental properties shouldn’t be all that difficult to find.

I also needed to speak with someone about the situation at hand; someone who would not simply run away upon learning that I had become a monster of sorts. With regards to that, however, I had just the person in mind.

As my thoughts carried on about that person and how I met them, I decided to move on from my current spot and search for my next target.

◆◇◆◇◆

It was after defeating the fifth Slime on that day that I began to become aware of the changes in my body. Although I had sought out and fought many other monsters since then, it would seem like my initial encounter with, and subsequent defeat of, the Slime was not a fluke after all. All the Slimes I had encountered after the first perished in much the same way.

My strength was quickly exceeding the point it had been at when I still lived.

When I was a lower-Bronze-class adventurer, I did not feel any sense of progress no matter how much training I did. In fact, I did not seem to progress in any way at all. But now here I was, becoming stronger in death. I was not quite sure if I should feel happy or sad in regards to this development, although it was greatly preferable to just endlessly stagnating.

Although I did not know where I would plateau at once more should I continue growing at this pace, I set such thoughts out of my mind.

Instead, I decided to do what I could at this point in time—I continued to fight.

After fighting and defeating ten more monsters, I felt a strange

feeling well up from deep inside me—an almost foreign feeling that I had not felt up until this point. It was by no means an unpleasant feeling. If anything, it felt more like something was springing up from deep within me.

However, being as cautious as I ever was, I tried my best to endure and resist it. Ultimately, my efforts were proven futile.

A slow, crackling sound filled my entire body, with the sound progressively getting louder as my body was engulfed in a warm stream of light.

What’s happening...?

That was the only thought my mind processed before another inexplicable thing happened before my eyes—dried-up, shriveled flesh began appearing around the white bones of my body. As if to hide the harsh white of my bones, the flesh continued to creep, before surrounding my bones altogether.

This was very much it—I could feel it. My wishes had been granted— This was Existential Evolution.

This was what was happening at this point in time.

I continued my internal monologue as the phenomenon continued, slowly spreading to the rest of my body. Brown flesh, dry to the point where I began to doubt if moisture even existed in its veins, started growing and wrapping itself around my arms, legs, and everything else it could find.

Although I had been a pile of bones up until now, I had finally been blessed with flesh...!

After a short while, the phenomenon stopped. Just to be sure, I decided to inspect my newfound lack of bony surfaces.

As expected, flesh was firmly attached to my limbs—limbs that had been stark white sticks of bone up until now.

However, the flesh in question was a far cry from what I used to look like when I was human. To begin with, it looked like extremely dry, thin sheets of brown stretched over what used to be white bone. In addition, my newfound flesh did not do a very thorough job of hiding my bones at all—bits and pieces of white showed through the canopy of brown.

I felt like a pile of bones that had meat haphazardly stuck onto them. If I were to surface from the labyrinth in this form, wolves, dogs, and the like would surely find me to be a delicious snack. Maybe I would be eaten.

While my body was this way, my lack of a mirror, once again, caused me to assume that my face was identical. I was familiar with a monster that looked like this, however. Bits of dried meat clinging to bone— none other than a Ghoul.

I was now unmistakably a Ghoul, the initial target of my evolutionary goals.

If memory served, Ghouls looked like humans with their skin removed: with some torn flesh still attached to the bone, with bits of the latter showing through their muscles. They also looked very...dry.

In other words, I was absolutely disgusting—but of course, there was no way a dried corpse would look appealing. I was an undead monster. It was also obvious that no one would fancy such a form, much less aspire to somehow become similar to it. However, to me this was a huge step forward, if only because there was now flesh on my bones.

Having experienced Existential Evolution, I was now aware of the fact that I could continue climbing up the proverbial monster hierarchy if I continued working hard. That was a fact worth celebrating.

Undead monsters, in particular, looked more and more human the higher they climbed up the ladder. For example, if I were to become a Vampire, which was an even higher existence than Ghouls, I would basically become indistinguishable from a human—in which case I would be able to move around the streets of Maalt without any problems.

In my current form, the best I could probably manage was sneak into town—I would still be unable to walk about freely. However, I was familiar with the gate guards of Maalt. If I played my cards well, I may be able to enter and exit as I pleased.

But of course. Although it was mostly dry meat, I did currently have a body, and as such there was one important thing I wanted to try.

“...VAAAH... VAAAAH...”

I valiantly tried to channel air through my throat to see if I could speak. It would seem that generating some kind of sound, at least, was possible.

“HE... HEEH... VVO... HEH... VO. OOD... MOV... NINV...

GGGUH... HEH... VVO...”

...

No. This really wouldn’t do.

Although I found myself able to speak, I was by no means fluent—or very coherent, for that matter. I suppose some practice was in order.

On the other hand, I did greatly prefer this state compared to that of a Skeleton who could not speak and could only make clattering sounds. With this, I would be able to reach a mutual understanding with any human being who entered the labyrinth... Or so I hoped.

Of course, the prerequisite being that the person I was speaking to did not remain actively terrified of me.

As I continued to ponder various possibilities, a sharp sound of clashing metal interrupted my thoughts. It sounded like someone was engaged in combat with monsters a considerable amount of distance away, as it was clearly the sound made by a sword impacting a hard surface.

Like most of the monsters I had defeated thus far, this floor did not feature anything but weak monsters, much less any that would generate a metallic sound. From this fact alone, one could infer that the irregular sound came from an adventurer—there was no other possibility.

This sound... A living human being was here! My heart skipped a beat at this thought.

Thus far, I had only lived for a little more than a day in this labyrinth. Most of that, however, was spent fighting monsters alone throughout the night. It made sense if one thought about it.

Up until now, I had always entered labyrinths during the day, returning to Maalt in the evenings for food. Before I knew it, however, I had become a Skeleton, and was unable to see any specks of hope in

my future. As such, I had continued slaying monsters inside the labyrinth—perhaps it was only natural that I would miss the presence of other humans.

I wanted to speak with someone, anyone. If an adventurer was present, then so be it.

I did, however, quickly recover from my excitement. Due to my appearance, attempting to speak with a human would be a somewhat harsh undertaking.

Although I was no longer a walking pile of bones, a Ghoul was still...a Ghoul. If I were to approach an adventurer with this dried-out corpse body of mine, they would clearly be alarmed, promptly readying their swords for combat; a conversation would be the last thing on their mind.

Although the result of the encounter might be a little different if I were some sort of sentient, intelligent monster species, I was currently a Ghoul. My prospects were dim in that regard. As such, I chose to distance myself from the source of the sound and hide, so as not to come into contact with the adventurer in question.

However, curiosity got the best of me—would I really be able to ignore and move away from a human being when they were so close to me?

—No. I found myself unable to resist.

Such was the degree of my isolation and loneliness—I wanted to see a person, no matter what.

And so I made my choice, creeping up to the source of the sound silently. If I were discovered, I would simply escape.

I thought peeking from the shadows would likely be acceptable. I would then hide my presence as best as possible, moving forward as quietly as I could.

As the sounds grew louder, my heartbeat followed in tandem. A little bit more...

I wasn’t too far now from another human being. Slowly but surely, I arrived at my destination, with the sounds of combat continuing from behind a corner.

Remaining cautious as I crept up the path, I carefully peeked over the corner, staring beyond into the corridors of the labyrinth. There, as I had expected, was another adventurer, sword drawn and engaged in combat with monsters.

Chapter 2: Rina the Adventurer

“...Yah!!”

Swinging her weapon at a Skeleton was a young girl, whose voice seemed to ring out with more force than her swing.

The quality of her gear, or lack thereof, was the first thing that jumped out at me. The girl was clad in cheap armor, complimented by an equally cheap one-handed sword. She was definitely a new Iron- class adventurer.

It was perhaps worth noting that I was very familiar with my fellow adventurers, at least those who resided in Maalt. This girl, however, was not a familiar face—hence my assumption.

Although Iron-class adventurers would one day surpass me and were viewed as nothing more than potential rivals, I made sure to remember their faces and get to know them better—if only because that was a way by which I could prevent the endless stream of adventurers eager to make fun of my lack of talent. I made it a point to befriend them then and there, in addition to memorizing their social positions and connections, before going our separate ways.

It was interesting to note that while I had absolutely no talent for adventuring, I was instead blessed with a good memory and street smarts, allowing me to easily outsmart any Iron-class adventurers who were up to one no-good plot or another. As a result, my cunning was known even to higher-ranked adventurers in Maalt, and I was mostly left alone. This was also perhaps due to the fact that Maalt mostly hosted adventurers of good character.

In addition, I also made a point to knock a good sense of morals into ill-natured adventurers from the start of their career. This had long- term effects, eventually snowballing into an overall improvement of

character amidst the adventurers of Maalt. This was one of the reasons why I had not been asked by the guild to put down my sword all this time, despite being stuck in one of the lower adventurer ranks for almost a decade.

Put simply, I was adequately scheming—in a good way, of course.

I shifted my attention back to the young adventurer. Not only was she dressed in a complete beginner’s outfit, her prowess also left much to be desired. In fact, she actually seemed a little weaker than I had been in life.

This was perhaps an unfair comparison, however—any Bronze-class adventurer was easily leagues above that of their Iron counterparts. I was, after all, able to defeat a Skeleton without too much trouble.

Although I wouldn’t call it easy, I was definitely capable, given the fact that normal townsfolk would be saying their prayers after encountering a Skeleton. Even Iron-class adventurers had to group up in twos or threes to easily defeat one.

As such, my continued solo expeditions should at least paint me as being somewhat capable—although not to an extent that I could be proud of.

It was with those thoughts in mind that I deemed the girl who stood before my eyes to be irredeemably weak. Although she seemed to be putting up a valiant fight against her skeletal foe, all it took was one mistake for her foe to shift the tide, after which she would most definitely lose. That was the extent of her powers.

However, no matter how green, an adventurer was an adventurer. In the event of her slipping up, she could easily escape—and then that would have been that. I was not too worried about her well-being; at least, that was what I thought—

Hey, now.

Upon closer inspection, the situation seemed a lot more dire than I

had originally made it out to be. As if not completely thinking about the possibility of defeat, the young girl pressed on, attempting to overpower her foe.

Her efforts, however, were in vain. Obviously lacking the appropriate stamina, the adventurer began to fall back, unable to keep up with her foe’s attacks. This was a potentially fatal situation, given the fact that she was currently in a narrow labyrinth path with no obvious routes of escape.

As the Skeleton continued pushing the girl backward, she suddenly stopped.

“...Huh?!”

The girl’s back was now literally against the wall, and it would appear that she had only just noticed this.

I shook my head. This was the trap that befell adventurers who failed to inspect their surroundings carefully. A swordswoman of her caliber, in turn, would require some space to move and swing her blade. In other words, the adventurer’s fate was sealed the moment she had trapped herself carelessly.

As if noticing this, the Skeleton she had been fighting advanced upon her, eagerly raising its arms and motioning to strike her with its bare hands.

While the Skeleton was not armed, it was, at the end of the day, very much a monster. If that blow connected with an adventurer that did not sport much in the way of defense, they would surely pass out.

What’s more, if the blow landed in a critical spot, they might even end up being instantly killed. It went without saying that a normal person could not hope to endure such a blow.

Basically, if the Skeleton’s attack connected, the girl would die. All I could do was accept that fact as I came to this conclusion.

Though, I did not mean to say that I could simply accept the girl’s death as it was—I simply meant that I had intended to continue my observations, as appearing before her would entail all sorts of risks.

Although I’d been caught up in the heat of the moment prior to arriving at this spot, I had finally calmed my mind upon seeing a living, breathing human. Even if I were to appear before her now, she would think of me as nothing more than a monster; a conversation was beyond my wildest dreams.

It was beyond me to simply leave the girl to die, however.

Although I was now physically a monster, my heart remained that of a human. Unless the person in question was some sort of terrible scoundrel, I would definitely, at the very least, attempt to help them.

To me, this was the right course of action: a senior adventurer protecting the life of their junior in the unforgiving harshness of the labyrinth.

This was why I did what I did. “...GAAAAAAH!!!”

To distract the Skeleton from its prey, I jumped out from my corner, roaring as ferociously as I could. I was not so sure if my plan would work, as it was a half-gamble to begin with, mainly owing to the fact that I was currently a Ghoul.

Not being an expert in monster behavior, I had no idea just how much attention a monster would give to a loud noise generated by another. The monsters that I had fought up until now did seem to register me as an enemy, though, as they immediately readied themselves for combat upon laying eyes on me. Maybe something about me made me different from other monsters, with the monsters in question noticing as much about me, as well. This was why I did as such—if anything, my plan should have a high rate of success.

It did not take long for me to see that my gamble had paid off.

Stopping midway through its attack, the Skeleton instead turned and faced me, before rushing in my general direction.

The girl’s eyes opened wide at this development. It would seem like she had intended to slay the Skeleton where it stood, with it having shown its back to her. However, the girl seemed too overcome with shock, and merely stood frozen in place.

There simply was no choice: I drew my sword, running toward the enemy. Although I had originally intended to save it, I began channeling spirit into my sword. I had to end this quickly with a decisive blow.

After evolving into a Ghoul, I became aware of the fact that spirit attacks could now be used quite a few times without me running out of energy—so I supposed one attack now would not hurt my reserves too much.

Raising my sword in a well-trained motion, I put my body into the blow, swinging my sword down with considerable force. It was a clean stroke, deeply engraving into my opponent’s bony body. In a split second, the Skeleton severed into two neat halves, breaking into numerous fragments as what remained of its body hit the ground.

“...Amazing... ”

The female adventurer, stunned, could only continue staring at the remains of what had been the Skeleton mere seconds ago.

I couldn’t blame her. Although Skeletons were weak monsters in general, few adventurers in my class could easily split them in two. Anyone would be surprised; yes, even me.

That was indeed amazing.

Huh.

Was I always this strong?

That was how I felt after slaying the Skeleton. I stood silently for a while, pondering about what had just occurred.

It seemed like I was now even stronger than before. If I kept growing at this rate, my goal of eventually evolving into a Vampire seemed within reach. I felt a ray of hope in my heart—although I was perhaps getting ahead of myself a little too much.

With that thought, I was jolted awake—

The girl was still where she stood. Surely she was more important than my internal monologues.

Was she hurt?

Although I had motioned to speak, it felt like something was caught in my throat, and I was immediately reminded that I was nothing more than a Ghoul. If I had carelessly approached her, she would certainly run; that would not do.

Then...what should I do?

Turning to look at the girl, I found her with her sword raised, staring at me in fear.

It did not seem like we could come to terms so easily.

“S-stay away!!”

◆◇◆◇◆

That was the girl’s response as I approached her with an outstretched hand, a stray “Vaaaahh...” escaping my lips as I attempted to speak.

Again, I could not blame her. There was perhaps not a single person alive who would not be alarmed if a Ghoul approached them in a labyrinth with its arms raised.

Come to think of it, it was also strange for something like a Ghoul to be present in the Labyrinth of the Moon’s Reflection in the first place. This was due to the simple fact that Ghouls were of an even higher class than Skeletons, and they did not simply appear randomly in a place so commonly frequented by lowly ranked adventurers.

If one did appear, it would surely be due to some sort of irregularity at the lower levels, or be a unique monster governed by one of the labyrinth’s mysterious rules. In those cases, those monsters would be seen as special, and they were more often than not a lot stronger than their normal counterparts.

If a beginner were to encounter a monster like this, their death was almost guaranteed—hence the girl’s cautiousness. In fact, it would be strange if she were not on her guard.

Although it would seem strange for me to do all that despite being aware of how I would look to a normal being, that was not what I intended to do. If anything, I wanted to greet and speak with her casually. However, I was still not used to this body—though I could somehow fight in it, speaking appeared to be excessively difficult.

Due to the fact that I had trained my body for the past decade, and knew of my movements and weaknesses well, I could easily compensate for and fix any issues that arose from my newfound body.

However, talking was another issue altogether. I never really practiced speaking to begin with, and what I had assumed to be a simple task was turning out to be more difficult than I thought. As a result, my words were instead mangled into a series of half-roars, and there was absolutely nothing I could do about it.

To make things worse, there was the issue of my body being that of a corpse. Further exacerbating the issue was the fact that this adventurer in particular was a young girl. Although I was shocked at her defensive posture and words, there was, again, not much I could do about the current state of affairs.

More than my potentially disgusting appearance, however, was the fact that I was a Ghoul—that was probably enough for her to raise her blade against me.

Probably.

Be that as it may, I had to establish a form of communication one way or another. This was the reason I stopped at her words and instead stood in place, desperately trying to form my incoherent roars into words.

“Vaa... VAAAaa... Ge... Gellow... Aagghh... Ahh... Ah am... Ven...

Ventt... VENTT!!” “Eek!!”

The sudden increase in volume further perturbed my already incoherent words, causing the poor girl to jump up in fright.

I was not discouraged, however. If anything, I felt that giving up now would be an incredibly bad idea.

For example, if I had simply given up and left, the girl would surely escape. She would then report my existence to the guild, which would then classify me as a special monster of sorts, which would then lead to the guild dispatching strong adventurers to dispose of me. That was

a turn of events I definitely wanted to avoid.

Although I had become somewhat stronger from fighting and defeating numerous other monsters, there were many other adventurers out there who were stronger than I was. If someone like that were sent to hunt me, my life would end for a second time.

That was why establishing some sort of communication with this girl was of utmost importance. At the very least, I had to convince her that I was not a threat.

Although the option of killing the girl to silence her remained open, I could not bring myself to do it—I was, and still am, human, after all. I truly could not do something like that.

If the girl were a bandit or some sort of criminal, perhaps I could entertain the notion. However, she seemed to be a scared adventurer fighting for her life, and I could not see her as anything else. Even if it were for my own benefit, I could not bring myself to take away her future—not from one as young as herself.

This was why I tried my damnedest to speak.

“V... Veeassee... ! Vis... Visten... Vu me... Ahh... Not... Enevii...” I continued repeating my incoherent words. The girl, in turn,

surprised at my actions and lack of hostility, seemed to start listening. “Ah...? It’s...talking...?”

“Ves... Vess... Aie amm... Rentt! I... Adv... Venturer...”

Maybe it was to be expected that things would be a little different with someone to actually speak to. Slowly but surely, my speech became more coherent.

Clarity gradually crept back into my voice—its once dry and raspy roars now sporting some degree of clarity. At the very least, it was clear enough for her to vaguely understand me.

“Adven... Adventurer? You? An adventurer?! Um... Were you once an adventurer... Maybe...?”

“Ves! Ay... Adv...venturer! Nam... Name... Rentt!” “Mister Rend?”

“Rentt... Ren...tt! Ren...tt... ” “Ah, Mister Rentt...”

It would seem that she had gotten more used to me.

It occurred to me that this girl held a somewhat gutsy disposition. Although she continued to firmly grasp her weapon, she did not seem to mind that she was currently engaged in an otherwise normal conversation with me, a Ghoul. A normal adventurer would have simply struck out at me, or looked for an opening to escape.

“So, Mister Rentt... Your appearance... Is that some sort of disguise?”

“No... No. I...died... ”

Although her eyes widened at my statement, her expression slowly transitioned to that of pity as I continued my story.

“Ah... S-something like that happened, huh... No matter how you put it, you DO look like a Ghoul... Hmm. But I have heard stories of people becoming undead monsters after death. Although I’ve never heard of someone keeping their personality and memories...”

The girl’s observations rang true. While cases of undead monsters preserving some part of their memory after death did exist, it would mainly be such memories influencing the monster’s behavior and mannerisms. They were, as such, not considered to have the same mental clarity and sentience of a normal, living person.

The reverse also held true—legends speaking of individuals who,

through highly advanced magic, managed to reincarnate themselves as undead monsters with their consciousness intact and functional.

Sightings of them, however, were few and far between. Needless to say, I hadn’t encountered such a being myself.

In other words, a Ghoul like myself, who was fully capable of coherent speech, logic, and reason, was no longer a rare occurrence, but instead an impossible one.

I found myself at a loss—I had no way to explain why I had ended up this way. I did have a hunch, however. If I had to guess, the Dragon that ate me definitely had something to do with it.

Other than that, however, I inferred that I was, for all intents and purposes, a regular Ghoul.

But that was not something I could simply tell this girl.

More importantly, I needed her to understand that I was very much sentient, and capable of reason. After all, securing a source of cooperation and eventual aid was first on my agenda.

I had to make it back to Maalt at any cost. And for that to happen, I had to enlist this girl to assist me—which was why I said as such:

“...That... I... I also... D-don’t...know. But... I... I live!”

“I-is that right? You... You live? That’s a little strange coming from you... But you’re definitely not a normal monster... And you did save my life. Oh, yes, you did! So, thank you very much!”

As if realizing this fact midway through her speech, the girl thanked me, still holding her sword as she did so.

I responded in kind.

“D... Don’t... Worry. About... It. Advent... Turers. Help... Each other...”

“Um... Is what you’re saying really true? So, I can leave? You’re...not going to kill me or anything like that?”

I found myself more flustered than I should have been at the girl’s question.

“I... I... Will not kill... Kill you. But... I would... Would like some...

Help.”

“P-phew! That’s a relief! I thought I was a goner there... But... Help?

A request...? Well... You are the person... Um. I mean, monster, who saved my life... So I’ll hear you out! Well... I hope you don’t ask for my blood or flesh or anything...”

“Of... Course. About my... Request. I need... C... Clothes... To wear.” “...Clothes? To wear? Hmm. Ahh... Ahh. Right. I see.”

Saying so, the girl stared at me, as if she were closely inspecting a biological specimen of sorts. Eventually, she nodded as she understood my predicament.

“If you continued as you were...other adventurers might simply mistake you for a monster and attack you... Hmm. Well, then, would a robe or something to hide your body suffice?”

“Y... Yes. That... Sounds g-good... Thank... You. Here... Some m- gold... Gold.”

The girl was probably an Iron-class adventurer who did not have much in the way of income. Such was evident from her equipment alone.

Although I was a somewhat lower class of adventurer myself, I did not have many difficulties earning my keep, and still had the gold and equipment I had on me prior to my unfortunate demise.

Some of my equipment remained on my person, though some other items had been scattered around the clearing. I did, of course, retrieve

my belongings, and had performed the adequate checks for damage.

Detaching my coin-filled purse from my belt, I placed it on the ground, retreating a few steps backward as I instructed the girl to pick it up. The girl, for her part, advanced slowly and cautiously before finally bending over and picking up the bag, checking its contents.

“T-this is... Wow! You’ve made quite the fortune! I suppose you were quite a famous adventurer in life?” asked the girl, surprised.

In truth, my wealth had been amassed by steadily saving across the years, as opposed to me suddenly earning a large sum. The girl now held my entire fortune in her hands.

On that point, however, I remained silent. I did not want to start explaining my affairs—if I did, it would surely lead back to the Dragon, one way or another. Instead, I decided to redirect the conversation by once again bringing up the subject at hand.

“C-clothes... Once you... Have them. You can... Use. The rest for...

Yourself. P-please.”

To those words, the girl had this to say:

“I... I understand. I guess you have been through a lot... But you don’t seem like a bad monster to me. You know, if it weren’t for you, I would already be dead... I, Rina Rupaage, daughter of knights, will most certainly repay this favor in full. Please wait for me, Mister Rentt...”

With that, the girl continued to back away, still holding her sword.

Soon after, she was gone.

It would seem like she was still somewhat afraid of me. But of course that would be the case. If anything, that was the correct course of action that should be taken as an adventurer. Adventurers who were careless or too trusting were bound to end up dead somewhere, and sooner rather than later.

I felt that she would one day become a skilled adventurer.

The problem now was straightforward: would she actually keep her promise, or would she simply abscond with my money? Equipped with my decade of experience with regards to assessing the character of new adventurers, however, I felt that Rina would not betray me. She seemed a bit too serious and morally upright to do something like that.

Well, even if she did betray me, I suppose I would deal with the fallout then.

If, as a result, a strong adventurer were to be sent after me, I had to at least try and defend myself—I had to become stronger. Or would it be more appropriate to simply hone my hiding skills?

I felt silly at even raising the possibility of such a notion. I suppose it would just come down to becoming physically stronger in the end.

And so I continued hunting other monsters in the Labyrinth of the Moon’s Reflection, all the while keeping those thoughts in mind as I patrolled its halls.

◆◇◆◇◆

Rina Rupaage was a new adventurer, and a young girl at 17 years of age. Her armor and weapons were visibly cheap—as were most of the other items on her being. One could almost say that she looked impoverished.

Upon closer inspection, however, certain points caused her to stand out. Her beautiful blonde hair, which was well-cared for, seemed to pair well with her bright blue eyes that held a hope-filled gaze. If anything, a dress and a more delicate manner of clothing suited her much more than an adventurer’s outfit.

Her reason for coming to Maalt, a town on the fringes of Yaaran’s borders, was clear: she had received information that two beginner- level labyrinths existed near that town—at least, that was what she had

heard in the capital.

After all, there were many skilled adventurers in the capital of Yaaran, most of them proving to be quite strong. Due to this, it was not the most conducive of places for a new adventurer who had yet to make a name for herself. This was why Rina had set out for Maalt, in search of a place where she could feel more comfortable.

She had also been advised by a staff member of the capital’s adventurer’s guild that new adventurers were in demand at border towns. This introduced her to the various towns available—towns where she could train while saving up some money. Rina, completely taken in by the staff member’s description of said towns, eventually made her way to Maalt.

Normally, adventurers based in the capital of Yaaran would not relocate to a fringe town regardless of the amount of competition. To the greater half of adventurers, the capital was the place to be, primarily due to the higher-paying quests available. As such, most would not want to leave the capital at all, and called those who had been assigned to fringe towns “capital dropouts”—such were the general sentiments of Yaaran’s adventurers.

Rina, however, did not feel this way. Due to her personal circumstances, she very much preferred to leave the capital as soon as she could; that was how Rina Rupaage found herself immediately applying for an assignment in Maalt upon the staff member’s recommendation.

It had been a day since Rina had reached the town of Maalt.

Although she had first set foot in Maalt filled with hopes and dreams, she very quickly found her dreams shattered.

The reason for this was, once again, quite obvious. To a freshly- minted adventurer like Rina, both of Maalt’s supposedly entry-level labyrinths posed too much of a challenge. Exploring them herself was far too taxing, and while assembling a party was the best course of action, no one had wanted to group up with Rina. This was due to

Rina’s gender, appearance, and possibly, her history.

That is to say, Rina was a woman, which automatically placed her a rung under her male counterparts. To make things worse, she looked far too delicate, and was equipped with the cheapest items money could buy. In addition, it had hardly been a month since she became an adventurer. It was easy for any seasoned veteran to simply assume that Rina was “adventuring” as a hobby, and therefore could not be taken seriously. An unfortunate, and perhaps discriminatory story.

In reality, Rina was perhaps a tier above the typical adventurer who came to Maalt. In addition to being familiar with her weapon, she also possessed a sincere and honest personality. To one with an eye for talent, such a combination of strength and will for her experience level was rare—and if anything, Rina could definitely pull her own weight in a party.

However, it would seem that Rina Rupaage did not have very good luck. All of the individuals she had approached to form a party with had jumped to erroneous conclusions regarding her abilities.

Under normal circumstances, the local adventurer’s guild would employ several spotters, usually staking out at one watering hole or another in search of new talent. Of important note here, the spotter for Maalt’s guild was none other than Rentt Faina. In his absence, a higher-leveled adventurer would spot in his stead. Unfortunately for Rina, neither were present upon her arrival.

As a result, Rina, who was unable to find anyone else to adventure with, ended up deciding to explore the Labyrinth of the Moon’s Reflection alone. Although the staff members of Maalt’s adventurer’s guild had their misgivings, they had received reports of Rina’s capabilities from the capital, and thus determined that the chances of Rina losing her life in the labyrinth were low. This was why the guild had allowed Rina to undertake a quest on her own, albeit with prior words of warning.

To Rina, it would only be a matter of time before Rentt or one of the

guild’s advertised adventurers came searching for her, so it would probably not matter much if she had gone exploring on her own in the meantime. While most of Rina’s assumptions were true, she would have possibly made a different decision had she known more of the outside world.

Rina was considerably sheltered. While she was capable of a large variety of sword skills, most of these techniques were ceremonial in nature, so they did not serve any purpose in actual combat. To make matters worse, Rina did not have much in the way of combat experience at all. This was why Rina had ended up adventuring on her own in the Labyrinth of the Moon’s Reflection, under the recommendations of Maalt’s adventurer’s guild. Even though she eventually ended up in a situation that very nearly claimed her life.

She had gotten off to a good start and had managed to defeat a few monsters on her own, so she could have simply stopped then and there, collecting what ingredients and magic crystals she could for a tidy sum at the exchange. However, Rina overestimated her abilities and decided to go further.

If anything, this was a mistake often committed by new adventurers. While Rina was bound by many other rules and often treated as excess baggage in parties, she used to have some fellow adventurers to party with—and veterans, in turn, to offer her words of caution. However, this was not the case in Maalt—and Rina had made a potentially fatal decision because of that.

As a result of her actions, she had a close call with death at the hands of a Skeleton—had the fight continued, she would have surely lost her life.

But Rina was lucky; after all, she ended up crossing paths with someone who had decided to help her.

Just as the Skeleton before her raised its arm for the final blow, a savage cry pierced the air.

“...GAAAAAAH!!!”

Lifting her head at the sound, Rina could make out a silhouette at the end of the passageway.

Just as she wondered who her savior could be, Rina found herself at a loss for words, as what was standing in the passageway was a monster much deadlier than a typical Skeleton—a Ghoul. It also did not appear to be a normal Ghoul—a complex-looking series of tattoos were etched on its face, softly emitting a dim, blue glow.

Although Rina had not encountered many monsters in her short career as an adventurer, even she picked up on the fact that the monster before her was unique. If anything, it was probably a special monster native to this labyrinth.

There were a few different types of special monsters, including “rare named monsters” and “rare monsters.” As their names suggested, they were exceptionally rare indeed, and did not normally appear in the labyrinth at all. They also had unique features. To make things worse, such monsters were much stronger than their normal counterparts in most cases. If one was not adequately prepared, one’s life could easily be forfeit.

Consequently, the Ghoul that appeared before Rina seemed to possess traits that most special monsters did. While its features were telling, the aura that emanated from its being was an even more obvious indicator.

This is bad...

Such was the conclusion that Rina Rupaage had arrived at.

As if to compound her fears, the Ghoul charged toward the Skeleton, the very same one that was about to take her life, and easily sliced it in half with a single flash of its blade. So clean were its movements that Rina momentarily forgot the blade’s wielder was a Ghoul.

After calming down, Rina immediately realized that she was in a dire strait. It was now clear to her that she could not possibly defeat this Ghoul, and that her life as an adventurer would now end.

Rina prepared herself.

However, it had seemed like Rina’s encounter with the Ghoul was a good thing. For one reason or another, the monster that appeared before Rina began to speak, eventually asking for her assistance. To be more specific, the Ghoul had requested that she purchase clothes for it.

Quickly agreeing, Rina hurriedly ran off in the direction of Maalt. She had been speaking with a monster, after all. As an adventurer, it would be common sense not to trust a monster, and to simply report what she had seen to the guild. At least, that was how common sense worked.

Rina, however, understood that the Ghoul had saved her life. As a result, she felt like she had to repay the favor in some way.

While she was an adventurer now, Rina was once the daughter of a proud family of knights.

◆◇◆◇◆

Rentt Faina did not return. Sheila Ibarss, staff member of Maalt’s adventurer’s guild, felt that this was highly irregular.

Although Sheila had only worked at the guild for five years, and was a junior compared to her colleagues, she had known Rentt for a much longer period of time. Rentt was the first adventurer she had met when she first started working at the guild. While Rentt was younger then, an adventurer 20 years of age, he had already been adventuring for five years prior; even so, he was still a lower-Bronze-class adventurer. It was plain to see that Rentt was not exactly cut out for the job.

Most adventurers who did not make the cut were content to quit

adventuring after a few years. They would return to their hometowns or seek other means of employment upon realizing that they were lacking in any adventuring talent or aptitude. Though it may sound as such, it was not exactly a shameful thing, and a fair amount of adventurers made such a choice.

Although there were fools who would accuse those who retired as merely not working hard enough or unwilling to risk their lives, those who knew better understood that adventuring was not a job to be taken lightly. In response, those who were unable to understand this were seen as fools themselves—such was the common sentiment amongst most adventurers with good sense.

In other words, Rentt was already close to a suitable age for retirement, and it fell upon Sheila Ibarss, who had been assigned as his supervisor, to inform him of the news.

Sheila, however, resented becoming Rentt’s supervisor at the time. The reason was not due to a personal dislike of Rentt. Staff members of the adventurer’s guild had a duty to guide and assist adventurers until their last days. Looking at Rentt’s age and history, it was evident that he should soon retire as an adventurer—and it was also her job to unfortunately tell him as such. It was a job that someone had to do, but also one that no one had wanted to do. Most of the time staff members usually avoided such an assignment.

Sheila found herself somewhat depressed that her first job was to dismiss an adventurer. But it would seem that Sheila worried for nothing in the end.

To the adventurer’s guild of Maalt, Rentt was apparently exempt from such considerations. Although his years of experience and his simply being an adventurer (without much significant progress) did make him a good target for retirement recommendations, he was seen as too valuable an asset to lose. This was due to the fact that Rentt’s activities in and out of the guild had undeniably positive effects for Maalt’s populace. As such, it was determined that Rentt would not be promoted, but simply remain as he was for the time being.

In fact, the adventurer’s guild master of Maalt would scout Rentt himself into the guild as a staff member should Rentt ever retire from adventuring—such was Rentt’s value to the guild.

For starters, Rentt served multiple purposes, and he fulfilled numerous roles in the guild. Not only was he a good judge of aptitude in new adventurers, he also introduced them to party members who would be a good fit. He also educated newcomers on the rules, common sense, and field knowledge required to properly explore a labyrinth. To complete the picture, Rentt also frequently foiled the plots of adventurers who were up to no good.

This was, by and large, basic knowledge that anyone could impart.

But due to a shortage of personnel actually willing to perform such tasks, Rentt’s existence was a blessing to many newcomers to labyrinth exploration.

Under normal circumstances, much of this work would fall to representatives of the guild. Rentt, however, performed most of these tasks free of charge. Although the guild occasionally contracted him to perform these tasks, such occurrences were rare. Even so, Rentt went about his tasks happily and without complaint.

In addition, as a direct result of his endeavors, the death rate of new adventurers in the surrounding labyrinths of Maalt fell greatly compared to that of other areas. The greater propensity for local adventurers educated by Rentt to follow laws and rules also translated to a better coexistence between local adventurers and townsfolk. It was perhaps obvious to say that Rentt was a rarity.

Sheila, on the other hand, was not a native of Maalt, instead journeying to the capital to take the guild’s entrance exam. After passing the test, she was dispatched to Maalt, which was quite different from the hometown she had left behind.

In stark contrast, the adventurers in Sheila’s hometown were mostly individuals of questionable character. Despite there being good- hearted adventurers as well, they were as a whole not liked by the

townsfolk, who were either reciprocatively unkind to or afraid of them. While most adventurers there engaged in opportunistic, petty crimes, some of them were outright full-time criminals.

Maalt, on the other hand, was radically different. Adventurers in Maalt were trusted, and if any in their number were to perpetrate crimes, they would be speedily brought in by the hands of their fellow adventurers. Sheila, being Rentt’s supervisor, fully understood that Rentt Faina’s existence was the very thing that was responsible for the positive morals of Maalt’s adventurers.

The reason for Sheila being introduced to Rentt, however, was not simply to let her build experience on a hapless adventurer. If anything, it was the opposite: Sheila, being new, would learn greatly from working with Rentt, whose experience in odd jobs and other thankless tasks made him a good candidate for imparting important knowledge

—such was the decision of the guild. Over time, Sheila learned much from Rentt about the guild and about the desired traits in guild staff, and she was now a highly-valued member of the adventurer’s guild of Maalt.

The extent of Rentt’s guidance was by no means narrow. In fact, a quick look around the various corners of Maalt revealed many new adventurers, most of whom had been guided by Rentt’s hand. It would not be strange if one of these new adventurers eventually rose to Mithril-class, as Rentt himself often watched over his juniors, ensuring they got the guidance they needed.

While Rentt dreamed of becoming a Mithril-class adventurer himself one day, he also did put in the work—engaging in a strict daily training regimen, unbeknownst to Sheila or other adventurers.

However, Rentt was more aware than any other individual when it came to accepting that he had little talent for adventuring. If Rentt had a sliver or shred of talent in his body, his efforts would surely have paid off. Unfortunately, reality was not as kind. There was not much to be done about the matter.

While Rentt could have simply teamed up with other strong

adventurers and found fame as a united party, many local adventurers of Maalt knew of Rentt’s goal—his dream of becoming a Mithril-class adventurer.

But Rentt did not seek to become such an individual because of fame. No, he wanted to become a Mithril adventurer on his own power and capability. As such, depending on another individual, or a party of adventurers, defeated that purpose. In order to fulfill his dream, Rentt had no choice but to press on, as unlikely as he was to succeed. After all, that was the only path available to him.

As adventuring and fighting alone were the quickest ways to build one’s strength, Rentt did exactly that. Other adventurers, in turn, avoided partying up with Rentt outside of emergencies. Maalt’s other adventurers did this out of consideration for Rentt, knowing of his dream. No matter how unlikely it would seem, it was not in their interest to belittle Rentt’s quest for strength—even if the truth was plain for all to see.

Rentt was, for the lack of a better word, weak. As such, other local adventurers knew that death would knock on his door sooner or later. But Sheila and the other adventurers thought that this possibility was relatively low. Yet in the end, they let Rentt do as he pleased, not saying a word as he continued his lonesome quest.

While Rentt was a Bronze-class adventurer and had the strength of one, his knowledge and experience of adventuring was more than enough to rival that of seasoned veterans. Even if he were somehow faced with a dangerous foe, he would surely remain calm and make the right decisions—at least, that was what the other adventurers of Maalt thought of Rentt.

With all that said, however, one fact remained true: Rentt Faina did not return.

Rentt Faina, the lower-Bronze-class adventurer who would enter the same labyrinth at the same time every day, return to the guild at the same time with similar ingredients, sign off his assigned tasks, and

then be off to train elsewhere.

Such was the daily life of Rentt. This would happen every single day, without fail, and yet—

No one knew where he had disappeared to. Sheila was merely one of many who were concerned about his absence.

Rentt...

Rentt Faina—

Please, be safe—such were the unheard prayers of Sheila as she continued her daily tasks at the guild.

“Um...”

The voice of a young girl shook Sheila out of her thoughts. Raising her head, she found that the owner of the voice was, indeed, a young girl—and a familiar one at that.

The girl was a new adventurer who had been assigned to Maalt from the capital mere days before. Due to her arriving at a somewhat unfortunate time, neither Rentt nor other senior adventurers were present—and as such, she had eventually wandered off to adventure alone.

Sheila recalled her name—Rina Rupaage. With that, she tidied up a sheaf of papers in her hands, before lending an ear to what Rina had to say.

◆◇◆◇◆

With a swing of my sword, I sliced through the Skeletons before me. I no longer knew how many I had defeated, as I stopped counting long ago. While I had to put in considerable effort to defeat a Skeleton in life, those memories seemed to be lies. I maneuvered to the back of my skeletal foe effortlessly, bringing down my blade and once again slicing my opponent’s white bones into two clean halves.

It was unbelievable.

The changes were not exactly brought on by an improvement in technique, but instead, I had simply become stronger—physically, that is. My reserves of mana, spirit, and divinity, too, seemed to increase with each monster I defeated. Utilizing these three aspects, I was now capable of reinforcing my body in various ways; I was finally moving as I had always wanted to.

These speeds were unthinkable for me in life—and yet, my body moved smoothly and quickly. I had suffered from blood blisters, many of them, as I continued my training. But no matter how hard I trained, I did not get any faster or stronger.

The reality now, however, was different. My body moved as I instructed it to; there were no mistakes in my movements. I could also see my enemy’s movements clearly—my senses were sharper than they had ever been. Adventurers who had surpassed me surely saw the world this way, as well.

I remembered how I was in life, how I’d been unable to see anything at all. If possible, I would have wanted to reach this degree of power while I still drew breath; although I supposed that was now impossible. But perhaps I should be grateful for the fact that I was still fully in control of my faculties, even in death. With this, I might even be able to reach my dream of becoming a Mithril-class adventurer...

It was with this thought that a question rose up in my mind:

Will I continue being an adventurer after all this time?

Of course, there were many different kinds of adventurers. One became an adventurer if one wanted to, but many adventurers stopped after plateauing at the Bronze level, much like myself. With some special exceptions, anyone could become an adventurer as long as they were at least 15 years of age.

However:

Could a monster be an adventurer?

With that, another question rose up from the depths of my mind.

Perhaps it was possible—such was the answer I had arrived at, as if it were some sort of common sense.

However, reality was not so kind. I thought about the situation some more. If, for instance, a Ghoul simply turned up at an adventurer’s guild one day, then simply walked up to the receptionist’s counter, extending its half-rotted hand while speaking in its crackled, half- growl of a voice...

“Ay... Adven... Turer. Rev... Revis... Ter... Me!” It was like something out of a horror story.

The receptionist would definitely refuse. In addition, she would instantly press the panic button under her desk, immediately summoning strong adventurers from the immediate area, or even the guild master himself. And like that, the Ghoul would be disposed of— and that would be the end of it.

With that being said, however... It did not cross my mind, not even once, that I may be unable to continue adventuring—until now, that is.

I supposed I should stop thinking. More importantly, I had to think of how I would continue living from here on out, as I still had a dream to fulfill: to become a Mithril-class adventurer.

After all this, the bottleneck that I had struggled with for the longest time had been removed. I now had the talent and aptitude for adventuring...in exchange for the perils of my current monstrous form.

If this form prevented me from adventuring, however, that would be a big issue. I came to the conclusion that I had to think of a way to continue adventuring, no matter how I looked, or what I became.

Although I had mentioned the generous policies of the guild multiple times, I supposed expecting the guild to accept a monster into their ranks was asking a bit too much.

I had asked Rina to purchase clothes on my behalf, but that did not solve one other significant problem. A robe could hide most of my disheveled body, but it could not hide my face nor my arms. I would, naturally, have to lean in when reading or handing over gold and ingredients—hiding my arms was impossible to say the least.

I looked at my arms in resignation. They were, as I had expected, very much rotted and dry. There was no other way to put it.

In fact, the color of my skin seemed to have gotten worse—while it was just brown not too long ago, it was now streaked with lines of black. I would be amazed if a living human being did not react to how my arms looked. Though, perhaps there might be some individuals who could look past that and not mind interacting with me...

No. That was just wishful thinking.

I, Rentt Faina, was not exactly famous for my adventuring prowess

—but my face was one thing that was widely known, despite my reputation as “The Thousand-year Bronze-class.” I was famous, or perhaps infamous, for not giving up in my endeavors, and was well- known across Maalt as a result.

In other words, more than half of the adventurer’s guild of Maalt knew how I looked in life. If I were to suddenly show up with my arms in this shape, I would surely be asked many questions.

The guild’s staff would continue asking after me out of worry, thinking that I had been afflicted by one terrible monster or other in the labyrinth. In their quest for information, my robe would inevitably be pulled off forcibly—and that would be that. Though I could see myself making one excuse or another if it were only my arms...

For example, let’s say that a monster sucked the life out of my hands; that would be possible. However, it would be over once they saw my face.

Although I was not in possession of a mirror, my face was evidently Ghoulish. I would surely be hunted down and eliminated regardless of my reasons or situation—especially since I had fallen and lost my humanity.

Things did not look very good at all.

The situation did not lend itself to any other interpretations, and once again, I found my will wavering.

But I had already made up my mind.

The only problem here was my appearance. If I could do something about how I looked, a solution would surely reveal itself to me. To do that, I had to calm down, and once again focus on my initial goal—that of achieving Existential Evolution. Until I began to appear at least somewhat human, I should stay away from the adventurer’s guild. It did occur to me, however, that I would no longer have a source of income.

A familiar voice soon jolted me from my many considerations of worries and problems.

“...Rentt! ...Mister Rentt! Are you there? Somewhere?!”

That voice belonged to none other than Rina Rupaage, the girl whom I had sent away to purchase clothes on my behalf.

“...Eek!”

◆◇◆◇◆

Accidentally bumping into me as she continued her search, Rina the adventurer inadvertently let out a squeal of surprise. While one would not typically expect a scream as a reaction when meeting with an acquaintance, I suppose it was unavoidable given my appearance.

Rina, apparently still terrified, began speaking in a still-shaky voice. “Uh... Um... M-mister Rentt...? Is that you...? Or, um, are you

another one of his Ghoul friends...?” questioned Rina, with her sword

at the ready.

I could not possibly blame her. Ghouls were, after all, nigh impossible to tell apart. Their bodies and dried flesh were by and large of similar colors, which definitely did not help with the task. At the very least, I was equipped with weapons and armor. Though higher- ranked Ghouls did look similar to me, weapons and all, a beginner like Rina was probably not privy to the fact.

As such, I calmly answered Rina’s question: “...Y... Yes. I...am. Ren... Rentt.”

While dry, my voice was coherent—I had been practicing ever since my last encounter with Rina. My voice was now clearer and easier to understand—at least, it felt that way. But I could not be sure; I was simply speaking to myself due to a lack of conversational partners, after all, hence my feelings on the matter.

Rina, however, seemed relieved.

“Ah... That’s great! I was wondering what I’d do if it wasn’t you...

Hmm? Your speech seems to have gotten a little better...”

It would seem like I was not just imagining things after all.

“I... P-practice. Practiced. To be... Able. To talk... More.”

“Oh, is that so? That’s great, too! Then entering town shouldn’t be a problem... Oh! Right—here you go, the things you asked me to get!

And here’s your change!”

With that, Rina held out a bag. Upon closer inspection, it appeared to be a bundle of objects, including the robe that I had asked her to buy for me.

With some excitement, I eagerly advanced toward Rina. She, however, involuntarily retreated, a look of apprehension on her face.

The shock made me stop dead in my tracks. Rina hastily offered an explanation.

“I... I’m sorry. Um. You’re still a little scary... Could you give me a while to g-get used to you...?”

It was as Rina said. I suppose this was how things really were. There was nothing much I could do about how I looked—if anything, I was grateful for the fact that Rina willingly communicated with me, given that I looked like a monster to begin with.

I offered my response:

“...N... No. I don’t... Mind at... All. More importantly... Can I look...

At the bag?”

Rina’s reply was, at least, a little more cheerful than before.

“Yes! Please do! I bought some other things along with the robe you wanted; you should have a look at them!”

With her approval, I slowly walked up to the bag, peering at the contents within.

◆◇◆◇◆

Reaching into the bag after confirming its contents, I grasped onto the robe with my hands, pulling out the garment and inspecting it closely. It was relatively spacious and billowing, in addition to being pitch-black. It also came with a hood, which I found convenient for my needs in particular. Robes like these were largely worn by mages and the like, and I would have never thought to wear one in life.

If anything, it was a hindrance to swordsmen. As I was now, however, the ability to hide myself in its depths was a godsend, as the robe covered me neatly from head to toe; it even sported long sleeves to hide my arms. With this, paying for items at shops would be a breeze.

I applauded Rina’s fashion sense—she had accurately understood what I’d wanted despite my simple instructions. With that being said, clapping was impossible for my dried-out hands.

Shelving that thought, I decided to try on the garment. My arms fit cleanly into the robe’s sleeves, and the material was quite pleasant to the touch. Having that sense of touch while being in a body of nothing but dried flesh was somewhat surprising; not to mention my newfound ability to move in such an agile manner. Thinking about it calmly, though, I was still a monster—surely that was the reason for these irregularities.

One must also consider if a piece of equipment presents any issues with movement while in combat, in addition to being comfortable.

Quickly raising the robe’s hood, I decided to find out, and was pleasantly surprised by the results. While my field of view was somewhat constricted by the hood, I had no issues with seeing straight ahead; I could even safely peek at my surroundings to a certain extent. If I were to be surrounded, however, I would have no choice but to lower it—but that wouldn’t be necessary should I be engaged in combat with only one or two monsters.

“...How is it? Is it to your liking?”

“...O-oh. Y... You. Surprised me there.”

Rina had apparently seen fit to approach me as I was trying on the hood. She was now a lot closer to me than she had ever been, despite the fact that she had been visibly terrified of me mere minutes ago.

Although she was still holding her sword, the “business” end of its blade was no longer pointed at me.

Is she already getting used to me?

I wondered if she had a habit of becoming comfortable with new things so suddenly.

“...C... Clothes. Good fit. Mo... More importantly. Are you... Not scared? Scared... Of me?”

“No, not at all! I mean, you’ve hidden most of your non-human parts, so... It’s not too hard for me to stand at this distance,” Rina said, about three steps away from me.

—A little shorter than the reach of her blade, if I had to put it that way.

It would seem that she was at a clear enough distance to respond appropriately should anything go wrong. Contrary to the initial expression I had of her, it would seem that Rina was relatively cautious. Even so, I saw this as a great improvement—that was what I thought at least as I continued inspecting Rina’s movements.

While one could say that the entire chain of events, starting with me being eaten by a Dragon and being reborn as an undead Skeleton, was somewhat unlucky, meeting Rina was probably the most fortuitous thing that had happened to me thus far.

Although it was true that I did save her life, there wouldn’t normally be humans that could unflinchingly speak with monsters. And even if I did not know what the future held, the fact that Rina continued to cooperate with me was something I was extremely grateful for.

“Oh, yes... That’s right. I bought some other things, too... Here, see? Shoes, and gloves, and even a belt. It’d be bad if you were seen in the streets with those hands and feet, right?”

Saying so, Rina reached into the bag, withdrawing the aforementioned items before setting them down gently on the ground of the labyrinth.

Both the shoes and gloves were made of quality leather; color-wise, however, both items were subdued, presumably chosen so that they would not stand out.

I found this greatly pleasing. To begin with, I hadn’t asked Rina for such things—in my situation, I could only think of asking for a robe. And yet Rina had unexpectedly read between the lines, thinking in great detail about the items I would need to make it back to Maalt safely. I could not help but wonder if there was another world out there where young girls chose suitable articles of clothing for monsters.

Having met the first person who treated me kindly since I had turned into a monster, I felt like I could cry—but alas, such was not possible with this body.

In any case, I decided to put on both the shoes and gloves. Due to the nature of my dried flesh, I was not quite sure if either article would be useful for me, but for now, I settled with at least wearing them.

With that in mind, I stuffed my feet into the shoes, while adjusting the oddly spacious gloves with my free hand. It was difficult to hold my weapon through these gloves, and while the implications were worrying, I accepted this as part of a necessary sacrifice in order to return to Maalt.

“Wow... That’s quite the intimidating aura. You look like... What do they call those things again? Wights...? Yeah, you look like a Wight!

Oh, right, I have a mirror here, too. How’s this?”

Sounding more and more like a shopkeeper of sorts with each passing second, Rina showered me with praise...if being called a Wight could be considered praise. Withdrawing a mirror from the seemingly bottomless bag, Rina once again set it down upon the ground.

While Rina’s refusal to directly hand the mirror to me was a little saddening, I suppose there was little discussion on the matter.

Rina’s thoughtfulness in bringing me the mirror alone was definitely a helpful gesture. After all, I had been unable to see how I looked like ever since becoming a Skeleton, and the question had been floating in my head all this time. Of course, I was not expecting to look like how I used to—I had had a somewhat youthful face that seemingly did not change between the ages of 15 and 25. Just for the record, my appearance was by no means stunning or breathtaking in life.

If anything, a fearsome face was not too much of a bad thing either. It was good to have an intimidating expression; at least, it was for an adventurer.

With those thoughts in mind, I picked up the mirror, its surface apparently some sort of polished metal. Peering into it, I was hardly prepared for what I saw.

“...Th... This... Is...”

That’s not to say that I hadn’t anticipated this, however, to see the dried-up face of a corpse. It was also very dead, with eye sockets sinking deep into my skull. In fact, one of my eyeballs was missing— that was one thing I did not anticipate. While it was a mystery as to why I could still see out of both eyes, that was not the problem I currently saw reflected—

No matter how I looked at it, this was the face of a corpse.

The one thing that did stand out, though, was a series of complicated, glowing tattoos on my face, pulsing in a soft, blue hue. Although they were actually somewhat pretty to look at, the tattoos

also gave off a mysterious, almost incomprehensible aura. I deduced that these tattoos had something to do with my transformation into a member of the walking dead.

But putting that all aside, it was undeniable that the situation was dire, and my efforts at disguise were all but ruined by these glowing tattoos. If anything, they made me stand out like a sore thumb.

The tattoos themselves would have been fine, but the fact that they were glowing made matters so much worse. After all, they could clearly be seen even if I had my hood raised. Determined to see if I could remedy the situation, I raised my hood several times and tried out different resting positions, but my efforts proved fruitless. Light steadily streamed out from inside my hood—no matter how anyone looked at it, this was not a very human thing to occur.

In the end, I would have to live my life as a Wight; one with a fearsome and terrible glowing blue hood.

...No. No!

That would be bad! What should I do?!

I held my head in despair.

“Ah, that’s right. You didn’t ask me to buy this, but it was cheap, and I figured you’d like to have something like this... What do you think?” Rina asked, once again retrieving something from her bottomless bag.

The item that Rina held out was not something I recalled seeing upon my first inspection of its contents. Was it truly a magical bag of some sort?

For the time being, I was forced to put aside that thought.

More importantly here, the object that Rina had taken out of it was

none other than a mask. It was a large, full-sized face mask, made of what appeared to be bone. As its size suggested, it was large enough to completely hide my face, tattoos and all.

“...What... Is that...?”

I had meant to ask her why she’d purchased this to begin with, as opposed to the nature of the item. Rina, however, quickly offered a cheerful response.

“Mister Rentt... You do want to go back to Maalt, right? You’d have to hide your face to do so, and I don’t think you’d be let in with a glowing face, you know?”

Again, it was as Rina said.

This girl... She really was something else. While I felt my facial regions heat up, there were regrettably no tears of gratitude to be found. I tried my damnedest to cry, but Rina likely did not notice any changes in my demeanor.

Approaching the mask that Rina had set on the ground, I picked it up, inspecting it closely. It appeared to have adequately-sized holes for one’s eyes and mouth, so it did not seem like I would have many issues seeing or breathing. Whether I could even breathe as I currently was, however, was another issue altogether.

With that in mind, I held the mask up with both hands, and tied it on. Without warning, the mask suddenly adhered itself to my face, almost plastering itself into my dry, dead skin.

“...Ugah!” That strange sound escaped my lips.

Before I knew it, the mask was firmly fitted over my entire face. “Wow... It fits you, you know?” said Rina, once again showcasing

her unique sense of praise. At her words, I looked up into the mirror—

Reflected there was what appeared to be a suspicious-looking swordsman of the dark magic persuasion, who also conveniently had a skull-shaped mask covering his entire face.

Indeed, it seemed to fit me well. I had, after all, been a Skeleton mere days ago; as such, a skeletal mask would definitely fit me.

—At least, that was my logic.

However... This mask felt very tight, almost like a second skin.

Would it even come off?

Suddenly filled with a sense of unease, I attempted to remove the mask, positioning my fingers to pry it from my face. It was then that I realized—

“...Stu... Stuck. Won’t... Come off.” “Ah...”

At my words, Rina’s cheerful praises quickly died down.

◆◇◆◇◆

“...Is it really stuck on that bad?” Rina inquired, sympathy evident in her voice as I continued wrestling with my mask.

While I had valiantly fought to remove it after putting it on, my efforts were in vain. As if it were plastered to my face, or perhaps fused to it, the mask remained resolutely in place.

“N... No... Good. It’s no good...”

Rina offered an apology, a remorseful expression on her face. “...Oh, no... I’m sorry, it’s all my fault... Actually, now that I think

about it, the person who sold me this mask was kind of weird... He had this stall on the street, and all of his products were surprisingly cheap...” Rina said, seemingly unaware of the gravity of her words.

Rina’s description of the merchant fit the bill, with the exception of his incredibly low prices. I came to the conclusion that the merchant in question was probably a fraudster, although some merchants were swindlers to some degree to begin with.

“By... The way. How... Much? How much... Did it cost...?”

“Three copper coins. It was made of metal and looked pretty solid... I guess it was too cheap...? I mean, it looked kind of cool, and I really liked it, so...”

She liked it.

I suppose there was no choice... But this was not something I could easily accept, of course. Also, it was three copper coins.

It was perhaps worth noting that masked adventurers were not all that rare, nor were the existence of masks catered to such a clientele. This was due to the fact that many adventurers often accumulated scars and injuries over their careers, with many of the scars not able to be removed or healed with simple first aid or healing magics. Severe injuries to the limbs and body were often only treatable by church- sanctioned priestess-saints, and those seeking such treatment were often expected to pay an exorbitant price for the church’s services. As such, those unable to afford healing were, quite often, resigned to living with their injuries or prosthetic limbs.

Wounds to the face, such as burns or severe scarring, were in turn commonly hidden by masks. After all, even a low-tier Slime’s Acid Blitz attack contained enough power to melt one’s features. To make matters worse, such monsters were not exactly rare.

This was why masks were quite a common adventurer’s accessory, with most adventurers wishing they would be able to live a full life without ever having to use one.

With that being said, I should mention that the metallic mask currently stuck to my face did not feel cheap at all. If anything, one

would at least have to pay one silver coin for it, as purchasing an item like this with bronze coins was almost unheard of, unless the merchant in question was in the business of accruing losses. In other words, the scrap value of the mask itself was definitely worth more than three bronze coins—and yet, that was exactly the price Rina had purchased it for.

She should’ve had some reservations about such a cheap item, but she purchased it anyway, probably unable to resist its value at that price.

“...” I stared at Rina intently, despite the fact that I was missing one of my eyeballs.

As I did so, Rina frantically waved her hands in front of her face, as if to deny all responsibility.

“Ah, um, no, see, it’s all right, isn’t it! It didn’t feel like it was cursed or anything... See, look—I held it with my bare hands and I’m fine!

Although I did think there was a reason for it being so cheap... And I

did hope it wasn’t cursed...”

It would seem it was as Rina said. She did, for her part, also take out the mask without much fanfare, and had placed it upon the ground without incident.

So... Was the mask not cursed after all?

—No. Focusing my attention on the mask that was currently stuck to my face, I felt a trace of evil: the unmistakable stench of dark energy.

This was, without a doubt, some sort of lingering curse.

As for why Rina had not been affected... Well, it was simple: the girl naturally did not attempt to try the mask on in the first place. Even I myself did not feel anything amiss when handling the mask with my hands. To be precise, it was a curse that only took effect once the mask was placed on a potential victim’s face.

How terribly unlucky—and that was perhaps an understatement.

A curse... If it really were such a thing, I had several ideas of my own.

With a deep breath, I focused my thoughts, activating my inner reserves of divinity. Responding to my summons, a faint, blue glow spilled forth from my body, enveloping the mask in a silent aura.

“W-What is...this? Don’t tell me... Is this divinity...?” Rina said, surprise plainly written across her face.

Once again, I could not possibly blame her. Divinity, and the aptitude to utilize it, was a very rare ability indeed. Although one could observe it being used by priests or other such divine peoples during festivals, watching it actually being used up close was not exactly an everyday experience.

The reason for me using this ability now was self-explanatory, as divinity had the ability to cleanse that which was most foul and unnatural. It could also, of course, lift curses and the like, and this was often a skill monopolized by the aforementioned priests and their ilk. Even I had no precise knowledge on how to lift curses. Instead, I simply worked with the assumption that a burst of divinity, even without the acute understanding of how curse-lifting worked, would at least serve to weaken the curse imbued in the mask.

This would have been impossible for me in life. The most I could do back then was purify water so that it was safe to drink—and that was that. I would have been unable to lift curses even if I had tried.

But I was different now; I had undergone Existential Evolution and defeated numerous monsters. Thus, I put my mind to the task.

Honestly speaking, there were some results. While the mask had remained stubbornly stuck up until a while ago, it suddenly began rattling in response to the aura generated by my divinity.

Will... Will it come off?

I certainly hoped it would.

“...Eh... Oh? Mister Rentt... That white-blue aura of yours... Is it getting dimmer, or is it just me?” Rina spoke in a worried voice, continuing to observe me.

Like she said, my aura had definitely begun to dim. My inner reserves were running dry, to be more precise. Although the amount of divinity I had at my disposal had certainly increased, it was not an overwhelmingly huge difference. Up until now, the force within the mask seemed almost threatened by my divinity. Now, however, the tides had turned, and it almost felt like my divinity was being pushed back. I supposed this would be too much for me to handle—for now, at least.

Giving up, I slowly halted my aura release. Similarly, the mask stopped rattling a short while later. Immediately after it stopped, the mask once again glued itself onto my face—it did not feel like I had any chance of removing it as of now.

As I suspected, I was still not strong enough to lift its curse quite yet.

“...So... I suppose it was no good...”

“Yeah... No... Good. No good.”

Tired out by my exertions and initial shock of the unmoving mask, I sat down upon the labyrinth’s ground.

“I’m so sorry... I didn’t mean to buy a cursed thing like that...” Rina promptly apologized.

Did she interpret my actions and behavior as disappointment, perhaps? Rina, with her eyes half-filled with tears, seemed incredibly remorseful about this unfortunate turn of events.

It was unexpected, to say the least. While true that the mask could not be removed, I had no reason to blame Rina for what she did. She had merely found me a mask out of the goodness of her heart.

I offered some words of comfort to Rina:

“Don’t... Mind. It’s... Fine. I... Must hide... Face. Anyway. I will be...

Fine. Like this... For a while.” “But—”

“It felt like, it would come off... Just now. I... Become stronger, it may... Come off. Also could... Get a priest... A priest. Lift... Curses.”

I tried to comfort Rina to the best of my ability. I held out my hand to pat her on the shoulder, but stopped myself in time. My hand awkwardly remained suspended in the air. How could I forget? I was a Ghoul now, and Rina was not yet used to me—I shouldn’t traumatize her any further.

However, as if to accept my gesture, Rina reached out, holding my outstretched glove with her hands.

“Wh... What... Are you...” I was shocked.

“I... I get it. You’re not a bad person... Or, um, monster? Mister Rentt—you’re not scary... Not...scary at all...”

Despite her words, Rina’s hands shivered, albeit slightly.

I understood. Contrary to her claims, Rina was still afraid. Even so, she had thought of reassuring me—that much I understood.

This was why I said to Rina, “Thank... You. But... Until the day... When you really... Are not... Scared. No need... To force... Yourself.”

Saying so, I let go of her hand gently, taking care not to injure her.

Rina, however, was adamant.

“I’ll get used to it quickly! Really quickly! Really!” She smiled, without a shred of evidence to back up her declaration.

An almost childlike view, as if this were a normal situation one could observe anywhere. It was at that point, however, that I felt like I was truly alive. I was filled with happiness at being able to hold a proper, human-like conversation with another human being.

◆◇◆◇◆

“Um... So, this may be sudden, but do you just...want to go back to Maalt now?”

Such was the question posed to me as soon as I finished equipping the rest of Rina’s provided clothing. I found myself at a momentary loss at those words, if only because I remained unsure if such a feat was even possible.

Although I had set out to achieve Existential Evolution just to return to town, the prospect of it actually being possible now was somewhat baffling to me. To actually carry out the task, I thought, was deeply unsettling.

“Do you think... It will go... Well?”

—That was why I asked Rina such a question.

To an average human, I was robed, gloved, slouched over, and equipped with a sword at the waist. I wondered if this would be sufficient enough for me to walk around town. I had no one but Rina to provide a human opinion, after all.

“Hmm... You do look a little strange, but then, many people are like that. Even if someone demands that you show your face, that mask is cursed, for better or worse. It simply won’t come off, right? Then you should just tell the guards at the gate that. Hey, maybe they can even try pulling it off for themselves. That way they’ll know it really won’t come off.”

Rina’s response was surprisingly detailed. “But... If I do... That. My... Skin...”

“You’re supposed to bluff your way through that...! Say a monster got you good and sucked the life out of your face or something like that. If they knew the truth, they’d probably identify you as an undead monster, but common sense would tell them that speaking with an undead is impossible. Even though you still have some trouble speaking, they won’t immediately jump to the conclusion that you’re an undead. If anything, they’ll think that you’re some veteran adventurer who has scars all over from combat. If they could see your face, that would certainly be a long shot—but now they can’t! It’ll work!”

Rina’s words gave me great courage. If I thought about it calmly, most of what Rina said was right. Only extremely high-tier undead monsters would be capable of communication and logic in the first place. While one would feel the strength of its aura should one approach such a being, I currently did not give off that impression. For starters, if I really did have such powers, I would not trouble myself over something as simple as finding a way back into Maalt.

I would bluff if the guards became suspicious, and then it would work out. I felt like I could do at least that much. The rest was up to my own personal performance.

“All right, then... Let’s... Give it... A shot.” “Yes! Let’s go!”

I tilted my head to one side at Rina’s statement. “What... Do you mean?”

“Eh? Aren’t we going together...?”

Rina’s response to my question was swift. If anything, she seemed

confused as to why I was even asking.

I was terribly surprised; of all things, I did not expect Rina to go with me, given that I was currently an undead monster. She was undertaking a great risk, facilitating the entry of a monster such as myself into town. If we were somehow found out, she would be treated as an abnormality who had allied herself with a monster, and would be readily persecuted.

Was she not thinking of the consequences? I had to ask her at least that much.

“...If... You went... With me. You would be... In danger... Rina.” “Ah... That’s probably the case... But there’s an even greater chance

of success if you come with me! If someone were with you and spoke of

you as a human, why would a guard at the gate have any reason to think of you as a monster?”

“That... Is true. But is this... Fine? If... If anything hap... Happens...” “We’ll cross that bridge when we come to it! ...Mister Rentt, if it

hadn’t been for you, I would already be dead. I feel like it would be all

right for me to risk my life at least once for you, no?” Rina spoke these words as if it were the most obvious thing to do.

With that, though, it suddenly occurred to me that Rina was a very considerate person—maybe too much so. Either way, I was thankful for Rina’s kindness.

Thinking about it from the angle of Rina’s welfare, I should have definitely refused her help; even so, I had to return to Maalt. In addition, it was like Rina had said: if there was a human being vouching for me, my chances of success dramatically increased.

It also only took one safe entrance into Maalt for me to pass without relative alarm in the future. If the guards became familiar with me, their inspections would surely become much more relaxed.

And so, I decided to entrust my future to Rina.

“Well... Then. I’m... Counting... On you. But don’t... Risk your... Life. If anything... Happens. Say... Say I tricked... You.” Even if I were to be found out, Rina would probably be all right if she played that card.

While I had my doubts about the whole thing, it was true that talking undead were, in general, not very common at all. In fact, claiming that I was an adventurer with hideous injuries because of my battles was far more believable.

Nodding at my words, Rina responded in kind.

“It’d be great if we didn’t have to do something like that... If it really comes down to it, I’ll definitely think of something,” she said, a soft smile on her face.

◆◇◆◇◆

“...Next!” The strict voice of a gate guard echoed through the grounds of Maalt’s western gates.

Upon hearing that, Rina prodded me, encouraging me to move. “...It’s our turn, Mister Rentt...” Saying so, she walked up to the

guard with her chest out, as if nothing were out of the ordinary.

This girl is really something else...

Thinking so, I quickly followed after Rina.

“One woman and...a man? I think? ...Permits, please.” Although he had hesitated somewhat, it would seem like the soldier identified me as a man.

On top of that, he was a soldier I had never seen before. It would seem like choosing a gate I had seldom ever used was a good idea after all. If the guard had been one who was familiar with me in life, it would only lead to all kinds of inconvenient questions. On the other

hand, it could have worked out in my favor... It was a complicated subject, no matter what.

Regardless, Rina handed the guard her permit, which was a somewhat dull-colored card. Withdrawing my own permit from my tool belt, I did the same.

“...Rina Rupaage and...Rentt...Faina. Both of you seem to have acceptable permits; there seem to be no issues here—huh. You there.”

I had thought that we would be able to breeze through the inspection easily, and enter Maalt before we knew it—it would seem like that was no longer the case.

Damn. Stopped after all—but I had to do something about it without panicking.

“...Yes. What... Is... It?”

“...You speak quite strangely, you know that? Could you please remove your mask...?”

At the soldier’s words, Rina interjected.

“I’m sorry... His mask is cursed, you see. We tried removing it, but it just won’t come off. The reason he speaks like that is... Ah, a monster got his throat... Well, not just his throat—his entire face...”

Such was Rina’s explanation.

The soldier listened on, a mixture of suspicion and surprise on his face.

“...You could... Give it a shot... Too. It won’t... Come... Off.”

Saying so, I leaned forward. The soldier, in turn, attempted to pull the mask off with all his might.

“...Ughh... Huh. It really doesn’t come off... Is it actually cursed?”

“We wouldn’t lie about something like that... He bought a mask to hide the scars all those monsters gave him, but accidentally got one that was cursed instead... He truly has some bad luck... Apparently the curse doesn’t activate by simply touching the mask with your hands... It has to be put on first, and it’s been stuck to his face ever since...”

“Ahh... Yes, I’ve heard rumors of items that work that way. Could you maybe ask a priest to remove it?”

“It seems like a strong curse, and I think a normal priest would have some trouble with it... We’d have to ask a skilled individual and... Well, you know...”

“The payment, huh? Yeah, it’d be difficult for Iron- or Bronze-class adventurers. So, that’s why he still has the scars, huh... I see...”

Rina’s explanation did not show the slightest hint of hesitation. Due to this, the soldier no longer appeared apprehensive.

“Okay, I get it. You’re good to go!”

And that was all the soldier needed to say.

Upon hearing that, Rina slightly narrowed her eyes, a soft smile once again lighting up her features.

Chapter 3: A Certain Undead’s Town Infiltration

“Town... Of Maalt...” Those were my first words as I looked around me.

It was unmistakably the busy town of Maalt. Although I had only been gone for a few days, it felt like an eternity. I had thought that I would never be able to return to town again.

That was what I had thought anyway—and yet, here I was, in the town of Maalt.

Maalt—I was in the town of Maalt!! I wanted to jump for joy, as I never thought I would see Maalt again. It would be strange for me to do so within walking distance of the gates, though.

I also had a lot to do; my backlog was long, to say the least. Perhaps I could celebrate to my heart’s content another time.

“We walked right through, huh? I’m glad, Mister Rentt!” Rina spoke, still walking closely by my side.

She really was a kindhearted girl, so much so that she would show kindness to an undead such as myself. To think that Rina had done all this for me...

But I could not let this go on any further. Any more involvement would surely cause trouble to befall her at some point or another. And that was why I said:

“It’s true... All... Thanks. To you, Ri... Rina. From... Here. I can go...

On my own...”

“Huh?”

“...Rina. Our... Time. Together has come... To an... End. If you...

Stay. With me any... Longer... Trouble... Will find you... One way... Or another.”

Rina looked genuinely surprised at my words. Rina began to raise her objections.

“Mister Rentt... I...”

But I did not let her finish—I simply couldn’t.

“Rina... Thank... You. For everything... Up until, now. When I... Am.

More human... I will definitely... Come find you.”

With that, I sprinted away. I was a Ghoul, after all. My speed and physical strength far exceeded that of a normal human’s. An Iron-class adventurer like Rina could not possibly keep up. I put my all into it and ran as hard as I could, all so Rina would not be able to catch up with me.

From behind me, I heard her voice—Rina’s voice, pleading with me to stop.

But I... I could not stop.

Although I had spent only a short time with Rina, it was more than enough for me to become aware of her potential as an adventurer.

Associating with a strange, almost illogical existence such as myself would only serve to threaten her bright future, and I could not allow that to happen.

It seemed like I had simply abandoned her after attaining my goals, even if I had depended on her for many things prior. Maybe I wasn’t such a good person...but I had no choice. If I did not do so, her continued association with me would surely leave a negative mark upon her life. And while I certainly did not look very human at all now, that would change in time. When that time came...I would surely seek her out once again. After all, I owed Rina an apology.

But until then, all I could do was watch over her...

This is for the best —was what I thought.

◆◇◆◇◆

With all that being said, however, it was undeniable that I still needed a human assistant of sorts. After all, entering the guild with my current appearance would be an intimidating prospect. Still, I had adventured from a young age, and had worked incredibly hard all these years. I did not know of anything else to do other than earn my keep by my continued adventuring.

Of course, there was still the issue of my appearance... As long as there were requests of slaying monsters or gathering ingredients, I would be able to complete those with ease. I did have a decade of experience, after all.

And yet...entering the guild myself was the most difficult part of the equation.

The reason for me feeling that way was plain as day, perhaps overwhelmingly so: all members of the guild were experts on monsters and their physiology. Even if I was equipped with a robe, a mask, and gloves, the possibility of most of my garments being removed should I rouse anyone’s suspicions was uncomfortably high. And I, for one, had no intentions of taking such risks.

Which brings us back to our first point—the only way out of this conundrum was through a human assistant.

Ideally, they would not be a bright and simple person like Rina, but someone who could be discreet about things. Perhaps they would even have a few secrets of their own to hide. That is to say, it had to be a mutually beneficial relationship. If that were not the case for any reason, I felt like I would surely receive the short end of the stick.

Common decency and kindness were not things I could rely on any more.

But did someone like that even exist...?

In reality, I did have someone in mind already. Someone who, in the town of Maalt, could at the very least be said to be my best friend. I had been walking to this person’s home this entire time, after all.

With a few more steps, I promptly found myself on their doorstep.

...Toch, toch!

◆◇◆◇◆

A series of strange-sounding knocks emanated from the other side of the wooden door.

...But there was no response.

Without any other options, I knocked once more. Again, I was met with silence. Under normal circumstances, I would simply give up and leave. However, these were not normal circumstances—far from them, in fact.

If I didn’t wake up this home’s inhabitant quickly, all I could see in my future was an endless cacophony of problems. Though I might not need sustenance because I was undead, there was also no place I could safely reside in. If I were to wander around town dressed like this, the soldiers of Maalt would surely capture me for questioning.

I had a spot in an adventurer dormitory in life, but I could not exactly return to it now, dressed as such. Fortunately, rent for the dormitory was paid at the beginning of each month. It would simply be cleared and rented out again once my contract ended. It was perhaps worth noting that dormitories everywhere usually did the same thing when an adventurer had failed to return after a long period, with the common assumption being that they were, for lack of a better word, dead. And that was why leaving my dormitory room in its current condition did not pose too much of a problem.

Speaking of problems, I now returned to the one at hand—gaining entrance to this abode. This was why I gave up on knocking, and instead placed my hand on the knob, giving it a good turn.

To tell the truth, I had intended to do as much from the very beginning. The person who lived here was not really in the business of receiving guests. In fact, they hardly ever had guests to begin with, and I was encouraged to freely enter when I pleased. And so, that was exactly what I had been doing all this time.

At the very least, considering my circumstances from today of all days, I absolutely had to knock, as the resident would surely be surprised to see me in this state. If I could safely make it through the door and close it behind me, we would at least be able to have a conversation. That was how I felt about the matter, anyway.

But no matter what manner of courtesy I attempted, it would seem like my friend had no intentions of answering the door.

Deciding that there was no longer a need for me to hold back, I turned the knob, intending to enter like I always had. As expected, the door was unlocked, and the knob turned smoothly; it did not offer the slightest hint of resistance. One could say that my friend was a careless person...or perhaps, one without many worries.

With that, I took one big step into their familiar home.

◆◇◆◇◆

Nothing’s really changed in the short time I’ve been away...

That was the first thought that came to my mind as I entered. The ever-present, towering piles of books, the dusty atmosphere—one could not walk forward without stepping on a book, or tripping over one mysterious tool or another. Although there were some normal pieces of furniture present, most of them were used as makeshift shelving for books and other knick-knacks. The chairs alone hardly looked like they had been sat on.

The one place in the small home that was not littered with books was where the person I had been looking for slept. Currently sprawled out on what seemed to be a bed, there lay an individual with long, wavy hair, dressed in a somewhat messy and crumpled robe.

Approaching, I put a hand on her shoulder, giving her a good shake. “...Hey... Hey. Wake up.”

“...Un...nn. A bit more...sleep... A bit more...”

Despite her sleepy protests, I continued to shake her. Maybe more persuasion was needed here...

“...If... You say. The same thing... Again. I will drop... A book. On your head...”

“...Come on now, don’t do that... Anything but that. Ugh... What, it’s you, Rentt? What do you want from me at this hour? Aren’t you usually somewhere in the labyrinth at around this ti—ahh?!”

Slowly opening her eyes as she spoke, she was promptly bolted awake as she laid eyes on my face, with her previously sleepy sentence ending on a shrill note.

Affirming that I was merely wearing a mask, she seemed relieved. Feeling somewhat apologetic that I had to do this, I raised my hand before her face, removing my glove as I did so. Bits of dried flesh clinging onto bone—that was what my hand looked like.

One would normally be surprised at such a sight. However— “...What happened to you?”

Suddenly adopting a serious expression, I found my friend’s enthusiasm for such matters strangely reassuring. With a deep breath, I began my explanation of everything that had happened up until this point.

◆◇◆◇◆

“...A Dragon, huh. It’s hard to believe no matter how you spin it. But...” Looking at me halfway through her sentence, she shook her head slowly.

“I guess I have no choice but to believe you, given how you look.

...And as unbelievable as it is. To think that an old friend of mine would suddenly become an undead... It’s not something you think of every day, you know.”

Removing my robe, she squinted her eyes as she carefully inspected every inch of my dried-out body. She did so with the fervor of the scholar-adventurer she was, for she was my old friend, Lorraine Vivie.

She was dressed in that same messy and crumply robe she always wore. Her hair, wild and untamed, cascaded past her shoulders in long waves. Although it seemed like she hardly cared about her appearance, there was a sense of glamor emanating from her in her own strange little way.

I had known her for a long time—about, say, ten years since coming to Maalt. While I had known her for a decade, we only grew closer recently—her knowledge always came in handy, and it was a great help in ways more than one. As such, I could not think of a better person than Lorraine to discuss my current situation with.

She was clearly surprised by what I had to say, but never once did she doubt me, or refuse to believe my words. If anything, Lorraine seemed to have already accepted my account of events as reality, and was now deep in thought.

“I... Am the one... Who does not want... To believe it. Becoming...

Like, this.”

Lorraine nodded at my words.

“Yes... Very much so. Who even was the one who said that people become undead if eaten by a Dragon...? A Dragon in the labyrinth... Unbelievable. Is it still there now?”

“No... It was... Already gone. When I... Woke up. Its aura... Also gone. Probably... Not there. Anymore.”

Reporting its presence to the guild was one of the first things I thought of when I had woken up—but of course, it was already gone by that time.

Gone without a trace, as if my experiences up until then had been some sort of dream... I wondered how the Dragon could simply appear and disappear as it willed so. Although the reason for its behavior escaped me, one could also say that looking out for it would not do much good if it was capable of phasing itself out of existence.

While an investigation was definitely warranted, filing a report without some sort of evidence on hand was a risky preposition. As such, it would be treated as either a hoax or a lie. Even if I were to show them my body and claim that this was the result of my encounter with the Dragon, that would be, once again, exposing myself to terrible risk. To begin with, I had no idea why I became an undead just because I had encountered a Dragon, so my guess was as good as theirs.

Basically, the lack of evidence was a severe problem indeed, and if it went poorly, then I’d be in great danger. As such, I decided to put notions of reporting my Dragon sighting on hold for the time being.

Lorraine seemed to agree, nodding at the conclusion I had arrived at.

“Your logic is sound. Even if you were to say you saw a Dragon, few, if any, would believe you. I’ve known you for a long time now, so I can tell you’re not lying... But I doubt that’d fly for everyone else. If they did want to believe you, common sense would tell them otherwise. I mean, if you showed up in your current state, they’d probably send adventurers after you right away. Maybe even put your face on a quest list, too. Just give it up, Rentt.” Waving her hand this way and that as she continued her description of the scenario, Lorraine smiled.

You know, Lorraine was oddly relaxed around me despite me being a member of the walking dead. This could perhaps be attributed to her personality—she was quite bold, in her own way. In all my time knowing her, Lorraine was never the type to obsess over small details, although it remained to be seen if my becoming a Ghoul was such a small detail or not.

The second reason was perhaps the more significant one: she was a scholar. More precisely, a scholar of monsters and magic. If anything, she would be more interested in how a living, breathing person could become this way, and would bury herself into her work, searching for the answer to her questions. Her long periods of thought during our conversations were probably spent thinking about those very same questions.

“But you know, the more I look at you, Rentt...the more undead you actually look. I hate to ask you this, but...are you the same Rentt I’ve always known? What if you’re someone—something similar, but not quite the same...?”

It was a difficult question—one that even I wanted to know the answer to.

Although I could consciously identify myself as Rentt Faina, I had, as a living thing, died once. There was no doubt about that. In fact, I was a pile of bones when I woke up. It was difficult to claim that I was a living thing, at least while in that state.

But I still had my memories and consciousness. Even if that alone

could not prove that I was the same Rentt Faina as I was in life, undead monsters were fundamentally changed from their living origins from the moment they became undead. I could say that I was a different kind of existence, at least; but even then, I wasn’t so sure.

And that was why I said what I did— I had no idea.

Upon hearing my explanation, Lorraine seemed convinced.

“Yes, yes. The truth cannot be gleaned by simply thinking about it. If you asked me, I could tell that you are Rentt from how you answered my question alone. While you possess the same memories and personality...the question of you being ‘the same existence’ or not would be quite a departure from our initial line of inquiry.

“...Yes. I, too, have no idea. So let’s put that aside; I’ll think about it later. More importantly, Rentt... What are you going to do from here on out? That’s the biggest thing to deal with now, isn’t it...?”

Lorraine had apparently seen fit to advance the conversation in a sensible direction. That was what made her so easy to talk to. The point she had brought up, in turn, was one of my main reasons for visiting.

I started speaking once more: “Still... Want. To be an adventurer...

But. But... Cannot. Go to guild...”

“You’d be hunted down, wouldn’t you? Hmm... Then how about I go and get your quests and turn your collected items in? That’s why you came to see me, right? And, of course...you wish to stay here, having no other place to go.”

With those words alone, Lorraine had correctly deduced my entire request. As expected, she knew me all too well.

However, her eagerness at accepting my proposition left me worried.

“Are... You sure?” I could not help but ask.

“I don’t really mind. Even I go to the adventurer’s guild sometimes, so it isn’t too much of a hassle if you think about it. Ahh... But then, even if I told you I’d do it for free, you wouldn’t really like it, right?

So... You might as well help me out with my research, then.” Lorraine’s response was swift.

“Re... Search. Research... Huh.”

I had imagined such an outcome. It was perhaps more accurate to say that I was here precisely because of this line of thought. I had, after all, become a member of the walking dead. At the very least, I would be of use to Lorraine’s monster research. But I didn’t think of exactly how I would go about accomplishing this.

As if reading my thoughts, Lorraine continued her explanation. “Don’t worry about it; it’s easy. You know what I study, right?” “Monsters... And. Magic...?”

“Yes, verily so. It just so happens that the topic of Existential Evolution falls neatly within the boundaries of my research.

Realistically, I also haven’t been able to research this topic very much, for obvious reasons... But now you’re here, Rentt. A real-life specimen, a treasure trove of information.”

“...I don’t... Mind. But... I don’t... Want to be... Dissected.”

“Hey, now, I know I get pretty deep into my research, but I’m not some mad scientist, you know. Well...maybe some skin and flesh samples wouldn’t hurt...”

“...”

It occurred to me that Lorraine was mad enough for such a title.

However, I kept my thoughts to myself...for now. It would be troubling

if my refusal to hand over samples overturned our prior agreement.

I was, however, surprised to find that there was insufficient research on the topic of Existential Evolution. Though I did not know much apart from the basics, I assumed that professional scholars and the like would have much more information than I did.

At that, Lorraine said the following:

“Yes, yes. Occasionally we get cooperative monster tamers who help us advance our research, somehow. But then, said tamers are rare—at least, as rare as the skill itself already is. To make things worse, monsters that have been completely tamed seem to no longer evolve. Requesting them to exercise the full extent of their abilities and bring back a relatively unharmed specimen is very difficult to begin with. Of course, after that comes the question of research rights and fees... It’s a very difficult process, you know?”

It would seem like that was the case.

Once again reading my thoughts, Lorraine went on to explain the many ways in which I could be of assistance.

“First things first: it is impossible to get verbal consent and civilized agreement from a monster. Also, you have already experienced Existential Evolution once before. In other words, you have a high chance of going through the process again. If you could report to me when it happens, that would be very helpful.

“Although... I suppose your circumstances make it difficult for me to publish my research. But my curiosity needs to be sated, and I suppose you want to know more about yourself, too.”

“Know... More? About... Myself?”

“Yes, specifically about the evolutionary routes you would take from here on out, and so forth. Of course, I will lend you my knowledge and converge my thoughts with yours when appropriate. You may know a

lot more about monsters than the average adventurer due to you having read most of my books, but I do this for a living, you know. You’ll benefit from my research—without a doubt.”

◆◇◆◇◆

Having obtained the title of “Great Professor” at the young age of 14, Lorraine Vivie felt, from the bottom of her heart, an unbridled sense of boredom in this world.

She was referred to as a genius ever since she was young, and that changed little as she grew older, having been admitted into the kingdom’s most prestigious educational institution at the age of ten. She then went on to achieve the title of “Professor” at 12, and that of “Great Professor” at 14. To Lorraine, there were not many things in the world that were left unexplained. Even if there was a subject she did not know much of, a brief period of study saw her understand much more than specialist researchers who had studied the topic for years.

For Lorraine, the world was very, very boring. Perhaps this was the reason behind what she had done.

One day, without any warning or prior notice, Lorraine abandoned everything and traveled to one of the most rural kingdoms in the land

—the Kingdom of Yaaran. Her destination was not the capital, however, but the smaller, somehow even more rural, town of Maalt—it was there that Lorraine had settled.

Lorraine had her reasons for doing so. She had specifically gone to Maalt in search of a medicinal herb that could not be found anywhere else. Intending to pick it by her own hand, Lorraine had ended up moving to Maalt as a result.

Although she could have simply put up a request and sent one adventurer or another to find the herb, Lorraine was truly and utterly bored. She desired some sort of excitement in her life, so this was the very reason why she held the unreasonable notion of deciding to go find, and thereupon pick, the herb herself.

It was very much an absurd sentiment—anyone would be worried if the youngest and, historically, most talented adolescent girl worthy of a “Professor” title suddenly vanished into thin air without any trace.

Lorraine’s rivals at the time, who were at least four times her age, frantically searched the imperial capital for her. It’s perhaps difficult to imagine just how worried the scientific authorities in question were. Of course, with the passing of a decade, even Lorraine herself was aware of how childish her actions had been back then. Even so, such concerns were hardly on her mind at that age.

Although gifted at her studies, Lorraine was but a child at the time, and she did not know much of the world outside her books.

Fortunately, there was someone who had taught her exactly what that world was—a youth adventuring in Maalt at the time, going by the name of Rentt Faina.

It all began during a search of the forested areas surrounding Maalt

—a search in which Lorraine had met Rentt for the very first time.

◆◇◆◇◆

Although Lorraine already held the title of “Great Professor” at the age of 14, there was another requirement to obtain the title in addition to the academic achievements. Specifically, one also had to have a certain level of magic proficiency. As such, one would be required to use magic, and use it well. By the standards of the guild, that level of proficiency would be seen in a Silver-class mage.

That classification and rank, however, was not equivalent to a Silver-class adventurer, but instead only took into account one’s aptitude for magic and spell casting. Under normal circumstances, a Silver-class mage would probably also be an adventurer with a proportionate amount of experience. But Lorraine’s case was slightly different—due to her academic nature and fields of study, she had reached a similar level of magical aptitude without ever setting foot in the field.

While an individual with such a history could never hope to become a full-fledged mage due to a lack of combat experience, Lorraine was blessed—or perhaps cursed in this aspect—by having already wielded the required aptitude due to her talents. Even though she lacked any sort of combat experience, she was able to wield various magical spells instinctively, and eventually learned many of the spells in the Silver- class category.

At the time, Lorraine was faced with a particular conundrum: she needed permission from the guild to enter a certain area for the express purpose of collecting ingredients. As such, Lorraine visited the guild in hopes of registering herself so that she could collect the required herbs. The receptionist at the time, however, did not pay much heed to Lorraine, and had assumed from her title of “Great Professor” that she was a Silver-class adventurer in some capacity, hence registering her as such. Although adventurer registration was something that could only be done if the individual in question was over the age of 15, Lorraine’s title superseded her age, so it was prioritized during her registration.

Strictly speaking, the handling of Lorraine’s registration process was riddled with errors. While it was true that she held the title of “Great Professor,” the guild’s ruling on age restrictions always came first.

Yet this ruling came with a somewhat persistent problem in its semantics. The general consensus or assumption of the guild and its members with regards to the title of “Great Professor” was simple: such a title could not possibly be earned by someone under the age of

15. The writers of the rule did not think to account for such a possibility. The problem was further exacerbated by the actions of the receptionist, who had made various assumptions regarding said situation.

It was also worth noting that this particular rule was still very much intact and unchanged. Due to this, someone under the age of 15 would end up able to register as an adventurer—at least, they would if they held the title of “Great Professor.”

Although Lorraine herself thought that there were some issues with the process, she was not about to tell the receptionist how to do their job, and as such, she kept quiet on the matter. Due to the previously mentioned circumstances, Lorraine found herself holding a shining Silver adventurer’s permit, and with that, was about to set off for her destination in a relatively happy mood.

Lorraine’s aim was self-explanatory: she was going to make a little money for herself, in addition to collecting the herb that she had originally come to get.

A voice, however, called out to her before she stepped out of the guild’s doors. Turning around without much of a second thought, Lorraine was greeted by a large, muscled, and somewhat peculiar- looking swordsman.

“Hey, young miss... You took that Azuul Forest quest, didn’t you? Then bring this guy along—he’ll at least carry your stuff.” Saying so, the swordsman jovially pushed a young man toward Lorraine.

Although Lorraine did not think much of it at the time, this was in fact a huge turning point in her life, as this young man was none other than Rentt Faina.

Of course, the swordsman knew that Lorraine would have her reservations; recommending an adventurer to another in this fashion was not something that happened every day, after all. As such, the swordsman readily offered an explanation for his actions.

“Y’see... This guy here is still kinda new. He wants to gain all sorts of experience, and usually follows me into the forest to collect ingredients. But then, y’see, I’m busy today—something else on the schedule—so I’ve been searching for someone else to take him out for a bit now. That’s when you came along, young miss... So, what do you say? Not a bad deal, right? He’ll carry your stuff.”

Quite the sudden development. It wasn’t exactly common practice to bring along someone one has never seen before on adventuring

trips. Judging from the conversation, the youth in question was probably Bronze-class or lower. In other words, they would be nothing more than a hindrance to Lorraine, a (newly-christened) Silver-class adventurer.

Just as she was about to refuse, the strange swordsman, once again displaying his telepathic faculties, interrupted Lorraine.

“Hah, don’t worry about it—I won’t even ask you for a hiring fee! Just bring this fool along with you. The quest you accepted just now was a gathering assignment, right? If you bring him along your rewards will only go up—more hands, y’see. Of course, you get to keep everything... And he’s going to carry all of it for you. So, y’see. Come on, young miss. Throw me a bone here.”

The swordsman was pushy—very much so. He showed no signs of backing down from his outlandish request. And so it came to be that Lorraine, having no choice but to nod, ended up taking a youth she hardly knew along on her assignment. Little did Lorraine know, however, that she would soon be thanking this very youth from the bottom of her heart.

◆◇◆◇◆

The Azuul Forest was large, stretching out as far as the eye could see. In fact, it was a bastion of nature, home to all kinds of flora and fauna. Lorraine, having gleaned all of her knowledge from books, knew of the forest to some degree. Seeing it in person, though, was another experience altogether, with the many differences between what she saw and what she read about continuing to fascinate her.

With that being said, however, Lorraine was not doing too well in her trek through the forest, as she had hardly covered any ground. The problem here was not exactly a lack of stamina—if anything, stamina shouldn’t be a problem for a 14-year-old. Plus, Lorraine had strengthened her body with various enhancement spells.

Unknown to Lorraine, however, there were basic techniques and

insights with regards to traversing forested terrain—specifically, it was knowledge she did not have. Lorraine found herself getting increasingly tired as she waded through the brush, her stamina seemingly being sapped away by the forest itself with every step.

Conversely, the Bronze-class youth accompanying her, while much lower in adventurer rank, did not seem tired at all. Conjuring up water from seemingly nowhere, he offered a cup of it to Lorraine, who was currently resting due to her exertions.

Glancing at the youth, Lorraine noticed that his tool belt, having previously been empty, was now filled with medicinal herbs of all sorts that he must have been gathering from somewhere or another while she wasn’t looking. At Lorraine’s request, the youth handed over some of the herbs to her. It didn’t take long for a scholar such as herself to notice that each and every one of the herbs had been harvested correctly and methodologically.

Although she had ordered herbs of all kinds from apothecaries and the like before, she did not recall seeing herbs prepared to this degree, nor with such skill. Such was also the case when they encountered monsters.

Up until this point in her life, where she had decided to wander into a forest in search of herbs, Lorraine had not fought monsters in any shape or form. Of course, as a “Great Professor,” Lorraine’s magic had more than enough power to dispose of the average monster. But seeing as how Lorraine was usually accompanied by a companion or escort on her travels, she hardly had any chance to use her magic, as the monster would have already been defeated by the time she had even thought of doing so.

This was perhaps why Lorraine had simply stood and stared blankly when faced with a monster. Barring the youth with her, she was now alone this time around. It was only at this point in time that Lorraine realized just how ferocious monsters could be.

Her mind was in a daze—she knew that she had to fight, that she

had to cast a spell of some sort. Her body, however, did not move.

It was then that the voice of the youth rang out, snapping her out of her stupor.

“Lorraine! A fireball! Foteia Borivaas! Use it!”

If not for what Rentt had shouted, Lorraine would have stood eternally frozen, and that might have been the end of her then and there. But instructions were given, and Lorraine followed them through. Indeed, Lorraine seemed little more than a puppet during the course of this incident.

As the charred remains of what was once a monster continued smoking in the aftermath of Lorraine’s magic, she was once more found to be standing still, a vacant expression splashed across her features. Rentt, upon discovering that Lorraine had little to no combat experience, decided to impart upon her various details about monsters, combat techniques, and common movement patterns of said monsters while in battle.

Lorraine was wise; in fact, she was much wiser than any run-of-the- mill mage. As such, she quickly absorbed the knowledge that Rentt had to offer, absorbing it all at an astonishing speed. She was, however, only able to do this due to Rentt’s intervention in her first battle, and she had fully come to realize this.

It was the same way in learning the details of her assignment— namely, the retrieval of certain medicinal herbs. According to her books, the herbs were quite common despite the fact that they only grew in certain places. Due to this, the herb would not be very difficult to find at all.

But reality was very different, as Lorraine found herself empty- handed. After half an hour of searching, Lorraine could not help but be disappointed, with their big discovery being a single herb, only one of the many required for her quest. Frustrated with the state of affairs, Lorraine mentally noted that she would give the author of the book she

studied a good punch the next time she met them.

Yet despite all this, and Lorraine’s increasing frustration, Rentt, who had been walking behind her all this time, simply smiled wryly as the herbs in his tool belt’s pouch continued to grow. Turning around, Lorraine realized the herbs he collected had doubled since she last checked—and amongst them were entire bunches of the herbs she had been tasked to collect.

It turned out the book’s author was right. Lorraine had merely failed to notice the herbs in question when passing through the marked locations. At that, Lorraine finally realized just how little she knew of the world.

Lorraine then requested that Rentt demonstrate and educate her on a variety of topics: from the basics of combat and adventuring, to the picking and preservation of herbs, and even where said herbs grew.

Rentt, for his part, happily obliged. And so the pair eventually returned in the evening, somehow completing Lorraine’s assignment on time.

◆◇◆◇◆

It wasn’t until later that Lorraine was informed of the truth from the strange swordsman. He, understanding that Lorraine had no combat experience just from her movements and equipment (or lack thereof), had intended for Rentt to function as her guide. Lorraine, surprised at the development, could not help but ask if the adventurer’s guild took such great care of each and every new adventurer. However, this was not the case, as Rentt, who had been stationed at the tavern at the time, had simply taken notice of Lorraine. Discussing the matter with his swordsman companion, Rentt realized that Lorraine would probably not come back alive if she were allowed out into the wild as she was. This was why the two had hatched a plan to approach her, introducing Rentt as someone to carry her bags so as to avoid hurting her pride.

While Lorraine had felt that their little scheme was troublesome

and, to some extent, time-consuming, she was grateful for their intervention—it had ultimately saved her life. Once again, Lorraine realized just how constrained her knowledge of the world was, since she had barely seen anything beyond her books, and her fingertips.

Lorraine once fancied herself a master of knowledge— understanding the known, and counting the known unknowns easily in her mind, while also accounting for the unknown unknowns that she might one day come across.

In reality, though, Lorraine did not know very much at all—and that was all there was to it. In the end, it was Rentt who had taught her, and she who had subsequently learned from Rentt’s adventuring experience.

Lorraine found herself staying in the town of Maalt after that incident. For the first time in her life, she saw color—where things had once been gray and boring, it was now filled with joy. For the first time, Lorraine found it difficult to leave a place—specifically, the town of Maalt.

But Lorraine already belonged to another place, as she was only in Maalt for an assignment, a mere task. After many requests and communiqués from the capital begging for her return, Lorraine finally made up her mind:

She would return to the capital—and then, she would once more set off for the town of Maalt. This time, she would be without regrets or loose ends.

To begin with, scholars were allowed a relatively free life—she did not necessarily have to be in the capital to continue her studies. This was why Lorraine had returned to the capital, settling various affairs and matters that required her attention, all the while planning to return to Maalt after everything was said and done.

Upon returning to the capital, however, Lorraine was surprised to find that what she had previously seen as lifeless and gray was instead

the exact opposite. Opening her eyes, Lorraine saw that her colleagues and friends at the capital were worried for her, and it was then that she realized her position at the capital was more than an empty chair— people truly cared. That was, once again, something she only realized after her meeting with Rentt.

If anything, adventuring with Rentt in and of itself opened her eyes to the world, and Lorraine herself understood that.

Despite all that, yet again, Lorraine found herself pining for the town of Maalt. Although she was not necessarily elated in leaving her colleagues and friends, both old and new, behind at the capital, she felt like she had no choice.

As expected, her announcement was met with a sea of disappointed faces, but in the end, Lorraine’s friends and colleagues relented.

Perhaps it was because they realized that something about Lorraine was different—that her will, this time of all times, would not be so easily shaken.

In exchange for her request, however, there was one condition: Lorraine was to return to the capital once every year. In turn, she was given permission to stay in Maalt, establishing her own facility there for scholarly pursuits. This arrangement allowed for Lorraine to forge new connections in Maalt as she continued her research, publishing her findings on an annual basis. This would also maintain a line of contact between Lorraine and the capital.

Promising to do her part with a casual wave, Lorraine finally moved from the capital, doing as she said she would. Summarily, Lorraine bought a house in the town of Maalt and continued her research in her spare time. It was then, however, that Lorraine’s slovenly nature finally reared its ugly head.

Although Lorraine’s passion and love for research was true, as reflected by her relentless pursuit of knowledge, her punctuality with regards to communications left much to be desired. While she had initially been relatively punctual with correspondences, that would

quickly prove to be more of the exception than the norm.

While missives from the capital always arrived on time, Lorraine found herself hard-pressed to respond. Even her promise to return to the capital once a year soon fell to the sidelines, as year after year passed, with Lorraine occasionally entertaining the notion here and there. Before she knew it, Lorraine had tasked Rentt with replying to her letters and planning her homecoming trips.

The reason for this was somewhat simple—one of Lorraine’s friends from the capital, understanding the futility of the entire venture, had written to Rentt, asking him to take care of Lorraine to the best of his ability. It would seem that the friend in question knew Lorraine and her tendencies well.

In reality, Lorraine depended on Rentt from the very start— everything from purchasing her house to her living arrangements was casually left to Rentt, who took care of more than half of the overall procedures. Rentt taught Lorraine various kinds of life skills, often repeating himself until she, too, was able to take care of herself in a reasonable way. Should Lorraine fall behind on her duties, Rentt, on one of his many visits, would sort things out for her.

But this was not exactly something Rentt had done for free. In exchange for his domestic help and assistance with other affairs, Lorraine taught Rentt a great deal of things from her end of the table.

Lorraine, for all her faults, was still a “Great Professor” and scholar. More accurately, she was one of the best scholars when all things were said and done. In other words, while Rentt would have normally had to pay a handsome fee for a tutor of Lorraine’s caliber, he instead did all her housework and chores, receiving the lessons in return as payment.

Rentt did not set out with this in mind, however—

For starters, he knew little of Lorraine’s history. He had only inferred as such from tidying up Lorraine’s fallen books, with Lorraine

explaining the rest after his initial questions. While Lorraine did not exactly lie, she didn’t really tell Rentt much about her past, either— specifically not about how she had abandoned her fancy life in the capital to live in Maalt, or how her friends had tried to stop her, or the fact that she still wielded some influence in the affairs of the kingdom, or about the fact that she was one of the best scholars in the land.

Thankfully, the person she was speaking with was Rentt. Although Lorraine was not sure if he believed her explanation, Rentt did not dig further, and he left matters as they were.

Ten years would eventually pass. Lorraine, for her part, was happy with the arrangement. She was content, and she wished that it could go on forever—perhaps, at least, up until her death.

If Rentt wanted to continue adventuring, that was fine. She was content with just watching and standing by his side. In fact, Lorraine was all right with doing her research, as she always did, with Rentt close by. She was fond of the meals they sometimes shared while talking about mundane affairs—she did not have the slightest suspicion or doubt that these days would not continue indefinitely.

But one day, Rentt Faina disappeared.

Lorraine was filled with a foreboding sense of apprehension, as it was unlike Rentt to not show up for several days in a row. Thoughts of Rentt falling to monsters filled Lorraine’s mind. If that were indeed the case...

Lorraine found her heart filled with a swirling chaos. It was a violent force—one that she had never felt before. She very much wanted to patrol the streets, shouting Rentt’s name as she searched—that was how she felt.

In her bright and logical mind, however, Lorraine quickly realized the futility of such a venture. If such a method proved fruitless, one would simply have to change the methods at hand. It would be prudent to ask other adventurers to search for him; money was of no

import. She did, after all, have a fair amount of savings.

Just as she was about to raise her quill, Lorraine was interrupted by a familiar sound from her door’s knocker—a familiar, rhythmic knocking...

In her ten years of residing in the town of Maalt, Lorraine had many, many friends and had forged quite a few connections. It was possible that her visitor could be one of these many friends. However, there was something else about this sound—something different.

Lorraine, with her typically inquisitive mind, quickly discerned the special characteristics of this knock’s rhythm. There was no mistaking it. Only one person knocked in this particular way—

Rentt Faina.

With that thought in mind, Lorraine had wanted to rush out to be sure that it was indeed him—but that would no doubt be seen as strange. In any case, Rentt lived. That much was enough for her.

Yet Lorraine could not help but notice something else. In all his years of vising, Rentt had rarely knocked. The fact that he was currently knocking meant that something was wrong—or at the very least, different. Under normal circumstances, Rentt would probably enter on his own after a while—at least, that was how it had always been. This was the reason why Lorraine decided to meet him as she usually would. There was just one problem, however:

She was usually asleep on her sofa by this time of day.

With that in mind, Lorraine decided to do just that. Running her hands through her hair to give herself a frazzled appearance, Lorraine lay down haphazardly upon the sofa and closed her eyes.

It was then that a familiar click resounded through the room—the doorknob had been turned. With the approaching footsteps came a familiar voice...

“...Hey... Hey. Wake up.”

◆◇◆◇◆

Ever since then, Lorraine had been visiting the guild on my behalf, handing over ingredients and magic crystals that I ended up gathering on my trips through the labyrinth. She was, of course, provided with gold for those materials. While I once had to save religiously and monitor my expenses, I now found my pockets considerably heavy.

In the end, Lorraine herself purchased the vial of slime fluid from me—for a pretty sum of coin, at that. Although it was a somewhat valuable ingredient to the guild, there were no rules dictating who I could sell my spoils to. That was up to the discretion of each adventurer.

Lorraine was somewhat skilled in alchemy to begin with, and she often made her own medicines and potions. In return, she needed a variety of materials to work with, and it just so happened that I was carrying one of those ingredients—an expensive ingredient, I may add

—for which Lorraine paid a fair price. In fact, buying direct from the source resulted in a cost savings for Lorraine, who usually had to buy it at elevated prices from the adventurer’s guild.

But that aside, it was perhaps noteworthy to mention that I was currently walking around the streets of Maalt. While I did want to bask in the atmosphere of the town, having been away for what felt like a long time, I did not exactly set off on a stroll without purpose.

I did indeed have a purpose. An important one, actually—I was on my way to purchase a weapon. After all, I’d been using the same weapons and armor I had used in life when I became a Skeleton, right up until I evolved into a Ghoul. I was actually still using them now, but said weapons and armor were now battered, perhaps irreversibly.

Although this sword had served me faithfully for many years in life, recent changes to my physique and internal reservoirs of mana and the like had taken a toll on its surface. The sword was now jagged and visibly damaged.

Perhaps that was a given. I had used the spirit arts only once a day, and never even thought of infusing my weapons and armor with divinity or magic. Due to those considerations, I had mostly purchased cheap equipment. Considering the fact that I had been using magic, spirit, and divinity repeatedly over the past few days, the resultant toll on the blade was to be expected. It was unfortunate, yes, but there was nothing much I could have done about it.

While I had intended to use it for one more year, I did not have any other weapons on me, so my continued abuse of the weapon resulted in the current situation. It was truly a tragedy.

The combination of various factors, such as the overall increase in my abilities resulting in more efficient monster hunting, to Rina returning my change after purchasing my robes, and even my resultant sale of monster materials, it all contributed to one thing—I was now considerably well-off. So much so that now would be a very good time for me to invest in a new weapon.

I made a mental note to hold off on the armor, though. After all, measurements were required for the creation of such equipment— something that necessitated the removal of my robe.

It was not like I had a fear of being naked; it’s not like I’m a young girl. But I had my reasons. In some ways, it would terrify me even more than it would a young girl to show any kind of skin. I mean, how could I calmly show my Ghoulish, half-dried body to a living person?

No, it was impossible. ...Perhaps only to those I trusted.

At this point in time, the only one I could trust in such a way was Lorraine... This was largely because of her nature, and how she tended to not care about the smaller details in life.

This wasn’t just a matter of trust—if my identity and state of being as a Ghoul were to be discovered, there was no telling what would happen to me. As such, it was difficult for me to show myself to anyone but Lorraine at this point in time. This was the reason why I only set

out to purchase a sword today.

Finally reaching my destination, I looked up at the shop’s familiar signboard. Then, with a deep breath, I steeled my resolve, and entered through its doors.

◆◇◆◇◆

“Welcome! ...Huh?” The voice of a woman greeted me as I entered the shop.

The shop in question was none other than the local blacksmith, better known as the “Three-Pronged Harpoon.”

With her blonde hair, blue eyes, and demeanor befitting that of a noble lady, I had no idea why she saw fit to marry someone like Clope. Speaking of which, those very blue eyes were now trained upon my being. Perhaps my robed and skull-masked appearance was a little bit too suspicious. While adventurers sporting masks were not exactly unusual, my exact combination of clothing unfortunately made me stand out.

As I continued ruminating, Luka slowly approached, as if to say something to her odd-looking customer.

“...Apolo...gies. For looking... Suspicious...”

“Oh, no! Not at all.” Luka quickly shook her head at my words. “It’s just that... You look somewhat similar to a person I know. My apologies. Masked adventurers are not much of an oddity, at least to my knowledge. I apologize if my gaze has made you uncomfortable.”

Such was Luka’s apology. I suppose she was used to customers like me after all.

With that, Luka continued speaking: “...Which brings me to my question: how may I help you today? Have you come to the ‘Three- Pronged Harpoon’ to purchase weapons or equipment? Or, perhaps

you were seeking maintenance and service?”

“Y... Yes. I would... Like. A new... Sword. H... Here.” Saying so, I placed my sword, scabbard and all, onto the shop’s counter.

Without explaining my intent, Luka quickly understood the meaning of my gesture.

“But of course. Excuse me, please.” With that, Luka promptly drew the sword from its sheathe, examining it closely.

Although she was the wife of Clope, the resident blacksmith of this store, Luka also played an important role in customer service and interaction. As befitting her position, she was armed with an adequate knowledge of identifying various weapons, in addition to evaluating their quality and degree of wear. In fact, I’d heard that Luka herself could even forge simple items.

After a short inspection, Luka offered her assessment, her eyes still fixated on my sword’s battered blade.

“I’m afraid this may be beyond repair. From my observations, I would say this piece of equipment has been utilized to the best of its potential. Would you happen to have any preferences for its replacement? I see marks and straining characteristics of magic and the spirit arts... Is this indeed the case?”

Identifying what abilities a weapon’s owner had simply by looking at its scuff marks was no small feat—Luka was truly capable of this much.

I decided to honestly tell her the extent of my abilities, mainly due to the fact that I was not exactly trying to hide anything to begin with.

“Ah... Yes. Magic... Spirit... Divinity. I use... Them all. So I would...

Like. A sword... That can channel... All three.”

“...Thrice-blessed... I see. How very rare indeed. You’re the second customer I’ve seen with such a disposition.”

“If... Possible. Could you... Keep it a... Secret?”

“Of course—loose lips would sink an establishment like ours. But...with that being said, the nature of this order would result in...considerable fees, in addition to taking quite a few days to forge. Would that be acceptable...?”

I had assumed as much. Individuals who could use all three of these abilities were rare in the first place—almost unheard of, actually.

Perhaps one would have met one or two in their lifetime—but a third would be highly unusual.

It therefore went without saying that an adequate amount of time must be spent crafting a weapon for such an individual. As a matter of fact, blacksmiths such as these commonly crafted weapons for those who used magic or the spirit arts.

Those who could use divinity, on the other hand, were comparatively rare. Priests and the like often had specialist shops they favored, as opposed to the common blacksmith. Because of all this, the nature of my order made it a rarity in and of itself—

But I was mentally prepared for the expenditure.

“I... Don’t... Mind. But... This is... All I have...” I grasped my coin purse, placing it firmly upon the shop counter.

It was filled with a considerable amount of gold and silver coins— this coin purse basically held my entire fortune. (Though it’s worth noting that it probably was not worth very much at all to high-ranking adventurers.)

Confirming the pouch’s contents, Luka started explaining the payment process. “...This is more than enough for us to forge a quality piece. With regards to payment, we’ll gladly take half for it now, as a deposit. The other half will be collected when the weapon is ready.”

“Is that... All right?”

It was a very special order, after all. To tell the truth, the materials involved would probably cost a small fortune.

“Yes, very much so. In return—well, not quite, but a favor, if you will. Could you please have a few words with my husband, Clope? He’s the blacksmith of this shop, and he’d definitely want a word with you, given his character. To tell the truth, he would probably call for your input quite a lot during the forging process.”

I had known Clope for quite a long time since becoming an adventurer. Needless to say, I was also familiar with his personality and quirks. He was serious about his work, even if it was just a common sword, let alone a special order. He would surely have me test the blade over and over again as he continued to forge it—I knew Clope all too well. This was why I half-expected what Luka had to say, and I promptly nodded at her words.

“I... Do not. Mind. When... He needs. Me. Contact... Scholar...

Lorraine.”

I explained to Luka that Lorraine had kindly allowed me the use of her abode while I was in the town of Maalt. At those words, Luka’s eyes widened, more than they ever had before. That was, however, quickly replaced by a well-practiced smile.

“Oh, of course. I understand. Well, then, first, I’ll return this to you...” Removing half of its contents, Luka picked up my coin pouch and handed it back to me.

“I am sure Clope will have many questions for you regarding the new sword you wish to have forged.”

And with that, Luka led me to the back of the shop, into the smithing chambers.

◆◇◆◇◆

The back of the store where I had been led to contained the

smithing chambers: forge, blacksmith, hot steam, and all. As expected, a muscle-clad but somewhat slim man was swinging his hammer calmly and methodically, striking red-hot metal over, and over again. I steeled myself—he was impossible to talk to when he was like this.

As if reading my mind, Luka had a similarly penitent explanation to offer. “...I do apologize. You may have to wait for quite a while... He’ll be ready to speak in, oh, say, an hour. It might be better if you spent your time at another establishment while waiting...”

A truly apologetic expression.

Perhaps a first-time customer might be taken aback at these developments. I, however, was not, having known Clope for so many years. It was a quirk of his to fall into an almost trance-like state when he was hammering out a weapon; that’s just how he was.

Of course, speaking to him in this state was impossible. In fact, Clope was so focused that any interruptions might simply be met with a single swing of his hammer. It was better for all parties involved to simply wait for him to put his hammer down after reaching one point of progress or other. Again, I was by no means unfamiliar with the proceedings at the Three-Pronged Harpoon.

“...No. I do not... Mind. Can I... Wait, here. Instead?”

“Of course, that’s quite all right, but...would that be acceptable? Nothing of interest really happens here. Do you not find it boring?” Luka asked, seemingly curious about my decision.

“Watching... Black... Smith. At work. Not... Boring.” I replied.

A slight expression of surprise once again flitted across Luka’s face, before quickly being replaced by her business-as-usual smile.

“In that case, there’s a chair in that corner from which you can closely watch the process. I shall bring refreshments—do excuse me.” Saying so, Luka left the room.

Honestly speaking, my decision to stay was not an act of any kind. I genuinely enjoyed watching skilled individuals perform their work. I found that those who were at all skilled at their craft had a sort of flow and rhythm to their work—it was something one could feel just by spectating.

Clope was, for his part, unmistakably an extremely skilled blacksmith, and one could feel a sense of fluid beauty in the various aspects of his work. There was no way I could find such a spectacle boring—no way, indeed.

◆◇◆◇◆

After what seemed to be a considerable amount of time, the rhythmic clanging of metal finally stopped, dispersing along with the intangible cloud of tension that had been hanging over the smithing chambers for the past hour.

Clope held up the sword he had been working on, and slowly smiled.

It was plain to see from his expression that this was a piece he was very satisfied with. I, too, felt that it was a thing worth celebrating. At that moment, though, Clope turned around to face me.

“My bad. Kept you waiting, huh?”

From Clope’s words, I could see that he had indeed noticed my presence. He was merely too focused in his work to greet me. A first- time customer would probably offer a complaint or two at this point. But the nature of his work meant that it could not simply be stopped midway through—I, for one, had no qualms with that.

This was why I answered: “...Not.. At all. I don’t... Mind. It was...

Interesting.”

Upon hearing my words, Clope smiled. “And here I was thinking it’s pretty rare for Luka to bring someone in here... Seems like you’re an interesting guy.”

Clope’s expression was more befitting of a battle-worn warrior staring down an adversary with an unfaltering smile—as opposed to that of a typical blacksmith. His facial features, however, indicated that he was a little more ahead in his years—somewhere in his forties would be a good estimate.

Though he looked quite a bit older than Luka, in truth, the two were not that far apart in their years. Of course, I had not asked them this up front. It was more of a conclusion I had gleaned from Clope’s statements across the years. Particularly telling was the one where he claimed Luka was his childhood friend, hence my assumption.

Although the practice of directly asking for someone’s age wasn’t non-existent, it proved extremely difficult to pose such a question when faced with the pressure emanating from Luka’s unfaltering smile. Basically, one would probably not find out even if they had asked her directly.

“I... Don’t know... About being interesting. But I... Was told. You could forge... Me. A sword.”

“Oh, would you like a piece specially order-made? There are many swords already displayed out front, though... And they’re all high- quality pieces, I can attest to that. Instead of an expensive custom order, maybe you’ll find one that fits you if you looked around?”

Clope was a blunt man, and one of not too many words. While someone who was unfamiliar with him would simply assume that he was turning down my request, the reality was quite different. Clope was only concerned about customers unnecessarily spending copious amounts of money.

With his sharp eyes and occasionally intimidating expression, it would seem like Clope could make someone cry just by looking at them. To make things worse, half of his statements sounded like threats or expressions of displeasure. But I knew better than anyone else that Clope, contrary to his appearance and mannerisms, was actually a very gentle person. This was why I answered in kind, not

intimidated by his mannerisms in the slightest.

“The... Blades... You have. Up front... At the store. Cannot... Handle.

Divin...ity.”

“Divi...? Oh, divinity! What, you a practitioner of the holy arts? You don’t seem like a priest to me. If you are, wouldn’t you have a specific smithy you go to?”

Indeed, it was like Clope had said. I did not, for all intents and purposes, look anything remotely close to a priest. If anything, I seemed to be the direct opposite of one—yet, with things as they were, I had no choice but to fully explain myself.

“Not... A priest. I also... Use. Magic... And... Spirit arts.”

“What... You mean you’re one of them thrice-blessed...? Huh, I see. All right. Well, then... Seems like you can’t use any of those out front. That’s why Luka brought you to me, huh. You have the money for this?”

“The... Person. At the front. Told me I had... Enough for... The order.”

“Hmm. If Luka says so... All right, I get it.

“Well, then, this may be sudden, but let’s get down to it. About the fees, too.”

Saying so, Clope retrieved a chair from a corner of his workshop, lifting it by one of its legs. Placing it at a small table, the blacksmith and I finally started our discussion.

◆◇◆◇◆

“...Well, that about settles it. All that’s left are the finer details... I’ll send word when I need you, that good?” Clope said after finalizing the calculations involved in the weapon’s overall cost.

“I don’t... Mind.” I nodded in response.

“All right, then we have a deal. Look forward to working with you and all that, yeah?” With that, Clope stuck out his hand.

A handshake—but of course.

For a second, I hesitated. These hands were the hands of an undead

—they were dirty. I felt like it would be a big problem for anyone to touch them.

But that hesitation did not last very long at all. After all, I could not simply discuss my circumstances, or my new fate as a member of the walking dead, with Clope. Instead, I just responded as normally as I could, gripping Clope’s hand with a firm shake.

“I... Leave it. In... Your hands.” And that was all I could say.

◆◇◆◇◆

The customer stepped through the doors, and then, he was gone. He was certainly a strange one, dressed in a robe weaved from the darkness of night. On his face sat a skull-shaped mask, white as bone, seemingly made in the land of the dead itself. But the most unsettling thing about him was how much he reminded me of a youth who, just up until recently, often frequented our establishment.

But then...

“Hey, Luka. What’s wrong? You have a weird face on.”

Clope, my husband, and the blacksmith of this establishment—our establishment. With his usual rugged smile, he called out to me from behind, having finally exited his workshop.

Turning around, I could not help but say to him: “...You know, right? You know who that was...”

Clope picked up where my words had trailed off, as I could not bring myself to finish that sentence.

“Well... Yeah. Haven’t seen him on the streets or at the tavern recently... Thought he went somewhere, you know. Seems like he’s gotten himself into a bad spot...”

“Why won’t he ask us for help? Does he not trust us?

Clope seemed to nod at my words—words that escaped from the depths of my heart, bearing a heavy hue of sadness.

“Yeah, maybe... Hey. Hey, I was just joking! Joking.”

I was ready to cry at those words; the reaction was probably enough to jolt Clope out of his callous mood. He waved his hands somewhat dramatically, as if to dispel the notion.

I stared at Clope—I wanted his opinion, not his horsing about. “...Well, see, maybe he doesn’t want to trouble us? Don’t know why

he has that robe and mask on, but... Maybe he got cursed or

something? You know, that stuff occasionally happens to adventurers.

“If he really did get cursed, detractors of our establishment will sure come crawling out of the woodwork. Well, people like that were always there in the first place.

“Or maybe he thinks we won’t recognize him, and we’d just tell him to scram because he’s cursed, you know. Maybe he just needs some time and will tell us later... Or something like that, see?”

“What do you mean, ‘something like that’! You haven’t said anything of the sort to him, have you?!”

“...Yeah,” Clope quickly answered, sensing the increasing amounts of pressure and distress in my words. “I don’t talk to random punks, you know. But that’s just how he is, see. He’s always been like that.

...It’s probably fine. We know he’s alive, so for now we’ll just let him do

what he wants. He’ll tell us in time... He did give us enough hints about who he was, you know. I can’t be exactly sure, but maybe that’s all he can bring himself to do for now.... He did still visit, see. Like he used to.”

Clope’s words were convincing. A thrice-blessed individual with free access to Lorraine’s house—

That, already, was a large hint.

It was unmistakable—he had intentionally given us that hint to tell us who he was. But even then...we still had no idea what exactly happened to him. It seemed like he could not talk about it freely himself.

But he came to us in search of a weapon—that in and of itself was indicative of the amount of trust he had for our establishment... And us. I felt like I understood the situation a little better.

“Yes... Yes, I suppose so,” I said, turning to my husband as I slowly rubbed away the tears in my eyes.