Re:Animated, Reliving Life in Another World From Zero

by Tall-Gothic-Guy

A Necromancer is easy to describe, but what people rarely ever know about them is that Death is their final wish above everything else. To return to dust and Rest in Peace in the Afterlife. Give a Death Mage the Curse of 'Return by Death', however, then Emurdol Viandegroc will eventually realize that dying in another world is easier said than done. (Graphic and Mature content)

10. Flesh Golem

"Utterly unbelievable."

He rolled his eyes, his smirking lips managing to last since leaving the bottom of the cliff littered with hundreds of witchbeast bodies till now. "Your uselessness is unbelievable." The Flesh Golem replied nonchalantly with one mouth, the fitting tone and inflexion speaking on his behalf. It had been trailing close behind the Fair Maid as they walked, a half of a hellhound's body hanging from the mouth on its left shoulder blade as it crawled and dragged.

"Can you blame Ram? Rem is currently burdening my hands."

"Now you know how he felt when you suddenly collapsed and forced Brother to run with his damn tail between Mama's legs." He gave her an imperious leer mixing with malice, casually walking over piles of meat that was once a whole witchbeast without looking. "You're utterly useless, Handicap. Why didn't he just drain your mana, cut your tendons and tie your behind to a post in the village so you wouldn't be burdening anybody like this the sooner he saw you following him? Brother and I could have done this all on our own."

"You wouldn't have known how to incapacitate Rem without Ram's help." She retorted, ignoring the sound of the piles of meat being eaten behind her, "How would you like it if you were in charge of carrying Rem?"

"HA!" That scoff was a thunderous sound, and thanks to the close proximity between her and the Flesh Golem, it made her ears ring. "He may not have figured it out but I already did, several days ago if I may add. I passed the information to Mama before she left the Little Bitch's body at the bottom of the stairs, strangling herself the next morning."

The Flesh Golem stopped dragging itself before the two humans suddenly stopped walking upon exposing his involvement in that incident, shoes and skeletal feet sliding across the soil from the momentum. He turned a wicked smile at Ram, eyes burning bright green in the darkening dusk. The Fair Maid met that look with a hateful glare, righteous indignance flaring up in her heart. If she wasn't holding her little sister, she would be releasing violent waves of wind magic the sooner he finished speaking.

"It was you." She dangerously remarked, mana forcefully compressed from escaping her form lest she suffer another mana burn.

The walking hunk of flesh that loomed behind her was also a concern as well, including the other entity that's out of sight.

"YeS." The abomination began to speak in all 7 mouths, sending uncomfortable chills down her spine as it was literally resonating right behind her. The prickles on her neck indicated that there were sharp claws ready to impale both her and her cargo at the slightest misstep. "MaMa AnD i WeRe ReSpOnSiBlE fOr HeR sTaTe ThAt MoRnInG. bRoThEr HaD nOtHiNg To Do WiTh It, SlEePiNg ThE wHoLe TiMe LiKe YoU dId."

As she blinked, he was suddenly right at her face, a gust of wind following after his sudden close-up. It took much of her willpower not to flinch at the abrupt close-proximity of his horrifying smile that literally allowed their noses to touch. She stared deeply into his deep pools of green, burning like the green pits of the burning hells.

Amusement sparkled in his orbs for her feat of composure, "It WaSn'T wItHoUt ReAsOn, Of CoUrSe." He then leaned away. He wasn't smiling anymore but his sharp teeth were still visible, and the malice clear in his eyes. The tone of the Golem wasn't provoking anymore, merely factual but no less hostile. "We WeRe MiNdInG oUr OwN bUsInEsS aNd SuDdEnLy, An IrOn BaLl Of SpIkEs CoMeS fLyInG tOwArDs Us. He BaReLy WaRrAnTeD sUcH a ViOlEnT gReEtInG. eVeN iF hE sNaPpEd At HeR oUt Of AnNoYaNce, ThAt WaSn'T eNoUgH tO eArN sUcH a ThInG. iF i HaD tOlD hIm ThIs EaRlIeR….wOuLd KiLlInG hEr Be UnJusTiFiEd ThEn?"

Her beautiful features furrowed, finding no possible reply to that. She had the same assumption as well, despite evidence on the contrary when he was found sleeping on the gazebo the next morning. She had believed it to be a dream just as when Rem told her of what she could remember but she had the inkling of doubt. She should have trusted it a little more.

"We HaVe ShOwN mErCy MuLtIpLe TiMeS nOw. I sTiLl HaVe EnOuGh MeRcY iN mE, bUt MaMa AnD bRoThEr No LoNgEr Do. HoWeVeR, cOnSiDeRiNg He HaSn'T rEsUrFaCeD eVen ThOuGh He CoUlD hAvE dOnE sO eArLiEr AnD pUnIsHeD hEr, He StIlL hAs A lItTlE mOrE tO sPaRe."

Then his sharp set of teeth disappeared into his mouth. And this time, she did flinch.

"But I will not suffer another millisecond of any more distrust being thrown Brother's way. He's worked hard to earn anybody's trust before just to survive in a place that hates us, and now he's already considered suicide because that waste of flesh you call a Little Sister pushed him too far. Seeking death because of despair instead of our Final Service? That is not how we are, and yet SHE MADE HIM THAT WAY!"

Anger. Simple anger. That was all there is to see in the Pale One's face. A standard display of emotion, but to see something else besides blatant malevolence that lasted since meeting him threw Ram off. It made him look….human.

He sharply turned around and began walking onwards back to the village, having no interest in looking at her shocked expression any further.

"About your question earlier, I will still be capable even without Mama's extra hands or if my hands are full. Alive or dead, your sister's body is still a handy tool for Necromagi like me and Brother to use."

And just like that, he lapsed back to his usual self and provoked her ire with blatant nonchalance.

Ram shook her head to regain her composure before walking after him, with the Golem silently staying close. The prickles on her neck didn't leave. She wasn't sure if the claws were still there, pointed at Rem who was piggybacked but she won't dare turn around. Having eaten more than a hundred corpses as well as the giant Ulgarm, the abomination had become something four times more repulsive than it already had. Looking at it is the last thing on her mind.

They were not running anymore compared to earlier, and despite the lack of hurry, there wasn't a single trace of trouble that came their way ever since the frame of bones that was ever lovingly referred to as 'Mother' or 'Mama' separated from her son's body and went off on her own an hour ago, sickles and krises held as they glinted in the sinking sunlight on the horizon.

Without a physical body secured to her, her strength isn't reinforced and brought down by half. She won't be capable of taking on a crowd and winning. In exchange, she's faster than she could manage with her son. And much more lethal. Going rogue had been an occurrence more than a hundred times for her, and sometimes a sleeping Emurdol never notices she was gone the entire daytime, gone to eliminate his potential murderers and returning to his side before dusk arrives.

Subtlety is a must in such an endeavor, making sure that every victim is not traced to a Priest of the Serpent and instead aimed at a phantom killer. So quick and silent the procedure she would perform to take a life. A snap of a neck, a swift beheading, or even poisoning. A staged 'accident' is a generally preferred option. No one would be certain of her presence there. She was light in her steps, not a single sound despite the weighty metals in her frame and barely visible when she formerly had black bones.

A vicious Wraith clad in ivory and metal in the night, a reaper gathering her quota in every visit. And now, she's using the same expertise reserved for the harvest in tonight's task. Clear the passages Viandegroc and Ram will take of any witchbeast.

Viandegroc himself created a pair of skeletal legs to compensate his vessel's lack of it. Rather than regular spindly femurs, they were fashioned with ligaments and tendons, added with 2 layers of muscle stolen from witchbeast corpses to protect the frame until the ankles and below where it remained skeletal. He said it was for the sake of jumping and running ability than a cheap form of regeneration.

Ram finally decided to mention the results of this temporary separation. "It's been quiet. We're still in their habitat, yet there hasn't been any witchbeasts."

"Then that means she's doing a very good job. I smell nothing but blood everywhere we go, and the Alpha is dead as well. Since night is just a few minutes close by, it gets better from there. She will be just like the Witch Hunters."

The term drew Ram's full attention, "Witch Hunters."

"One of the Order of the Serpent's natural enemies." The Golem's tone was comparable to describing an animal he hated. "Nimble. Fast. Invisible in the darkness. And generally an annoyance. They comprise of the loneliest individuals who lost their loved ones to corrupted mages and swore revenge on all Warlocks, only to make it a profession the sooner they are taken in. Apparently, we're considered Evil in their eyes."

"Actually, considering the impression I've gotten from you so far, that would not be a stretch of the description."

"And now you sound just like every idiot Brother met. We used somebody's dead body as a component for our weapons, does that automatically make us evil? Honestly, morals are sometimes full of shit. You morons don't know anything about what the Soul approves or not."

"Are you saying you would use even the remains of your relatives?"

He shot her the most exasperated look on his face, "If that wasn't obvious enough already with Mama, yes we do. Most of the fragments of her bones are inside those arms and legs, and this knife." He showed her his bone knife, stained black with dry blood all over except for the area near the point. "He made it from my skull, and as you can see, he's been using it well these years. Hmm, he should have added components of the femur instead of just the spine. Maybe a little more of my ribcage as well."

She just realized that this man was actually the man named Emurdol himself, currently possessed by another entity who refers to himself by his last name. It baffled her to forget that it used to be occupied by a man with a straightforward demeanor and an equally dark sense of humor.

He had said something about 'Souls' occupying his wand before, didn't he?

She eyed the object in question held in his right hand, eyes of the skull adorning the top lightly glowing green.

"If you are wondering if I'm an occupant in this wand, you are absolutely correct."

It seems this current occupant retains the vessel's original knack of noticing other people's stares without looking back at them, even if it's not directed at him.

"How is he still sane with you in his thoughts?"

"It's mandatory for Priests of the Serpent to be trained in mind and spirit to withstand Souls muddling our minds with their thoughts and influence. We may have the Spirits of our dearly beloved relatives close to us all the time but—" He kicked a witchbeast's dismembered head close to his feet into the distance before continuing. "—once we step out of the Underground City, there will be more souls than we could tolerate if we do not earn any development. Of course, that sort of thing begins in our childhood."

"How is mental fortitude developed in your younger years then?"

He looked over his shoulder to give her a wink and a middle finger pointed at his open eye, smiling wickedly. "Bluntly put, eye-plucking."

Yet another thing coming from the so-called 'Priest of the Serpent' that repulsed her.

He turned to face forward before beginning to elaborate, "More often than not, because of the environment they are raised in, our little ones are born with the tendency to become sociopathic or misanthropic in their later years. They do value familial relations as much as the other but if they step out into the world without learning how to value mortal life as well, they will indiscriminately annihilate any human life they see."

"Ram questions your people's parenting skills if they have to resort to extracting one of their essential senses in order to rectify something like that."

"Our environment may be dangerous for little ones but our parenting skills compensates more than enough. The Souls themselves get involved as well." He transferred the knife in his left hand to the right alongside the wand to scratch his head, "While our living showers them with love and affection, our Dead will feed them the wisdom they learned in their living life, substantially maturing them in a faster rate. Of course, telling a child whose mind has barely developed to focus on living a meaningful life while saying nothing but curse words for the idiots Above-World who waste their time in stagnation indulging in the flesh, killing each other for the sake of power and resources instead of sharing it, it will not always work as intended. They will grow up as self-righteous fools who thinks they are above everything in existence because they were enlightened by us at a young age, among other things. That is the highest form of hypocrisy."

"And that's when their eyes are plucked out?"

"Yes."

"Would you be so kind as to tell Ram how that helps them grow up into strong and mature men and women?"

"We make them see the bigger picture of being a mortal, in darkness." Whether he noticed the sarcasm or not, he didn't show it. "Without their eyes, their freedom is limited. And when their freedom is limited, they have more time to think and contemplate instead of planning genocide before they are ordained a Priest. In our environment, the dead will be there to keep you company more often than your living parents. Through them, they begin lecturing you nonstop for your shallow thoughts. Some take it well, some….don't. They suffer from the mental stress of so many voices going through their heads, not knowing if it was their own or not." His body language shifted, almost implying discomfort.

"Both Brother and I suffered the same thing. After having our eyes removed, we scream every so often, telling the Dead to shut up when they don't even have a mouth to do such a thing. Resorting to suicide wasn't new among those in our position so we were immobilized before we have done the deed just to end it."

He visibly shuddered. He clearly hated the experience, almost traumatized.

"Blind and now incapable of free movement, our minds inevitably broke in a matter of hours, rendering us as unmoving and unresponsive shells, incapable of telling apart whether what we hear is happening in the Physical World or the Spectral one because we can't see a damn thing." He then fell silent, lasting that way for more than a minute. When Ram thought he was not going to say anymore, he suddenly raised up a finger, "But because of that, we learned the meaning of suffering, and our empathy is born. Gradually, through the lectures of our Dead, we discover the significance of our mortality as well as that of others and recover our self-awareness. After developing our other senses, we are given our eyes back."

"And self-awareness allows you to withstand the stress of many voices going through your head?"

He nodded. "Withstand would not be the right word but yes. Knowing yourself, accepting yourself and earning closure with the ways of the world allows you to separate the thoughts of the Dead from your own. Once you do, you can finally say a retort back at them after being ridiculed for your immaturity for so long. Self-actualization is something you Above-Worlders couldn't boast about unless you reached your senior years, where you are close to your death that you realize how much you wasted your life on useless things." He turned a rather impressed look towards her, a twinge of admiration twinkling from his green orbs. "Though, you are one of the exceptions."

"Of course. The cute and wonderful Ram is perfect the way she is."

A mirthful chuckle escaped from the Flesh Golem, the youthful voice starting to become affectionate, "Not the slightest hesitation and yet not the slightest hint of bravado. Brother was right to consider you worthy of respect besides your familial devotion."

The prickles in her neck were gone and the Golem's presence behind her wasn't so oppressive anymore, now having the same level of threat as a fly, having almost little to no presence to be felt, and not in an unsettling way either.

For once, she finally felt safe in the presence of the man called Viandegroc.

By the way…

"By the way, you refer to yourself as Viandegroc. That's the Ser's last name. Do you not have a first name? Or is that a first name you picked for yourself because you lost your sense of self in death?"

"About time you asked. And no, you're wrong." His tired tone actually implied that he's been waiting for her to ask something like that since he said his name, "Allow me to inform you of a few things first: I am not related to Emurdol in any way despite my calling him of Brother. The names of my people aren't like yours. And lastly, we don't have last names." The wand started glowing a little brighter. His tone carried the tiniest smidge of hesitation that was barely noticeable in the next sentence, "Back then….before I could be ordained as a Priest….Emurdol killed me….and I don't blame him. I won't speak any more than that. If you want the whole story, ask from him yourself."

The wand reduced back to a dim glow.

Ram maintained her gaze on it for a few seconds before asking, "Basically, he took your name after killing you as a form of remembrance?"

"More or less. It's amazing how quickly you caught on to that, Little Girl." He didn't sound impressed, however. "Our names are derived from the anatomy of our deity, Vra'UgThol. The Great Dragon that created the cosmos by disintegrating Her own physical body, creating the world, the moon, the sun, and the stars with Her scattered parts, watching over all from beyond the Realm of Existence."

"Then could you explain why is your organization called the Order of the Serpent? Ram couldn't help but think of blasphemy."

"That's merely a representation. If a Dragon watches from the sky in vigil, then the Serpent hunts on the ground to feed. A Wyrmm exists to nourish others as well as itself, and eventually breach the surface to decide its own future."

"The Dragon as your god. The Serpent as your warriors. And the Wyrmm as your civilians." She enumerated, "A fascinating structure, honestly speaking. Are they merely labels or is it a form of hierarchy?"

"The former. We despise Above-World structures. 'All humans are equal', that is what we firmly believe in. You morons and your customs are full of bullshit. In our society, everyone is separated only by their capability and competence, nothing more." The strong amount of emphasis put in those two words struck something in Ram. She couldn't understand why, "As to why it's by those labels, it is because there are actually so many theories regarding what Vra'UgThol actually looks like. Some say She had wings. Some say She had 4 hands and 6 legs. Some say She had a serpentine body. Some say She had 700 horns. Some say She has 7 fingers on each hand. Some would even say She had 7 heads instead. No one can be really sure since we never existed before Everything came to be." He looked to the side, his eyes looking pointedly at something past dense shrubs. When Ram looked, she saw nothing. "I believe that Vra'UgThol had a body that is so long it doesn't seem to end. She had 2 horns, 2 arms and legs, 5 fingers and toes, and does not have any wings. A simple aesthetic not unlike the reptiles in the desert. And from there, my name is found."

"The Left Horn of the Dragon." Ram remembered. "Assuming Common isn't your first language, Viandegroc is a translation for Left Horn, yes?"

"Correct again." A snap of his left fingers. "We have a mother tongue, and Common is something we learn before leaving Underground. No one would dare refer to their children as something as conspicuous as a horn, an eye or even a whole arm unless they earn it. We start out small upon birth. I was once referred to as the 135th vertebra while Brother was once a quill found at the end of the tail."

"Pitiful is the person who earned the name indicating the nether regions then."

There was snorting from his throat, then the night erupted into noise as the Flesh Golem exploded to laughter behind her, all 7 mouths guffawing raucously that sent every dozing wildlife scattering or flying away from their homes while squawking. The octaves echoed into the distance like continuous explosions, it even shook the ground with its voices. She could even hear one of its hands pounding the soil from its mirth. It would have sent another wave of witchbeasts to their location if it weren't for the Reaper of white ivory and black steel holding vigil.

If it wasn't for her expecting him to find it funny and remembering that he can't let out a sound, she would have blown her eardrums from her close-proximity with the Abomination. She bolted several steps forward till he was right behind the Pale One, who was curling his body, holding his stomach and cackling silently, his entire frame shaking.

Several minutes after slapping his knee and even collapsing to the ground, wheezing and convulsing as if possessed by an evil spirit, all his mirth was spent as he regained composure, rose up to his feet and straightened his posture. He turned to face her, eyes full of tears and smiling widely, as if discovering the joy of laughter and real humor for the first time. "Ironically, whoever earned that name is considered the most Prodigious Priest or Priestess to ever live in this side of the Realm."

It amazed her that he managed to maintain a proper mindset to answer her question after laughing at such a level that no human is capable of.

Still maintaining a wide and happy smile, he continued explaining, "The last time someone earned such a privileged name, he took his Final Rest right before I was born. His Spirit went to the Afterlife and back, earned the respect of the Southern Seers, and even achieved 7 Significant Feats of the Mother. His apprentices spoke very highly of him as well and instead of seeking death after his Final Service, he went back Underground to settle down and pass on peacefully. He was a Paragon of the Way of the Serpent."

There was so much admiration lacing every word, it was almost childlike that it actually instilled the same impression he had to Ram and have her genuinely interested to know something despite herself, "And his name?"

As Viandegroc, his eyes flashed for the first time, an eager glint that perfectly matched his mental age.

"U..uh…gh…"

Before he could tell the identity of his idol, a different sound arrived behind her. The childlike smile disappeared, and a dark look clouded over him entirely, from facial expression to body language. Green eyes became a raging bonfire from the playful light, the wrinkles on his forehead and in-between his eyes further pronounced by his scowl, and his mood is visibly no longer amicable. The wand on his hand glowed brightly too.

A monstrous voice flowed into her ears, "Come on." The Golem wasn't speaking for him anymore, the Abomination in question was no longer there behind her either. She wasn't sure when it had disappeared nor how it escaped her notice. "The Village is nearby."

What unsettled her was that she wasn't sure if it was Viandegroc or the owner of the vessel himself talking.

He took off without another word, his running pace almost implying as if he was trying to get away from the two of them. He easily disappeared in the shrubs, his light-eating robes practically turning him invisible in the shadowy forest.

She pursed her lips and broke into a sprint, unsure why she was trying to reach him instead of the village.

"D…Dear Sister…where….what's going on?"

She chuckled lightly, a rare smile of fondness coloring her features as she reached up to caress her beloved little sister's unkempt hair. "Oh Rem, you are such a high-maintenance girl. He and Ram have to go through so much just to pick up after you."

"He? Ser….Ser Emurdol…ho…how is he…? Is he alright?"

"He is. Don't worry. He…oh well, he's cleared out a sizable number of witchbeasts when we ran into the forest to get you out. Given that it's more than half a day now while he's still alive, the ones responsible for those curses have likely died. In a way, your plan succeeded."

There wasn't a reply. Rem merely rested her forehead on Ram's shoulder, her head practically next to her sister's, and that allowed a murmur to be heard. "Why?" Pursing her lips, the big sister didn't question it and instead kept running.

She can see the village ahead, lit once again by bonfires to fight back the night, likely awaiting their return. How anxious they must have been, seeing their Lord's retainers run into the dangerous forest and barely back before dark. Explaining this to Lord Roswaal will take—

She slid to a stop the sooner she noticed that she was just about to run past the Pale One, who leant against the base of the tree that held a crystal barrier and would have been left unseen thanks to the arriving night and his robes turning him into a living shadow as he is embraced by the coming darkness if not for the pale flesh on his face that practically gave a glint not unlike a ray of moonlight on the corner of her vision.

His arms crossed over his chest, motionless as the tree behind him that he almost resembled a corpse on the coffin, with his white locks now black from dry bloodstains, he barely acknowledged anybody's existence, even if she was standing right in front of him where he could be touched if she just reached with one hand.

"You will not head back in?"

His head did the smallest movements as he shook his head, his locks barely swishing in the little motion. His eyes are not seen but there was a noticeable shine of green on the visible pale flesh in-between the gaps, "Do remember what will happen once he's in the same vicinity with your cargo in there."

He'll kill Rem, and force Ram to watch. That's basically what he's implying. Lady Beatrice had warned her of this.

Her throat hitched at the crucial information reminded to her, suddenly defensive as she stood stiffly before him. She was levelheaded enough to notice that he's preventing that outcome himself from happening by not heading in. Whether it was a mutually-agreed action with the owner of the vessel or something independent, she wasn't sure.

Maintaining her composure, she asked, sparing a glance to Earlham Village, "What will you do then?"

"Continue where Brother left off. He came here to Purge, I intend on seeing it through with him." The eldritch voice barely had any spirit that matched the vessel's current user of youthful demeanor. Merely resigned, and the smallest undertone of bitterness. "We'll see to the culling of every single witchbeast in this forest to grant a bit of safety in this domain, or at least I know that's what Brother would want."

She frowned. She saw nothing but the lack of freewill in that sentence. Viandegroc wasn't doing this out of his own initiative at all. "Even with your power, Ram doubts that you could manage it. There's only so much you could do for such a task."

"Whether he and I manage it or not, whether he and I live in the aftermath or not, does not matter." His left fist on his crossed-arms clenched even tighter, the metal creaking slightly. "He wants nothing to do with this place anymore. It does nothing but deliver bad memories to him. Constant betrayal and suspicion has been the norm of his daily life, I intend to deviate or free him from it now. If I can take him to a place that wholeheartedly accepts him as another human, or to die and free him of this disgusting Realm, that shall be done."

"S..s…" Ram turned her head to the side, facing her little sister who was trying to raise her head up as if it weighed like iron just to look at him, "Ser…"

The Pale One's head snapped up, stained white locks floating as if underwater and the powerful glow of fiery green in his eyes shot the most hateful look towards Rem, his hackles raised and his sharp teeth bare to their eyes.

"Don't you dare talk to me, you little bitch." Ram felt her wince from her back, as if struck physically by the eldritch voice boiling with all his anger. "Did you have the fucking right to open that fucking yap of yours in front of me or Brother anymore? Do you even have the right to be concerned about Brother anymore? Because of you, Brother's voice is gone!"

He stomped up right up to Ram, looking at the little sister's face all the while, raking his clawed gauntlet across the large scar on his neck, leaving bleeding lines on the pale flesh, "Do you see this!? This happened because he ran in to get you out! He told you to stay in the village! He said that because you were cursed! He knew you could get hurt while you are! His skeletons were ordered to kill anything they see in that forest! He was concerned! The sooner he comes back with the seventh child, he planned to cure you of your curse! You, the same person who had nothing but suspicion for him! THE SAME FUCKING PERSON WHO MADE HIM LEAVE FOR THE SAKE OF THE OTHERS! HE RISKED HIS FUCKING LIFE FOR YOUR SAKES!"

"Ser, that's enough!" Rem shouted.

"SILENCE!" She received a backhanded strike from studded knuckles of black steel to the side of her face for her defiance. She lost her grip on Rem and she fell to the ground with a bruising cheek and a bleeding mouth. She moved to be at the defense of her little sister but immediately stopped herself from doing so.

The inside of her cheeks, hooked by a pair of black sickles that tasted of dry blood, ready to extend the corners of her lips if she dares to cast magic. Her eyes, looked over by a pair of immaculate wavy daggers that were aimed directly downwards, primed to render her blind or simply kill her if she ever dares to make the slightest defiance one more time.

The Reaper hovered over her, headless yet she felt the glare of its person. Her arms were pinned by its knees, adorned with bones, skulls and black steel, each weighing as heavy as a whole boulder. In this state, there was nothing she could do to defend Rem in anyway.

The person in question was grabbed by the throat as she lie helpless on the soil, lifted up and pushed against the tree Viandegroc once leaned on. The eldritch voice was free of all restraints, releasing all of its pent up fury, "Not only that, you forced your sister to walk into danger. If it wasn't for Brother, she'd be dead! How much further must you make others suffer for your actions, huh!? Did you actually think you could do this on your own!? Did you actually think you can cull this forest of all the witchbeasts that cursed him!? Did you plan to repent with your life!? Did you plan to offer your life to the beasts of this forest along with the ones who cursed him!?"

The forest glowed green and blue. Strong emotions caused abundant pools of mana to erupt from two separate beings, one coming Viandegroc and the other coming from Mother. Ram could feel all the mana in the air being stained with mud, tainted by their influence. It felt like poison. If she had a horn and absorbed it, she would have suffered from it.

"I thought you were better than this, you little bitch! Atoning with your death? That's nothing but a senseless lie all you morons believed in! Agh! All your self-justifications sickens me! What only happens in the aftermath is your Big Sister left all alone in that fucking manor! You ran off because you can't face your faults! Once you die, that's it! You are a corpse to nourish the soil or food for the beasts to live again! Better yet, another corpse for Brother to use! All the meanings behind your death are just illusions! Nothing good will come out of it! Because you are NOT LIKE US!"

He released his grip on her neck, allowing her to fall on her rear to the soil, leant against the tree with her head down, her bangs clouding her expressions. The liquid that dripped down on her knees, glinting from the moonlight were impossible to miss, even if Ram was lying down with limited view of everything.

"There is no one who can achieve anything in death except us! Even in our last breath, we still remain in the living world in order to finish whatever must be done! We have long since transcended the laws of life and death, achieving things what many have attempted for centuries! We have long since achieved what the damn church has preached for generations! We achieved enlightenment because of the truths we believe in, especially in death! No one else can do the same! No one else! Not you, especially you! You're not a Priestess of the Serpent, you're just some servant with a horn employed to a damn clown! If you think attempting a cheap imitation of our achievements would earn you my approval or make you like us, you are wrong!"

In the distance, a bloodcurdling roar was let out, comprising of multiple octaves screaming at once and, judging by the slight vibration of the soil, it was loud enough to shake the earth despite its distance and send the wildlife running away from its source.

Though the Reaper lacked a head, Ram was certain she watched its phantom representation look up and stare at the direction of the howl with a grim air. Viandegroc turned a glare at the same direction as well, losing all interest in continuing his tirade on Rem.

The hooks inside her mouth were removed alongside the daggers and her arms were released, numb due to the lack of circulation from the elbow up. Ram rose up to her feet and hurried to her sister, ignoring the painful bruise on her cheek and walking past the Pale One who was starting to walk away from the village.

Rem was utterly broken. Her eyes now lacking their luster, endlessly tearing from the turmoil wrought by his words. She barely even noticed her elder sister right in front of her, attending to her state if her pulse and breathing is still intact.

Ram quickly placed her to her back again, her hands tightly around Rem's thighs and about to head into the village.

"Ram."

She stopped herself immediately upon hearing her name called, for actually the very first time. She turned around, facing him as his gaze remained fixed on the same location of the abominable howl.

"Tell the girl Emilia that Brother won't be coming back. It was wonderful, meeting a kind soul like her. A moment of peace amidst a life of unrest. His time together with her had been short but he exulted over every moment. You do not understand how much that means for a Priest of the Serpent."

She heard the heavy emotion of resignation in the eldritch voice, lacking any doubts in the decision he made and firmly resolved to carry it out.

She nodded solemnly, despite her newfound animosity towards him. More than anything, Rem's life mattered more, even more than her own. Even if it's to save her little sister from the inevitable guilt, she had no time nor willingness to console him out of this decision of his.

"No…please….!" She felt the smallest amount of struggle from Rem on her back. Her tone was heavy with despair and desperation, "Ser Emurdol…don't do this…! Rem must—" Ram felt her limbs move, but they gave the littlest tremble, indicating her state of being the handicap among them. Her battle that lasted for more than half a day truly worn her down.

"Rem, please. Don't say anymore. You and Ram know that you can't move. Let him do what he wishes." She had no way to be gentle with her words, and Viandegroc looked like he was not going to stay long. She needed to hurry to the village. It's only a matter of time before the witchbeasts start gathering. "None of us can stop him now."

"…why…?" Her words were stricken with tears and Ram's shoulder was slowly getting wet. "Even after all I did….after all those things…..why did you and Sister come for me? Please…..stop….you don't have to do this…."

A sudden gust of wind and Viandegroc was suddenly in front of her again, his index fingerclaw poking at Rem's forehead.

"Luggage do not speak."

A flash of light from his eyes and the little sister was incapacitated once again, slumping on Ram's back.

"Wha—"

The eldritch voice cut her off, "I merely took the last of her mana from her. Don't worry, her Od is untouched." Drawing his finger away, he turned to face what's behind him again. "The bastards suddenly got themselves a new Alpha. Should have known that these curses eating Brother's mana would have strengthened them." As he said this, he already moved to rid of the spectral diseases on his person in the form of a large black cloud grabbed by his free left hand out of his chest, morphing it into a ball and burying it to the eponymous tree.

A single leaf fell from the branches, followed by more. Its life is being eaten away.

How long has he hid those curses the whole time? And since when was it activated?

"Now then…"

"Wait." Before he was about to run into the battle, his wand returning to his left hand, Ram stopped him. "It doesn't matter if you answer on his behalf but Ram has one last question for Ser Emurdol himself: Why? Why did you go through all this despite what Rem has done to you? Ram wants to know too."

In the background, she saw the Reaper turn to face Ram as well. Viandegroc merely sighed. The eldritch voice carried an indescribable tone this time, a mixture of admiration, pride and bitterness.

"You know the common depiction of a Hero, yes? Selfless, strong, valiant, kind, superhuman, ever so willing to risk his life for another without compensation. He wouldn't even suffer like a human, unburdened by negative emotions. He would always persevere through despair and become the beacon of hope for all. A role model of humanity's best. A type that no one could possibly compare to…."

She heard Viandegroc sigh. The wand on his left hand beginning to glow a little brighter.

"Brother was none of that, nor any of the Priests of the Serpent. He is the opposite of what a Hero is. His actions are driven by self-gain. He's not courageous, he simply doesn't know fear. Altruism is a rarity among us. Our bodies might as well be abominations compared to humans, so heavily modified and experimented on that it's barely recognizable from the norm. We care less about the laws of man. We care even less about your morals. We practice the suppression of emotions, but we are equally susceptible to such impulses. We know despair, bitterness is a constant, and hatred is like a neighbor. He offers no hope to anyone, even to a child or a dying man, because it is equal to the crime of lying. He despises humans, and yet they are the only ones he truly understands."

He looked up to the skies, crossing his arms and continuing as if all these things were hardly any worth mentioning later.

And yet, he made our Society become equal with the humans. Our time of being regarded as the same Hellspawn we've been killing is over, all thanks to him. We are no longer feared, ostracized or rejected. All because he saved a village, gave aid to an oppressed City and sent every Devil that has afflicted our land for so long back to Oblivion. He saved the ones who hate him, just like this time. After all that your little sister has done to him, he could have just left her in the forest to die as a form of revenge. Hmph, he could have done that yesterday, in fact. Yet, he came back for her and took her curse for himself."

He turned to look over his shoulder. There was no harsh glow of his eyes nor any ominous floating of his locks, just simply looking at who was behind him that asked a certain question.

"Emurdol Viandegroc is a Hero that vanquished the Supreme Sins. That's the only reason why he's done such a thing. He didn't ask to be a Hero nor did he strive to be one, he simply is." He turned his gaze ahead and began walking onwards to the dark of the forest, "Not that he would admit being one, however." He placed his wand to his right hand and clapped another strange rhythm, "Farewell, Ram. Our time had been short but it was worth it."

His form blurred alongside the Reaper. The oddity forced Ram to blink, and when she did, they were all gone. Moments later, a second abominable roar erupted from the distance, louder than before, followed by a unified chorus of every surviving witchbeast howling and a terrifying cackle that reveled for the incoming violence. The ground shook, clouds of dust sent to the air as if a violent brawl was happening were quite visible from afar despite the night, the panicking squawks of all wildlife filled the air without stop, and every bird possible that lived in this forest fled from the Horror happening out of sight. The wind was blowing wildly, and the moon was disappearing in the clouds. The very Forest was quaking in fear.

She started running before the terror engulfed her too.

~~~~~ « ҉ » ~~~~~

She passed through the tree line that separated the witchbeast habitat and the village, bringing her past the barrier and into the safety of its borders. The villagers rejoiced for her safe return as well as her sister but she had no time to acknowledge them nor return the courtesies.

She quickly reached the same cottage used by the Pale One during his recuperation, and she happened to find the door open. When she entered in, she was welcomed with quite the sight:

Lady Emilia was ensnared to a chair by some kind of spinal column that seemed to be alive, wearing a particularly vexed expression for her captive state.

And….

"Lord Roswaal!"

"Oooh? Well, this is suuuuden."

The Lord of the Domain himself was there, having returned from Sanctuary and was quite surprised for her bloodied and beaten state as well as her cargo being a lot worse for wear.

She hurriedly bowed her head, careful not to drop Rem, "Forgive me and Rem for appearing before you in such a horrid state, and Ram have no excuses for the circumstances that ran rampant yesterday…"

"Say no more." Lord Roswaal's hand was raised up, "Instead, you both have done woooonderfully in my absence."

"Emurdol. Where's Emurdol?" Then Lady Emilia asked the most dangerous question, "Where is he? Why isn't he with you?"

"Yes. Where is our resident Necromancer?" Lord Roswaal asked, lacking his usual drawl and speaking in rather sincere tones, "I must certainly express my most sincere gratitude to him for all he's done."

Her throat locked up, unsure how to put this delicately. There were in fact many complications before coming here, and the Pale One being overtaken by a different identity was chief among them. Her answer would certainly not be received positively, especially from Lady Emilia.

"Ram?" Lord Roswaal was starting to note her silence.

Steeling herself, she will not mince any words just as she always had but she will try her best not to be cruel.

~~~~~ « ҉ » ~~~~~

The Flesh Golem had become a true monstrosity, and its size was nearly phenomenal. What was once a hulking abomination of flesh and blood had now turned into the emaciated half of a pale giant. Its size was comparable from an Ulgarm to its Alpha.

Its once-canine skull had morphed into something completely human, and it wore the hide of eaten witchbeasts to form its pale countenance. Sharp pointy ears, white eyes without pupils, a deformed head free of hair, extremely pointy teeth, a long red tongue and a very loose jaw, threatening to come off but still capable of snapping a tree in half with one bite. Unnaturally long arms, spindly and lanky beyond description, ended in 5 claws that carry only single joints. A bony torso, exposing ribs and ending with its guts spilling out of its missing lower half. They should have been intestines long ago but they morphed into simply thick strings of flesh trailing behind it. And they moved. All its 6 other mouths have congregated to the palms, the backhands, and the forearms. Whatever they reached or touched gets bitten and devoured, contributing to its mass even further.

"Ha!"

And it scoffed, ridiculing the existence standing in front of its creator.

Viandegroc stood in front of an Alpha Ulgarm, smiling at it condescendingly alongside the Flesh Golem, barely even considering it a threat to his host's life.

After the massacre earlier, most of the curses eating Emurdol's mana has been lessened to only 2 due to the deaths of the ones responsible for them. His mana had outrageous potency, the type that overmatched even Senior Magi in his home world. It apparently did more than feed, it empowered them. And that made a simple witchbeast who he could torture, mutilate, or experiment on without trouble into something even more troublesome that's going to give a bit of resistance before he gets what he wants.

"You're as ugly as the last. A little taller but barely making the difference." He mentioned, eyeing every detail on the beast with a sarcastically critical gaze, especially the mana signature it had. It was all laughable to him and very likely the owner of the vessel if he's the one in control.

As if sensing his impudent thoughts, the giant dog started roaring and raised its paw, ready to smash him down—

"AH, SHUT UP!"
"Ah, ShUt Up!"

Eldritch voice and abominable voice shouted at once, effectively cutting the feral howl short. Even the lesser witchbeasts surrounding him, the abomination and the Alpha in a wide circle flinched from his superior outburst. There was pure fury and frustration boiling from Viandegroc's every expression. His pale skin that could match even a corpse in the coffin was now burning red, and his green eyes burned brighter than the fiery orbs of the giant Ulgarm.

"YoU sHoW uP iN bRoThEr'S FaCe, ThInKiNg YoU cOuLd InTiMiDaTe HiM oR eVeN mE!? dO yOu AcTuAlLy ThInK yOu ArE nOw SuPeRiOr CoMpArEd To Me Or HiM jUsT bEcAuSe YoU sToLe HiS mAnA!?"
"YOU SHOW UP IN BROTHER'S FACE, THINKING YOU COULD INTIMIDATE HIM OR EVEN ME!? DO YOU ACTUALLY THINK YOU ARE NOW SUPERIOR COMPARED TO ME OR HIM JUST BECAUSE YOU STOLE HIS MANA!?"

If a witchbeast is capable of emotion, then the indignance began to show on the Alpha's face, screaming a deep below of bloody murder as it redoubled its efforts and swung its trunk-like arm towards him once again.

The moment its calloused paw met the outstretched poisonous knife made entirely out of Viandegroc's skull and spinal column, the weapon sunk merely 4 millimeters inwards to the flesh…

"HA!"
"HA!"

…and the Alpha flinched backwards, as if kicked by a giant's foot, screaming a grating resonance of true agony as it slammed its stabbed paw against the ground repeatedly, causing a minor earthquake. It knocked over several trees in its struggle, flattened a few of its lessers underpaw, and he had to jump away before its tail swiped him out of the picture, leaving 3 hellhounds to take the brunt of the blow.

"HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!"
"HaHaHaHaHaHaHaHaHaHaHA!"

The sound of suffering mixed together with sadistic delight, resonating from dual sources. The Flesh Golem had already began rampaging, rendering any living thing at the receiving end of its large spindly arms into either a mangled mess of flesh and blood or bitten chunks of meat via the maws at the palms. It had knocked over several trees itself, creating an even wider clearing littered with felled plant life. Its erratic movements defied its size for its absurd speed, sending a strong gust of wind in every lash.

At a certain distance, a black and white blur was streaking through the thickets and shrubs, barely a sound except for the bodies hitting the ground. A quick flash of shining and black steel comes before a canine body is rendered to pieces, left as fertilizer on the forest floors. Mother struck down any arriving witchbeast, uncaring whether they slipped past her barrier or not since they will suffer the wrath of the abomination afterwards. It's very likely the hellhounds did not even know she existed. She was moving too quickly to be seen, heard or smelled, an empowerment since being free of her son's body. She's utilizing it to the fullest extent as the Reaper.

"YOU'RE NOTHING BEFORE HIM OR ME! YOU'RE NOTHING TO THE EYES OF EVERY PRIEST OF THE SERPENT THAT LIVED AND DIED! DON'T GET TOO FULL OF YOURSELF, YOU PILE OF USELESS HIDE! DON'T EVER THINK YOU'RE EVEN CLOSE TO BEING SPECIAL AMONG YOUR SPECIES! YOU HAVE NO DAMN RIGHT TO BE ALIVE! YOU EVEN INFURIATE ME JUST BY EXISTING! LOOK AT YOU! YOU'RE WRITHING IN PAIN JUST FROM A LITTLE SCRATCH OF MY SKULL!"
"YoU'rE nOtHiNg BeFoRe HiM oR mE! yOu'Re NoThInG tO tHe EyEs Of EvErY pRiEsT oF tHe SeRpEnT tHaT lIvEd AnD dIeD! dOn'T gEt ToO fUlL oF yOuRsElF, yOu PiLe Of UsElEsS hIdE! dOn'T eVeR tHiNk YoU'rE eVeN cLoSe To BeInG sPeCiAl AmOnG yOuR sPeCiEs! YoU hAvE nO dAmN rIgHt To Be AlIvE! yOu EvEn InfuRiAtE mE jUsT bY eXiStInG! lOoK aT yOu! YoU'rE wRiThInG iN pAiN jUsT fRoM a LiTtLe ScRaTcH oF mY sKuLl!"

Viandegroc did what he did best, ridiculing his targets to the point of death. Laughing, jeering, teasing, bullying, taunting, and provoking. His choice of words are specifically sharp and cutting, borderline arrogant. But in his mind, he sincerely believed in them to be true beyond debate. And he'd be damned if anyone questions it, because a Priest of the Serpent's lecture is barely ever wrong.

The Alpha's frame was starting to turn black from the innumerable black veins developing on its entire body starting from the wound on its paw. Its grating howls had been brought down to chokes and pitiful yelps, reducing its status as the mightiest of its pack to a pathetic whelp. It no longer had the strength to stand or maintain its balance. The pain overpowered its mental faculties, its muscles locked up completely, rendering it immobile and left to his mercy. The only movement available were the twitches and the roll of its eyes, looking back at his reveling gaze with bloodshot orbs of pure red.

It had been a common belief that some converts to the Order of the Serpent were once Apothecaries, knowing of the ways of medicine and herbal cures. Upon their enlightenment, their expertise shifts to poisons, anatomy, and numerous forms of surgery. Altruistic ambitions became a desire for knowledge, to know more of what makes all biological life operate. The data they gathered is either shared or kept to themselves until their deaths, at which point is contributed to the Order.

Emurdol's first interest had drawn more to the knowledge of noxious substances before the knowledge of life, devoting his time into learning all the toxins the World Above ever developed through the process of evolution. There had been dangerous chemicals the Order have kept, a mixture of numerous ingredients that were from Above Ground but he strove for more, aiming to acquire all poisons once he earned his right to leave the Underground City.

His efforts showed through the enumerable lives he took from the bone knife held in Viandegroc's hand, containing a cocktail of every horrible toxin he ever found throughout his journey around the Above-World. If something as big as this Alpha keels over so easily because of a tiny puncture, it does not deserve the right to be spouting threats, baring its teeth or swinging its weapons. This wasn't even the first incident, and to see the event repeating itself, even if pale in comparison, was enough to make him lose his temper.

"DIE! DIE! DIE! JUST FUCKING DIE! YOU WASTE OF SPACE, TIME, EXISTENCE, FLESH, BONE, BLOOD, MANA AND AIR! YOU MAKE ME FUCKING SICK! JUST LOSE ALL THE OXYGEN IN YOUR LUNGS AND DIE!"
"DiE! dIe! DiE! jUsT fUcKiNg DiE! yOu WaStE oF sPaCe, TiMe, ExIsTeNcE, fLeSh, BoNe, BlOoD, mAnA aNd AiR! yOu MaKe Me FuCkInG sIcK! jUsT lOsE aLl ThE oXyGeN iN yOuR lUnGs AnD dIe!"

He siphoned the Alpha's wilting mana to his core the whole time, never letting such a valuable resource to Necromagi be wasted away alongside the life force. So much magical energy, yet completely unused, never given a chance to exert power except swing its arms. Pathetic mutt. What's left of the container's contents is down to the brim and eventually, he reached the Od. He drained that too, eating the source of life and transferring it to the wand.

And after a whole minute, the Alpha is now dead, its suffering dragged out for so long that Viandegroc made sure that it lived long enough to realize its own doom or the pointlessness of its existence. Whether the hellhound realized that or not won't matter, it's dead anyway. This world is simply free from another useless life form.

"Haaaaaaaaa." At that, Viandegroc released a pleasant sigh, his body losing all of its stiffness as he raised his hands up to the sky, praising the Dragon for allowing that satisfying moment to happen.

[That was so fucking cathartic. I never knew venting out your anger and frustrations like that could do that to you. That explains why you loved torturing the Greater Spawns and the Corrupted, didn't you, Brother?]

[….]

[Such annoying little shits, aren't they? Facing us despite their poor odds. These things are absolutely not like animals. They would have known who's the better predator and walked away, not risking any injury on a useless fight. It almost reminds you of humans, doesn't it?]

[…...]

[Makes you wonder how different would those beings called 'Demi-humans' be, yes? The People have been telling us that they are as civilized as the next human but with differing factors aside from their appearances. I personally wished their employee, Frederica, had been around so we could find out ourselves.]

[….]

[Brother? Are you there? Make a sound if you are, any sound, even if small…]

[…]

A small frown crossed his features when he heard no such thing. Emurdol just might be getting away from reality in this convenient fashion. Take away the responsibilities of the flesh, the burden of food, rest, work and emotion put aside for someone else to take over, any Priest of the Serpent would take the chance. It is almost as similar as dying.

[You might need your rest, after all, Brother.] He brushed his thumb over the skull top of the wand gently, a flat line forming on his lips. [Go ahead. Sleep. Don't worry about the others. They have outgrown their old ways. After watching all that has happened to you, they would not have the heart to disturb you after suffering so much.]

He looked over the corpse of the Alpha lying on its side, the eyes, devoid of its red malicious light, left wide open with the tongue lolling out of its toothy maw. Put aside the numerous black veins, it's actually an intact specimen of its type. Feeling the presence of the Flesh Golem behind him reaching forward to the dead dog and about to have another component for its mass, he held up a hand to halt. The reaching claws hovered over his head as it stopped.

The flesh is too intact. The organs have likely ruptured beyond repair but the frame is just perfect. How could he let it be ravaged? In Viandegroc's choice of essential resources, flesh is the hallmark of a Necromagi's power, especially if it's unspoiled. Second to bones, that is.

But still, this is too good an opportunity to pass up.

A challenging grin on his lips, he stepped up to the corpse and laid his hand on the snout. He may not have achieved such a thing before in his living life but he's watched the method used by Emurdol more than a hundred times. Emulation will not be troublesome.

Purge poison. Halt coagulation. Apply Curse of Nightmares. Flush tainted mana. Process into dark energy. Mix with Life force. Cage Soul.

Reanimate.

[This is cheating. Every Priest will be cross with me if they ever find out about this.]

No one learns nor teaches how to perform the dark arts in the Order of the Serpent, after all. The goal for every Wyrmm is discovery.

How he's acquired this knowledge is just a mixture of both. He hoped the Dragon forgives him for this. In his living life, his only discovery is the creation of spinal columns that could go on forever. He hasn't even discovered how to raise a skeleton of all things, the most basic of basic techniques. Emurdol killed him before he could find his second one.

Twitching.

Twitching.

Twitching.

Twitching.

And then Unlife.

The Alpha silently rose up to its legs and looked down on him, eyes blazing red once more. If there was once hostility, now there's only mindless subservience. To realize its nonliving state would be to feel its dead heart or see its swollen tongue. Aside from that, it's basically no different from a living one.

Unsurprisingly, Viandegroc felt no gratification upon achieving one of the advanced magics of the Order on the first attempt. He took advantage of Emurdol's experience and used no unique method of his own. A disgraceful conduct for a Priest, even if he's no longer a living being in essence.

He sneered at such a thing.

[Alas, I rediscovered the emotion of shame once more.]

With a gesture, the Alpha turned and trotted off into a direction and he followed it, with the abomination and the Mother trailing after him. Using its keen sense of smell, it will track down every witchbeast in this forest for him, making this Purge quick and easy. It will join the fight as well, applying its magic for the task at hand. Since it's bound to fall apart sooner or later, this must be quick.

Indulging in the Living World suddenly feels like a bother to him now. He should focus on the job.

~~~~~ « ҉ » ~~~~~

One stomp to the throat and the neck bones snapped under his skeletal feet. Yet another witchbeast dead. With a wave of his hand, its skeleton exploded out of its corpse, carrying a mace as it walked off in a random direction, searching for witchbeasts to kill.

Turning a bored eye to another direction, the slaughter between ivory and hide is still ongoing. Skeletons of all shapes, from giants to prowlers, strength to ferocity, struck down everything that moved aside from him, Mother, the Golem and the Undead Alpha.

Witchbeast, beheaded by a bone sword.

Witchbeast, head bitten off by a prowler.

Skeletal warrior, ripped in half.

Skeletal magus, trampled.

Witchbeast, stabbed through the heart.

Prowler, mobbed.

Witchbeast, head bashed by a bone mace.

Skeletal warrior, mobbed.

Skeletal magus, ripped in half.

Prowler, mobbed.

Prowler, headbutted.

Skeletal magus, lost a head.

Witchbeast, bisected.

Bruiser, bent in half.

Witchbeast, stabbed to death.

Skeletal warrior, lost its legs.

[Damn it.]

His creations are falling more often than the mutts. He may be copying the creation method but minion fortitude is a different story, apparently. Emurdol's skeletal constructs could not match the Queen of Ivory's Apocalypse Legion but even one of his soldiers could take 6 to 10 witchbeasts before falling.

Clearing out the forest in this kind of fashion did not seem so ideal anymore.

[I truly need to Go Home, don't I?]

A clawed hand reached up to the sky before it slapped the earth in unbelievable speeds, causing a large quake and terraforming the land. Alongside it, clouds of dust and multiple bleeding bodies were thrown into the air. The Flesh Golem leaped up, sharp jaws wide open and caught as many hellhounds as it can in its maw before landing back to the ground, causing another quake and crushing multitudes of witchbeasts underneath.

At least that construct was a successful fighting life form, capable of development and cognition. His only worry is the amount of size it'll gain in the aftermath. It needs to die if it becomes too visible. Mother should still be somewhere, killing the damn things like bugs under her metal boots as always.

As for the Undead Alpha….

Trees toppled from their movements, land continuously terraforming due to their reckless use of destructive spells, and so much blood is spilt from their violent grapple of tooth and claw. The second Alpha had appeared, and its undead counterpart met it head on in a vengeance. Just like actual dogs, they are fighting for dominance, aiming for the other's neck with their jaws and leveraging their arms and legs to pin them down.

Viandegroc was quick to know the hazards, especially if these dogs are more than 6 times the size of ordinary ones.

[I should be getting away. As of now, I am an ant in the proximity of two hounds tussling. I might get stepped on.]

In a blur, he has disappeared from sight and suddenly reappeared in the midst of canine corpses among the scattered bones, raising more fodder for the slaughter.

Escaping the grapple, the living Alpha pushed its opponent's head off its neck and whirled, slapping the snout with its muscular tail lined with spikes. To the Undead Alpha, it was nothing more than a push and retaliated without a second thought: a head-butt to the shoulder, and another, sending it teetering on two legs, and then a final one that sent it crashing on its side.

An undefended prey in its sight, it struck—

The earth underneath it exploded, sending its 3 ton upper body upwards to stand on two legs and the new opening on its underbelly allowed visceral contents to spill out. The lesser witchbeasts saw their opening. Hundreds managing to slip past Mother's vigilance, lying in wait since the confrontation, finally bolted into action and pushed the Undead Alpha down before clamping onto the exposed guts.

They pulled. Hard.

The entrails and blood spilled out like a large leak in a container. It was like an open faucet in a bath, a large one, and it doused the ravaging witchbeasts in pure crimson liquid, leaving no trace of brown or black on their beings. As if being energized by such a grotesque wash, their movements grew even more violent, shredding and extracting even more organs.

But the Undead Alpha barely noticed. What it only thought about was the next course of action, and to see so many of its enemies together in one spot, especially when its living counterpart simply stood there watching its opponent 'suffer', it was a good chance to pass up.

A wave of earth arrived for the umpteenth time. The lessers alongside their greater noticed the shift of mana before it occurred. This time, however, it came from all directions. Front, back, left and right, a powerful torrent that could uproot trees and reshape the very land without any sort of trouble was coming down on them. The witchbeasts couldn't think of the right move to escape and the spell didn't allow them the time for that. Rock and soil swept them away without mercy, either crushed or simply buried under to die of suffocation. The two Alphas suffered the worst of it. If they cannot be buried, they will instead be ravaged like eggs in a raging river. Their enormous bones, stronger than most ground dragons, were bent, shattered, fractured and mangled. New wounds were received as well, and disembowelment is now shared between them. If there was supposed to be blood, the sight only lasted for a second before dirt overshadowed it. Grind, twist, mix, blend. An endless torture.

But only one felt the punishment. The other was already dead and was validated its rest.

And after several dozen seconds, the dust finally settling as the torrent of earth now stopped. What was left of the Alphas were just their bodies half-buried into the now-still soil, broken and severely wounded enough to show their insides.

And Viandegroc felt a rather personal loss as he eyed over their corpses. He clicked his tongue, shaking his head. They were such wonderful specimens, and now they're beyond repair. Such a shame. He could have poisoned the other one and had it risen with its bones and motor functions intact, but the first one went wild and pounced on it as if it had a grudge. Only the Flesh Golem would have a use for them now. It would gladly accept any kind of body, spoilt or not, so long as it could eat it and grow further with it.

Hmm….

He leaned his head forward, suddenly realizing something interesting as he looked at the exposed fractures.

With a wave of his hand, the bones were expunged out forcefully from their vessels of flesh, floating to the air under his will as they dripped blood and still had remains of organs and entrails hanging off them as they reformed the frame of their former selves, but Viandegroc wasn't paying attention to the minor details. He compared the states of each frames.

A skull was completely dented, but the other only had cracks. Fixable.

A right femur was bent in half, but the other was perfectly intact.

Left hind leg, shattered. The other, bent. Reattachable.

Both spinal columns are twisted, cracked, detached. Easy fix.

Multiple ribs are either snapped or cracked. Replaceable.

Lastly, both pairs of paws with digits ending in giant swords are perfectly intact. Perfect.

He smirked. These things are a keeper. With a snap of his fingers, all joints were detached before every piece was sent to the Void. Seeing as they are all in, he closed the rift—

He suddenly collapsed to his knees, barely stopping his face from meeting the reformed soil with his wand hand as his vision blurred, entire body shaking.

[Bloody hell….how on Pandemonium do you maintain your composure after closing that accursed opening, Brother? That was actually exhausting,]

It felt as if all the fight in his body suddenly left him, taking away all the energy he had left despite his zealous drive for the task still intact. His body was in a constant state of adrenaline, it could remain that way even if the battle was long over, a feat only Priests of the Serpent are capable of, further improved with their bodily modifications. To suddenly end up like this just for knitting reality back together was unfathomable.

He's barely keeping his consciousness together. Sleep felt like a wonderful prospect at the moment, so enchanting to throw oneself into the beautiful or terrifying reality created by no other than yourself. To Priests of the Serpent, it is but a minor reflection of the Afterlife. Something to fervently look forward to in times of respite. But Viandegroc is fully aware that this is not a time for respite. He's on a job, and exhaustion that leads to sleep is a critical hazard. His arms shook just to keep his body from resting against the ground. He even felt brittle like an amateur's conjured bone.

[Damn it. I don't think I could continue like this. This forest is still infested…still more witchbeasts…]

A gust of wind and a pair of metallic hands raised his body up to sit on his rear. His heavy eyes saw air but his second vision saw the concerned face of Emurdol's Mother. Concerned for his sudden fall. Looking over her frame, she's bloodier than before. She clearly felled more witchbeasts than the Golem and him combined.

[Mama…I may have done something I shouldn't have in the midst of battle.]

Just from that, she already know what he had done to be in such a state. There was nothing but annoyance she has for him.

[Truly, you can forgive this one slight. I haven't seen this aftereffect coming. I thought it was a light strain on the psyche but it seems I miscalculated in terms of willpower.]

The Queen of Ivory would have huffed in pride if she were alive in this very moment. She prized her son and to hear an indirect compliment about him is nothing short of pleasing. There was only affirmation to hear from her.

[I know. He is amazing and I am inferior. But we have bigger concerns. This body is in critical danger. If I can't fight, this task cannot be done.]

She informs that she is aware. Even with her, even with a Flesh Golem, even if a Legion is out there, they are not safe as long as the creator cannot move on their own. And a good Priest of the Serpent leaves nothing to chance in a situation like this.

[You would think this is the right opportunity to Pass On, yes? Redo the events and settle what we were careless to? Maybe leave the Mansion ahead of time while we hold the master of these beasts prisoner?]

Disapproval. Immediate disapproval, and Mother was having no debate on that, especially after the first incident. She is not allowing it…

[…unless he allows it too, yes?] He finished her thoughts, an ironic smile crossing his features. He didn't like the certain implications of the matter, [But this would break him. As of now, his desire for the Afterlife runs even deeper. He's even expecting me to end his life for him. This will end in more than disappointed for him if he finds out. You and I are aware he mustn't know of it. It took much just to make sure he hasn't noticed the first time!]

He looked around him, just to see where his Golem is. It was nowhere in sight despite the wider spread of view thanks to many felled trees. He just noticed that it got quiet, an ill omen. The winds are still, but he couldn't sense any witchbeast in hiding. These details are too confusing, but the fact that he's in hostile territory is still a concern. And dying is still a matter of debate.

[Brother! Brother! Come out! Speak with Mama! Do you intend to die soon and leave our task unfinished!? Or shall we retreat!?]

They could feel it. Something was coming. Fast. He wasn't sure what it was, but it was clearly not using the ground to traverse. It was flying at great speeds. And a horde was coming from the opposite direction. Mother senses it. He senses it. The ground shook from the many paws sprinting onto the location of a weakened prey. Him.

Teeth gritting as the panic overrode his exhaustion, his mouth motioned the words as he desperately tried to reach out to the owner of the vessel. [Brother! ANSWER!] Gripping the wand close to his face, he leaned the skull top to his forehead, deciding to confront Emurdol himself for his lack of response.

Mother left him and stood up in a whirl, her weapons at the ready, sickles and krises to bear as she is conflicted on which threat to confront. If only Viandegroc wasn't hindering her with his current state, she would have been unstoppable and would have the danger under control. Her concern for her son is putting the both of them in danger.

Viandegroc's eyes shot open, shocked at the revelation he witnessed. [By the Dragon….] He turned to Mother, just in time to witness a witchbeast that was first to arrive among its pack being beheaded by a sickle. [Mama….I fail to see if this is bad news or good news but…] He hesitated. This was something she wasn't meant to hear, but he knows that withholding it merits nothing. He hates it. He hates it all. Damn everything that led to this point! [….he's having an audience with our Kind Benefactor.]

And then Mother was very still.

….Very still, even more than when she's idle. Seeing her like this was possibly the very first terrifying thing he ever saw in his first return to life.

There was a certain loss. A defeat in her still demeanor, as if the fire of her will to fight and live has diminished.

Clang. Clang. Clang. Clang.

….she dropped her weapons, conceding to the inevitable if she doesn't defend herself, as if to fully illustrate what he feared was happening to her…

Her hopelessness is his hopelessness. Her defeat is his defeat. Her sorrow is his sorrow. What she could not express as a being without flesh, he did so in her stead, weeping and losing all the light in his eyes. Together, they only had one solution. One they equally did their best in avoiding and unfortunately had to go through with.

[We must die, shouldn't we?]

She gave him no answer, and that made it all worse for him.

[But…. Satella has him…..what if it doesn't bring his Soul back? What if it's just…..me….? What if he's gone forever….?]

There was still no reply.

What should be the most anticipated moment for a Priest of the Serpent had suddenly become the point of despair, a point that they must avoid at all cost. It was unthinkable. They were an enlightened people, seeing more, knowing more, and have always considered Death to be the most essential part of life that made the world truly beautiful. It was never something to be feared. Now, they see it the same way everything else does, their beliefs brought down to ground level…

Just like humans.

Mother enclosed him into her 4 metal arms, embracing him, tight enough to hurt and bruise. It felt as if she was clinging on to something from him. It wasn't sure what. And Viandegroc was lost as to why. As a Restless Soul, she does not see the flesh, she only sees what is within. And that means she does not see her son in him, even if this was the very flesh she gave birth to. Yet why was she holding on to him desperately, as if she was afraid of losing him? Was it for her last moment's comfort? Was it for the sake of company? Was it to hold on to her very last precious possession? Or was it to reach out to the beloved son that's not inside the vessel of flesh, hoping to bring him back?

He held her, whether to comfort her or himself he's not even sure. This feeling of despair was unfathomable. He didn't want it. He never felt it in his first life, but Emurdol had felt this destruction almost constantly before. How was he able to force himself through this pain and be driven to live another day? Viandegroc had boasted about having the same line of thought as him, but he falls short of raw experience and sheer strength of spirit. If the owner was here, he would inevitably spring back to his feet and power through this adversity.

But where was that man? Where was the man who survived the most impossible odds and pulled the Order of the Serpent from the pit?

It brought him the realization that he and Mother are nothing short of useless if their dear Brother and Son is not with them.

He shut his eyes, gritting his teeth as the tears ran down his cheeks, hiding them as he buried his face to Mother's bony shoulder. The horde is nearing. The flying entity was even nearer. The trembling ground was intensifying from the nearing proximity of their death. No means of defending themselves. The Flesh Golem was gone. It's coming closer. Closer.

It's here.

It's here.

It's here.

It's here.

It's here.

It's here.

It's here.

"Ul Goa!"

Then came Hell Fire.

~~~~~ « ҉ » ~~~~~

"Myyyyyy, you look veeeeeery terrible! Did something happen?"

The horde was incinerated in a flash of red, orange and with so much heat it could have burned him as well despite his distance from the sudden conflagration. The dark night was swept away in the fire's bright light, illuminating the darker parts of the untamed forest, the corpses around him and the flying entity who he thought was his executioner standing before him as if greeting each other in a party.

Was he supposed to be relieved or exasperated?

"In fact, you both look terrible. A liiiiiteral bloodbath you two had in this rather grueling task you set yourselves ooooon."

[Roswaal L. Mathers….]

He was numb, indifferent and lost all at once as to how he should react to this turn of events. Should he be glad that he was saved? Or be infuriated for the chance to take back what was possibly lost be snuffed away?

Mother stood stiffly in-between him and the clown, facing him with an invisible wariness.

"Oh?" Roswaal could not be blind to the hateful gaze he carried, and he surely noticed Mother's hostility as well. "It seeeeeeems my little servant's actions have darkened your impreeeeession of me."

[Bullshit. Many Souls already held a grudge against you, and the worst among them are your descendants. How could I not have a bad impression of you already?]

"It has been careless of me to not notice how dire the circumstances were between you and her….and now it led you to this, forced to suffer an ordeal that apparently you cannot do at your state. Rem's mistake is my mistake. Therefore, the fault is all mine."

Viandegroc did not trust this clown, never had since Emurdol first met him, but he heard genuine remorse and regret for his situation in those words. His strange drawl wasn't there either. It stiffened him, made him suspicious. It confused him. He gritted his teeth at the sight. It was actually frustrating to see inconsistency happening before his eyes.

Roswaal had the most sympathetic look in his mismatched eyes as he stared back at him.

"Please, return to the mansion and recuperate properly there. Allow me to finish the task before you. Your actions have been a great deed for the village and the whole of the Mathers domain. You have done so much, and suffered so much. You will be rewarded and properly compensated in the best of my wealth and abilities. You have my word."

[…..…..]

….Priests of the Serpent…..

[…..Mama…]

….are not idiots.

That has been an unspoken truth among his kind. They firmly established this for only the Dragon knows when and diligently practiced every action that makes them worthy of the claim. And now is one of those moments that tests that trait again.

[...We must accept. We cannot do this anymore. I'm weakened, and you have given up. We're useless.]

It was infuriating to admit such a thing, and it was an equally condemning thing to hear for Mother herself. Priests of the Serpent are not like Above-Worlders where Death makes them useless, but to have ended up in such a state of incapability while he is still alive, with his arms and legs still intact, with enough mana still boiling in his core, is nothing more than an insult.

But then again, Priests of the Serpent are not idiots. The safest option is the first priority, not pride.

[In my recuperation, I will seek out Brother myself. I will employ the others as well. Whichever one he meets, I promise to wrench him back into this body. For his sake. For your sake.]

She suddenly whirled on him, unbelieving of his proposal, especially when such thing was improbable in her mind.

His mouth moved in a scream, suddenly angered.

[We have no choice!]

He had to be firm with her. A being with no sense of rational thought is prone to making the stupidest decisions, like a human.

[We have no way of knowing if dying will bring him back! We cannot risk losing him forever to that cur! You and I fucking know that your ultimate desire is to Go Home with him!]

If she had a skull, she would be grinding her teeth for the fact that he cannot be rebutted. She's incapable of such a thing. She's not alive. No one in the living world would be capable of appeasing volatile Souls like her as he had unless they see her.

She quickly knelt before him, holding his skeleton hand as she noticed that he's expending every bit of his individual willpower just to speak with her. His consciousness was slipping away. He must convince her, and quickly.

[He's my family too. That's why I'm going to do this. If it costs me my entire sense of self, then so be it.]

He squeezed her metal grip, expressing his resolve in this task he set on himself.

[I will bring him back to you. I swear to Vra'Ugthol, and on my soul.]

Her frame was still. Very still. A silence over the both of them, leaving the crackling of the flames to be the only sound, with Roswaal watching the proceedings silently.

And then, bones clicked.

From literally nothing, calcified bones and hardened ivory began to take shape. Neck bones. Vertebrae. Jaw. Teeth and fangs. And finally, the entire skull. The void in her sockets glowed a ghostly blue, taking stock of the wearer's presence.

She nodded; the Queen of Ivory grants her affirmation.

And with that, Viandegroc let go of his consciousness but the Bone Magus held him from meeting the soil. Instead, she disrobed him of the light-eating robes, leaving his gaunt and pale torso to bear, leaving only his undergarments and his artificial legs with him.

No mana core, no biological source of energy to supply her power, she must resort to the nearest possible alternatives. The enchantments on the robes are all she had that's close by.

Donning it in her person, leaving it unclasped so the front arms are free to move in the opening at the chest while her back arms wore the sleeves, she stood up and processed the mana contained in the garb.

Using collected mana to taint the ambient energies, then absorbing that to process it into proper energy that only Priests of the Serpent could use, she created 4 skeletons from the soil and a makeshift stretcher right underneath Viandegroc before she gently set him down on it, the wand placed in his right hand.

With a clench of her two front arms' fists, she beckoned a pair of warriors from the Apocalypse Legion and set them to the living realm. Just 2 unarmed skeletons assigned to the role of bodyguards to safeguard the patient on its passage back to the mansion, but in those spindly bones belied the same dangerous power that annihilated an entire region of its Elite Hellspawns.

This wasn't leaving things to chance. This is the appropriate amount of power needed to shield the life of one person. Nothing more, nothing less. As a Necromagus of her caliber, whether dead or alive, this is permitted exclusively to her.

With a point of her two right index fingers, her command is clear. Send him back.

The 6 skeletons snapped their jaws in affirmative, the stretcher lifted up as if it weighed no more than a thin piece of wood and they marched to the location indicated by their mistress.

In a single eye-blink, Roswaal's collar was suddenly in her grasp, the fabric threatening to tear apart from her killer grip while the 3 other arms were ready to rip out his vital organs. Dark pits containing blue pinpoints glared directly into the clown's own soul, a feat only the Dead are capable of with a few true exceptions among the living.

Archmage of the Kingdom Lugunica. Supreme Queen of Ivory from the Order of the Serpent. Two powerful magi, eye to eye with their matching height and the amount of power they carry with their person. One burned with anger, blue energies permeating off her form like a thundercloud. One was simply calm, his form straight and unmoving as he stared back at the furious skeleton.

And the jaws of that furious skeleton opened.

"My son be relieved of grief. To leave I shall, but only brief. That will not be, until brought back to Mother. If he does not come to be, lives will be forfeit. The land be rid of all breath. Mother's reprisal to this accursed world."

Any attempt of comprehending how could such a sound that should not exist in this side of life be understood despite the chaos it carried would even render his centuries' year old mind to ruin. So he did not dare to. Instead, he nodded. The threat in her strange rhyme clear in his understanding.

In his most professional tone, he replied to her demands, "It shall be done, Mother of Emurdol."

Confirming his full cooperation, the Bone Magus' aura of pale blue dissipated before she released him and nearly made Roswaal lose his balance as she walked into his form, as if he was a mere shrub in the way, bumping his shoulder in her stride towards her dropped weapons on the soil.

She took the krises first, the front arms flicking the blood and dirt off them before sheathing them somewhere on her back beneath the light-eating robes that made her part-shadow in the glow of the still-burning flames. Second, the arms wearing the sleeves picked up the sickles, dark as night, practically a part of her shadowed being.

Another eye-blink, she suddenly disappeared from existence.

~~~~~ « ҉ » ~~~~~

Emurdol's body was finally brought to the village, at first greeted by apprehension from the people pf Earlham for the sight of skeletal beings before the concern for the children's savior overpowered it the sooner they saw his bare and bloodied form. The first to reach him was Ram, quick to carry the unconscious Priest in her arms as soon as his skeletal attendants set the stretcher down before crumbling to dust and brought him to a separate cottage now that the first one was occupied by Rem.

The first to come inside were Beatrice and Puck, followed by Emilia, free as the living fetter once holding her prisoner suddenly crumbled to dust the sooner it sensed its creator's unconscious state. They were surprised for the little amount of wounds in his person despite how drenched he was in blood. Merely scratches, not from claws but from tree branches, not a single curse or a bite from a witchbeast on his person. His mana, however, was abysmally low.

Knowing that he needed mana to live, the 2 Spirits replenished him just that by lending it from their cores to his own. Emilia had wanted to do the same but was eventually convinced not to, lest she losses consciousness again for exhausting her own supply just like she did when she healed him last night. Emurdol's Od being practically as wide as a lake, their collective energies were handed over sparingly to fill half his core for now. They were confident that it was all he needed.

The sooner he was cleaned up, his artificial legs removed, and now dressed in clean robes provided by the villagers, Emilia thought the worst had come. The Priest of the Serpent was pale enough to look like a corpse, even in a healthier state but his chest was barely rising to indicate breathing. His body temperature was freezing cold. Not even a heartbeat was heard. She thought her only friend had died.

The two Spirits had dissuaded her fears after confirming that despite all appearances, the body is still alive. They felt the fires of life still present in Emurdol, and it stubbornly refused to flicker out. Beatrice ran a diagnosis and discovered the abominable makeup of his physiology, eyes widened in shock at his bodily design. His heart pulsed once every 1 to 4 minutes and he was breathing, but slowly. Very slowly. How this human managed to avoid severe brain damage and other complications or even stayed alive in the first place was beyond her.

Emilia held on to the hope that despite these unnatural factors, her friend is nothing short of alive and well.

Come the next morning, when Roswaal came back from the Purging of the Ulgarm forest and entered the same cottage the Priest was put in, he became a witness to a very peculiar sight:

Rem, still in her tattered and bloodied uniform, was draped over Emurdol's form, almost protectively and mournfully, her eyes wet with fresh tears.

~~~~~ « ҉ » ~~~~~

The dawn was coming, the first rays of warm sunlight landing on the steel of her grieves and bone-inlaid boots as well as the sickles, but she barely acknowledged it. Her only concern is searching for the right place to perform her work in peace, without the risk of being seen nor being disturbed no matter what she does.

She stopped hewing out the plant life in her way so she doesn't end up leaving a trail of her presence, using her weapons only for the slaying of any threat or witnesses. Her pace was unhurried, but her form implied every lick of animosity and hostility that a frame could ever manage. A premonition of what was to come for her prisoner.

"….uh…..ek….."

The small body she dragged by the left ankle moaned, somewhere between pain and complaint as half the front of the body scrapped against the soil. She barely gave that pathetic sound any attention, intending only to search, not to check any living being's welfare. Without eyes, she doesn't need to turn her head to look. She is but a Soul. Everything around her is within her awareness, even the unseen and hidden, and that includes the disease afflicting her captive as well as the progressing symptoms. The darkening veins, the weakness, the burning temperature and the agony that could not be expressed in full form, all originating from one place.

From the bite on her pale forearm, the same place her son bit on.