The Rank-Up Request

That's not the name of some TV quiz show.

No — honestly, I wish it were.

Thunk. Thunk.

I was on the path from the graveyard to the village, driving a shovel into the dirt.

How do the few overcome the many? How does the weak take on the strong? The answer was asymmetric warfare.

Of course, it would have been nice to have overwhelming power like the subjugation force led by Gold Rank adventurer Mireia. But I was a Novice adventurer, and I had no idea how strong the monsters boiling out of that graveyard would even be. That being the case, I had to assume a situation where I couldn't possibly win fighting a horde of them alone by any conventional means.

So the method I chose was traps.

There was one thing I held as a definite advantage over the monsters that would attack tonight: the information itself — that they would wake in the graveyard, cross the hill, and come for the village. Knowing the graveyard as the definite point of origin, I could squeeze every last drop of efficiency out of laying my traps.

I had no evidence that would convince anyone, so every bit of the work had to be done alone. I'd considered just digging the graves up, but the villagers wouldn't sit still if I pulled a stunt like that. Fortunately, my body — tempered daily through Mana Conversion — was more efficient at the labor than several able-bodied workers put together.

"Hahh..."

Even so, doing all of this by myself was inevitably exhausting. It was more mental fatigue than physical, honestly — but there wasn't much time left.

At the foot of the hill I dug deep pits, packed them with dry grass, then laid branches densely across the tops and covered those with more grass to finish the pitfalls. I found rocks nearby and hauled them one by one by hand, funneling the path from the graveyard to the village into a narrower route. Atop the hill I stacked massive logs, and gathered straw and dry grass, piling them at every point I expected the monsters to pass through.

I chose the types of traps with the nature of the incoming monsters in mind. The ones attacking tonight were most likely undead, and against undead, physical traps like sharpened wooden stakes or rockfalls would have little effect. So I focused mainly on traps that would slow their movement and restrict their path.

By the time I was nearly finished, the sun was already sinking toward the horizon. Around now, the subjugation force had probably arrived at the monster den and started fighting.

Finally, I filled an empty wooden barrel with unlit torches and carried it up the hill. All preparations were complete. I stood on the hill overlooking the graveyard and waited for night to fall.

At last the sun went down, and darkness began to settle over the graves.

It was a night when everyone else was asleep. But I couldn't sleep tonight.

As the night deepened, the graveyard became nearly invisible from the hilltop. I had no choice but to take a lit torch, go down toward the graves myself, plant it in the ground nearby, and scramble back up as if fleeing. The fact that I was staring at a graveyard all alone in the dead of night sent a chill crawling down my spine. With a torch planted ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠below, the landscape of the graveyard became faintly visible again from the hill.

Quite some time had passed since nightfall, yet no particular signs were appearing from the graveyard.

"When is this going to start..."

The longer I waited, the more restless I became. In my experience so far, the facts Narration had told me had never been wrong. Monsters would definitely appear from this graveyard tonight. But as the night grew deeper with no signs at all, the anxiety started to set in.

Stop it. You don't have to remind me — I'm not running away now. If anything, you're just making this harder.

I looked up at the night sky to ease the tension. A large moon hung half-hidden behind the clouds.

Honestly, I still wasn't sure I could protect this village. Part of me hoped that this time Narration was wrong — that the night ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠would pass without incident. But that hope shattered to pieces the moment a sound began to carry from the graveyard.

Thud. Thud. Thud.

A bone-chilling noise riding the still night air from the direction of the graves. It was the sound of corpses rising from their tombs, of headstones toppling over.

"It's started..."

I swallowed dryly and steeled myself to face the monsters waking from their graves.

Click. Click. Thud. Thud.

Listening to corpses rise in pitch-black darkness was not a particularly pleasant experience. If this weren't a world where such beings were an everyday occurrence, I might have ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠fainted from sheer terror.

A moment later, they fully revealed themselves in the torchlight below. Several skeletons, nothing left but bone, their frames gaunt and hollow. A few corpses that hadn't fully decomposed in the earth had become zombies, shambling toward the hill where I stood.

Every time a skeleton moved, the click of bone striking bone carried up to me — an unpleasant sound. At first they moved slowly, sluggishly. Then their movements grew noticeably faster.

The skeletons — nothing but bone, eye sockets empty — suddenly flared with a blue gleam in their hollows and charged at tremendous speed. I immediately shoved the logs I'd stacked on the hill, sending them rolling hard toward the creatures below.

The massive logs thundered down the steep slope — rrrumble, rrrrrumble — and slammed into the charging skeletons and zombies with a pair of heavy crashes. The rocks and obstacles I'd placed to funnel the graveyard's monsters toward my hill were ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠paying off.

CRACK! CRUNCH!

But they weren't going down easy. Skeletons sent flying backward by the logs got back up and, with terrifying strength, began swinging their arms to smash the timber to pieces. Where that monstrous power was coming from in creatures that barely had flesh left, let alone muscle, I had no idea. The skeletons kept advancing, shattering the logs that blocked the path up the hill, whether their own bones broke or not.

I ran out of logs to roll from the hilltop. Before I knew it, dozens of skeletons were charging up the slope again with ferocious momentum.

But it hadn't been entirely ineffective. The limbs of the skeletons climbing the hill were no longer intact the way they'd started. Plenty of them had bodies wrecked from taking the logs and forcing their way through the blocked path.

"Not yet."

This wasn't the end of what I'd prepared. Scattered across the hill they were climbing were clumps of bone-dry grass I'd laid out in advance. I pulled a torch from the barrel beside me, then, lighting each one from the torch I already held, hurled them at the monsters.

Whoosh.

The moment a torch left my hand, flew down the hill, and touched a pile of dry grass, fierce flames erupted. I didn't stop there — I kept pulling fresh torches from the barrel, lighting them, throwing them, throwing them again.

What had started as fire in one or two spots began to swell as I kept throwing. The skeletons and zombies climbing the hill were engulfed in searing flame, and the surroundings flared bright.

And with that light, the full landscape of the graveyard — hidden until now by the dark — came back into view. It looked as though a band of grave robbers had torn through it. Tombstones lay toppled in every direction; the earth was pitted and ripped open in a wretched state. Skeletons climbed the hill with flames pouring from their eye sockets and their jaws. The peaceful graveyard I had seen by daylight was gone without a trace. What remained was a scene straight out of hell.

"There are still that many of them...?"

A few skeletons punched through the flames and nearly reached the top of the hill where I stood. Behind them, plenty more were still staggering up, their bodies on fire. But unlike the logs, which had only slowed them down, the flames were definitely having an effect. Around the spots where I'd piled the grass thick and the fire burned hottest, some of them had stopped moving in the blaze.

Still, the firepower was a bit lacking, I guess. If I'd had barrels of oil or gunpowder, I could have wiped them out for certain. There'd been no way to get those in the time I had, so it couldn't be helped.

Pushing aside the regret that flickered through my mind, I drew my sword. Now I had to cut down as many as possible of the ones making it up the hill. The pitfall traps I'd dug behind me were the last line of defense.

But the number of undead still climbing the hill was large.