Magic Stone Revolution! (3)

Deciding where to spend the magic stones turned out to be surprisingly quick.

With a daily haul of about a thousand to two thousand stones, there was no way I could sink more than a thousand into upkeep alone.

Cheap to install. Cheap to maintain.

So what I chose was…

"It's nice and bright, isn't it?"

"Right?"

Streetlamps. Se-a got a little scared at night, so I decided those would go in first.

Sure, building something like a tank would have been cool too—but when I thought about why I was growing this force in the first place, this felt right.

"Even if you know you're safe, the dark still gets to you, doesn't it?"

"Thank you. I never thought you'd go this far for us…"

Living happily with the people around me.

And, if I could manage it, with as many others as possible.

I wasn't about to house a few hundred people, but I was still human. I wanted a place that was at least halfway decent to live in.

"As you ordered, we made them European-style streetlamps. Not that I know what 'Europe' is supposed to be…"

We'd scavenged travel magazines from abandoned homes and settled on a design that looked the part.

Aesthetics-wise, everything inside Dobong District 1 was already perfectly cleaned up. Ugly signs, traffic lights, and storefront boards had all been hauled away, and Lahan had tidied up every cracked and ruined stretch of road.

When people were off duty, they each went home to their assigned houses to rest, so there was even a proper sense of daily life.

If you set aside the fact that those "people" were undead, the place really did feel like a village.

And the fact that they were undead was, of course, the most important part—but we'd leave that for later.

"How many magic stones do we have left?"

"We used roughly five thousand in total, and that much will go out again every month."

"So what's left?"

"About three thousand."

"Good. We'll put those into tanks."

The dwarves said that absorbing magic stones sharpened their natural craft and engineering talent. When I asked how, they just shrugged and said they simply knew how, so I didn't press. The more complex the work, the more stones it ate.

That was why a single tank took over two hundred magic stones, while streetlamps came cheap.

My plan was to keep polishing these little quality-of-life things, and once stones started piling up again, start forging real weapons.

"All right. Keep at it for me."

"As you command."

Duke and the dwarves scurried about on their short legs, latching onto one car after another. I watched them with a quiet sense of satisfaction.

"It's turning into a real city faster than I expected…"

"Well, that's the idea."

The Flame Emperor had come by for a short rest while we waited for the next gate to open and monsters to pour out, and he couldn't help marveling at how much had changed. Lahan, never one to miss a chance, piled on the flattery.

"Necropolis. A city of the dead in the truest sense—a vast cemetery for the departed. I do believe it could stand to look a touch more imposing!"

"No. This is fine."

Other districts could be whatever. The Dobong District 1 I lived in was going to stay like this.

"That said… 'Necropolis' has a nice ring to it."

"Having shouldered such noble labors beneath my master, I, Lahan, find my aesthetic sensibilities naturally refined. All of it, of course, is thanks to you, Master…"

I half-listened to Lahan as I walked the streets. And then, out of nowhere, I ran into an undead I hadn't seen in ages.

"Mari! First time since you cooked for me last, isn't it?"

"I really should come visit more often."

"Nah, you looked busy."

She used to come find me all the time and hang around. Back then she couldn't even talk yet…

Anyway, she must have been glad to see me after so long, because she hurried over and threw her arms around me.

Mari's skinship was always aggressive like that.

Still held in her embrace, I asked,

"So what brings you out here?"

It was six in the evening, the light already fading. Mari lived right next door—she had no reason to come this far out.

"Actually… I came because I had something to show you."

"Ah. Progress on whatever you've been working on?"

"More precisely—I think there's about to be progress."

Mari stepped into a nearby building, shooed a skeleton off the sofa where it had been lounging, and settled herself down. She leaned back comfortably, took a deep breath—

and then, bit by bit, her soul began to move.

"Ohh…"

After all that training, her grasp of soul-force must have climbed another step.

I could only talk to my undead at a distance. Mari had reached this level on her own. It was almost moving.

"Now… it's time."

A few minutes passed. The soul that had been stirring suddenly twisted, its shape shifting into something darker, more clammy—

"A curse…?"

It felt like the same kind of curse that bled off a Cursed Skeleton.

The thought had barely formed when Mari's bandages began to unwind—from her face, down her stomach, along her legs. ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠The important parts stayed covered, but the exposure was… considerable.

"…You're beautiful."

"I was always beautiful. I was just hidden."

The Mari who emerged had glossy black hair, a high ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠nose, and striking features. Her faintly bronze skin called Egypt to mind, though as an undead she was a little short on color.

She rose, then dropped to one knee with solemn gravity.

"Mari…!"

"Wha—huh? Master, you're hugging me first…!"

I rushed her and wrapped her up with my whole body.

I'd be lying if I said I'd never thought of Mari as a bit of a handful. But I'd watched her work so hard it almost hurt—and then she went and pulled off something this huge.

A Legendary skill.

And not some middling one, either. Exactly the kind of skill I'd desperately needed.

I ran straight outside and tried it on Lahan and the Flame Emperor.

Figures. Those two wouldn't work.

"Lahan! Go get your senior."

"Senior Ttacttac-i, you mean? I shall depart at once."

Ttacttac-i arrived in no time. I used the skill on him immediately.

"Hold still."

-Clack?

As the first undead I'd ever bound, and the captain of countless skeletons, the list under him stretched on and on—nearly twenty options. An overwhelming number.

"Hmm."

The further down I went, the lower the tier seemed. Skeleton Warrior? Ttacttac-i wouldn't take something like that even if I offered.

He was a commander. He deserved something that fit—and the best I could give him. He was my first undead, after all.

So… which of these was highest? Probably Marshal or Captain, something like that.

"We'll go with Marshal."

Anything with Bone or Skull in the name made me wary. If he promoted again later, I wanted him free to branch into something more general. Better to avoid words that locked him into a skeletal form.

-Clack-clack! Clack!

"Ohh! His soul is changing!"

And the result of Ttacttac-i's transformation was—

-Clack?

"…Nothing changed?"

-Rattle…

Uh. Well.

He was still just a skeleton. A skeleton in a leather jacket, specifically.

Then again, even for a commander, the difference was usually just different clothes and a higher rank badge.

"I'll have Deathweaver make you a proper hat or uniform later."

‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠

-Clack? Rattle-rattle.

Ttacttac-i nodded at that—then, struck by a sudden idea, pitched it to me.

"Hm? You want me to promote the ones under you who fight well, too?"

Could lower-grade skeletons even qualify?

Still, guessing no without trying was worse than just testing it. We moved over to a wide park.

Before long, the undead Ttacttac-i had hand-picked filed in one by one. Every single one carried more soul energy than an ordinary low-grade skeleton.

So the promotion requirement is the soul, then?

When a soul grew large enough, the vessel holding that power could be remade—and that remaking was promotion.

Maybe the ones who'd ‍‍‌‌⁠​​⁠‌​​‍​​‍​‌​⁠‍‌‍⁠⁠‌⁠‌‍‌‍‌‌‌‍⁠​‌​‌​‌‍‌‌‌⁠‍​​‌‍⁠‌‌⁠⁠fought the most had the strongest souls?

I ran the skill over them and checked.

Ohh… quite a few options.

The interesting part was that the promotion paths split by the roles Ttacttac-i had assigned and trained them into.

Those who shoved the enemy back with big shields became Brutes.

Those who threw projectiles from range became Archers.

Those who'd led allies from the front became Bannerets.

Those who'd simply fought well enough became Warriors.

Beyond that, there were plenty of variations—Skeleton Knight, Bone Berserker, Commander, and more.

-Clack-clack!

"Right. Commanders first."

Ttacttac-i had always wanted company- and platoon-level officers, so he asked me to prioritize command-line promotions like Skeleton Banneret.

I kept Black Peerage Investiture running deep into the night. By the end of it:

Around two hundred combat types. About fifty ranged attackers. Roughly thirty command types.

"Happy, Ttacttac-i?"

-Rattle! Clack-clack-clack!

Finally free of that crushing workload, he was so pleased I could almost see a grin on that expressionless white skull.

Maybe that was just me getting better at reading souls.

Anyway, that was how the day ended. And the next morning—

I got another report that made me sit up straight.

"A gate opened?"

A gate had appeared in Dobong-gu!