Undead Confirmation
I examined my arm again, more carefully this time. Thanks to Flamma's black flames, my body was covered in fine gashes where skin and flesh had been gouged away, exposing raw meat. Some wounds were even worse from the fall—bones peeked through in places.
My skin tone wasn't normal either. It was almost—no, exactly like a corpse: deathly pale, with patches that looked completely necrotic, turned pitch black. I checked other parts of my body beyond my hands and arms. My legs were no different from my arms, and my torso was even more messed up. The gashes were the same, but some were deep enough to show my guts, barely held in place to keep them from spilling out.
Flamma's hand and arm were still impaled in my abdomen, lodged there like it had no intention of letting go. And one wound in particular... “Th-thisss... myyy... heaaart...?” My sternum and some ribs were shattered, skin and flesh torn open, exposing my heart inside. Naturally, it wasn't beating.
At the same time, I realized why my speech had been so slurred and slow lately. “Fuuuuckkk...”
Of course my vocal cords aren't normal either, and with my body's reaction speed slowed down, no wonder words aren't coming out right...
I just shut my mouth. Back when I was human, thoughts in my head came straight out my mouth without delay. Now it was like there was buffering—no instant response, words mangled. No one around to hear anyway, so I decided to keep quiet.
Speech like this? No way movement's normal either.
My body felt impossibly heavy, and it didn't respond well. I tried sprinting at max speed as a test—ended up with the pace of a normal person walking briskly.
On top of that, my character build is a pure magic job hyper-focused on undead creation and enhancement... Zombie racial traits already penalize physical stats, and my base physicals suck too.
This was total bullshit. Especially since I'd had superhuman physical prowess far beyond a normal person before—the contrast hit hard. It was maddeningly uncomfortable, but thanks to undead mental traits, the madness passed and I calmed down quick.
I had to admit it: I was the weakest undead, a zombie.
Yeah... think positive. At least I sur... no, died. Anyway, better off revived as a zombie than nothing.
Beating death was a win. And there was hope.
Evolve to ghoul, and the physical penalties vanish.
For now, that was my goal.
Revenge, Demon King subjugation, return home? Later.
First, recover this body, level up, get stronger.
To do that, I need corpses...
As a necromancer, my weapons were corpses. But there were none around.
Damn, where the hell am I anyway?
After sorting my thoughts, I started scanning my surroundings. This was a fantasy world—monsters could attack anytime.
Man-made structure?
I'd assumed falling into the ground meant some underground cavern or cave, but no. Stone walls everywhere. No light sources, but my Darkvision captured the layout perfectly: brick walls and floor, stone pillars. Felt like inside a castle or temple—a fairly spacious room.
Why a room? A stone door stood a ways from me, and the back wall was sealed. Clearly artificial.
Like a dungeon. Wait, it is a dungeon. Read about them in the imperial library.
A dungeon under the Forest of Beginnings? Pretty ominous. Anyway, I checked overhead next.
The hole I fell through is sealed.
Probably Forest of Beginnings rules—that deep pit was gone, filled in completely. Senses dulled, but I could still detect no movement nearby.
Safe for now.
Time to prep for fights. First, check my status—what could I do?
If I got my game's powers from my past life, then my undead cuties I built in-game!! My precious babies!! They'd help big time right now!!
Thinking that, I checked around. Cue despair.
No way!? My cuties!?
Worst case: every undead I'd created was gone. Not a single one here.
No!! Elizabeth!? Vesta!!? Yumi!? Marty!? Wilson!? Nooooo!!
I'd even named them, raised them with love—all vanished. Rage spiked, but undead mind chilled me out fast.
Well, fucked. Screwed from the start.
I was a summoner type relying on crafted undead. Unlike mass-summon necros, mine were elite few—poured effort into each, geared them with my best stuff. Bluntly, no cuties meant my combat power halved at least.
And no useful items either...
I never hoarded junk in inventory—only essentials, rest in base storage. Inventory was sparse. Last gear my character wore was there, but level-locked, couldn't equip.
Enhance pots and scrolls? Used 'em all last session...
Was farming World Tree at the end, so some drops from there, but nothing useful now.
Basically fighting bare-handed...
Good thing game character became real—twisted necromantic and black magic knowledge swirled in my head, usable. But that was it.
Test this at least.
"Negative Energy"
—Fwoosh—something drained from my body, but unlike speech, the incantation came out clear and precise.
Black, flame-like energy gathered in my hand, reeking of malice. Magic worked fine.
—Hummm—this tiny impure energy had minor undead healing, so I tried it on myself, hoping to patch up. Nothing happened.
Means my status is 'normal' now—no healing needed.
Sighed inwardly, pondered next move.
Best action...
Only one choice.
Tch... when have I ever overthought? Just charge in like always.
Something would work out. With that, I shoved open the stone door—twice my size.
—Creeeak—it swung open.
—Drag... drag...—my corpse-like body made eerie sounds with every move.
The sight ahead? Nothing special.
Similar setup, but four doors now—different shapes and sizes. Smaller than the last room too. Felt like an entrance hall, or a home's foyer.
One oddity: “Whaaat’s thaaat?”
Room center: a 1.7-meter object wrapped in red cloth.
My killer-honed instincts, plus zombie nose catching scents despite rot, whispered what it was.
Corpse? Wanted one, but why here?
Dungeon made sense, but still suspicious. I approached the wrapped body.
“Ugh... urk...”
A repulsive, nauseating aura leaked from the red cloth. As an impure being, it repelled me—meaning it was beneficial to normal life.
I knew instinctively: Holy power.
Power from gods and faith. Varies by deity, but this was pure sanctity, undead's bane.
Weak enough not to sicken me too bad. No real harm—lucky.
I knew why the faint holy power clung: this world's embalming for transport or preservation.
Learned casually from palace library and Luminus priest training. Holy water or cleric power on cloth prevents rot and undeath.
Corpses here can turn undead if left; holy power halts decay—ancient method.
Effect fades as power depletes.
No harm to me meant long-abandoned. Probably safe to touch.
Preservation off soon. I crept closer cautiously.
As I neared arm's reach: That's a letter.
Parchment note nearby, faint holy aura too. Might clue location, so I picked it up carefully—no trap glyphs, good.
Unpleasant like bugs on skin from holy power, but bearable.
If you've seen this document, it means someone has come to my dear friend's side before it's too late. I am Zhan Ark Caesar, First Princess of the Roman Empire. This is the record I left...
“Whaaat? Fuuuuck!?”
Zhan Ark Caesar? The previous Hero who vanished after leaving a “Going to train, back soon” note? Why the hell are you here!?