I wake up with a start, my surroundings unfamiliar. The air is heavy with the scent of decay. I sit up, taking in the desolate landscape around me. Crumbling ruins and twisted trees stretch out in every direction. This is not the afterlife I had imagined.
I glance down at myself and recoil in shock. My body is no longer human. I run my bony fingers over my skeletal arms, feeling the smooth, cold surface. The realization hits me like a ton of bricks. I'm not dead; I'm undead.
"So, this is how it ends," I mutter to myself, looking around for some semblance of an explanation. A lone skeleton sits beside me, its hollow eyes staring into the distance. I turn to it, half expecting answers.
"Fortune or misfortune?" I ask, my voice echoing in the empty air. The skeleton remains silent, offering no insight into the strange turn my existence has taken.
I survey my appearance, clad in black from head to toe. The Savant of Sloth gear clings to my skeletal frame. I reach up to touch the witch hat perched on my head. The Witch King, my sentient hat, speaks in a sweet, innocent voice.
"You look kind of awesome as an undead monster," she chirps. I let out a bitter laugh. Awesome is not the word I would use to describe my current predicament.
I decide to inspect my gear, fingers tracing over the black tunic, robes, trousers, boots, and gloves. No active skills, but the stat multipliers make them formidable. I peel off the gloves, revealing the bones beneath. It's a sight I've seen countless times, yet it never ceases to amaze me.
"Reborn as a monster," I muse, the reality sinking in. I wish for a mirror, a confirmation that this bizarre existence is not a dream. The Witch King, sensing my thoughts, offers her perspective.
"You've become an undead skeleton. It's kind of awesome, you know?" she repeats. I sigh, realizing that embracing the awesomeness of being a skeleton might be the only way to navigate this new, unexpected chapter of my existence.
I look at the skeleton beside me. This is the skeleton of the Seer whom Lancaster also killed. I don't really know her name, so I will keep calling her Seer. I begin molesting… er… touching the skeleton of the former Seer. I frisk it for items, hoping that I find something. And voila, I found a small mirror, the kind that women like to bring along with them.
I check my face. Reflected in the mirror is a featureless white mask. I forgot to remove the mask, so that's what I do. Eh? I cannot seem to remove my mask. I ask Witch King why that is. Witch King uses her Wisdom Ability and tells me that the mask has become a part of my body.
I tilt my head and look at the side profile of my reflection. It appears that my head's features have been obscured by shadows. Neat. Super cool.
"Witch King, what the hell happened? Why is this mask stuck to my face?" I ask, my voice a mix of confusion and frustration.
Witch King, standing nearby, looks at me with a knowing expression. "The mask has merged with your essence. It's now a part of you, a manifestation of your connection with me and your items."
I raise an eyebrow. "So, what does that mean? Am I stuck with this creepy mask forever? And the clothes too? I am just bones now, so I at least want to have the freedom of choice when it comes to fashion!”
Witch King chuckles. "Not necessarily. With time and practice, you might learn to control it. Embrace it as your own. For now, enjoy the mysterious allure it brings."
I shrug, trying to make peace with my newfound accessory. "Well, at least it makes me look intriguing. I can work with that."
I wander around the dimly lit corridors of the abandoned factory, the air thick with a musty scent that hints at years of neglect. The towering machinery, once alive with purpose, now stands silent and lifeless. I can't go beyond these decaying walls; it's as if an invisible barrier holds me back.
In my mind, I recall a time when I defied the dungeon designation when I rescued Evandel against the label of a monster. But now, my attempts to break free are futile. The tricks that worked before are useless, and the radius of my movement is severely limited.
Frustration builds as I ponder my predicament. Seeking guidance, I turn to the ethereal presence in my mind, the Witch King. "Any ideas?" I ask, hoping for a solution to my confinement.
The little girlish entity responds with mischievous excitement, "Let's wait for a strong person to enter the factory. We'll kidnap them and make them help us!" I love the idea, except for the kidnapping part. Antagonizing a potential savior doesn't seem wise.
"I don't want to make an enemy out of someone who could help," I reply. Despite my hesitation, I survey the area around the abandoned factory, seeking clues or opportunities. The Witch King's voice echoes in my mind, suggesting a patient approach.
As I observe, it becomes apparent that the area is infested with undead monsters – skeletons and undead hounds. Oddly, they keep their distance, as if recognizing me as some formidable entity. A realization strikes me; these creatures are treating me like a big bad boss.
Drawing upon the Wisdom Ability of the Witch King, I study the surrounding monsters. "They're pretty weak, low rank," the Witch King comments, providing valuable insight into the creatures that surround the abandoned factory.
I step into the dimly lit interior of the abandoned factory, the air heavy with dust and the distant echoes of past machinery. In the center stands the Seer, an enigmatic figure exuding an aura of ancient power. According to my Wisdom Ability, the Seer holds a High Rank, a formidable presence within this dungeon.
Witch King, a seasoned companion, activates its Wisdom Ability. Her focus fixates on the Seer, and she remarks, "This dungeon is downright unfair. Newbies won't last a minute with that Seer lurking around. The odds are stacked against them."
I nod in agreement, my gaze never leaving the Seer. "And if I decide to join the fray, it's a guaranteed death sentence for anyone attempting this dungeon."
Witch King smirks, I imagine her lips curling into a wry smile. "But you'll have to attack them first. That's the catch."
Curiosity gnaws at me, and I turn to Witch King. "Scan me. Check if there's been any change in my abilities since we entered this place, and I become a skeleton."
Witch King raises her hand, using her Wisdom Ability to delve into my essence. After a moment, she breaks the silence. "Your strength remains at Master Rank, just like before. No major shifts in your power set either."
Relief washes over me, but her next words pique my interest. "However, there's a change in your biological makeup. You don't need to eat, and exhaustion is a thing of the past. Your stamina is practically infinite now."
A smile tugs at the corners of my lips. Infinite stamina—a powerful advantage but I think it might be exaggerated. Rather than infinite stamina, I just have been made to not feel fatigued, meaning my durability will still go down if I abuse my body too much. As someone with just bones, I imagine my durability to be quite low.
I focus my attention, determined to unravel the mystery of my limitations. There will definitely be changes in what I can do since I have become an undead.
"I test what I can do. Yep, I just love experimenting with things," I mutter to myself, a skeletal figure shrouded in a tattered cloak. I imagine my empty eye sockets gleaming with an eerie light as I delve into the possibilities of my powers. I feel like some badass skeleton now!
First, I extend my bony hand, fingers outstretched, and channel the essence of to a specific point in the timeline. I anticipate a swift escape, but there's no response. No shimmer, no distortion. It seems won't be my ticket out of this timeline.
"Next," I continue, undeterred, "I shall cast short distance around the factory." I teleport myself in quick succession, creating a dizzying dance around the confined space. "It is good. My reaction time and speed of transition are still the same as I did in my prime."
I summon my spectral cards, ethereal projectiles imbued with the power of , and hurl them into the air. The cards sail, but my hopes deflate as they return to me, magnetically drawn. "Failed again," I grumble, frustrated. "I can't outside the designated dungeon area."
This predicament forces a reluctant acceptance. "Looks like I'll really have to wait for a random soul to pass this dungeon," I concede, contemplating the solitude of my spectral existence.
"But for now," I decide, a sense of determination rekindling, "I should try training. I'm unsure if I can physically improve, being just bones, but I can practice, reactivate my fighting instincts." I ponder my long absence from a life-and-death struggle. "Four years without a serious fight, maybe that's why Lancaster got the better of me this time. Sigh…"
In the eerie stillness, I begin my solitary training, a skeletal warrior seeking to regain lost prowess in the quiet depths of the dungeon.
I wake up with a start, my surroundings unfamiliar. The air is heavy with the scent of decay. I sit up, taking in the desolate landscape around me. Crumbling ruins and twisted trees stretch out in every direction. This is not the afterlife I had imagined.
I glance down at myself and recoil in shock. My body is no longer human. I run my bony fingers over my skeletal arms, feeling the smooth, cold surface. The realization hits me like a ton of bricks. I'm not dead; I'm undead.
"So, this is how it ends," I mutter to myself, looking around for some semblance of an explanation. A lone skeleton sits beside me, its hollow eyes staring into the distance. I turn to it, half expecting answers.
"Fortune or misfortune?" I ask, my voice echoing in the empty air. The skeleton remains silent, offering no insight into the strange turn my existence has taken.
I survey my appearance, clad in black from head to toe. The Savant of Sloth gear clings to my skeletal frame. I reach up to touch the witch hat perched on my head. The Witch King, my sentient hat, speaks in a sweet, innocent voice.
"You look kind of awesome as an undead monster," she chirps. I let out a bitter laugh. Awesome is not the word I would use to describe my current predicament.
I decide to inspect my gear, fingers tracing over the black tunic, robes, trousers, boots, and gloves. No active skills, but the stat multipliers make them formidable. I peel off the gloves, revealing the bones beneath. It's a sight I've seen countless times, yet it never ceases to amaze me.
"Reborn as a monster," I muse, the reality sinking in. I wish for a mirror, a confirmation that this bizarre existence is not a dream. The Witch King, sensing my thoughts, offers her perspective.
"You've become an undead skeleton. It's kind of awesome, you know?" she repeats. I sigh, realizing that embracing the awesomeness of being a skeleton might be the only way to navigate this new, unexpected chapter of my existence.
I look at the skeleton beside me. This is the skeleton of the Seer whom Lancaster also killed. I don't really know her name, so I will keep calling her Seer. I begin molesting… er… touching the skeleton of the former Seer. I frisk it for items, hoping that I find something. And voila, I found a small mirror, the kind that women like to bring along with them.
I check my face. Reflected in the mirror is a featureless white mask. I forgot to remove the mask, so that's what I do. Eh? I cannot seem to remove my mask. I ask Witch King why that is. Witch King uses her Wisdom Ability and tells me that the mask has become a part of my body.
I tilt my head and look at the side profile of my reflection. It appears that my head's features have been obscured by shadows. Neat. Super cool.
"Witch King, what the hell happened? Why is this mask stuck to my face?" I ask, my voice a mix of confusion and frustration.
Witch King, standing nearby, looks at me with a knowing expression. "The mask has merged with your essence. It's now a part of you, a manifestation of your connection with me and your items."
I raise an eyebrow. "So, what does that mean? Am I stuck with this creepy mask forever? And the clothes too? I am just bones now, so I at least want to have the freedom of choice when it comes to fashion!”
Witch King chuckles. "Not necessarily. With time and practice, you might learn to control it. Embrace it as your own. For now, enjoy the mysterious allure it brings."
I shrug, trying to make peace with my newfound accessory. "Well, at least it makes me look intriguing. I can work with that."
I wander around the dimly lit corridors of the abandoned factory, the air thick with a musty scent that hints at years of neglect. The towering machinery, once alive with purpose, now stands silent and lifeless. I can't go beyond these decaying walls; it's as if an invisible barrier holds me back.
In my mind, I recall a time when I defied the dungeon designation when I rescued Evandel against the label of a monster. But now, my attempts to break free are futile. The tricks that worked before are useless, and the radius of my movement is severely limited.
Frustration builds as I ponder my predicament. Seeking guidance, I turn to the ethereal presence in my mind, the Witch King. "Any ideas?" I ask, hoping for a solution to my confinement.
The little girlish entity responds with mischievous excitement, "Let's wait for a strong person to enter the factory. We'll kidnap them and make them help us!" I love the idea, except for the kidnapping part. Antagonizing a potential savior doesn't seem wise.
"I don't want to make an enemy out of someone who could help," I reply. Despite my hesitation, I survey the area around the abandoned factory, seeking clues or opportunities. The Witch King's voice echoes in my mind, suggesting a patient approach.
As I observe, it becomes apparent that the area is infested with undead monsters – skeletons and undead hounds. Oddly, they keep their distance, as if recognizing me as some formidable entity. A realization strikes me; these creatures are treating me like a big bad boss.
Drawing upon the Wisdom Ability of the Witch King, I study the surrounding monsters. "They're pretty weak, low rank," the Witch King comments, providing valuable insight into the creatures that surround the abandoned factory.
I step into the dimly lit interior of the abandoned factory, the air heavy with dust and the distant echoes of past machinery. In the center stands the Seer, an enigmatic figure exuding an aura of ancient power. According to my Wisdom Ability, the Seer holds a High Rank, a formidable presence within this dungeon.
Witch King, a seasoned companion, activates its Wisdom Ability. Her focus fixates on the Seer, and she remarks, "This dungeon is downright unfair. Newbies won't last a minute with that Seer lurking around. The odds are stacked against them."
I nod in agreement, my gaze never leaving the Seer. "And if I decide to join the fray, it's a guaranteed death sentence for anyone attempting this dungeon."
Witch King smirks, I imagine her lips curling into a wry smile. "But you'll have to attack them first. That's the catch."
Curiosity gnaws at me, and I turn to Witch King. "Scan me. Check if there's been any change in my abilities since we entered this place, and I become a skeleton."
Witch King raises her hand, using her Wisdom Ability to delve into my essence. After a moment, she breaks the silence. "Your strength remains at Master Rank, just like before. No major shifts in your power set either."
Relief washes over me, but her next words pique my interest. "However, there's a change in your biological makeup. You don't need to eat, and exhaustion is a thing of the past. Your stamina is practically infinite now."
A smile tugs at the corners of my lips. Infinite stamina—a powerful advantage but I think it might be exaggerated. Rather than infinite stamina, I just have been made to not feel fatigued, meaning my durability will still go down if I abuse my body too much. As someone with just bones, I imagine my durability to be quite low.
I focus my attention, determined to unravel the mystery of my limitations. There will definitely be changes in what I can do since I have become an undead.
"I test what I can do. Yep, I just love experimenting with things," I mutter to myself, a skeletal figure shrouded in a tattered cloak. I imagine my empty eye sockets gleaming with an eerie light as I delve into the possibilities of my powers. I feel like some badass skeleton now!
First, I extend my bony hand, fingers outstretched, and channel the essence of to a specific point in the timeline. I anticipate a swift escape, but there's no response. No shimmer, no distortion. It seems won't be my ticket out of this timeline.
"Next," I continue, undeterred, "I shall cast short distance around the factory." I teleport myself in quick succession, creating a dizzying dance around the confined space. "It is good. My reaction time and speed of transition are still the same as I did in my prime."
I summon my spectral cards, ethereal projectiles imbued with the power of , and hurl them into the air. The cards sail, but my hopes deflate as they return to me, magnetically drawn. "Failed again," I grumble, frustrated. "I can't outside the designated dungeon area."
This predicament forces a reluctant acceptance. "Looks like I'll really have to wait for a random soul to pass this dungeon," I concede, contemplating the solitude of my spectral existence.
"But for now," I decide, a sense of determination rekindling, "I should try training. I'm unsure if I can physically improve, being just bones, but I can practice, reactivate my fighting instincts." I ponder my long absence from a life-and-death struggle. "Four years without a serious fight, maybe that's why Lancaster got the better of me this time. Sigh…"
In the eerie stillness, I begin my solitary training, a skeletal warrior seeking to regain lost prowess in the quiet depths of the dungeon.
