Amun.
***
The thin strand of Death's Road was a perilous bridge that connected the vast emptiness to the Curb. The Abyssal Ocean, far below, sent impertinent gusts over my wavering frame, lashing out to sever flesh from bone, threatening to throw me into the sea of darkness. So, having no choice, I silenced the winds and thus found myself pushed ahead by their dying breath.
Down Death's Road, the silenced winds fueled me to push further. Just as much, if not more so than the winds threatened to push me over the edge. Just as much as the humans threatened to silence my existence.
Such a strange experience, it was. Seeing through the body and soul in the same instance. Watching the road wither and fall between my legs as my intestines spilled. I felt my soul leap down the thinning Road as my flesh entangled a human in my intestines before whipping him into a wall, broadening the road in turn.
Like all things, the humans either fled or died, silencing the winds to the small crackles of cold embers that soon fell to the Abyss below, where they would heat the sea to a tepid degree and provide my soul with the strength to keep stepping.
It took considerable effort, concentrating that cold warmth into my solar plexus until I had enough strength to take one more step. And repeat. Time after time, until I finally came upon it. A wall of ulna and radial bone that seemed to rise onto infinity.
Without much thought, I grasped the first handhold and tugged myself up to a foothold before taking a look back at the Road, now crumbling away beneath me and the wall I now dangled helplessly from.
Or, not a wall. But Death's Curb.
***
Etan Za'Darmondiel.
***
I have rarely interacted with the undead. All of them were hostile. None were sentient. As such, I was a bit disheveled, teaching a walking, joking corpse within a town of reeking death.
I thought it to be a good thing, the swiftness of his training as a result of his aptitude. It took him a little over a day to learn how to forcefully project his ki as an Unseen Attack on command. Even less was needed to teach him to emit the energy from his feet in order to slow the rate of his falls. Soon enough, the Second Ki Pond formed in its entirety, bringing about an evolution of his Ki Flux: Anti-Vital Pulse.
Rather than explain the ability, however, he left me to muse it over on my own while he seated himself atop a focus circle of his own making to meditate.
Therein brought my moment of lamentation. It was just the Matron Mother, me, and those strange creatures accompanying Amun. Guarding him while his girls occasionally dropped in from the skies to wander around before flying off again, uncaring of the maggots and other carrion-loving creatures feasting on their master just as much as they did the cadavers surrounding him. Or the city of death as a whole.
Capitalizing on his superior mobility and making use of the many dropped or discarded weapons made for a city strewn with hundreds of mangled, sliced, and severed bodies; bringing a sense of deep despair to those who came here to investigate from afar. Rats, insects, vultures, and other carrion-loving creatures only made the sights more dreary. Especially after witnessing their… fondness, of Amun.
Within three days, reports of the battle made it to the coast and returned as a wave of hundreds. But, in the fashion of a true necromancer, Amun did not budge when their torches appeared on the horizon. Nor did he move when they stalked the city of death. The shadows simply awoke, spilling out the living dead to begin the slaughter of a lifetime, delivering more cadavers so that he may attune more with necrotic ki.
Within six days, the stench of death and the negative energy became so great that the dead began to rise without Amun's input. Zombies, mostly. But a fair amount of ghosts, revenants, and a few poltergeists rose as well. All kinds I have never before seen. And it seemed I was unseen to them. At least until they came too close and reacted unkindly to my fear.
That served to turn my eyes away from Amun and onto the dead. As such, it was quite a surprise to feel and hear the bellowing roars of a gelid inferno bloom from the town square.
Me and Matron Etyl both turned with weapons ready and nearly retreated in the same breath upon seeing a tornado of blue-green fire whirling around a robed zombie- Amun. Rising to compete with the surrounding rooftops before the flow suddenly reversed, cascading down and into the decayed flesh and bone.
I stood in morbid fascination, watching a scene I had witnessed countless times play out in reverse. Bones burning in arcane fire gave way to aqueous embers that flowed over the yellowed bone, leaving fresh nerves, dense muscle, and healthy skin in its wake until the zombie changed back into Amun. And when he was finally healed, the embers were smothered into nothingness.
We seemed invisible as he stood tall, surveying the many dead standing around him. Possibly recalling, as I was, the many instances of him dealing death to the barbaric humans. Now, though, they seemed worthy of respect. Four stood at the front of about twenty-five. One was the first brute killed by hand, a sizable chunk missing from his throat. The rest were the assumed leaders, riddled with crossbow bolts along their rear.
"Report."
The word rattled against my soul like a door knocker, freezing me still while the rest of the city shook awake in the most violent manner, giving rise to a legion of zombies, not undead shadows, to turn and pay respects to Amun.
<
<
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After gifting them with names, the newly sentient undead divided and directed the lesser undead around the city with the clear intent to rebuild the place in some fashion. Paving the way for Iris to run through the streets, clutching the same skull from before. Only, it now looked… regal. Fiendishly so.
Two long horns protruded from its brow, just above the strangest set of eyes I had ever seen move within a skull. One was solid gold, the other, solid silver. And yet a third draconic eye of blue sat in the center of its forehead. Sharp teeth filled the maw like Amun's, but they were black and capped with gold. The aquiline nose seemed to be made of marble or something, making me think it was an actual beak.
Strangely of all, its skin was charcoal-black like that of a drow but carved with strange markings and sigils throughout. And while its hair was white, it had the appearance and texture of feathers.
"I thank thee, my Liege, for this glorious rebirth. I, Sir Richor of Lumbarde's Lore Legion, vow to uphold your standards and document all as your Skull of Lore. Or, as Lady Iris puts it, I am Little Sim-Sim."
"Well met, Sir Richor." Amun bowed to the skull. "Your first task is a status update."
There was a pause before the thing started rambling. "Lainoara's Splint sits a few hours into the distance. They boast a fighting force of six hundred thirty-five warriors. I estimate a ninety percent chance of them attacking on sight."
"Their funeral." Amun laughed, turning to me with a child-like grin. "Can I use perks from my other class?"
"Which class?" I asked.
"Grandmaster Artificer."
Hearing that, I let the curiosity get the best of me and tried my best not to show my interest as I moved away. "Sure. So long as you do not use them to fight."
From the shade of a nearby tree, I watched him take a hand axe and a dirk from the undead before he began concentrating mana over the weapons. Then came a flash of blue that dispersed to show much finer, sharper, and more elegant tools than he held just seconds before.
It was undeniably the Upgrade perk, but that flash… it was but a moment, but it released an absurd amount of energy that felt unlike anything I had sensed before. Not to mention, the process was said to take much longer than a mere moment.
Before I could ask, however, Amun leaped onto the rooftops and began darting off into the distance with his entourage of children and animals in tow. Hastily, I took flight with the Matron trailing close behind me, a smile of wicked anticipation spread across her face.
"I am certain of you having questions regarding the Liege's perks. He has given me the liberty to disclose them."
"What?" I faced front, coming eye to golden eye with that strange skull from earlier, effortlessly keeping pace with me as I flew over the snowy plains.
Then Matron Etyl came ear to ear with me a second later, spitting at the thing over the roaring winds. "What are you?"
"A Lore Skull, Matron Etyl. "A biological machine operated in the same way a soul would a body. Much like Kit." The skull turned to the strange fox running alongside the now-gargantuan wolves. "My purpose is to observe and record history, so that it may be archived in an intangible space and accessed through various means."
"So then, you are a speaking library." I surmised.
"A crass descriptor, but yes."
"And the little one made you?"
"Iris Cole, Matron." The Skull nodded. "The Liege's protege in artificing and engineering."
<
"Once he faced Death's Curb, the Liege was granted the skill, Touch of Death, to aid in his ascent. Its use is twofold. The Touch can be used to strengthen his grip on the Curb, giving the Liege the means to climb faster. Or, the Touch can be used to rebuild broken footholds, giving him insurance, should he lose his grip.
"And then there is the Necrotic Stun." The skull announced with resolute finality.
While there were many questions I had for the skull, they were put on hold by the human settlement looming in the distance, prompting Matron Etyl to rejoin the conversation. "What is the plan? Do you know, Head?"
"Sir Richor, Matron Etyl." The skull replied with all the patience but none of the respect. "The Liege aims to kill two birds with one stone by taking Lady Iris and Madames Blude, Redd, and Sam to the seas whilst he rendezvous with a few associates."
'Even the dead speak highly of them.' I thought, looking at the girls in question.
I looked even closer at the mana swirling around them as they moved. It was elegant. Graceful. They were adored by mana in ways that only regal elves were. Like a lesser version of Amun, and a greater version of me and the Matron. So too did they had power. Magical organs that were similar and dissimilar to affinity cores. Silver spheres of scalding steam, hard ice, and swirling water. And… something blue.
They treated the air as if it were water, the older three. Swimming as fast as Amun and Iris sprinted and darted through the occasional tree or outcropping. Playing, all of them, just like Amun was, treating the rare but hostile passersby like angry but harmless animals. Uncaring, just like Amun was, going as far as to paint the landscape of a quaint town settled between the fork of a river while the others cooked dinner.
I had none of that dinner, nor did Amun. We distanced ourselves far from their camp, putting us on the far side of the river from the well-defensible city, shaped like a slice of pie with canals breaking up the walls in the distance. Naturally, neither a moat nor a wall would be an issue for monks who could walk on water and climb vertical surfaces with ease.
Over the course of three days, the brutes behind the wall learned that very lesson through the act of observation. Amun toiled day in and day out, training his Ki to be gathered around his hands and feet to increase his climbing speed to an absurd degree. His girls would seek me out when he fell into meditation, begging me to help them with their forms as Abbot Eiriol had done.
The morning his third Ki Pond formed, four days later, Amun crossed the river with fits wreathed in ethereal blue fire, and the barbaric humans responded with a volley of arrows.
The rest of us responded in turn. The girls took to the skies with me and Matron Etyl while the wolves took off in different directions, encircling the town in rings of ice and fire.
While the beasts stood guard behind their self-imposed walls, the skull darted forward, spewing a mass of white from its maw that dispersed into a cloud of large spore-like objects that clung to various surfaces across the city, and to Amun.
They danced around him, focusing a small pupil on his frame as he dodged and deflected the shower of arrows. He managed to return some of the arrows back to their senders but got hit by many more still, although not quite enough to bring him to Death's Door.
As Amun Skipped With the Wind to close the distance, I quickly became engrossed in the battle. With the Ki-Empowered Strikes granted from the third Pond, Amun felled his foes much faster than before. But with his refusal to block many attacks, he was brought to the brink much faster as well. He was hacked, slashed, beaten, and stabbed ever-more, tainting the sky-blue fires of his fists with a shade of pestilent green.
That was when the battle turned into a slaughter. As the nature of his Ki changed, I began to understand the Head's archaic words. It happened quickly, Amun would be punched or kicked and the foul fires would ebb into his enemies before those same fires flowed back, glowing much brighter than before.
His bones would pop and crack once he absorbed the bright fires. His muscles would bulge and spasm. Then, he would lash out with a punch that shattered bone, making the fires ebb and flow again so that his muscles would bulge and his victims would pale before he spun, kicking a dent into an armored chest plate.
Each blow, I realized, each block, stole a little bit of life from his victims and turned it into raw strength. With such an ability, he did not even need to fight. He could simply steal vitality as he was damaged, allowing his Ki to keep him standing beyond the brink while the Touch of Death felled his enemies in his stead.
As he was now, his fists were denting metal and shattering stone. I could not begin to imagine how much strength he would steal by the end of his walk. Let alone by the end of this year. And that was without considering physical ability mutations.