The day began as usual.
A white sky met my wake, followed by the usual creaking and winces from my left arm which had returned to a healthy color.
My silken hair was nearing shoulder-length and my suit was as scruffy and unrefined as ever.
The hole in the back had been neglected and teared up for so long that I had momentarily forgotten about its existence.
As I stretched my arms, inciting a yawn from the depths of my mind I found myself staring at a black flame.
Not black-like darkness.
But black as if it had been dyed.
A basic, wishy-washy black that was far from perfect.
But it got the job done.
The flame was the size of a thumb yet the whole room felt like half a furnace.
I noticed an unsurmountable level of sweat on the surface of my skin and furrowed my brows.
Where had it come from?
I tried picturing a scenario before giving up swiftly.
All I could remember was building a small snow dome and then collapsing from overwork.
I found myself in this small-snow dome, big enough for 4 people and a black flame.
Frila was, of course there too but I knew that.
When I had fallen to the subject of sleep, there was no flame.
So it had come from Frila?
Odd.
I thought nothing of it and urged my legs to put some work in.
The temperature change caused me to feel unnatural and out of place.
For but a short moment, of course as my body adapted to the change swiftly.
Arriving outside and before the usual snowy-expanse, I saw a sight I did not exactly wish to see.
Dotted around from every 2-5 meters was a Crolo-Ivarian.
Aged leather armor and blue-bringing eyes that gave them life and movement.
And I couldn't help but notice their odd trend.
They were all slowly strolling towards the miniature snow dome, a shell of its former self.
Give the Crolo-Ivarians another few minutes and they would be sludging right through the snow dome.
I had no imminent panic upon acknowledging this sight.
After all, Crolo-Ivarians were lifeless.
Brainless.
They would easily walk into another man's blade.
Although they had tough skin and seemingly ungraspable stamina, they were mindless.
The most they could do is bite the thing in front of them.
I could probably beat them without a blade in arm.
Nevertheless, I sighed whilst grabbing Black Rose.
Instantly, something changed.
Well. It didn't matter as of now.
I shut my eyes slowly.
I had time here.
I could focus.
Gradually, a feeling came to my mind.
No.
Rather than a feeling, it was more like an itch.
An itch that I needed to stomp out.
And as I searched for that itch.
I felt the air before me shifting slowly.
My body instantly jerked itself backward.
Feeling snow slip into my soles I grunted lightly.
Slowly opening my eyes, I saw a Crolo-Ivarian.
Odd.
It was faster than the others.
Its eyes were slightly brighter and its armor was of a finer leather.
Judging from the technique behind its arms swinging, it was clearly far from sentient.
But it was definitely ahead of the others.
Examining the strength behind each swing I shrugged my shoulders before bringing Black Rose over my shoulder.
Chrck.
Swinging diagonally from left to right, a red slit formed as my blade crossed through the Crolo-Ivarian smoothly.
Soon a Rose formed from the split, and then a bloody splatter met the white floor.
It was simple and boresome.
I continued strolling around, dicing Crolo-Ivarians and taking the healthier-looking ones for meat.
In all honesty, I should've been complaining about the meat.
It was from dead people, after all.
But it was just-.
Delicious.
Like smoked chicken.
And I am no psychopath. Just a man of good taste.
As my blade continued passing through corpses and forming red shotguns of blood around the land I found myself somewhat troubled.
Although I was silencing the Crolo-Ivarians easily my arm was growing tired.
The muscles felt strained due to my one-handed sword style.
The Black Rose was lighter than a steel blade but still quite a task for my unmuscled arms.
I found a few pants leaking from my mouth despite my desire to find this easy task passable.
My figure was in an ungainly fowl and covered in even more blood than ever.
My eyes shook from realization.
After hitting the 200 mark or somewhere around that, I was with hands on my knees.
And the Crolo-Ivarians were as numerous as ever.
By the time I had defeated 200, 300 had sludged into my sight.
300 I had no means to defeat with my exhausted state.
I had used Aura halfway through but quickly deactivated it upon realizing its pointlessness.
I seemed to lose more energy using Aura than without it.
And it was of no offensive use since I could defeat the Crolo-Ivarians with but a chop anyways.
Vigar might've been able to slow down the Crolo-Ivarians had it not been for the Phantom's resting period.
It had exhausted itself by traveling at such high speeds with weight on its back.
There were only a few things I had seen in this white land, this -S- Rank Dungeon.
A yeti, wolf-men, a Behemoth, and Crolo-Ivarians.
Lots of Crolo-Ivarians.
Maybe it was only in this dungeon specifically, but I was tired of fighting such creatures.
Oddly enough, for a split-second. I questioned whether the Crolo-Ivarians were truly mindless.
Rather they didn't seem to be stumbling around.
But enclosing on something.
That something was me.
I felt briefly surrounded.
With no strength in my arms to even carry the Black Rose effectively, I pondered on whether I ought to take the risk of swinging it to clear a path for myself.
What if it got wedged into a Crolo-Ivarian?
These thoughts cost me time.
I wasn't surrounded by a compact and stuffed circle of Crolo-Ivarians.
The contrary, rather.
A few spaced-out Crolo-Ivarians were surrounding me, but they were so numerous that over distances those gaps were filled.
I decided on piercing through and exiting for good measure before coming up with a surefire way to eliminate the Crolo-Ivarians.
For someone like Red-Dragon, he could probably eliminate half of them with a single sword sweep, but I was injured, tired, and weaker.
A lot weaker.
Therefore I needed a solid and realistic strategy.
It was just me now.
No Vigar, Frila, or anyone else.
Maybe I could count the Black Rose.
Thrusting my sword sideways, I watched blissfully as a Crolo-Ivarian slumped backward.
Tredding over its fallen corpse I looked at the ground seeing dozens of piles of Crolo-Ivarians.
I had forgotten most of my kills in the past half-hour or however long it must've been.
It took 5 more blade sweeps to get out of the encirclement.
I looked around in cheer as I saw my new-found space.
But as I looked further and deeper, I realized that I was still surrounded.
For better or for worse, just on a bigger scale.
Inevitably I would have to clash with each Crolo-Ivarian at this rate.
Calculating the time I had left, my mouth twitched.
A few minutes at least and a few minutes at most.
Due to the fact that every Crolo-Ivarian moved at the same speed.
Apart from the rare especially sharp ones.
Who knows, maybe there was some sort of Crolo-Boss lurking around.
As long as the Thunder-Mammoth didn't come crashing down then I was confident in making a get-away.
At the cost of crippling my left arm or not.
Speaking on my left arm.
It was probably the thing that had frustrated me the most in a while.
I had pretty much lost most of my trump cards the second I broke it.
No more red lightning from which most of my destructiveness surged from.
No more world energy from which most of my versatility ranged from.
And no more two-handed sword-wielding.
Something I was used to doing as I needed all the strength I could get.
Unfortunately, becoming a Half-Phantom had not solved this issue.
All I had received from becoming a Half-Phantom was slightly enhanced senses.
Excluding Vigar, that was it.
No mind control.
No intangibility.
Just some enhanced senses.
And some nice hair, I suppose.
The Black-Rose skimped past the necks and napes of several more Crolo-Ivarians who were slightly ahead of the pack as time passed.
Eventually, I didn't even bother with technique.
Just a deep blow that went far enough would do the job.
My arms came dangerously close to stopping mid-strike several times but I hung on. Finishing each and every kill professionally.
Soon the dead Crolo-Ivarians formed small mounds around me.
Nothing that was above my jumping height, of course.
But it truly was such a uselessly anxiety-wreaking experience.
I felt on edge, yet safer than the times I had taste-tested hot food.
It was just like that.
Everything was going fine.
Nothing could go wrong.
In my mind, at least that was the case.
Having let my guard down, a perplexing group of Crolo-Ivarians entered the ring of corpses that had been formed.
They filled around half of it and I casually swung my blade once again.
It drooped and missed its target, only flushing off a useless lump of red-green flesh.
A normal human would squeal, run or jerk away upon such an action.
But the lifeless Crolo-Ivarians kept slowly stumbling forwards.
Pulling Black Rose back I went for another blow.
But there was no strength in my arms.
There hadn't been any for a while.
I had just been getting lucky.
This event was inevitable, thinking back.
I had been thinking too much.
I was... laid back.
The silent and chore-like repetitiveness of the fight had made me narrow-minded and naive.
And in that moment, I paid the price.
My sword had done the thing that in the back of my mind, I so feared.
It had wedged into a particularly ordinary leather coat that was set down on a particularly Big Crolo-Ivarian.
A short clanging sound rang out.
Clang.
Black Rose vibrated wildly, causing me to suspect some metal present.
Unfortunately, the tenacious flesh of the Crolo-Ivarians was at play.
And I had to move back to avoid a flailing arm from my right.
And with that, I attempted to tug my sword out briskly.
And with that, I had lost my sword.
Not only did my emotions scrumple and screech but a lesson came into play in my mind.
I was not only paying the price for being naive and relaxed in the time of battle.
But I was praying the price for fighting enemies far above my caliber, using a cheat of sorts.
Had I actually been capable of fighting Crolo-Ivarians without the Black Rose then this situation would have most likely been vastly different.
Perhaps, I would have been able to the snow dome-like Red Dragon.
Covered in blood and victory.
But that was just a dream.
And this was just a disaster.
Right?
My face creased as my hands muddled over my body. Searching for anything.
Unsure of what to do my leg swept back and fro in the snow, leaving a messy clump of snow trails.
Portraying my confusion unsubtly.
I couldn't punch a Crolo-Ivarian.
It would at most leave a nasty bite mark on my hand.
Using my body, a trip could work, but I'd probably get punched or kicked in the process and would deal no real damage.
As I was thinking all of this, death loomed over my back.
A Crolo-Ivarian stretched its arm over me.
It was fleshy, covered in luminant blue veins, and somewhat tenacious from my point of view.
It smelt of putridness and graveyards. Ash fell lightly like dust from aged ceilings. Covering the snow and forming a grey shade.
The singular arm was quite overwhelming. Did I say a singular arm?
Not just one, but 3.
They were all ready to instantly knock me out with a tap.
I then realized that I was done for.
Frozen from horror and childish instinct I watched as a Crolo Ivarian nudged past me and into the other tide of Crolo-Ivarians.
Soon, an entire horde of Crolo-Ivarians had pushed past me, into the other group.
They pushed into each other awkwardly.
Unknowing of what was going on I looked around for answers.
Was I immune?
What was... happening?
My mind was in an even worse state at this new development.
Looking behind me with a neck still stiff from fear I saw a girl.
Her eyes were of a meteoric royal blue and her hair swayed lightly in the thin wind.
Behind her back, for the most part.
Her Adventurer clothes were still creased from her bad sleeping habits and a bothered look was on her face.
A bothered look that swiftly turned flat and black.
I disregarded the look in her eyes that was abnormal and instead questioned her involvement.
Questions sprung and dove through my empty mind.
"Hey."
My voice was weak and culled.
Silence. My eyebrows furrowed.
Seeing her unresponsive to me, I connected the dots.
Slowly and thoroughly too.
The Crow Kingdom was famous for Black Magic, Witches, and Necromancers.
A Necromancer could not communicate with teammates whilst controlling their undead.
In other words.
She was no normal girl.
But a Necromancer.
The glow in her eyes felt deathly and inhumane.
Questions cranked my brain gears around.
I had to question her.
My throat was burning for action.
Who was she?
Was she a normal girl, a necromancer or-.
Something else.