Jorgen sat sideways at his desk, right hand holding a pen against his knee, left hand resting on a stack of files that, despite their age, showed no signs of wear. He stared at the deep brown cover for a while, then began flipping through the pages for the fourth time that day. After reaching the end, he turned back, stopping at a middle page, focusing on the dense characters.
A guard knocked and said, "Lord Jorgen, Lord Elin is here."
"Tell him to leave."
"But..."
"I've made it clear; I won't see anyone today."
After a few seconds, Jorgen heard footsteps receding from the door.
Disturbance was the last thing he wanted now; he needed time to think. The contents of the scroll were the initial motivation, akin to the last, subtle thunder before a storm. It was the culmination of countless elements, instantly triggering a cascade of events. The entirety of the problem became remarkably clear and sharp the moment Jorgen saw the term "Undertaker." The old man initially referred to them as "individuals," and the term "Undertaker" only appeared in his documents after whispers about them spread through Seven.
Jorgen received the file from the old man earlier that morning. Though the absence of a third person hinted at the event's importance, he was still unprepared. He believed the old man wouldn't allow comprehensive access to this topic, despite the trust. Over the years, his efforts to uncover related clues yielded little, leading him to conclude these were things the old man would never allow anyone else to fully grasp—except for the future Mardias.
Indeed, the file confirmed this speculation. Many were involved, nearly surpassing any major secret project in Seven. However, most participants knew nothing beyond their assigned duties. This plan's execution showcased the epitome of the old man's intricate intelligence control. No one could infer the full picture from their fragments, ensuring secrecy, as the old man often disguised these special tasks as part of routine work. As the sole designer and executor, he had to understand the thoughts, work, and connections of hundreds to prevent errors. Jorgen knew he couldn't match this level of control.
To Jorgen, Undertakers were once vague concepts. Though he clashed with them, he regarded them more as tools, like furniture, deadly but lifeless. The file confirmed his speculations about their behavioral patterns. They could only be loyal to one master at a time—such as the old man or Farad—and protect them unconditionally, ignoring other commands. They couldn't perform multiple tasks simultaneously, though they still demonstrated animalistic instincts during processes like tracking. Their thoughts and hearing were confined to their master's commands. Undertakers might possess human emotions, but these were usually dormant.
In other words, Undertakers were like arrows already shot. After the archer released the bowstring, their only action was to fly toward the target. However, these arrows had terrifying traits: they could curve, change angles, and accelerate. To hit the bullseye, they were willing to do anything.
This also explained why Undertakers often played bodyguard roles rather than assassins. They were unsuitable for covert missions as they didn't care about the impact on their surroundings. The massacre at the Ravenholt Orphanage was the perfect occasion for them.
They were insensitive to pain, enduring enhanced drug doses and partial organ modifications, and had no fear of death—perhaps just an inability to express it. All of this constituted their combat strength. However, this didn't mean their bodies wouldn't deteriorate. After becoming Undertakers, their remaining lifespan rarely exceeded three years. The biggest exception was Farad's Undertaker, who survived over a decade. The old man speculated that Ravenholt lacked further research tools and materials, yet was unwilling to lose the only individual. Since the massacre, he restricted drug doses to a minimum—opposite to the old man's constant push to their limits.
Another reason was that it was the first experiment of the chief researcher, Lawrence Romano. As he aimed to maximize the technology's potential, he considered the puppet-like Undertakers as trash. Jorgen highlighted this part of the content.
"Why did you initially support this research?" Jorgen asked the old man this morning.
"So far, what he's produced has been useful."
The answer was unexpectedly vague, seeming insufficient to explain the old man's extensive efforts for this project. Jorgen wanted to remind the old man that this 'useful' thing almost killed him a few years ago. However, they both had grown accustomed to tacitly ignoring some past matters. Jorgen had gotten used to questioning the old man, listening to his reasonable answers, instead of being shut down with "you don't need to know" as it happened a few years ago.
"So, Lawrence wants an outcome like this: normal human consciousness, combat capability equal to or even superior to the current, stable lifespan. But still, absolute obedience to the sole commander."
"The last point is the most important."
"Are you sure he wouldn't consider giving the finished product complete free will for personal pursuits?"
"That's impossible, Jorgen. Lawrence wouldn't do that."
"The issue is, since he's just pursuing more possibilities..."
The old man waved his hand. "You'll understand once you meet Lawrence. He doesn't have the courage to create something that would mentally challenge him. A coward."
On Lawrence's personal file page, there was a note written in red ink, pointing to content two hundred pages later. Following this indication led to information about Tusha. Jorgen found his own name concentrated in this section—his contact with Tusha in Booty Bay was a crucial reason why the old man dispatched another investigator to examine Tusha's background. It felt uncomfortable to read an investigation report about himself, but considering the old man's decision to no longer keep these things from him, Jorgen had no grounds for complaint.
Tusha. Vossuva. Jorgen wasn't surprised by the events between him and Lawrence. As early as Booty Bay, he knew people like Tusha could have experienced anything, most of which would be unimaginable to ordinary individuals. What intrigued Jorgen was that, while the file stated Tusha had obediently cooperated with Lawrence since his capture three years ago, this was only Lawrence's claim. No Seven agents had physically inspected the situation during these three years, raising doubts about its credibility. Jorgen understood that clarifying Tusha's attitude would be his most important initial task when heading to Stromgarde.
Upon bringing the file back to his office, Jorgen didn't start from the beginning but immediately searched for the process of creating Undertakers. Firstly, the old man personally selected the "base material." He considered factors such as the candidate's physical qualities, psychological state, living location, combat experience, family status, and social influence to decide. A prominent duke's heir, even with excellent physical qualities, would never be chosen—an outcome that wasn't necessarily a bad thing.
Next, the old man had Seven agents secretly monitor the base material. This was a critical stage of intelligence control: he misled his subordinates, making them believe they were monitoring a detailed yet unknown criminal suspect. The monitors were only allowed practical action in one situation: when the "suspect" was injured and on the verge of death. Since one key factor in selecting the base material was an extremely dangerous work environment, such situations were not uncommon, and the old man intentionally created several examples. The monitors were tasked with using a special drug—of which they were unaware it was Lawrence's research product—to keep the base material in a state of apparent death, much like using alcohol to clean a wound, marking the first step in creating a Undertaker. Afterward, they would secretly send the base material to Stromgarde, under the impression that these individuals would be awakened, investigated, and judged there. Another group, responsible for transportation, knew nothing other than "delivering the goods."
Jorgen quickly found the list of base materials. Each name had different markings, with those crossed out in black ink indicating death during the creation process—precise details of which stage didn't matter. Ninety percent of the names were crossed out this way, resembling fractured tombstones lying in a deep pit after an earthquake. Names marked in red ink meant successful creation but death due to lifespan restrictions or excessive drug reactions, with a small number indicating survival days ranging from one to nine hundred. Those marked in red ink with a check indicated success but death in battle, also with recorded survival days. Names without any markings indicated they were still under surveillance or undergoing the creation process.
The following pages detailed the comprehensive information of each base material. Jorgen found the two Undertakers who had tracked him originally. In their human identities, they served as private bodyguards and resigned Seven instructors. When he saw these two names he didn't recognize, Jorgen felt a delayed sense of relief as if he had been released from something several years too late.
Initially, Jorgen rapidly browsed through the list of base materials, wanting to either find or not find his own name. At least halfway through, he hadn't encountered "Jorgen," but his gaze suddenly halted.
Elin Tias.
This name also had a marking. Not a black line, not a red line, not a red cross, but a red diagonal line. The unique marking on the entire list. Jorgen couldn't comprehend. He flipped to Elin's detailed profile page and found the answer:
"The base material abandoned. Unable to deceive Jorgen."
The word "unable" gave Jorgen a strange sense of satisfaction, the only enjoyment he experienced throughout the entire process of reading the document.
He flipped back to the list and continued browsing. The second-to-last name was Renner Marvin. If it weren't for seeing Elin first, Jorgen would have been more shocked now. The last person was someone he hadn't heard of. Knowing he wasn't on the list, Jorgen didn't feel anything special, and he couldn't understand why he was so curious about this issue in the first place.
Jorgen's thoughts temporarily returned to the Western Plague Lands a few years ago. He recalled how Renner smiled and said the old man had relaxed control, and how Renner expressed agreement with a positive attitude. It was only three years ago, but Jorgen couldn't tolerate his past naivety. Although Renner misunderstood his own situation, he wasn't a Seven member and didn't understand the extent of what the old man could do, making his negligence understandable. But Jorgen was different. Not only was he naive, but he was downright foolish.
There was no marking next to Renner's name, indicating he was still under surveillance or in the process of becoming a Funeral Agent—either way, he was alive. Jorgen immediately turned to Renner's detailed profile page but realized that the slight joy of "he's still alive" was quickly shattered by what he read. Instead of sadness, anger, or any intense negative emotions, he felt deep confusion.
"Lawrence claims that Renner is the closest to the ideal state among the finished products so far. If the situation is accurate, I will hand him over to Mardias. This is one of the things I should leave to him."