Slowly coming to my senses, I found myself grappling with the ghost's parting words—"forsaken land." The weight of these words hung heavy in my mind as I took in my surroundings. I had imagined being reborn in a vibrant grassland, a serene forest, or perhaps a bustling city. Instead, I found myself in something out of a nightmare—a decaying mansion that seemed to breathe its own darkness.
The oppressive atmosphere of the mansion was stifling, each step echoing in the silence. My first instinct was to explore, to understand this new reality. The ghost's mention of a diary led me to the drawer beside the decaying bed. I approached it with trepidation, the old wood groaning under my touch. With a creak that seemed to resonate through the mansion, I pulled the drawer open and retrieved the ancient diary. Its leather cover was cracked and brittle, a testament to the years it had endured.Taking a deep breath, I opened the diary and began to read. The text was faded but legible, and as I skimmed through the pages, my heart raced. The entries detailed the rise and fall of the Malbrox Empire—a supernation brought to its knees not by grand battles or treacheries, but by the allure of a few powerful treasures. Legendary weapons, mystical potions, and ancient artifacts had incited chaos and destruction beyond comprehension."What the hell...?" I muttered, my pulse quickening. The scale of devastation described was almost beyond belief. An entire empire obliterated for the sake of relics? My mind struggled to make sense of the magnitude of it all.As I continued reading, a chilling revelation emerged. The emperor, facing near-total annihilation from a rival empire, had made a desperate choice. He turned himself and his army into wraiths, seeking to escape death and prolong their influence in a form far darker than mere mortality. My stomach churned. The undead realm was not just a backdrop; it was the very fabric of this world."Dammit... no, no, no!" I gasped as I read further. The diary's author, a rear commander of the Imperial Sovereignty, had been stationed in this very mansion to tame a creature known as the Buzzwolt—a lesser earth dragon. His orders had been to hold this position while the main army conquered new territories. Yet, the emperor's decision to transform everyone into undead had turned this mission into a nightmare. The commander, unwilling to join the ranks of the undead, had used a spell known as "Severance of the Spirit" to free the dragon from its mortal form, allowing it a peaceful end. But he couldn't use the same spell on himself and had opted for poison, hoping to avoid becoming one of the undead. Unfortunately, his soul remained trapped, his spirit bound to this place by a curse that prevented his transition into true rest.The gravity of the situation pressed down on me. I was standing in the ruins of a realm where life and death had been irrevocably twisted. This was no ordinary place; it was a crossroads of the damned and the damned-to-be. The reality of my situation was beginning to sink in, and I knew that I had to act quickly.My initial shock gave way to a determined resolve. Fear could not paralyze me if I wanted to survive. I began systematically exploring the mansion, moving from room to room with increasing urgency. Each space revealed remnants of its once-grand past—books, rusted armor, ancient weapons. I gathered anything that seemed even remotely valuable or useful, carefully transporting my finds back to the room where the skeleton mage commander's remains lay. My makeshift collection of relics began to grow, each item carrying its own history and potential significance.The objects I collected, though old and worn, might hold hidden power or clues to navigating this eerie world. In a land where the dead roamed and the boundaries between life and death were blurred, even the most mundane item could become a crucial asset. I had no clear plan yet, but the accumulation of these relics felt like a step toward understanding and surviving this forsaken realm.As I organized my findings, I pondered the ghost's message and the history I had uncovered. The mansion, with all its secrets and tragedies, seemed to be a key to my survival. Every corner of this place, every relic and fragment, might hold the answers I needed. The diary had provided a glimpse into the past, and now it was up to me to use that knowledge to carve out a path in this dark world.With renewed determination, I set about cataloging the items I had found. Each piece was carefully examined, and I made notes of anything that seemed out of the ordinary. My survival instincts, honed by years of facing danger, now guided me in this new and treacherous environment. This mansion, with all its secrets, was not just some broken building; it was a treasure trove of possibilities. And I was determined to unlock them all.